‘So doing well with broken things runs in the family then?’ He looks down at himself, and it takes all my willpower not to drop the nutcracker village and throw my arms around him.
‘You’re not … I mean …’ I swallow hard and shake my head at myself. ‘If I plant you in the garden and tell you you’re special every day, are you going to sprout daffodils from your head next spring?’ I turn it into a joke because it’s not normal to want to hug someone this often.
‘If you make me feel that special, I’ll turn into Santa and fly through the Northern Lights on a reindeer for you.’
I grin and take it for the joke it is, because I can’t tell him I think he might be the most special person I’ve ever met.
There’s a podium next to the security doors with an empty display case on it, and James balances his side of the nutcracker model village against his hip while he digs a set of keys out of his pocket to unlock it, and between us, we slide the model back onto the stand and switch it on. A tinny tune of the most recognisable bars of The Nutcracker ballet opening march plays and the miniature conveyor belt starts moving tiny plastic nutcrackers into the model factory and out the other side.
‘It looks better here.’
I look up at him and smile. ‘I approve of the hat.’
He reaches out towards my chest and lifts the glittery green resin Christmas tree necklace I pulled over my head this morning. ‘One of Stace’s test pieces. I get all of her trial runs before she decides whether to make a full batch of them, and she gets all of mine. Lily’s got a whole box full of half-legged or one-antlered wooden reindeer to paint because she won’t let me throw them away.’
He smiles as he settles the necklace back against my chest and his hand drifts down my arm until his fingers close around mine and he tugs gently. ‘C’mere.’
Instead of pulling me to him, he pulls me back up the small corridor until we’re huddled under a lamppost. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I wanted to say thank you for last night.’ He casts his eyes upwards and before I realise what he’s doing, he leans down to press his lips against my cheek. It’s just a quick peck with no lingering this time, but it catches me off-guard and he pulls back before I have a chance to register that I wanted to grab him and pull him closer.
‘And you just had to do that under the mistletoe?’
‘No, but I thought it’d be more fun this way.’ He’s smiling in a way that says he couldn’t stop if he tried to.
I can feel the smile on my face mirroring his and there isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t want to reach up and pull him down so we can do it again.
‘You must think I suffer from narcolepsy,’ he says, thankfully before I have a chance to act on my desires. ‘Every time you turn your back on me for two minutes, I fall asleep on your sofa.’
An unexpected laugh bursts loudly out of my mouth and takes the moment for kissing him away with it. ‘I think you’re stressed out with everything that’s going on in your life and you’re schlepping around three broken bones and a hell of a lot of bruising, and not giving yourself anywhere near enough credit for how draining that is. Pain is exhausting, and so is the way you’ve got to think about every little movement and change the way you do things to accommodate the injuries. I think you keep going and going and push through it, no matter how much you’re hurting, and when you do finally take the weight off your feet, you realise you’re so exhausted, you can barely hold your head up.’
I’m not sure I should have said all that, especially when he starts shaking his head, but his mouth tips up into a smile. ‘I’ve known you for eleven days and you already know me better than my own family do.’
His eyes are sparkling, dancing under the warm orange glow of the lamp above our heads, and I think it’s best to change the subject quickly. ‘Thank you for the nutcracker on the tree.’
‘It’s been years since I made one. I can’t even remember how to. Feel free to laugh.’
‘You said you like working with your hands. If you ever want to play around in my shed when your arm’s better …’
‘Is that like The Wizard inviting Dorothy behind the curtain?’
‘Well, you would look rather fetching in sparkly red heels.’
He laughs so hard that he ends up pressing his upper arm against his ribcage in an attempt to cushion the broken ribs.
‘We should get back,’ I say, kind of hoping he can hear how reluctant I sound. Standing under the mistletoe with James for the rest of the day would be fine by me, but judging by the state of his shop when I went in, there’s a lot more decorations to get out, and the fact I’ve left Stacey by herself again in our shop.
‘Yeah, I know.’ His voice is low and husky and despite his words, he makes no attempt to move. Instead, he reaches out so his fingers drag down the sleeve of my gingerbread woman jumper and he lifts my hand. ‘Nia, I need to—’
‘There you are!’
I hadn’t realised how quiet it was in this part of the building until Carmen’s shriek makes us both jump and James drops my hand like we’ve been caught doing something unthinkable.
‘Hubert said he’d seen you come this way. She wants a polar bear!’
‘Who?’ James looks as confused as I feel. ‘Hubert?’
‘Noooo, a darling young girl making a wish. I think she meant a real one but there’s only so far we can go. You’ve got cuddly polar bears, haven’t you? Come on, quickly. Mrs Brissett’s keeping an eye so we don’t lose her!’ She takes hold of his arm and physically hauls him away. ‘And you look just the ticket in that hat, a perfect Nutcracker Lane elf! Come on, Nia, you too!’
James rushes to keep up with her and I realise she doesn’t even know his ribs are broken because I’m pretty sure I’m still the only person he’s told.
When we get back onto the main part of the lane, Carmen invites herself inside James’s shop and we watch from the doorway as she starts rooting through the basket of soft toys, digging through them and discarding them like a cartoon mole burrowing through a lawn. I go to check on Stacey and then stand next to James, watching Mrs Brissett surreptitiously stalking a young girl walking down the lane hand-in-hand with each parent.
‘Where are you going?’ I ask as Hubert races past.
‘A scooter! He wants a scooter! They’ve got one in the window of that toy shop three streets away. He’s gone to see Santa! I’ll make it before he leaves if I rush.’
I look pointedly at the wallet in his hand. There’s no way Nutcracker Lane has a budget for scooters. ‘You’re not supposed to be spending your own money on this.’
He stops, even though he’s obviously in a hurry and already out of breath. ‘It’s just a little expense, Nia, but it’s worth it. I’m not made of money, but I can afford a little extra here and there. We have a chance to save Nutcracker Lane. You two have given us a chance. If it’s not worth a little investment by the people who love it most, then what hope have we got?’
He doesn’t give me a chance to protest any further as he rushes off. When I look up at James, I see the same feeling reflected in his eyes. I’m not sure if I feel uncomfortable or touched by shopkeepers spending their own money. That was never the intention, but it’s heart-warming they want to.
‘This one!’ Carmen emerges from the shop victoriously, a fluffy white polar bear clutched in her fist, and charges off up the lane, leaving James and I to hurry after her.
Mrs Brissett meets us and we all huddle behind one of the pillars. Carmen thrusts the polar bear at James. ‘You go.’
‘Why me?’ He says, half-laughing.
She shrugs. ‘Your shop. Your polar bear. You’ve got an elf hat on. Go on, quick!’
Surveillance mission complete, Mrs Brissett departs for the magical nutcracker, and I watch with Carmen as James intercepts the family and explains who he is.
Carmen nods to where he’s kneeling on the floor so he’s the same height as the little girl. ‘Nothing’s going to show him the true mean
ing of Christmas faster than seeing children believe in magic. ’Tis the season of giving, after all. That’s what Christmas is all about.’
The little girl clutches her polar bear happily and waves to James until she and her parents are out of sight.
‘I’m never wearing an elf hat again,’ he says with a groan as I hold my hand out to pull him up and his fingers slot around mine.
‘Oh, I assure you, you are.’ I haul him back onto his feet even though I don’t think he needed any assistance. ‘If it’s not an elf hat, I have an endless supply of Christmas headbands and hats to force on you, including a big tinselly Christmas tree that sits on your head with flashing lights, and a hat depicting Santa’s upside down legs going down the chimney. All very fetching, I’m sure you’ll agree.’
He grins despite being threatened with festive headgear. ‘And if I show up looking any less festive than this between now and December 25th, you’re going to torture me with increasingly more awful Christmas hats daily until I beg for mercy?’
‘Exactly,’ I say cheerfully, my grin matching his.
He hasn’t let go of my hand yet, and I think the closeness is scrambling my brain because I’m not even sure what we’re talking about.
‘Does it look busier to you?’ He finally realises our hands are still entwined and extracts his fingers from mine.
‘Kind of,’ I say because I’d thought it but hadn’t dared to hope it might be true, but I can’t be imagining things if he’s noticed it too. We’re halfway up the lane between the florist and the coffee shop, and it does look busier than it has in recent days.
A woman walks past clutching one of the nutcrackers we’ve hidden and James nudges his shoulder into my arm excitedly, offering me a gleeful grin when I look up at him. We start wandering up towards the magical nutcracker and he nudges me every time we see people stopping to admire the line of nutcrackers. It really does seem busier, with people stepping out of shops and sitting on the benches eating cakes from the Nutcracker Lane bakery and carrying coffee cups from the coffee shop. Not a huge number, but it’s been so quiet lately that even the smallest increase in visitors is noticeable.
Mrs Brissett’s daughter is covering her shop, so Mrs Brissett is in full wish reconnaissance mode, lurking behind the giant nutcracker with a mop and bucket, pretending to be a cleaner to blend in.
Behind us, there’s a commotion as Hubert whizzes back up the lane on the scooter he’d gone to buy, crashes, and tumbles headfirst into the boy and family he’d bought it for. It’s impossible not to laugh at the scene and I can’t help looking up at James, at the crow’s feet crinkling around his eyes and his bright, resplendent smile, a tell-tale dent in his cheek as he bites the inside of it to stop himself laughing out loud as we watch Hubert pick himself up, dust himself down, and hand the scooter safely over to its intended owner, along with a bag of peppermint sweets that are now crushed to smithereens.
‘You look like you’re having fun.’
‘I am.’ James looks surprised as the words pop out. I’m surprised too, because I’d expected him to mutter something Grinchy and walk away, but his eyes are shining when he looks back at me. ‘I really am, Nee. This place … These people … I feel like part of something here. I’ve never felt like that before.’
‘It feels like you were meant to be here this year.’ I don’t say quite how much he’s added to my experience of Nutcracker Lane, and how different things would’ve been if his shop hadn’t opened opposite ours. When I’m with him, I feel like anything’s possible, even saving Nutcracker Lane, and a few weeks ago, that felt like a truly impossible dream. ‘Things would be different if you hadn’t come along.’
‘Nia, I—’ James is cut off by having to jump aside as Hubert’s ward zooms past us on the scooter, and from the pained expression on his face, the jolt obviously hurt. The boy does a turn and zooms back and we decide it’s safer to head up to the magical nutcracker and see how Mrs Brissett’s doing with her wish-granting.
‘A unicorn, and a snowstorm big enough to close the school for a whole year,’ she reports as we approach, shaking her head of grey curls fondly. There’s something so adorable about childhood innocence. Deep down inside, wouldn’t we all like a unicorn and a snowstorm?
A boy goes towards the giant nutcracker, and James crouches down and pretends to be doing something to the lamppost control box and I turn around and examine the point where the end of the tinsel is attached to the metal post like it’s so enthralling that it could be a miniature Colin Firth performing a striptease.
He inclines his head until he can look up and wink at me, and we listen as the boy takes his nut from the vending machine and goes up to the nutcracker. He’s not the usual type of person you expect to make wishes on magical nutcrackers, and I can’t help sidling around so I can see him, pretending to examine the lamppost so thoroughly that a tiny Hugh Grant could now have joined the miniature Colin Firth in this festive striptease.
The lad is about fifteen or sixteen with messy blond hair and an oversized hoody, and he keeps looking around like he’s hoping his mates won’t spot him. I expect him to wish for the latest iPhone or other hugely expensive technological thing, but he breaks his nut and says quietly, ‘I wish for something to bring my family together.’
‘What does that mean?’ I whisper to James.
‘People are so divided these days. You can live with a whole family you know nothing about. One of my best friends knows more about his own sister from following her on social media than he does from actual conversations. People spend every moment on their phones. Even when they have “family time”, their phones are still on the table so they’re distracted by the possibility of a notification or what they might be missing on Twitter.’
‘Times were better when we were young. I’m eternally grateful for growing up in the Nineties.’
‘A board game!’ James gets to his feet, looking like the injuries force him to take longer than he wants to. He leans around the lamppost so he can whisper to me. ‘My favourite ever Christmas gift was an original Waddington’s Monopoly. It had a big red box with a white stripe down the middle, little metal pieces, red hotels and green houses that would somehow always escape the box and you’d only find out when you accidentally trod on one later. It was the only thing my parents ever played with me. The Christmas I got it, the electricity went off, so Mum made hot chocolate with marshmallows on a little camping stove and we all sat around with candles and played three games of Monopoly one after the other. I always feel like that’s what Christmases should’ve been like and that was the closest we ever got to it.’
‘Where are you going to find a board game?’
‘I’ll tell you what, at this rate, the place that’s going to profit most from Nutcracker Lane is that toy shop Hubert mentioned. I’m going to … well, I was going to say run over there, but I tried to run the other day and it didn’t end well. I’m going to walk in the fastest and least impactful way possible. Don’t lose that kid. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
He’s taken off before I even have a chance to tell him to be careful, and I don’t want to shout after him because of drawing attention to myself when I’m supposed to be following the teenager like some sort of super spy.
Like luck is on our side, the lad goes into the coffee shop and sits down with his drink, so engrossed in his phone that he doesn’t notice me lurking outside. When he comes out, he goes into the bakery and then the candle shop to pick a gift, and Mrs Thwaite notices me loitering, realises what’s going on, and makes him smell every candle in the shop to see which one his mum might like, and by the time she lets him leave, James is hurrying up the lane with a paper bag in his hand, his face red and his forehead glistening under the band of the elf hat, looking like he’s seriously overdone things.
‘Here. Your turn.’ He hands me the bag and sits down on a bench, short of breath. I don’t have a chance to protest that it was his idea in the first place because the lad is almost out
of sight and I’m certainly not about to drag James up and let him overexert himself anymore.
‘Excuse me?’ I rush after the boy and introduce myself when he turns around. I have no idea what to say. My mouth has gone dry. I’ve never granted a wish before. James seems to be a natural at it; he has an innate patter and charm, but I do not. I stutter and stumble my way through an explanation about how we’re giving away things to improve people’s Christmases and how board games are good for families spending time together, aware of James’s eyes on me from further up the lane.
All the while in the back of my mind, I’m thinking we could have misinterpreted the wish and his parents could be divorced and fighting all the time and how many things “something to bring my family together” could mean, and I half-expect the teenage lad to laugh at being given a board game and shove it back in my face like I’m a random Christmas-jumper-wearing weirdo.
‘Vintage. Cool!’ A smile spreads across his face as he peers into the bag. ‘You’re not trying to scam me, are you, Mrs Gingerbread?’ He nods to the image on my jumper.
I don’t want to openly tell him that we overheard his wish on the nutcracker, because the most magical thing about it is the possibility that it might be magic – that people are going to get these things and wonder if they really are somehow an answer to a wish. ‘Nope, just a promotion we’re running today to try and bring families together.’
If he notices I’ve reused his own words, he doesn’t show it. ‘S’all right, this place. Only came coz I found a nutcracker hanging out by some traffic lights, but you got good coffee and free stuff. Cheers!’
‘Merry Christmas,’ I call after him as he walks away, swinging the bag on one finger. I’m nowhere near cool enough to communicate with teenagers.
I’m well aware that James hasn’t taken his eyes off me as I walk back up the lane, muttering all the way about how Monopoly being described as “vintage” makes me feel old.
The Little Christmas Shop on Nutcracker Lane: The perfect cosy and uplifting Christmas romance to curl up with! Page 21