In public, with plenty of people still nearby, Bernard’s eyes flicking towards us every time there’s a break between children in the sleigh, the vague sound of Casey’s cheering, and my dad looking deliberately in the other direction.
I meet Leo’s eyes and we both start giggling.
‘Hold that thought,’ he whispers, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against him again.
His smile is so full of joy and he sounds so happy that it spreads through me too. We did this. We brought Oakbarrow back from the brink, just the two of us, and if we can do that, we can overcome anything.
I forget about the people around us, the band playing, the chill in the air, and a sense of contentment settles over me – everything will be all right. He will understand.
I reach up to straighten his tinsel antlers and take a deep breath. ‘Leo, there’s something I need to tell –’
‘Excuse me,’ someone says before I have a chance to finish the sentence.
A policeman pushes past us and approaches Bernard. ‘Are you in charge here?’
‘Depends on who’s asking,’ Bernard says, his eyes flicking towards us.
The policeman holds up a badge and shows it to Bernard. ‘I would’ve thought that fairly obvious.’
‘Hmm.’ Bernard takes much longer to examine the badge than necessary. ‘I am and I’m not. What seems to be the problem?’
‘I would’ve thought that fairly obvious too.’ The policeman gestures to the huge sparkling tree behind him. ‘I’ve been sent as an enforcement officer by Gloucestershire county council as they’ve noticed you’re holding an unlicensed public gathering tonight. They also seem to be missing a record of your planning permission for these decorations, and your health and safety certificates appear to have gone amiss too. Are you the man responsible? If not, could you point me in the correct direction, please?’
‘I am,’ Bernard says, folding his arms across his red Santa coat and puffing his chest out.
The police officer really doesn’t look impressed. This cannot end well.
‘He’s not,’ Leo says instantly, pulling away from my side and striding towards them. ‘I am. This is nothing to do with him, it’s solely my responsibility.’
‘No, it’s not,’ I say before I’ve even thought it through. ‘You’re the one who tried to talk me out of it. This was my idea. I’m responsible.’
‘She’s not,’ Leo says.
‘Neither of them are,’ Bernard says. ‘I’m the oldest, I’m the one in charge.’
The police officer looks between us. ‘I’m going to have to fine all three of you then. You’ve hooked into the council’s electricity supply without permission, we have no health and safety certificates for this display, and you’re holding this public gathering without public liability insurance … Unless you can show me your documentation for all of those things right this second, I have no choice but to issue you with a fixed penalty notice, and instruct you to begin the process of removal immediately.’
A gasp of misery echoes through the crowd and I feel the same hollowness knocking around inside me. All this effort, all these people who have come out tonight to see Oakbarrow like it used to be, and it’s all over already. Of course the council have found out – we were naive to think they wouldn’t.
‘If these decorations are not removed within twenty-four hours, court proceedings will follow.’ He points a pen towards Bernard. ‘I’m going to need your names and addresses. We’ll start with you.’
Bernard manages to look pleased about this. ‘My address is that bench in the churchyard, and my name is Santa Claus, of course. Ask any of these people if you don’t believe me.’
‘Hilarious, my friend. If only I had a pound for every time I hear that in December.’ He turns to me and Leo. ‘And I suppose you two are the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy?’
‘No, that’s my head elf and my wingless angel, Clarence,’ Bernard says.
The police officer looks like he’s running out of patience faster than a cheetah on rollerblades. When he speaks, it’s through gritted teeth. ‘I’m sure you think you’re all stand-up comedians, but this is a serious matter. If you refuse to give me your names and addresses, or if I suspect you’re giving me false information, I will call for back-up and you will be taken into custody and charged with wasting police time, as well as everything else you’re getting up to here.’
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a spike of panic. Fixed penalty fines, being arrested and charged, enforcement officers … I’ve never been on the wrong side of the law before and my knees feel unstable and my hands have started shaking. So much for that sense of contentment, eh?
‘You can’t issue a fine to Santa Claus,’ a woman in the crowd says.
The policeman falters for a second as his eyes shift towards the young girl standing with her, obviously reconsidering destroying the Christmas magic of her childhood. ‘I’m not issuing a fine to Santa Claus, I’m issuing a fine to this gentleman and his friends.’
‘Mr Scrooge, is that you?’ a man shouts from a few people back. ‘You’re looking remarkably well for someone first written about in 1843!’
The policeman half-stifles a laugh and actually looks ashamed for a moment. ‘Look, I’m just doing my job. These people are in breach of multiple rules and regulations. They don’t have planning consent or insurance, they don’t have the specific approval required to attach to street furniture and lighting columns, they’re interfering with the streetlights, and they’re causing a public nuisance.’
‘You’re causing a public nuisance!’ someone shouts.
‘Interfering with the streetlights,’ another man scoffs. ‘There have been dodos seen more recently than a fresh bulb in any of those lamps!’
‘What if it wasn’t just them who did it?’ someone else in the crowd calls out.
‘Yes!’ My dad suddenly jumps up and hobbles across to us. ‘It was me too!’
‘And me!’ Mary steps forward.
‘Me too.’ Patrick doesn’t have much choice as she practically drags him with her.
‘Same!’ Casey shouts.
‘Us too,’ an elderly woman’s voice calls from outside It’s A Wonderful Latte, and I turn around to see Maggie waving her hand like she’s trying to attract attention, Becky and Izzy at her side.
They’re echoed by a chorus of people claiming responsibility for what we did. Shopkeepers I recognize, people I’ve never seen before, customers I know from One Light. One by one, people say it was them even though it wasn’t. There are so many people stepping up that eventually the policeman has to interrupt them.
‘Someone has organized this. One or two people.’ He glances at me, Leo, and Bernard again. ‘Or a few. But not every one of the few hundred people here have put up decorations that you do not have permission to display.’
‘You don’t know that. You weren’t here when we put them up,’ someone else challenges him.
‘If it was every single one of us, you can’t fine us all,’ says a man I recognize from the florist’s shop. ‘If the council have a problem with this, maybe they should have done it themselves. Gloucestershire council have turned their backs on us so the residents have decided to do something about it themselves. It’s not a crime to want your town to look festive.’
‘The council’s budget is limited.’
‘So is ours. So is everyone’s. You want to fine us, go ahead. Fine Oakbarrow High Street as a whole. We’ll all chip in to pay it. I will, I know many of the shopkeepers who have come back here in the past few weeks would think that it’s worth a little contribution to see their high street looking like this again. Do your worst, matey. It’s Christmas and this is the most festive I’ve felt in years because these people have done what should have been done years ago.’
The crowd murmur agreements like the rumbling of an approaching thunderstorm.
‘All of us have had a hand in our high street declining.’ This time the newsagent joins in. �
��We are the people who stopped shopping here because the shops we liked could no longer afford to stay in business, we are the ones who have chosen to go elsewhere because it’s more convenient, and now we are the ones who have a chance to turn back the clock. It’s worth more than money.’
‘Impose whatever fine you want,’ Patrick says. ‘It will be paid – by all of us, for all of us. And I sincerely hope that next year, everyone will get together and do exactly the same again, fine or no fine.’
The police officer looks like he’s wavering and I actually feel a bit sorry for him. I doubt he expected to find a couple of hundred people knee deep in festive spirit on Oakbarrow High Street tonight.
My dad takes pity on him. ‘Did you grow up here?’
‘Well, yes, nearby,’ he says, his voice sounding stuttery and nervous.
‘Don’t you remember it looking like this?’
‘I remember coming to Hawthorne’s. My father bought me a toy police car that you rode around in. It was my favourite for years. When I got too big to fit in it, I put my teddies in and gave them rides instead.’ He smiles, his eyes wandering up the street to where you can see the upper parts of the redbrick building towering above its neighbours. ‘That was the moment I decided I wanted to join the police force. I loved that shop.’
‘Do you remember how the street used to look? The snow in Hawthorne’s doorway?’ Leo gestures towards the sleigh Bernard is still standing in. ‘Santa’s grotto? The carol services at the tree by the church?’
‘Everything’s been installed by an electrician,’ Bernard says. ‘Everything’s safe, and people are enjoying it. Oakbarrow High Street is different – better – because of this. Where’s your Christmas spirit?’
‘Well, I …’ the officer stutters, not looking half as steadfast as he did when he arrived.
‘Look at how many people we’ve made happy. When was the last time you saw this amount of joy in our little town? It’ll be Christmas Eve in two days. The elves and I will have everything down by Boxing Day. Can’t you just tell your bosses that you couldn’t find who was responsible?’ Bernard taps his nose. ‘I’ll make sure you’re on the nice list …’
The police officer smiles. ‘I suppose I can’t really say no to Santa, can I?’
The crowd cheers, the Salvation Army strikes up with ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’, and the policeman goes to The Bum for a well-deserved mulled wine.
Leo drops his arm around my shoulder and breathes an exaggerated sigh of relief.
‘Times like this remind me of why I love Oakbarrow so much. Even strangers will step in to help when you need it. If a man has friends, he truly has a wonderful life,’ Bernard says, repeating the toast he made earlier that seems even more significant now.
* * *
It’s eleven o’clock before the last of the stragglers have left and all the shops have shut. Maggie, Becky, and Izzy have taken my dad home, Casey’s taken her new old-crush’s phone number as opposed to his condom size, Mary and Patrick have made plans to spend the day together tomorrow and gone their separate ways for tonight, and Leo and I are still picking up empty coffee cups from the pavement.
‘Well, that was a wonderful night.’ Bernard flops down onto the bench in the sleigh and picks up the cup of tea that Leo’s brought him.
‘Thanks for all you’ve done,’ I say, standing upright and putting my hands on my lower back which is definitely telling me I’ve been on my feet for too long.
‘This was all you two,’ Bernard says. ‘Everyone else in Oakbarrow had given up on ever making this town better, apart from you two. And you did it. You brought the community together again. You reminded us all of Christmases past. That won’t just disappear now. People will hold onto it for the rest of the year too.’
‘I think we might not have been alone.’ Leo stands upright too and grunts at the movement. He points upwards. ‘If my dad was here, and Georgia’s mum, they’d have loved it.’
‘They’d have been very proud,’ Bernard says. ‘Why don’t you two take the weight off for a minute?’ He pats the red sleigh bench, and the temptation of sitting down is just too much.
I squeeze in on one side of Bernard and Leo squeezes in on the other. He groans and pushes his back against the wooden bench to straighten it. ‘Next year, we hire litter pickers.’
‘Next year, hopefully the council will listen to demand and do it themselves,’ I say.
‘There’s a very good chance that they will. Look at what happened tonight. We all showed them how much love we still have for this town. I’m proud of you two, you know that?’ He drops an arm around both of our shoulders. ‘And for once I’m not afraid to put my arms around you because my lovely Clarence here let me use that fancy shower gel.’
We all sit there in silence for a while, looking at the now empty street, completely still, apart from the twinkling of Christmas lights.
‘Come on then,’ Bernard says. ‘Tell an old Santa standing in for another old Santa who’d have boiled over with delight at the sight of a certain kiss earlier … what’s your Christmas wish?’
I look at Leo over the top of Bernard’s Santa hat. You.
‘I think I’ve already got mine,’ Leo says, not taking his eyes off me.
I smile at him, feeling so happy I might burst. I can’t remember the last time things felt this right. For the first time in years, I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything by staying in Oakbarrow. Sometimes the best things are the things that have been in front of you all along.
‘Actually, there is one thing, Bernard. Tell me something.’ Leo nods towards me. ‘Why do you call her Clarence? Because she’s some kind of angel?’
I mime sticking my fingers down my throat and Leo laughs.
Bernard looks at me and my smile stops in its tracks as I feel the blood drain from my face. I suddenly know exactly what he’s going to say.
‘Because Clarence stops people jumping off bridges.’
Chapter 18
If Leo got the hidden meaning, he was too polite to mention it. He was quiet as he walked me home, tired after the long day, but he didn’t kiss me again.
I didn’t go into town yesterday as it was Sunday, and this morning, he and Maggie are rushed off their feet. The queue is long and it’s Maggie who serves me, taking my money and handing me a cup without my name written on it. Leo gave me a tight smile when the bell jingled as I came in but hasn’t looked round from the coffee machines since.
I overthink it as I walk down the road towards One Light, sipping my coffee that doesn’t put as much of a spring in my step as it usually does.
Does he know? It doesn’t get much more obvious than ‘Clarence stops people jumping off bridges’, does it? Is he expecting me to explain myself? Does he realize I’ve been lying to him and can’t bear to look at me? Is he just really busy? Maybe his phone is out of battery and that’s why he didn’t text yesterday? Or because we’ve been texting about the windows and the tree and stuff and now tomorrow is Christmas Eve, there’s nothing left to organize. Maybe that’s it …
‘Hi!’ I nearly have a heart attack on the spot as I turn the corner at the bank and find our two most senior managing directors waiting outside One Light’s door, both in smart suits carrying posh briefcases, and both looking like they’ve been waiting a long while.
The lady, who I met years ago during training and now can’t remember the name of, is rubbing her hands together to generate heat, and the man who I’ve never met is checking his wrist in a way that says he hasn’t read the time once but can somehow prompt my arrival by glaring his watch into submission.
‘What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were due today!’ My voice is so unstable it sounds like a 4-year-old picking up an untuned violin for the first time, and if they can’t tell that the smile I’ve forced onto my face is hiding a litany of silent swear words, they’re due an appointment at Specsavers.
All thoughts of my usual shortcut through the bank are forgotten and I�
��m suddenly thanking whatever lingering Christmas magic it was that made Leo busy this morning so he’s unlikely to be watching. What a mess it would’ve been if he’d walked me to work today.
‘We just popped down as it’s nearly Christmas and we wanted to see the seasonal displays for ourselves and watch how they’re performing,’ the lady says, and I wish I could remember her name. I can’t ask because she’ll know I wasn’t paying attention in those training weeks, and both of them seem to know me well enough to be in no mind for introducing themselves.
‘And it wouldn’t be a spot check if you knew we were coming,’ the man says.
‘Oh, marvellous,’ I squeak. ‘What a wonderful festive surprise.’
‘Things have really picked up lately so you must be doing something right.’
Oh, if you only knew. I realize the noise I can hear is the coffee sloshing inside my latte cup as I wave it around. ‘Oh, sorry! I’d have got you both one if I’d known you were coming.’
‘Well, maybe you can let us in and get the heating on,’ the man says. ‘It’s five to nine. Customers might be along in a few minutes and we don’t want them walking into a cold shop. People spend less when they’re cold, and we don’t want that, do we?’
‘Of course we don’t,’ I say through gritted teeth, debating telling him that we’re trialling a new Arctic experiment so customers come in, realize they’re freezing, and buy all the coats in a mass coat exodus.
‘So…’ he says.
‘Oh, right! Keys!’ I fumble through my bag, wondering if the keys have gone to bloody Narnia via the pocket at the back where you keep a spare tampon.
‘I hope there aren’t any staff waiting around the back. They’ll be frozen into icicles by now,’ the woman says. ‘Staff-cicles!’
I giggle like it’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all year, trying not to think about Mary, who will undoubtedly be waiting patiently in the car park. Volunteers will be off with their families because it’s Christmas week, but Mary’s still in today.
This must look so unprofessional. I’m late, my keys have made a break for freedom, Mary’s probably lost at least one toe to frostbite by now, but I’ve still found the time to nonchalantly stroll down the road with my all-important latte.
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