The bricks and windowsills of empty shops are furry with thick frost, and my design on Leo’s window is still intact. From the outside, his gingerbread house now looks like it’s standing in a forest of white trees, surrounded by snowy ground and falling snow, and the frost has stuck to the white paint, giving my snowflakes a sparkly, crystallized coating. I glance up at the clear blue sky, wondering if Mother Nature’s addition to my artwork is the universe’s way of telling me that I’m doing the right thing here, despite the fact that I shouldn’t have taken that phone call in the first place. I definitely shouldn’t be getting involved in Leo’s life now, and Head Office would see it more as ‘gross invasion of privacy’ than any form of ‘right thing’. Mother Nature’s support will just have to be good enough for me. And hopefully the courts if I’m likely to be in serious trouble for this. You couldn’t argue with Mother Nature as a defence witness, could you?
I take a deep breath as my hand closes around the icy door handle to It’s A Wonderful Latte and I put on my best face for feigning innocence. Leo’s setting out muffins in the display case behind the counter and he looks up as the bell tinkles.
‘Wow, what a fantastic window,’ I say with my innocent face firmly in place. ‘And I thought you weren’t doing Christmas this year.’
‘Good morning, my favourite Georgia.’ His face breaks into a smile but quickly turns serious again. ‘And I’m not. I didn’t do that.’
I glance between the window and him. ‘No? Who did then? Fairies that come in the night? Elves?’
He narrows his eyes at me. ‘I don’t suppose you’d know anything about it?’
‘Me?’ My voice goes up several pitches. I now sound like a dolphin going through puberty. ‘Of course not. What a completely absurd suggestion. I can’t draw a stickman. Why on earth would you think I’d know anything about that?’
‘Hmm.’ He doesn’t look convinced by my denial. ‘I don’t know. It’s just that you were talking about the gingerbread house yesterday. I thought … I don’t know. You were the first person I thought of when I saw it.’
I should probably be insulted, or maybe impressed by his powers of deduction, but honestly, being the first person Leo thinks of in any situation sends a little sizzle of excitement through me.
‘Bloody vandals graffiti-ing my shop,’ he continues. ‘I’m going to have to waste half the morning washing it off now.’
I gasp in horror. ‘Oh, don’t do that! That’s not graffiti, it’s artwork. Look at the way it incorporates the gingerbread house. Someone’s gone to a lot of effort to do that. Look at the snowflakes and the way the actual frost outside has clung to the paint and made it sparkle. It looks fantastic in the daylight. Don’t wash it off, please. It looks all festive and lovely.’
His blue eyes narrow again.
‘I mean, do whatever you want, obviously. I don’t care if you wash it off. If you don’t like it, that’s up to you.’ I clear my throat and look away.
‘So, what can I get you today, Georgia Bailey from the Oakbarrow branch of the Building and Loan?’ There’s such a fondness in his voice as he says it that it makes me smile involuntarily.
‘I think I’ll try your chestnut praline this morning, if –’
‘Just one, right? Because I’m not accepting another coffee from you. It’s not right.’
It’s my turn to narrow my eyes at him. ‘Fine. Just one.’
‘So did you have a good night?’ he asks as he turns to make my drink. ‘You’re early again this morning. Couldn’t sleep?’
‘Yeah, something like that,’ I say, touched that he knows my work schedule so well.
‘I thought so. No offence but you look like you were up half the night.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ I snort, knowing he doesn’t mean it in a nasty way. He’s just wheedling for more information about the window because he definitely suspects me.
‘Sorry, my lovely.’ He puts the coffee down on the counter and pushes it towards me. ‘On the house to make up for the insult.’
I slap my £3.50 down on the counter and push it towards him in return. ‘It’s not to make up for the insult, it’s to make up for me buying you one yesterday, and I’m not having that. It’s just a coffee, Leo. Accept it.’
His eyes flick between me and the coins on the counter. ‘Fine. But it’s not happening again.’
‘Okay.’
‘Okay.’ The bell rings as he opens the till and puts the money in.
‘And now I’ll have another one. Same again, please.’
He folds his arms and gives me a stern look. ‘I’ve told you I’m not letting you buy me another coffee. What are you up to?’
‘It’s for me. To go. For later.’ I take a sip of the coffee currently in my hand as if this somehow proves it.
He looks like he’d be more inclined to believe Pinocchio.
‘I’m a paying customer. You can’t turn me away.’
‘No, I guess not.’ He looks like he wants to argue but he knows I’m right.
‘I bet Bernard will know something about that window,’ he says over his shoulder as he turns around and fires up the coffee machine again. ‘I’ll have to ask him if he saw who did it.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ I mumble under my breath.
‘Pardon?’
‘I said I’m sure he did. Bernard knows everything around here.’
The look in his eyes as he fits the white plastic lid onto the coffee cup says he knows that isn’t what I said the first time, but he doesn’t pursue it.
‘To go. For later.’ He puts the cup on the counter with a resolute thud and pushes it towards me.
‘Exactly.’ I give him the money, trying to ignore the little thrill as my gloved fingertips brush against his hand.
I wait until the till’s dinged and he’s torn the receipt off and handed it to me before I push the cup back across the counter towards him. ‘For you.’
He bursts out laughing. ‘I knew you were up to something.’
‘I knew you wouldn’t do it if I asked for two at once.’ I grin at him and he looks like he’s trying to be annoyed but he can’t stop himself grinning back and it makes butterflies start zooming around inside me. ‘And you have to take it. If you don’t, I’m going to go to the soulless retail park and get a Starbucks and bring it back here for you, and I know you wouldn’t be happy about that. By refusing it, you’re actively giving your custom to the competition.’
There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes. Soulless retail park is what we called it on the phone. I have to be more careful, although in all fairness, everyone around here who’s lost business to the shiny new shopping centre calls it the same. It’s not a reason for him to suspect anything. I’m just seeing things that aren’t there because I know and he doesn’t.
‘What’s this sudden obsession with making me drink coffee? I could be watching my caffeine intake for all you know.’
‘You work in a coffee shop. I don’t think caffeine intake really applies to you, does it?’
He laughs and then rolls his eyes. ‘Well, maybe not, but … why? Why this sudden desire to buy me a coffee?’
‘Because I don’t know what else you like. I nearly bought you an aubergine and put it in a sexy bra but I didn’t know where to find one around here.’
‘An aubergine or a sexy bra?’
‘Either,’ I say, thinking it’s probably a bit early in the day to be talking about bras with Leo. Casey would tell me off for not making that into some kind of suggestive joke about my own collection of sexy bras, which is zero. It’s been a while since I made any effort in the bra department.
‘Why should you get me anything? You’re a customer. I get you things and you give me money in exchange. That’s how shops operate in general.’
‘Ha ha,’ I mutter at his sarcasm. I’m going to have to come up with a viable explanation and fast because he’s looking at me expectantly, long dark eyelashes blinking over determined blue eyes.
‘I ju
st think people don’t show others that they appreciate them enough. I walked home one night last week after you were closed, and it made me realize how much better you make this street.’ The twinkle in your eyes, the way I want to run my fingers through the curly mass of hair on your head. ‘The warm glow of light pouring out in the evenings, the gorgeous roasted coffee smell that filters right the way across the road, the festive window,’ I wave at the display behind me, even though I probably shouldn’t have drawn attention to it again. ‘If you can’t be nice to people at this time of year, when can you? I wanted you to know that you brighten my day and this street wouldn’t be the same without you.’
It’s a roundabout explanation, a bit rambly, and more forward than I’d usually be, but Leo needs to hear that he’s important to people, no matter how much my cheeks have heated up. It’s worth the embarrassment because his eyes have softened and his cheeks have gone pink.
‘Yeah, well, business is not exactly booming so you’ll probably be getting used to a street without It’s A Wonderful Latte sooner rather than later.’
‘All the more reason for you to let me buy an extra cup of coffee then, right?’ I say, trying to ignore the pang in my chest at his words and how resigned he seems to it. Maybe I should act more shocked, but I already know how bad business is from the phone call, and even without that, I should have figured it out earlier. The coffee shop is empty, as it has been every other morning in recent months. When it first opened, I’d have to queue for a coffee even as early as half past eight, and at lunchtime you could just forget it. I’d be able to see the back of the queue from down the street and around the corner.
‘Yeah, but you don’t have to buy it for me,’ Leo says before I have a chance to question him. ‘I don’t des –’
It reminds me of what he said on the phone and I want to reach over and squeeze his hand. Who am I kidding? I want to vault over the counter and give him a massive hug. Instead, I nudge my coffee cup against his on the counter, pushing it so his cup touches his hand. ‘Whatever that was going to be, you’re wrong.’
He drops his head onto his hands and exhales slowly, sounding and looking completely exhausted, and for another moment, the mask slips. The smile and the chitchat don’t come as easily as he makes it seem. The flippant way he said he’s going out of business is a much bigger deal than he’s letting on, and as he presses his forehead into his hands on the counter, I can see the physical weight of that on his shoulders.
He looks up and blinks in the brightness. ‘You know you’re going to have to stay and drink it with me now, right?’
‘Good, I was hoping you’d say that.’ I give him a bright smile. Again, it’s more forward than I’d usually be, but Leo needs to know that someone cares.
‘Unless I’m going to make you late for work?’
I glance at my watch without actually looking at the time. ‘Oh, I’ve got bags of time. It’s fine. My manager’s easygoing.’
‘An easygoing bank manager, huh? Who’d have thought it? I thought you had to be uptight and serious to work in the financial industry.’ He thinks for a moment. ‘Although on this street, banking is a joke, isn’t it? There’s no money left to bank. You must’ve noticed the decrease in traders banking with you?’
‘Er, yeah.’ I stutter out a one word answer. I don’t know the first thing about banking or the financial industry and it’s absolutely ridiculous to let him think I work there, but at the same time, I’d only have to mention One Light and he’d put two and two together. Firstly, he’ll wonder why I lied to him, and then he’ll work out the rest about the phone call.
‘Too early to talk about work, huh?’
‘Er, yeah. I clearly haven’t drunk enough of this coffee yet.’ I take another slurp from my cup and go for a speedy subject change. ‘Where’s your mum today?’
‘Early doctor’s appointment.’
‘Oh God, is she okay?’
‘You worry too much,’ he smiles. ‘Yeah, just a routine blood pressure check and monitoring her thyroid medication. She’s fine. Tough as old boots, she is. Nothing gets her down.’
‘It must be nice to work with her?’
‘It would be nicer if she could relax and enjoy her retirement,’ he sighs. ‘To be honest, even if I hired another baker, I think she’d still be here every day keeping watch, making sure they didn’t put a quarter of a milligram too much baking powder in her famous gingerbread recipe. If I tried to sack her, she’d probably put me in the muffins.’
I laugh. ‘She’s a real character. Whenever I see her, she’s whistling and humming around the kitchen. She seems to love it here.’
His eyes go distant for a moment as his gaze turns to the window. ‘She’s going to go crazy when she sees that window. She’s going to want to track down who did it and get their autograph. They have window paintings in that charity shop next door to you and she always admires them and wants to go in and find out who they use.’
I freeze. Crikey, I’d remember if she’d ever actually done that, wouldn’t I? What if she’s been in and spoken to Mary when I’ve not been there? She’s going to know it was me in a flash. I love doing a bit of seasonal window-stencilling on the inside of our windows. Nothing that obstructs the display, just a few flowers in the spring, eggs at Easter, falling leaves in the autumn. There are white snowflakes tumbling down now, although I did have the forethought to use a different stencil on Leo’s window to avoid suspicion.
Leo’s gaze is on the window but his eyes are still distant and he’s not really seeing it. ‘My dad would’ve loved it.’
‘Did he like Christmas?’
‘He loved it. He was Christmas personified. You were saying yesterday that you grew up here? Did you ever come into the café that was here before I bought this place?’
‘Yeah, all the time.’ I smile at the memory. ‘My mum would come into town to do her shopping every Saturday morning and we’d always stop here for a hot chocolate and a toasted teacake on the way home. Especially at this time of year. She’d take me to visit Santa’s grotto at Hawthorne Toys and then we’d come in here for a cuppa and something nice to eat, loaded down with bags of presents.’
Leo’s eyes are suddenly intense; far from being distant, they’re shining with amusement. ‘Do you remember an old guy who used to sit at that table?’ He points to a single table in the corner, next to the window, looking out. It’s the only part of this shop that hasn’t changed in thirty years. Leo redid everything when he took over, except that chair and table.
A memory stirs in my mind. ‘Did he have a mop of white hair and a dark grey beard? Always had a newspaper or two spread across the table in front of him?’
He nods.
‘Yeah. I remember him helping Mum with her bags one day when it was crowded. Another time, he overheard her wondering what the weather was going to do that afternoon and looked it up in his paper for us. He gave me 50p once. I must’ve been really young because it was, like, the most money I’d ever seen. Mum let me go into Woolworths on the way home and get pick ‘n’ mix with it.’
‘He was my dad,’ Leo says with a smile that’s halfway between proud and sad.
‘No way. Really?’ I remember the man well, he was never without a kind smile and a friendly wave. ‘He was like a permanent fixture here. He always seemed to be sitting there in that same seat, watching the world go by.’
‘He loved it here. It was his second home. At this time of year, he was playing Santa at Hawthorne’s next door so he’d be here between shifts. He was best mates with the owner of this place so he’d get changed in the staffroom here and sneak in through a door in the alley between us so kids would never see Santa until he was in the grotto.’
‘No way,’ I say again. ‘Your dad was Hawthorne’s Santa? The guy who always sat in that corner was Hawthorne’s Santa?’
He nods.
‘But he was the best Santa ever. He wasn’t a man dressed up as Santa, he was the actual Santa.’
‘I
hate to break it to you, Georgia,’ Leo says with a grin, ‘but I feel it’s my duty to inform you, as an adult, that Santa isn’t real.’
I roll my eyes. ‘You know what I mean. He was like Richard Attenborough in Miracle on 34th Street. He was the closest thing you could ever get to a real Santa. People used to travel for miles to see him. The queues were always ridiculous but no one ever complained because he was worth the wait. I never believed in Santa, I’d always known it was Mum and Dad who put the presents under the tree, but I still wanted to visit him because he seemed so real. Mum was a grown woman and she always said he even made her start to wonder …’
‘That was my dad,’ he says with that same half-proud, half-sad smile.
‘I can’t believe he was the same man who used to sit here in the café. Talk about breaking the illusion. I think you’ve just destroyed my childhood, Leo. He wasn’t supposed to be someone who went next door and took a costume off, he was supposed to hop in his sleigh and go back to the North Pole with his reindeer and elves.’
Leo swallows hard. ‘I like to think that’s where he is now. If there’s a heaven, that’s what it would be for him.’
‘How long ago did he die?’ I ask gently. I can see he’s holding onto his emotions by a fine thread, and I don’t know if pushing the subject further is a good idea or not, but Leo needs a friend, someone he can talk to, and you don’t get that by backing away from difficult topics.
‘Three years ago last month,’ he says, his voice sounding raw.
‘I’m sorry.’ I nudge the cup against his hand again, mainly because I’m scared that if I actually touch him, I won’t be able to stop until I’ve climbed over the counter and wrapped him up in my arms. I know so much deep, private stuff about him that it’s a struggle to remember that he doesn’t know I know it. ‘So you bought this place to honour him?’
‘Not really. Kind of.’ Leo smiles a sad smile, his eyes damp. ‘He had always planned to buy it in his retirement. Like I said, he was best mates with the owner, they were due to retire at the same time, and they’d struck a deal years before that his friend wouldn’t sell it to anyone else. I think Dad thought it’d be a nice, gentle job to keep him occupied. So they’d both retired and he’d just started the process of buying it, and then …’ His voice cracks and he swallows again. ‘He left the money, and my mum and sister agreed that we should carry on what he’d started and I should step into the shoes he’d always wanted to fill.’
It's a Wonderful Night Page 7