“Two pics, please,” he said to the lady at the till, knowing exactly what he was there for. I was too busy staring around in wonder to have any idea what I might want.
“What’ll it be?” The old woman shouted over to me.
I was spoiled for choice and let my stomach run away with me. “I’ll have six of those,” I said, pointing to a pile of chocolate bars with a rather disturbing image of Father Christmas printed on the front. “No, eight. And two shillings worth of that.” I pointed to what looked like peanut brittle near the weighing scales and was hypnotised by the sticky toffee casing. Whatever it was, I needed to try it. “And I’ll take a bag of those nuts as well, please.”
“You’re going to make yourself sick,” Gwyn said, coming over and grabbing my hand. Into my open palm he placed a small, round cake.
“It’s not for me,” I said. “It’s for the Hopkin’s. What's this?” The cake was warm and smelled amazing, I could see some fruit inside it and it was coated on top with sugar.
“It’s a pic,” he said. “Welsh cake. Try it.”
I took a bite, the cake crumbling around my mouth as I did, and the warmness of it made me close my eyes to savour every bit. Mrs Hopkin had proved herself a great cook but nothing she had served was as good as this. Maybe it was the sugar, which she rarely seemed to have in the house, but after weeks without any of the food I was used to I was pretty certain this might have been the best thing I’d ever eaten.
I held up the remnants of the cake to the woman at the counter, with my mouth still half full. “And I’ll take nine of these.”
“No wonder you never have any money,” Gwyn said, popping the last of the cake into his mouth.
“I forgot how much I enjoy shopping,” I replied. When the woman had collected everything I paid for my items and took the bag from the counter. “I need to pick a gift for Mr and Mrs Hopkin. Any ideas?”
“You could try in Rowlands,” he said, pointing me to a store a few doors down as we exited the shop. The snow had started to come down heavier and the skies were beginning to darken from the clouds. “You’ve got ten minutes or we won’t get the bus back,” he added.
“Hold these,” I said, handing him my bags. “I’ll be real quick.”
I rushed off along the pavement to where Gwyn had pointed and came to what might pass in my own time as a department store. Through the windows I could see sections for clothing and homewares, books and furniture. Surely I’d find something in there.
The shelves were filled with knick-knacks and trinkets, though I wasn’t seeing anything that seemed like an appropriate gift or that would say both thank you and Merry Christmas at the same time. I walked along an aisle browsing the various ornaments on offer, but nothing caught my eye and I was beginning to give up hope.
As I was about to cut my losses I spotted a small china cup and saucer set nestled among some kitchenware on one of the shelves. It was small and delicate looking with little pink flowers decorating it, and I felt sure that Mrs Hopkin would love it. Then, to make sure Mr Hopkin didn’t feel left out I grabbed a few other little items and a small bottle of wine from a rack near the counter.
When I got back outside the shop Gwyn was huddled in a closed doorway sheltering from the snow. “All done?” he asked as I made my way towards him.
“I think so. Now I just need to sit.”
“Well now’s your chance,” he said, pointing to the carriage that we’d rode in on that was parked on the opposite side of the street. “Let’s go.”
By the time we were back on the hill overlooking the village we were in complete darkness and a thick layer of snow had covered everything, reflecting the light of the moon and making the valley look like the perfect Christmas scene.
“Thank you for today,” I said to Gwyn as we walked through the lane towards the pub. Despite my protestations about aggravating his ribs, he’d insisted on carrying some of my bags for me from the carriage.
“You don’t have to thank me. I’ve enjoyed myself. We should do it again.”
“I’d like that,” I replied. “Though maybe next time don’t let me spend so much. I’ve only got about six pounds left.”
“There was no stopping you,” he laughed and gave the bags a shake to remind me of my spree. “Just make sure you don’t lose that money.”
“I won’t. I’ll give some to Mrs Hopkin and keep the rest for when I need it. Oh, and I owe you the bus fare, too. I nearly forgot.”
“Keep it,” he said. “You can pay next time. That’ll mean we have to go again.”
We reached the bottom of the lane next to the pub. Gwyn needed to take a left while I was headed straight on through the village, and we both came to a stop.
“Do you want me to walk you to the farm?” he asked.
“No, you should get going. It’s been a long day. You need rest.”
A second passed by that felt like an eternity while we just stared at each other, smiling. The snow was coming in thick, the cold air making his cheeks glow red, and I don’t think he’d ever looked more handsome than he did right then. I stepped towards him, unsure of my next move, but whatever it would have been was interrupted by someone coming out from inside the pub.
“I should go,” I said, motioning my head towards the farm. “It’s getting late.”