by Katey Lovell
Clara shook her head. ‘I’m really not. He was a total twat when we were together, but I was too blind to see it at the time. I thought I loved him. Maybe I did. I’m not so sure these days.’ Once she’d started scrutinising the relationship she’d remembered more and more things that he’d done which had annoyed her. The piles of dirty clothes in the corner of the bedroom. Picking the fluff out of his belly button as they watched TV. Using the last of the toilet roll without replacing it. And the milk. On their own they were irritating but harmless enough habits, but even so Clara was glad she didn’t have to put up with that on a daily basis any more.
‘Love’s funny like that,’ he said, pouring a generous slosh of vodka into a stubby glass. ‘I often wonder how I’d have felt about Michelle if she’d lived. People say we were this golden couple, as though we were born to be together. The truth is, we were little more than kids, and it was a long time ago. I’ve changed a lot over the years. Would we have drifted apart over time?’ He shrugged. ‘I guess I’ll never know.’
Clara gladly took the glass, knocking back the neat alcohol with one deft flick of the wrist. Her throat warmed as the liquid took hold, although she couldn’t hold back the wince. It was alright when you were actually knocking it back, but the aftertaste? That was vile.
‘She was lucky to have you, even if it wasn’t for long,’ she said.
Joe smiled. ‘You think so?’
‘Definitely. When you started helping at the club I was worried I’d feel like an outsider. You and Deirdre have known each other for so long. I felt like I wouldn’t be needed any more.’
Clara’s head was swimming, and not only from the potent vodka.
‘You know that’s not true,’ Joe said gently, reaching out and placing his hand on hers. The contact was electrifying. ‘That place would have closed down by now if it wasn’t for all your efforts. Without your hard work and commitment, there’d be no club.’
‘I’m sure Deirdre would have found a way to keep the place going,’ Clara blushed, although deep down she knew what Joe was saying was right. Deirdre thought the world revolved around the club, but when it came to business and finances she was well out of her depth. ‘That place is her life.’
‘Yours too,’ he said, swilling his drink around in the glass.
‘The kids deserve it. That’s why I’m so thrilled that Dean managed to sort out those tickets, because the memories from a day like that will last a lifetime. That’s what they need, people to offer them opportunities to try new things. It’s an important part of growing up.’
He nodded. ‘And hopefully the church will be able to help with that, too. The people at St Michael’s are really great, Clara, and they genuinely want to breathe new life into the club. Next year is going to be amazing.’
‘Amazing for the club, yes. But what about you? What do you want next year? Any resolutions, or goals, or dreams?’
‘Just the one,’ he said, laying his glass to rest on a small, circular table before sitting down next to Clara on the settee.
‘Oh?’ she answered, looking up at him through her lashes.
‘I want to spend as much time as possible kissing the woman who’s brought me back to life.’
Clara’s eyebrows rose so high they almost shot off her face altogether.
‘That doesn’t sound too difficult.’ Her voice sounded husky to her ears. ‘But why wait until next year?’
‘That’s a very good question.’
Clara inhaled as Joe pulled her close. As their lips met, she relaxed. Things were looking up, for her, for Joe and for The Club on the Corner.
Epilogue
Joe
Monday, December 24th 2018
Delicate flakes of pure-white snow swirled on the evening air like glitter in a decorative snow globe. Joe was thoroughly glad of his hat, scarf and gloves. Even as well-wrapped as he was his teeth were chattering.
‘Isn’t it beautiful!’ Clara sang, holding her arms out and spinning, scrunching up her face as the icy flakes landed on her cheeks. ‘It’s really Christmas now.’
Her love of the season was catching, and Joe had to admit that this Christmas had been his best ever – and that was all down to throwing himself into it with abandon. Not that he’d had much choice. Clara had been begged to decorate the flat from the middle of November, and although he’d grumbled, he had to agree the flashing lights, swathes of tinsel and fragile coloured baubles brought a sense of cheer to the place. It was totally different to the flat he’d been renting a year ago. The place he and Clara had now was beautiful – high ceilings, large windows that flooded the room with light even in the winter, and fresh, neutrally painted walls, which were the perfect gallery space for the framed photos of the two of them together that Clara insisted on putting up on show. Selfies of the two of them enjoying walks in the Peak District, photos of their city break to Barcelona and one of the two of them proudly cutting the ribbon at the grand relaunch of The Club on the Corner one crisp September afternoon in pride of place next to three photos from last year’s countdown – one from the newspaper, another from their trip to The Nutcracker, and the photo booth polaroid. The little record player Joe had given Clara last Christmas sat on the sideboard, an ever-growing collection of vinyl stacked haphazardly alongside it.
So much had changed for Joe this year. A new home, a newfound happiness, and even a new job as he’d given up working at the hardware shop and become a paid employee at The Club on the Corner.
‘It really is. It’s perfect.’
‘I can’t believe a year’s passed since the last nativity service,’ Clara replied wistfully. ‘Who’d have thought we’d have made so many changes to the club?’
Joe smiled. It had more than changed; it was like a completely different place. The building was much the same from the outside, except for the freshly painted doors, no longer the moss-green they’d once been, but now a vivid, inviting red. Being grade-two listed they’d always known the changes they could make to the building’s exterior were limited.
The interior was where the real magic had happened. The flaky paint in the main hall was no more, now replaced by a fresh, bright magnolia shade. New curtains hung in the windows, thick velvet material, which added an illustrious glamour to the beautiful old building. The slate-grey shade Clara had chosen perfectly complemented the lead-work. The pipework had been modernised too, making the heating much more energy efficient and in turn keeping the large rooms far warmer than Joe, Clara and Deirdre were used to. Deirdre had even been wearing a short-sleeved blouse last week, something that never happened even in the height of summer, so it was quite the topic of conversation for her to be baring her flesh in the depths of a Manchester winter. The games room had been revived to its former glory, no longer a store room, now a space to be used and enjoyed.
‘One hundred members …’ Clara smiled. ‘One hundred young people who’re able to access the club and everything it’s got to offer. We’d never have been able to do it without the help of your dad and the congregation.’
‘You’d have found another way, I’m sure. You’re innovative like that.’
Clara shook her head. ‘I would have tried my best, but it’s made such a difference. I’m feeling quite depressed about it being the end of our year as St Michael’s chosen charity.’
‘I hope they’ve voted for the food bank,’ Joe answered, hands shoved firmly into the depths of his pockets. ‘They work so hard and rely entirely on volunteers, and sadly it’s many of the families of the kids at club who’ll be benefitting from that, too.’
‘Oh, I know,’ Clara said. ‘They deserve it. They’re changing people’s lives. Families shouldn’t be scraping by in this day and age. That’s why I’m proud we’ve established a link with them, even if it does mean I have to liaise with Miranda.’
‘The community’s really pulled together. Everyone looking out for each other, everyone willing to help each other out. It’s made the whole area feel much more positive.�
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Clara laced her arm though Joe’s as they walked through the archway to the church grounds. ‘You’re right. Things seem so much brighter when you’re with people who want the same as you do.’
Joe’s heart raced with anticipation. There might be shepherds and angels and a riot of children dressed as farmyard animals in readiness for the service, but they were blending into the background. All he could see was Clara. His girlfriend. His partner in everything. The woman he loved.
Lowering himself to the ground, trying desperately not to gasp as his knee flattened the inch-high layer of snow that covered the winding pathway, Joe pulled the box he’d been so carefully guarding out of his pocket. Snapping it open with a loud click, he smiled as Clara brought her hand up to her mouth in realisation, her eyes brimming with tears, which he hoped were of the happy variety.
‘Clara O’Connell,’ he began, swallowing down the lump in his throat. ‘I never believed I’d meet someone as wonderful as you. Someone so kind, so spirited, so funny … you’re the best thing in my world, and I never want to have a time where you’re not in my life.’ He paused, taking in the nervous smile on her face. Lit by the hazy brightness of the lamplight and framed by the falling flakes of white, she looked more beautiful to Joe than she ever had before. ‘I want our future to be together, for us to tackle anything life throws at us head-on.’ He beamed, not quite able to believe he was about to say the next eight words, words he’d practised in his mind many times over the last fortnight. ‘I love you, Clara. Will you marry me?’
Her face crumpled as she nodded, and Joe instinctively pulled himself back to his feet before wrapping her tightly to his chest. He inhaled the snow-laden air, fresh and crisp, and delighted as she whispered in his ear. ‘Yes. Yes, yes, yes.’
She squealed as he lifted her feet from the ground and twirled her around, much to the glee of the families making their way towards the church.
‘Stop!’ she giggled, ‘You’re making me dizzy!’ Joe carefully brought his fiancée back down to earth and removed the thick woolly mitten from her left hand to place the diamond solitaire on her third finger. He felt like the luckiest man alive.
‘It’s flawless,’ she said, bringing her hand closer to her face to examine the stone. ‘So delicate.’
‘I’m pleased you like it,’ he grinned. ‘I wasn’t sure whether I was better to choose one or to pop the question first and then go and choose one together.’
‘You did it the right way,’ she said. ‘And it’s the perfect choice. The only trouble is, my hand’s freezing now, but I can’t put my mittens on because I want to be able to see it!’
‘Then we’d better get inside quick,’ Joe said, folding his hand around hers. The metal of the ring against his skin was unfamiliar, yet right.
They skipped through the snow, giggling like giddy schoolchildren, until they reached the shelter of the church. They saw some familiar faces, Jordan and Cally, who had recently started dating themselves, Billy, Emma and little Roman, dressed as a shepherd, and Deirdre – all watching on with interest at their uncontrollable giggles.
‘Are we going to tell them we’re engaged?’ Clara asked quietly, once more admiring her new fingerwear.
‘After the service?’ Joe suggested. ‘I want to enjoy it being between us for a little bit longer.’
‘Me too. It’s the best kind of secret, and the minute we tell people they’ll be asking when the wedding is.’
‘When is it?’ Joe asked, a flirtatious glint in his eye.
‘Soon,’ she replied with a grin. ‘Maybe in the spring, if your dad can fit us in?’
Joe couldn’t keep the smile from his face. Spring sounded good. Really good. ‘Family perk, surely.’
And as they walked down the central aisle of the church, Joe savoured the thought that this was the beginning of the next chapter, one where he and Clara would take on the world together. He couldn’t wait to see what their future would bring, because he knew everything would be wonderful. It was bound to be, because they had each other.
THE END
Katey’s Advent Calendar of Thanks
Sending enormous thanks and sparkly Christmas greetings to –
HarperCollins/HarperImpulse and other Brilliant Bookish Folk
1. My editor and friend Charlotte Ledger, for giving me the opportunity to write the Christmas novel I’ve always wanted to.
2. Publicist Samantha Gale, for tirelessly shouting about HarperImpulse.
3. Books Covered, for yet more beautiful art work to grace my covers. You’re brilliant.
4. Mary Jayne Baker, Vivienne Dacosta, Emma Finlayson-Palmer, Jenni Nock, Emily Royal and Katy Wheatley for being Joe and Clara’s first readers and offering suggestions and solutions. Katy is also responsible for the fortune-telling fish.
5. Phillipa Ashley, Alice Broadway, Rachel Burton, Brigid Coady, Eve Devon, Miranda Dickinson, Kat French, Carmel Harrington, Lynsey James, Debbie Johnson, Erin Lawless, Rachael Lucas, Cressida McLaughlin, Rebecca Pugh, Keris Stainton, Lorraine Wilson and too many other writers to name for the friendship and encouragement.
6. The Wordcount Warriors and Beta Buddies for holding me accountable and being genuinely lovely people.
7. NaNoWriMo. I wrote the first half of this book for the 2016 challenge.
8. My wonderful agent Julia Silk for believing in me and my writing. Let’s take the world by storm!
9. The blogging community for being so supportive of my books. What you do for authors is nothing short of incredible.
10. Everyone who has bought this book – I hope you’ve enjoyed reading Joe and Clara’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you are able to make time to write a short review online, that would be greatly appreciated.
Family and Friends
11. Zachary, for being the best Christmas gift I’ve ever been given and for making me smile every day.
12. David, even though you never did bring me that vegan rocky road when I was editing.
13. Clarence, for being in the best feline friend.
14. My amazing mum, for telling me I can do anything I put my mind to.
15. Donna Brown, for showing me residential Manchester.
16. Laura Dean, for keeping me company as I walked Manchester’s backstreets in the name of research.
17. Pippa Jackson, Jenny King, Steve North, Wendy North, Lydia Peto, Holly Raistrick, Fran Rhodes and Rachael Woodcock for understanding that when I don’t message back immediately it’s not because I don’t care, it’s because I’m writing. Thank you for not giving up on me.
18. Anna Tomlinson for the signed Patrick Ness book.
19. The friends I made at Monmouth Methodist Church Youth Club back in my teens. The strawberry laces mention is for you.
20. Special Places and Influences
21. Everyone who shared a rubbish joke on Facebook or Twitter, especially Carolyn Ward for Clara’s favourite about ‘Boo-bees’.
22. The Night and Day Café on Oldham Street in Manchester, where I wrote some of this novel on my research trips.
23. Salford Lads’ Club, for being the inspiration for The Club on the Corner.
24. Bastille, Johnny Marr, Man Made and Frank Turner for providing the music that was my backing track as I wrote this book.
25. Lotus Biscoff spread. Enough said.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Katey Lovell, Sheffield, August 2017
About the Author
Katey Lovell grew up in South Wales and now lives in Sheffield with her husband David, son Zachary and their friendly moggie Clarence. If she’s not writing, she’ll most likely be found with her nose in a book or reviewing on her blog Books with Bunny.
@katey5678
www.facebook.com/kateylovell
www.kateylovell.blogspot.co.uk
Also by Katey Lovell
The Café in Fir Tree Park
About HarperImpulse
HarperImpulse is an innovative, award-winning digital imprint. In t
he four years since launch, we have continually hit digital bestseller lists, hosted the UK’s first online romance festival, published into over ten countries and grown an exciting stable of commercial women’s fiction authors.
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Writers, our vision is to publish the very best in digital-first commercial women’s fiction and we are simply looking for good stories! So, what are you waiting for? To submit, e-mail us at [email protected].
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