Carmen nodded, although suddenly she was reluctant to leave him. There was something incredibly . . . easy about being in his presence. But perhaps he had to get back to Dahlia. He started heading toward the steps.

“Would you like to come see a bit more Christmas? I think I’m getting the hang of it,” he said.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

She couldn’t match his loping stride as he cut through the crowds bustling around little wooden stalls selling carved fairies, fudge, candyfloss, teddy bears, mulled wine, and hot chocolate, and she tried her best not to look as if she was absolutely out of breath as they climbed the steep steps of the Mound.

Oke turned at the very top to survey the bright lights of the market below, laid out in front of them like a carpet, glittering and beautiful, with less shouting and fewer small children looking as if they were going to be sick.

“It’s just people trying to be happy,” she said.

“I understand that,” said Oke. “I’m just not sure it’s the best way to go about it.”

“What do you think happiness is?” she asked him.

“A by-product,” he answered immediately, “to being useful.”

She looked at him. “What?” she said. “What do you mean?”

He looked back at her, surprised. “Well,” he said, “if you do good work and are useful, that makes you happy.”

“What about going on holiday? That’s not useful.”

“If you have been working hard all year and you deserve some time off, that is happiness. If your family is rich and your life feels like you’re on holiday, I do not think that makes people very happy.”

Carmen thought unavoidably of Blair talking about “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday” and complaining about his hotel room.

“You’re not very cheery,” said Carmen. “Okay then, what about cuddling a puppy?”

“If you are going to raise that puppy and be there for it every second to care for its needs and look after it, then of course, that is happiness. But it’s also work.”

“I thought you might be going to say hot chocolate,” said Carmen, rather regretful that they had passed the stalls.

“Would you like a hot chocolate?”

“I don’t know. I think I do and I like the smell, and then I have one and it’s too much and I spill some and I feel sick.”

He smiled. “Stick to being useful. The shop makes you happy?”