‘Did he say what other job he does? Because he’s exceptionally good at retail. His shop looks magical, and ours looks like a glorified craft fair. We could use some tips.’
‘It’s not right that someone who’s that much of a Grinch can run a Christmas decoration shop and be so frustratingly good at it,’ I mutter.
The customer comes out the door carrying a bulging bag and James reappears behind her and gets back onto the stool, wobbling on the uneven paving stones. He’s wearing navy jeans and a plain black T-shirt today, but it’s way too cold for T-shirt weather, so it makes me wonder if he’s having trouble with his arm. He was clearly hurting yesterday, maybe it’s prohibitive to getting dressed easily too.
Thoughts of James getting dressed lead to thoughts of him undressed and I suddenly feel a lot warmer than I did just now. I snuggle tighter into my Christmas jumper, this one dark blue with a big fluffy snowman on it and glittered-thread snowflakes all around. ‘And that’s a good point too – what sort of office job lets him have the whole of December off to go and do a different job? That’s a bit strange, isn’t it?’
‘Annual leave? He could’ve been stacking up holidays all year?’
‘So he can spend them working? And in a Christmas village when he hates Christmas? It doesn’t add up. I keep thinking about the other thing he said – the “while I still can” bit. Is this some sort of twisted bucket list thing?’
‘Maybe he is going to turn back into wood on Christmas Eve.’ She elbows me even though I can’t take my eyes off him. ‘Go and ask.’
I let out a burst of laughter. ‘Firstly I’m not going over there to ask him if he’s really a nutcracker soldier, and secondly, I don’t want to know. I don’t want to get involved, Stace.’
‘Because you like him too much?’
‘No, because … no more men. I can’t take another relationship that’s going to end with me crying into a tub of ice cream. And look at him. There’s no way he doesn’t have a real-life Rapunzel counterpart to his Flynn Rider looks. What’s the point?’ I say, because I’m about the furthest thing from Rapunzel you can get with my round face and fringe that was recommended to make my face look less round and I’m never quite sure if it works or not, which is why said fringe is currently at a length where I either have to commit to it and cut it again or tackle months of growing it out, at which point I will inevitably decide I miss my fringe and start the whole cycle again.
‘Have you seen how many times he’s looked over here this morning?’
‘No, I’ve seen how many times he’s wobbled on that flipping thing. He’s not looking over here, he’s trying to get his balance.’
She lets out a huff that says exactly how frustrated she’s getting with me. ‘And he’s good with his hands. Well, hand. Look at that lettering.’
‘You see? He said he works in an office and only picked up his shop keys yesterday morning, but look at how well that painting matches up. Are you seriously telling me he didn’t hand-paint the rest of that sign too?’
‘So what if he did? It’s not impossible to work in an office and be good with a paintbrush in your spare time. You’re looking for holes. Because you like him too much.’
Before I have a chance to deny it, James gets down off the stool again and looks over here, directly at us. He’s still holding his paintbrush but he salutes us with his right hand and the widest grin.
‘Oh my God, he is literally the personification of Flynn Rider.’ Stacey fans a hand in front of her face. ‘Look at that smile.’
Oh, believe me, I am looking at that smile. I’ve thought of very little else apart from that smile since yesterday morning. ‘And on that note, I’m going to go and do some work so we might have a chance of beating him in this competition. The more stock we can get out, the more chance we’ve got of selling it.’
As if on cue, another customer calls James back inside, and Stacey makes a noise of disappointment. ‘It’s a shame he didn’t fall on that Macarena-ing Santa. If anything deserves to be crushed from a great height, it’s that.’
‘Finally, one thing we can both agree on. That and our empty shop.’ We both cast our eyes around until we’re looking at each other again. We’re the only two people who have been in here for hours. It’s not a great start for our second day.
***
Stacey left at five so she, her husband Simon, and Lily could have a family evening together, and I’m still in the back room working. My tools are in the shed at home, so I do all my cutting and make the bases of everything there, but cutting MDF wood creates dust so it makes sense to bring them into work to paint when the shop’s quiet rather than risk the dust settling into the paint. It’s been quiet all day.
I look at the array of Christmas jumper hanging decorations set out in various stages of priming and drying on the workbench. One of my favourite things about crafting is how you can get a little production line going by painting all the same colours at once and let your mind go without having to think about anything. I love Christmas jumpers and hand-painting miniature wooden ones in any design I can come up with is one of my favourite things. Red with snowflakes and sparkles, a night sky with Santa’s sleigh being pulled across it by reindeer, a tiny forest of snowy Christmas trees, and many more. They’re a big hit with buyers too.
When I finally catch sight of the clock, it’s gone 8 p.m., and I stand up and stretch
