I couldn’t stop myself putting them on if I wanted to. I make him take the cups as I pull them out of the bag and slip them onto my head, the fingers of my gloves instantly covered in glitter. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome, my lovely. They suit you.’
I love that he chose them. Of all the festive headgear on that stand, they’re exactly the ones I would’ve chosen myself, in all their glittery, jingly glory. He always seems to know what I’ll like. It’s a talent when it comes to making coffee, but it clearly stretches further than caffeine.
We stand under a tree sipping our hot chocolate. ‘It’s not as good as yours.’
He grins like he’s trying not to be as proud as he is. ‘Well, in all fairness, I’ve got a shop. She’s got a towed trailer in the middle of the wilderness.’
‘You can just take a compliment, you know.’
He leans to the side until our antlers clash and make both our bells jingle. ‘Thank you for thinking this watery cup of pale dishwater is not as good as mine. This is an affront to hot chocolate, this is.’
‘I was trying to be polite.’
‘An affront to hot chocolate is polite. There’s plenty of worse things I could call it.’
We smile at each other over our terrible cups of hot chocolate.
‘What are we going to do about this Santa thing then?’ Leo says. ‘Your dad was saying they always had a Santa for children to meet at these tree lighting parties, and we’ve got all the props, we’ve just got no Santa.’
‘I was thinking … what if we ask Bernard?’
He snorts.
‘Why not? He’d be great at it.’
‘How do I put this nicely? He’s not the most … fragrant of gents, is he? I mean, I love the guy, he’s great, but you don’t want to stand downwind of him.’
‘We could make him have a bath first.’
‘I can’t. I shower under a hosepipe balancing on the toilet rim.’
‘He can come home with me – my dad won’t mind. You can too, if you want.’
‘Are you telling me I smell?’
I laugh because he does smell – absolutely delicious. His aftershave is cinnamon and wood, and the smell of roasting coffee and chai spice clings to his clothes, and whenever I’m with him, I always want to step a bit nearer because he smells so good. ‘I still hate the idea of you alone in the shop. You’re welcome to stay on our sofa.’
I expect him to refuse instantly, but he swallows another mouthful of the horrible hot chocolate. ‘Thank you,’ he says, his voice barely above a whisper as he disguises the shudder – hopefully from the hot chocolate and not the idea of staying with me.
He doesn’t say anything else or give any hint that he’s considering it.
‘I’ll tell you what you can help me with … I still haven’t got a present for Izzy. What does a cool uncle get his 16-year-old niece for Christmas that makes him still be considered a cool uncle despite the fact he wears reindeer antlers in public?’
I can’t help giggling at him because he’s so painfully endearing sometimes. ‘Gift voucher for whichever online music service she uses, one of those make your own phone case kits, and a selection box.’
‘A selection box?’ His face scrunches up. ‘Don’t you grow out of them at 7?’
I gasp in indignation. ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged that all chocolate tastes better if it comes from a selection box. And it’s better when you’re an adult too. When you’re a kid and you get a selection box, you’ve got your mum saying you can only have one bar before breakfast and telling you you’ll spoil your lunch, but when you’re an adult, you can eat the whole thing for breakfast and no one can tell you not to.’ I clear my throat. ‘I mean, not that I’ve ever done that or anything …’
‘I’m going to have to test this theory.’ He bumps his arm against mine. ‘And thanks, I hadn’t thought of any of those things. I was just going down the unimaginative cash route. You’re really good at this.’
‘You’d be surprised how often I get asked if I’ve got any gift ideas for people.’
‘In the ban –’
‘Yes, in the bank. People think about it when they’re drawing money out, don’t they?’ I say swiftly, taking a sip of disgusting hot chocolate to save having to answer any more awkward questions.
* * *
‘Mistletoe,’ the tree guy says when he comes back, his arms around a Christmas tree in a net bag. He points upwards. ‘Bad luck not to.’
Not to what? Kiss? I glance up at the tree we’re standing under. I hadn’t even realized there was a bunch of mistletoe hanging from it.
‘I think we’ve had enough bad luck to last a lifetime lately. I don’t think we can risk angering the mistletoe gods.’ Leo grins at me. ‘What d’ya say, George? Think we should obey the laws of Christmas?’
The smile that spreads across my face is obscenely wide. ‘I think we probably should.’
I was hoping for a proper kiss, but he bends down and kisses my cheek, just a bit nearer to my mouth than could be classed as a friendly kiss, making me feel as jingly as the bells on both our antler headbands. I close my eyes as his lips curve into a smile against my skin and he lingers for much longer than a peck could reasonably last. It’s a sweet, gentle kiss, and so Leo that it feels more intimate than a full-on snog would have.
When he pulls back, my cheek is burning like a glowing brand where his lips touched. He’s smooth-shaven today – it’s the first time in a while that Leo hasn’t had scruff, and all I want to do is cup his cheek and sort of rub my face against his.
But that would be weird.
He’s beaming when I look up at him. ‘You didn’t kiss me.’
‘What?’
‘I only kissed you. I think we both have to pay our dues to the mistletoe gods or we’ll still get bad luck.’
He looks to the bloke with the tree for confirmation who does a shrug that quickly turns into a nod when he catches sight of the look on Leo’s face.
I blush bright red even though the thought of kissing Leo again is not an unwelcome one. It’s just that the kind of kiss I’d like to share with Leo is not the kind that can be done under a sprig of mistletoe while a bloke with a Christmas tree watches on.
‘Oh, go on then.’ I push myself up on my tiptoes and aim for the vague direction of his mouth, purposefully missing and getting a patch halfway up his chin that’s bumpy with the first hint of stubble coming back. I do a big ‘mwah’ sound when my lips make contact, and Leo laughs as I pull away, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against him in a hug.
‘There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ he whispers against my ear.
I look up at him and grin. ‘You’re the one who directed us to this tree. I think you knew that mistletoe was there.’
‘I didn’t think you’d mind.’
‘I don’t.’ I smile at him and he smiles at me until the bloke with the Christmas tree clears his throat.
‘Well, there you go, you’ve both calmed the mistletoe gods and now you can be sure that your Christmas will go off without a hitch,’ he says.
‘We’ve got to get it there first,’ I say to Leo as we watch two burly men trying to strap the tree to my dad’s roof rack. ‘Have you seen the beginning of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation where the tree’s too big and they can’t see to drive home?’
‘Best Christmas film ever, apart from It’s a Wonderful Life, of course.’
I grin at him because agreeing on Christmas films is another thing we have in common. ‘Well, it’s a good thing we both love it because I think we’re about to re-enact it.’
‘Maybe we should offer a better sacrificial kiss to the mistletoe gods?’ He waggles his eyebrows.
‘I would not be opposed to that.’ I grin as he leans down to kiss me again.
Chapter 16
‘Is Leo okay?’ I ask as the bell tinkles above the door when I walk into It’s A Wonderful Latte on Monday morning and see Maggie behind th
e counter. My heart is instantly in my throat and my mind goes to all the things that could’ve happened to him. He’s always here in the mornings.
Maybe the Mariah warbling really did scare him off?
Maggie’s greeting is cut off and her smile goes from welcoming to troubled. ‘Of course, lovey. The invitations for Saturday are done and he’s just popped out to collect them from the printers before the morning rush starts. Isn’t it wonderful to be throwing around words like “morning rush”? A few weeks back, it seemed unlikely we’d ever have a rush again, morning or otherwise.’
I breathe a sigh of relief, and I can hear Leo’s voice in my head telling me I worry too much, but I can’t help it sometimes.
‘I can make you a coffee if you’re in a hurry,’ she says. ‘Or have you got time to wait for him? He knew you’d be in and he didn’t want to miss you. I’m sure he won’t be long.’
‘I can wait,’ I say, not bothering to glance at my watch. I’ve been leaving home earlier than usual in the past few weeks just to make sure I had a bit of time to spend with Leo without leaving Mary to freeze outside for too long. ‘It would be … weird … not to see him in the morning.’ I struggle to think of the right word. Other than Sundays when One Light is shut, I can barely remember the last time my day started without seeing Leo.
I can sense Maggie’s eyes on me and I get the feeling she’s trying to read me. I look around instead, hoping to ward off any awkward conversation. Fairy lights are twinkling along the garland at the base of the window, the fire is roaring away in the hearth and there’s a customer sitting in front of it leaning over a laptop. The green artificial tree Leo’s put up in the corner is strung with white tinsel, glittering fairy lights, and an array of red baubles. Instead of an angel, there’s a Santa hat on top, a fitting tribute to his father.
‘Yes, I’ve lost track of how long you’ve been coming in here. Every day for, oh, it’s got to be a couple of years now, hasn’t it?’
I blush that even his mum is hinting at how big my crush is. ‘I really like coffee.’
‘He likes you too,’ she says with a knowing smile as I wander over to the cake display unit near the till.
‘You’ve been busy this morning,’ I say, attempting a quick subject change and nodding to the selection of muffins, cakes, and biscuits laid out under glass. It’s not the first time she’s said it, but it never gets any less awkward.
‘I’ve been hoping to catch you alone, actually.’
Please be financial advice. Please be financial advice. I’m nowhere near as out of my depth with financial advice as I am with Leo.
‘And the fact that your first question this morning was “Is Leo okay?” and not “Where’s Leo?” speaks volumes.’
‘Oh, that’s just me, I worry too much. Ask Leo, he’ll tell you.’ I wave a nonchalant hand, wondering if she’d prefer to talk about premium bonds and credit ratings.
‘You confirmed my fear that he’s not okay.’
‘He is,’ I say, torn between wanting to protect her in the way Leo does and wanting someone else to know how bad things have been for him. ‘I think. He’s better than he was, anyway.’
‘Since he started spending time with you.’ I go to protest but she stops me. ‘I’m glad he met you. He won’t ever admit it but he needs help and he seems to have accepted it from you, whereas with me, he’s always trying to be strong and invincible so he can look after me.’
‘But you help him too. You bring him meals every day and you’re always working here even though I’m sure you’d rather be at home with your feet up.’
‘I feel close to my husband here. At home, I’d be sat there all day staring at his empty armchair. It feels better to be here. He had his regular table in the corner by the window and I forbade Leo from ever moving it. He used to sit there and watch the world go by and he was truly happy in those moments.’
I think of the smiling old man I remember sitting in that corner, always eager to help anyone with anything. I remember people asking him for directions, and he was always the first to jump up and help people with heavy shopping bags or awkward pushchairs.
‘He’d love Oakbarrow coming back to life like this. He’d be incredibly proud of what you two have done here.’
‘I loved Oakbarrow as it was too. I can’t take credit for any of this, it’s Leo’s creativity and your inventive use of social media that’s brought people in. I just wave a paintbrush around.’
‘It’s been nice to see Leo getting involved in something. He hates this town. He’s always wanted to get away. My husband left the money to buy this place, but Leo never wanted to stay here. I was happy to divide the money between my two children and let them use it for whatever they wanted to make their own lives better. It often felt that buying this place would be like clinging onto the past. When someone dies, I think the best way you can honour them is by continuing to live, but that doesn’t always mean living the life they wanted for you.’
‘He blames himself, doesn’t he?’ I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I feel a bit guilty for talking about Leo behind his back, but his mum is never going to tell me any of this stuff in front of him, and the lure of getting to the bottom of the depths I see in his eyes is just too much.
‘He’s told you what happened.’ It’s a statement, not a question. ‘I didn’t think he’d ever told anyone what happened.’
She doesn’t hide the look of surprise on her face and it makes me feel warm inside that he really does trust me enough to open up to me. This is what I wanted from the moment I realized who had been on the other end of that phone. I wanted Leo to know he had someone he could talk to rather than keeping everything bottled up inside. It also makes the pong of betrayal a bit stinkier. I don’t think Leo trusts many people in his life, but he trusts me, and I’ve been lying to him all along.
‘I think …’ Maggie continues, talking slowly and carefully, considering what she’s saying before she speaks, ‘he’s tied himself here as some form of penance. I doubt even he sees it like that, but he did blame himself entirely, and I think living the life his dad wanted is the next best thing he could do for him. He couldn’t save him but he could do what he never got the chance to.’
‘But he does love this place. It might not be what he had planned but he loves experimenting with coffee and talking to customers and all the nostalgia and memories he’s got here, and he’s been amazing with the windows …’
‘I think he likes Oakbarrow a lot more since he got to know you,’ she says, still considering each word. ‘But this wasn’t his choice; it was just one of those hands that life deals you that leave you stuck between a rock, a hard place, and another rock. Leo didn’t want to run a coffee shop but he felt he owed it to me, Becky, and the memory of his father. I saw him at the hospital. I’d never seen Leo in such a state and I never will again. He was covered in mud from where he’d scrambled up the river bank to get a phone signal. His jeans were ripped and bloodied where he’d torn his leg on something and he hadn’t even noticed. He’d broken a bone in his hand and didn’t realize it until two days later when we went to collect my husband’s things and a doctor noticed how swollen it was and sent him for an x-ray. He’d done everything humanly possible to do, and I think he feels that it wasn’t enough. Docs told us there was nothing that could’ve been done. It was a heart attack, sometimes these things just happen, there’s no warning, no way to prevent it, but …’
‘Sometimes that’s not enough,’ I say, thinking about my own mother’s battle with cancer and my dad’s heart scares, the few things Leo has said over the past few weeks about his guilt, and just that general ‘what if I could’ve done more’ feeling we all get when something bad happens.
I bite my lip so hard that I taste blood and screw my toes up inside my shoes to give me something to focus on as opposed to bursting into tears in the middle of the shop while Maggie is sharing her worries with me. The thought of Leo being so broken makes me want to hug him until the end
of time, and I still find it so hard to imagine the sunny, happy guy I knew before, ever going through something like that.
‘None of that means he’s not happy here now,’ I say after I’m sure my voice isn’t going to crack. ‘No matter how the hand was dealt, he does love this place, not just because his father loved it.’
‘Oh, I know. He’s willing to give up everything to save it.’ She fixes me with a steely look. ‘And yes, I know he’s living here. I know he’s in trouble, Georgia. I know the business is failing and I know he sold his house to try to keep it afloat, and I know you already know all this, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him I know.’
‘How do you know I know?’ I ask, stupidly. There are far too many ‘knows’ to keep up with.
‘Because of your complete lack of surprise, and because you know about his dad. Apart from the very first moments when I arrived at the hospital, Leo has never spoken about that day again. If he’s told you that, he’s told you everything. And I’m glad he has. Keeping that sort of thing inside damages a person.’
Oh, you have no idea, I think, wondering how much else she knows. Mothers know everything. You can’t hide things from a mum, mine was exactly the same. I just wish I’d appreciated it more in my teenage years.
‘I don’t know if all these customers will carry on coming after Christmas. I don’t know if the traders coming back will really bring Oakbarrow back to life in the long run, if the council will drop our business rates again or if we’ll carry on earning enough to pay the new rates, but when Leo finally plucks up the courage to admit how bad things are, I have the means to help. My husband and I had some savings and I’m not going to let this place go without a fight, especially when you’ve fought so hard to save it. Do you mind me asking why?’
I start the age-old excuse of how much I like coffee and how I don’t know where I’d get my fix if It’s A Wonderful Latte wasn’t here but she stops me.
‘Bearing in mind that I already know what you’re going to say because I know where you work, Georgia.’
‘At the …’
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