‘Where you really work. I’ve admired your windows for years and I went in when you had an autumn display up about a year and a half ago and I asked the lady at the till who painted the leaves and squirrels and if they were available for hire, and she told me that your Head Office liked your windows to have something different and would never stand for their manager – Georgia – painting other windows in the street.’
I have a well-rehearsed list of excuses for this situation. It’s a common name, Mary is old and might have got confused. Apparently other people’s senility is my number one excuse for everything lately. Isn’t there someone called Georgina working nearby, that must be who she means. I used to work there but I moved next door … All the excuses suddenly seem pointless. She knows the truth and there’s no getting around it, and as she stands there and blinks watery eyes, steel grey in colour hinting at the strength behind them, I don’t want to lie to her. I take a deep breath. ‘You’ve known all along?’
She nods. ‘I’m not going to tell him. I think there’s a very good reason that you haven’t told him. I also think there’s a very good reason that one day, about two and a half weeks ago, you started trying to save our shop.’
I get the feeling that she already knows what happened – if not exactly then she’s certainly got a good idea – and lying would be futile. ‘It wasn’t the shop I was trying to save.’ My voice breaks on the last word and my nose starts burning.
She blinks back tears of her own and gives me a nod of understanding.
‘He’s helped me too,’ I say quickly. ‘He’s made me believe in myself. He’s made my life exciting again. He’s reminded me of how much I love Oakbarrow and this time of year.’
‘And I think you’ve reminded him of what a wonderful life we all truly have, because I know he forgot that for a long while.’
* * *
‘Usually the sight of my two favourite ladies would make a guy happy, but my ears are suddenly feeling very warm. One could say they were on fire,’ Leo says, the bell jingling as he comes in.
The urge to hug him is too strong to ignore. I cross the shop, slide my arms around his shoulders and drag him down into a bear hug.
He hugs me back without hesitation, his arms encircling me, the bag he’s holding bumping against my back. ‘You okay?’ he whispers.
‘Mm,’ I mumble, holding him a bit tighter, constantly surprised at how thoughtful he is. He’s the kind of guy who, if I had answered no to that question, would drop everything and make me sit and tell him what was wrong.
I don’t let go until another customer tries to push the door open and I realize we’re blocking the doorway.
‘What was that for?’ Leo asks after we’ve shuffled over to the side and he pulls back to look at me. ‘And if my ears weren’t already burning, they are now. Have you been crying?’
‘No,’ I lie as Maggie makes the new customer a drink in the background. ‘Just a late night, as you know, because I was with you painting Santa buying reindeer food on the old pet shop window.’
‘It wasn’t that late. I had you home feeding cats by eleven. We were both knackered after unloading that mammoth tree.’
‘Must be a pine needle allergy then,’ I lie again.
He raises an eyebrow. ‘Thank you for yesterday. I had the best time, even though I’ll probably have pine needles embedded in my skin until at least July.’
‘You bought me a Christmas rose, a reindeer antler headband, and the worst hot chocolate known to mankind, and you’re thanking me?’
‘You sang along to “Fairytale of New York” with me,’ he says with a shrug. ‘Fair’s fair.’
I shake my head fondly.
‘Look, I got the invitations printed out at the old stationery shop.’ He rustles around in the bag he’s holding and shoves a stack of them into my hand, looking like a kid who’s just opened his first Christmas present. ‘Aren’t they fantastic?’
‘They look amazing.’ I run my fingers over the glossy postcards. Casey has done a fantastic job of putting them together, using a copy of Mr Hawthorne’s old photo framed by my trees from the Bedford Falls window, with the words ‘Let’s take Oakbarrow back in time’ across the top, and underneath inviting everyone to come and watch the Christmas tree switch on, where there’ll be hot drinks from Leo, hot mulled wine from the manager at The Bum who’s still got his premises license and is opening up again for the night, Santa in his sleigh for the kids, and late-night shopping for any last-minute Christmas essentials.
Maggie holds her hand out for one when the customer leaves. ‘Just like things used to be,’ she says, sounding nostalgic as she stares down at the invitation.
‘And do you want the fantastic news or the fantastic news?’
‘Either as long as it’s fantastic,’ I say, laughing at the brightness in his blue eyes.
‘The market’s coming back. All Christmas stalls open on Saturday and Sunday morning, and from January, they’ve got the space weekly again for the craft market on Saturdays and the farmer’s market on Sundays.’
‘For real?’ I say in surprise. ‘When you say fantastic news, you really mean fantastic news, don’t you?’
‘Wow,’ Maggie says. ‘That market was probably the biggest loss for Oakbarrow. It brought so many people into town every weekend. I worked there myself when I was younger and needed extra cash.’
‘I sold a couple of paintings there when I first left college,’ I say.
‘You should do that again,’ he says. ‘You’re more than good enough.’
I blush even though it’s a nice thought. It’s something I never thought I’d do again but painting the windows, and Leo’s constant encouragement and belief in me has made me think about getting out an easel and a blank canvas again. ‘Our customers always got so excited about it. It was known for miles and had a massive following in the online crafter community. Do you know how they got the space back?’
‘According to the bloke in the stationery shop, the council were willing to negotiate on the new rent price due to what they bring to the area. If the council are willing to negotiate at all, it’s got to be a good thing. Maybe we won’t always be stuck with such ridiculous business rates.’
Maggie looks like she’s going to cry again as she looks across the counter at us both. ‘I think you two might’ve done it, you know. The market coming back might be the one thing that saves Oakbarrow. Losing it was definitely the final blow for this town. I’m so proud of you two,’ she says, looking like she might simultaneously burst and pinch our cheeks.
‘It was all George,’ Leo says.
‘It was all Leo,’ I say at the same time and we both start laughing.
‘Maybe you just make a very good team,’ she says.
‘That’s not the first time I’ve heard that,’ he says, making me giggle at the memory of the tree lot yesterday.
‘Well, your dad decorated the tree and your dad was Santa,’ Maggie says to us both. ‘You were definitely meant to meet. Maybe there is a bit of Christmas magic in the air this year after all.’
Chapter 17
‘Where did all these people come from?’ Casey asks as we walk down Oakbarrow High Street at 6 p.m. on Saturday evening.
She’s wearing a skirt that’s way too short for this time of year with slim, golden tanned legs that go on for a mile and make me feel like I’m walking about on a pair of tree trunks. Her arm is hooked through mine because heels that high and any lingering patches of ice that Bernard might not have caught when he salted the road earlier don’t mix. My jeans, trainers, thick-knit cowl-neck jumper and coat make me feel like a festive frump next to my blonde bombshell friend, who screwed her nose up in dismay when she realized she’d have to be seen in public with me wearing the reindeer antlers that Leo bought me and the Christmas tree earrings he mentioned liking.
‘Maggie put the invitation on their Facebook page,’ I say. ‘I’m not sure if people are following because of the windows or because she’s a lovab
le pensioner learning new technology for the first time, but she posted her first selfie with yesterday’s picture of Santa getting his nails done on the nail bar and got more likes in an hour than I’ve ever had on all my posts combined. And I post cat pictures – everyone loves cat pictures.’
‘I don’t. You could post pictures of hot naked men instead.’
I do a comedy shudder. ‘No thanks, I prefer cats.’
‘Who doesn’t like hot naked men?’ Casey sounds so incredulous that I might as well have told her I don’t like chocolate. ‘Besides, I know you like one not-very-hot man who you’d like to see naked.’
‘Leo’s hot.’
‘Eh, Leo was hot but now he’s my best friend’s boyfriend. I can no longer make any judgements on his hotness.’
‘Trust me, Leo is not my boyfriend and he never will be at the rate I’m going.’
‘What do you mean? He’s got it bad for you.’
I shake my head. ‘I can’t keep this up much longer, Case. Even his mum knows I work at One Light. It’s a matter of time until he finds out, and then what?’
‘Buy him a drink up The Bum and have a laugh about it?’ She looks at me and sighs when I don’t laugh. ‘I don’t know what it is you’re not telling me that makes this such a big deal but I assume there is something that you can’t tell me, so just strip off in front of him and offer him your body. Stop making sex more complicated than it is.’
‘That doesn’t actually work, does it?’
She shrugs. ‘Depends on the guy.’
She doesn’t sound as nonchalant as usual when she says it and I glance at her but her gaze remains stubbornly on the road ahead.
‘Not every guy would break your heart if you offered someone more than your body,’ I say quietly.
‘Been there, done that, got several of my ex-fiancé’s T-shirts that I now wear for bed. Some slightly torn after I cut them up.’ She glances at me and looks away quickly. ‘Maybe one day I’ll be like you and want love with all the hearts and flowers, but for now, I like using men the way a man used me. I like turning heads as I walk past. I like sex and lots of it – the amount I missed out on when I was engaged because my fiancé was getting his fill elsewhere. Many elsewheres.’
I hug her arm. ‘I know. I just meant –’
‘Look, there are people literally queuing up to take a picture of your Bedford Falls window. Your art has taken off in the weirdest way possible.’
I know she hates talking about anything to do with her ex so I let her get away with the subject change. ‘Got to admit I never thought my best canvas would be a coffee shop window, but it is kind of a special coffee shop.’
‘I’ve got to admit the street looks kind of special too, George.’ She laughs and gives me a nudge. ‘It reminds me of when I was little. And you might want to record that for posterity because, as Oakbarrow’s self-appointed grinch, I’ll probably never say it again, but it makes me feel all Christmassy.’
I know the street’s looking good, but it must be even better than I thought if it can make even Casey feel festive. Over the course of the week, Bernard, Leo, and I have got the tree up and secure in the old stand outside the churchyard, and decorated it under my dad’s instructions, but the lights won’t be lit until tonight. The bells hanging from streetlamps are twinkling with orange lights, and all the shops that have returned to the high street are open late so their lights illuminate the darkness. The rows of Santas and reindeer strung across the road between either side of the street above our heads are twinkling white, red and white glittering snowflakes dangle from the side of each building, and we found more giant nutcrackers that are standing like sentries at intervals along the pavement, and garlands of lights are arranged across shop fronts.
Mainly it’s been a week of ducking behind the counter or into a clothes rail whenever Leo walks by and emergency runs into the bank when he comes in to tell me something. He’s been in and out more times than the cuckoo on a cuckoo clock this week to go over plans and run-throughs of tonight with me or Bernard, and I’m a little bit exhausted from being on constant Leo-watch. What started as a tiny white lie is now too ridiculous for words, and I’m convinced that it’s only a matter of time until he catches me out.
I have to stop thinking about it.
Casey heads off in the direction of The Bum in search of mulled wine as I push open the door of It’s A Wonderful Latte, barely able to hear the bell jingling over the din of people. Every table is full, and more people are milling around on their feet, all holding coffee cups. It’s the busiest I’ve ever seen it by a country mile, even when it first opened.
Maggie’s got her arms in the cake display case, dishing up slices of peppermint brownie, orange and clove muffins, gingerbread biscuits, and mini mince pies faster than her tongs can carry them. There’s a woman I don’t recognize making drinks, and a teenage girl manning the till.
I duck past a man with a cup of coffee in each hand and edge my way around a woman stood stock still in the middle of the shop who looks like she’s been browsing the menu for at least half an hour.
‘Leo’s niece?’ I ask the girl when I finally find an inch of space near the counter.
‘Georgia?’
‘Yes,’ I say, surprised that she’d know. He must’ve told her about me. I feel all warm inside at the thought. I know he’s got a strained relationship with his sister’s side of the family and I can’t believe he’d bother to tell them anything about me. ‘Izzy, right?’
‘Yes.’ She looks pleased that I know her too, even though being behind the counter of the coffee shop kind of gives it away.
I wait for a moment as she takes money from a customer and hands him change, a receipt, and his drink in one swift move, not forgetting the warm smile, and I’m impressed by how easy she makes it look. Teenagers aren’t fazed by anything. ‘You’re a pro at that. I’d be a shaking wreck on the floor by now. I get in such a muddle when there are too many customers at once.’ Of course, too many customers are a thing of the past in Oakbarrow, but tonight, it doesn’t feel like such a distant memory after all.
‘Ah, this is easy.’ She waves a hand and smoothly passes another customer the bag of brownies that Maggie has just sent over. ‘Your pictures are incredible. I wish I could do that.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, blushing that not only has Leo told his niece about me, but that anything I’ve painted is modern enough to appeal to a teenager. I thought comedy Santas and Bedford Falls would’ve been as unfashionable as I am.
‘Mum, Georgia’s here!’ Izzy calls when there’s a brief lull in customers as the woman at the espresso machine finishes a line of purple cups and Izzy calls out names and hands them out to waiting people.
‘Mum?’ I repeat, thinking I must’ve misheard as the woman makes her way over, smiling at me. ‘You’re Leo’s sister. You’re … here.’
I try not to look as surprised as I am. After everything Leo’s said about his sister’s grief and the way she’s avoided anything that reminds her of their father, she’s the last person I expected to see in It’s A Wonderful Latte, never mind working here, but there’s no doubt about who she is. She’s got the same light brown hair, the same curls, the same chin, the same nose. ‘Becky, right?’
‘It’s so good to meet you,’ she says. ‘Leo’s told us so much about you. I think my mum’s already buying a hat.’
I gulp. Not at the wedding bit, but at the thought that Leo thinks I’m important enough to mention to his family. Surely he’s got better things to talk to his sister about?
‘I’ve been following the posts on Instagram. I decided I couldn’t let another Christmas pass without seeing Oakbarrow, especially after all the work you and my brother have put in. Even if it’s painful in some ways… I’ve been smiling more than I’ve been crying, which is progress from the last time I was here.’
‘We watched It’s a Wonderful Life,’ Izzy says. ‘I’d never seen it before but it was brilliant, even for something so ancient.�
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An unexpected laugh bursts out of my mouth. ‘See, Casey?’ I say despite the fact that she’s not here. She’s always moaning about how old it is. ‘It’s a film that crosses generations.’
‘I bawled like a baby the whole way through,’ Becky says. ‘It was the first time I’d seen it since my dad died, but it was cathartic too. Maybe enough years have passed now that it was therapeutic instead of heartbreaking.’
‘It was my mum’s favourite film when she was alive too,’ I say. ‘Believe me, I understand.’
She smiles at me, revealing teeth so much like Leo’s that I automatically smile back. ‘You’ve certainly got the hang of those machines. You’re even quicker than Leo.’
‘This place is amazing. I should’ve come a lot sooner.’ Her eyes flick to Maggie and back to me. ‘It was always my plan to help Dad out in the shop when he bought it. Coming back tonight has reminded me of how much I loved it here. It’s exactly how he would’ve had it. It feels all warm and homely. He’d be proud of what Leo and Mum have done. Even the name. We never discussed it but I have absolutely no doubt that he would’ve used It’s A Wonderful Latte too. Even that blimmin’ bell above the door that’s been driving me batty every time someone comes in or out.’
‘I like it,’ Izzy says. ‘It makes me think of angels getting their wings now.’
‘Me too,’ I say. I’ve always had a soft spot for that bell. It’s never jingled as much as it has tonight with so many customers though. No sooner than the thought crosses my mind, a man barges in near the till and orders a ‘wonderful latte’, elbowing the mate with him to make sure he appreciates the display of superior wit. Becky looks at me and rolls her eyes. ‘That pun gets old very quickly.’
‘You look rushed off your feet; do you need any help? I ask as she goes to make the aforementioned latte.
‘No, I’m having a great time. Mum said things were slow so it’s fab to see it so busy again. And Leo’s down by the Christmas tree somewhere.’ She looks over her shoulder and winks at me.
Why does everyone think there’s something going on between me and Leo? Even though it’s a ridiculous notion, I can’t wait to see him so I inch my way out of the packed shop and back into the cold December air.
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