When I finish the last custom order for a set of standing reindeer pulling a 3D sleigh and screw the cap back on my red acrylic paint bottle after doing Rudolph’s nose, the last of the cup of tea Stacey made me before she and Lily left for the day has gone cold and the clock shows it’s past seven. Stacey asked me to go home with them, but I didn’t want to impose again, and now I’m going to have to run the gauntlet of avoiding James alone.
He’ll have gone by now, I tell myself.
I had a desk lamp on my work, but the main light in the back room is off because it was still daylight when I last looked up. I get up and stretch my back out and flip the main light on, blinking in the sudden brightness.
I sidle to the edge of the doorway and peer out, expecting to see James’s shop in complete darkness like the rest of the lane at this time of night.
It’s not. It’s just as bright as it is in daytime.
The windows are empty compared to how they were at first because almost his entire stock has been repurposed to decorate the lane itself, but he’s definitely still there.
Bollocks.
I pace around the back room. There’s loads of work I could do. I could stay here all night if need be. I’ve got a kettle and plenty of teabags, and Carmen has been over to cheer me up with some ridiculously expensive-looking Christmas chocolates in a matte black box with gold ribbons and gold paper inside, and it’s full of a selection of her handmade festive-flavoured delights like peppermint, gingerbread, hazelnut cinnamon, stollen, and mince pie truffles dusted with sugar, so I’ll be set for a while, just until he leaves and I can walk home without worrying about running into him.
I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait for Christmas to be over. No more Nutcracker Lane and having to dance the dance of avoiding James on a daily basis. It’s only been a day and I’m already exhausted.
Just as I’m thinking how weird it is to be opposite him on the lane, knowing he’s there and he must’ve seen my light come on so he’ll know I’m here too, there’s a knock on the door.
I freeze.
‘Nia, it’s me.’ His voice is muffled through the door, distant with the space of the shop between us.
Of course it is. Who else is it going to be at this time of night?
I don’t know what I should do. Should I tell him to go away? He did when I told him to last night. Maybe I should stay silent and pretend the light is on an automatic timer to deter burglars. That’s reasonable, right? There doesn’t have to be anyone here. Maybe if I stay still, I can get away with turning it off in ten minutes and pretending it’s an automated security measure.
‘I can see your light, Nee; I know you’re in there.’
I don’t respond. Staying silent is the best option. He’ll have no choice but to go away eventually.
‘You know how difficult it is for me to get up off the floor so I’m going to sit down out here just so you know it’s worth the pain for a chance to talk to you.’ He doesn’t hide the groan as he obviously lowers himself down on the other side of the door, and there are a few clunks and bangs as he gets comfortable. ‘I suspect you’re hiding in the back, too scared to move in case I see you through the window, so now you know my back is turned and you can move freely. And I really hope you come to the door because I need to talk to you, Nia.’
I step down from the back room onto the shop floor. Perceptive as always. Scrooge has no right to be that perceptive.
‘And if you really have gone home and left the light on by mistake, I hope someone’s CCTV has captured this so you can see what an absolute plonker I look talking to myself through a door.’
The giggle bursts out unexpectedly and I clamp my hand over my mouth, horrified at myself. That wasn’t supposed to happen – not laughing at him or giving away my position.
He’s quiet for a few moments, but he’s obviously heard it because his tone is lighter when he speaks again. There was a hint of doubt in it before, but now he clearly knows I’m listening.
‘I can pinpoint the moment I fell in love with you.’
I fall over my own feet and stumble into the wall, knocking a huge holly-leaf plaque loose, and I grab it before it hits the floor. As I stand back upright, pleased at my unusual display of agility, I accidentally elbow a basket of hanging wooden Christmas pudding baubles and send them clattering to the floor loudly enough for Good King Wenceslas to hear, never mind James sitting right outside.
He can’t mean that. He’s just saying it to get a reaction. I set the holly-leaf wall plaque safely on the floor and look over the scattered baubles. He certainly got one. I ignore the mess and creep a bit nearer. I still don’t have to let him know I’m in here. He has enough trouble with getting up from the floor that I’ll have ample warning when he moves and there’ll be plenty of time to dive out of sight, and as for all the noise … Well, how does he know we’ve not been invaded by giant festive pigeons and it could be them in here breaking up the stock?
‘That night in the storeroom. When you made me sit down and reached up to push my hair back. It was the kindest, most gentle, thoughtful touch, and by the time I opened my eyes and touched your wrist, I was smitten.’
My breathing is shallow and my lungs feel too small for the amount of oxygen they suddenly need. I move closer to the front of the shop on autopilot.
‘And since then, I’ve fallen head-over-jingle-bells for you, Nia,’ he continues. ‘Please don’t let it end like this, because I think we’ve got something worth fighting for and I’m not giving up, just like you haven’t given up on Nutcracker Lane.’
The mention of the lane brings me back to my senses. Hearing that someone you’re in love with is also in love with you is enough to knock anyone a little off their skis, but remembering the lane is enough to remind me what this is all about and I yank my hand back from the door I was about to pull open.
I flex my fingers in surprise. I have no intention of letting him in. I shouldn’t be anywhere near this door, and yet I’m so close to it and my legs are so wobbly that I’m likely to fall into it at any second.
He’s quiet for a long while, so long that I almost lean into the window and press my nose against the glass to make sure he’s still there, but I also realise that he knows I need a moment to process what he’s just told me, and he’s giving me that, and the fact he knows me so well is enough to make me feel even more unsteady on my feet.
I grip the doorframe and lower myself down too, knowing he can hear me and now even the giant pigeon excuse will sound unfeasible. The door thuds as my back hits it and I wriggle around to get comfortable. Well, as comfortable as possible while sitting on the floor with a wooden door as a backrest.
It’s weird to be sitting here so close and yet so far. The thick wooden door could be three miles wide for the amount of distance I feel between us.
‘Please say something.’ He speaks in barely more than a whisper, obviously in no doubt I’m sitting right behind him.
There are so many “somethings” I could say. I’m in love with you too – I can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but it started in the storeroom and the process was pretty much complete by the time you kissed me on the side of the lips while we were making the gingerbread house. I thought we had something special too. I thought you were the first man in a very long time who wouldn’t lie to me. You crashed through my defences and I let you in from day one because you were so trustworthy.
I thought we were trying to save Nutcracker Lane together. For a couple of weeks now, I’ve thought we were going to. I’ve thought about spending nights curled up on the sofa with you, waking up next to you and walking to work on Nutcracker Lane with you every morning for the rest of my life. I’m not someone who rushes into things, but I’ve made new memories with you, and until yesterday morning, I was excited about making more.
I don’t realise I’m crying until I go to speak and all that comes out is a snot-filled gurgle.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and take deep breaths. T
his door isn’t thick enough for him not to have heard that.
‘How can you be him, James?’ I say eventually. The tell-tale wobble is still in my voice. ‘You’re a good guy. You’re kind and funny and a good listener. You care about people. You go out of your way to help people. It was you who granted the first wish and started bringing the magic back to Nutcracker Lane. I don’t understand.’
He goes to speak but I cut him off. ‘And what about us, for that matter? What were you going to do? Spend Christmas with me and then tell me? How much further was this going to go if that man hadn’t come looking for you yesterday?’
‘I don’t know, Nia. I didn’t plan this. Nothing like this was ever meant to happen and then I met you and everything I thought I knew disintegrated. I never intended to deceive you, and as for Christmas, I wanted to spend it with you so desperately that I couldn’t say no even though I knew it could never happen.’
Doesn’t he realise that makes it worse? When was he going to tell me? When he didn’t turn up for Christmas lunch? After we’d spent a few glorious days together on my sofa, neck-deep in old movies and fancy cheeseboards?
‘I was going to tell you.’ He thunks his head back against the door. ‘I’ve been trying to tell you and every time I start to say it, I think about you never speaking to me again and I chicken out because I don’t know how to cope with you never speaking to me again.’
‘Congratulations, that went well.’ My sarcasm is somewhat mitigated by the fact I am, indeed, speaking to him.
His sigh is so deep that it reverberates through the door. ‘You changed me, Nia. Everything I thought was true changed at that exact moment you pushed my hair back. I’d been alone and bitter and closed off from the world for a really long while. I thought people were always out for themselves and only wanted what they could get out of you. I thought I had to play them at their own game to survive. That touch, how kind you were, how you didn’t want anything in return – you just … cared about me. Being near you made me happy. Talking to you made me happy. Listening to you made me happy. You dragging me headfirst into Christmas made me happy. Hearing what you thought about this place and how much you loved it was inspiring. You made me see it in a different light.’
‘Oh, come on, James,’ I mutter. ‘You’ve been lying from the very first moment I met you. The “Help Wanted” sign for a start.’ I think back to that first morning when I knocked over the nutcracker in his shop.
At least he has the decency to hesitate before replying. ‘All right, there was that. But that was a little white lie because I couldn’t tell you who I really was. None of the shopkeepers would’ve spoken honestly to me. You would’ve held back and treated me as an enemy.’
‘I can’t imagine why, can you?’ I snap.
‘Of course I can. I deserve it, I know that. But what I said to you before is true – Scrooge’s ideas sounded right on paper but seeing the actual human impact of them changes things. And, believe it or not, I did come here to find a way to save Nutcracker Lane.’
I scoff so hard that I choke myself and he has to ask me if I’m okay before he carries on.
‘What I told you is true. I came here to find some Christmas spirit, and you gave it to me in spades. I know it’s too little, too late for this year, but I’ve been trying to make amends with the budget increase and asking the people I’d forced out to come back.’
‘Oh God, James.’ I groan out loud at the memory of standing in the lane with our letters last week and telling him how Scrooge had increased our budget. He must’ve had such a good laugh at my expense. At all our expenses.
Trying to fight him with an army of nutcrackers. He must’ve thought I was such an idiot. It even explains why he was talking like there was some sort of deadline. Not because he was going to turn back into a wooden soldier on Christmas Day, but because he knew I’d find out sooner or later.
‘I came here because I wanted to understand what this place means to people. I’ve always hated it here, resented it with every fibre of my being. You’re right, it’s always been my first option when looking for ways to cut spending. It had reached a tipping point this year – do or die, and I knew there were a heck of a lot of people who wouldn’t want to see this place close down. I told you I didn’t “get” Christmas or why people loved it so much, and without understanding that, I couldn’t see what the point in Nutcracker Lane was.’
‘So you invented a pseudonym for yourself and infiltrated our ranks, pretending to be someone you’re not?’
‘What? No.’
‘So why E.B. Neaser then?’
‘Just a joke. My stupid sense of humour. I knew what the shopkeepers were calling me and decided to play up to it. If you’d gone back to the accounts from when I first joined the company, you’d have seen that everything was signed J. Ozborne. It was never intentionally done to mislead you, but I’ve been signing all informal correspondence to Nutcracker Lane with E.B. Neaser for years now as a joke, a way of playing up to the Scrooge nickname.’
I wasn’t here then. I’ve never seen any official paperwork from that long ago, but he’s probably telling the truth on that one. I’ve never thought the name was anything more than a joke, but finding out something like this makes you question everything.
‘Coming here has changed me, Nia. I really am like Scrooge now. I’ve seen the error of my ways. You’ve single-handedly been my ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future. I didn’t expect to find the community spirit, the way the other shopkeepers have welcomed me with open arms, the amount of love there still is for this place. I didn’t expect to discover how much I missed the creative side of this business, or to feel like a child again, or to remember how much I used to love nutcrackers and how much Christmas used to mean to me too, and how much I wanted it to be like you make it.’
I picture that lonely little boy sitting in front of a Christmas tree again. Maybe it’s understandable, in a way, why he would grow up hating Christmas.
‘I know you hate me, and I’m sorry, Nia. I can’t say that enough. I couldn’t tell you because the whole point was to experience Christmas on Nutcracker Lane as the people who love it do – to see it through their eyes – and then things developed between us and I knew I needed to tell you, and I couldn’t pluck up the courage because I knew you’d never forgive me for lying, and now it’s all spiralled out of control and it seems so much worse than it was ever intended to be. All I wanted to do was keep to myself, sell a bit of excess stock, and see if spending the season in the middle of a Christmas village could give me a burst of inspiration for what to do about this place. I never meant to fall in love.’
Tears are streaming down my face as I listen. The way he speaks makes it sound reasonable and understandable, and even after all this, the only thing I want to do is open the door and wrap him in my arms.
But it isn’t that easy. Nothing changes the fact he’s been lying to me – to everyone – since the moment I met him. Yet another man who can’t be honest and upfront.
I lean my head back against the door and try to get my breathing under control without sniffling too much.
‘Are you okay after yesterday?’ I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t even be listening to this, I should walk away and forget all about him, but all I can think about is how absolutely drained he sounded last night.
‘Me?’ I know he didn’t expect the question because I can almost hear the raised eyebrow. ‘I’m not the one who had the accident.’
‘Well, that makes a welcome change.’ I sigh. ‘Seriously, James. It sounded like a bad day for everyone. Was the guy badly hurt?’
‘There was an incident with one of the machines. A guy thought the woodcutter was switched off and put his hand in to unblock it. Without getting too graphic, you can probably imagine what happened. But the paramedics and hospital staff were great and they were able to save everything and think he should make a full recovery. The factory was closing for Christmas today anyway, but we’ll have a full health
and safety review in January before reopening.’
‘Good. Any more accidents like that and the factory will be in so much trouble that bulldozing the lane will be pointless.’
‘Bulldozing it …’ He sounds confused. ‘After everything that’s happened in the last few weeks, you think my plans haven’t changed?’
‘I don’t know, James,’ I say honestly. ‘You’re not who I thought you were. I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t.’
‘Nutcracker Lane isn’t going anywhere, Nia. You’ve saved it. We’re coming back next year stronger than ever. That notebook you read yesterday was a blueprint of what this place needs straight from customers’ mouths. I wanted to know what people like and dislike, what’s been working and what hasn’t. Like I said, we’ll hire some proper wish-granters again and start doing charity drives and … everything. Everything like it used to be. Everything you’ve told me about since that night in the storeroom.’
‘And you’re going to give us the budget for all that, are you?’
‘Of course I am. One thing I’ve learnt from being here is that you get back what you put in. The more things are cut, the less people come. Look at this place in the past couple of weeks. People are talking about us all over social media because of what we did. If we put that kind of effort in all the time, more people would come.’
I’m crying again and I don’t know why. It sounds too good to be true, and if there’s one thing I’ve learnt recently, it’s that things that seem too good to be true always are. Even if you think they’re different this time. ‘How the hell can I ever trust you again, James?’
He doesn’t answer for a long while, so long that I think he might’ve managed to sneak away without me noticing. ‘I don’t know.’
And that’s all there is to say. The only thing I wanted from James was for him to be an honest, decent guy, and while I do think there’s some truth in everything he’s just said and he’s definitely decent, he’s very far from honest.
The Little Christmas Shop on Nutcracker Lane: The perfect cosy and uplifting Christmas romance to curl up with! Page 29