‘Thank you.’ I’m taken aback by his honesty, and impressed by his ability to hit the nail on the head. He’s right. It’s the best feedback we’ve had since starting this, even though my Nineties-style tinsel lamettas are not awful.
‘I’ve got plenty of those little plain wooden nutcrackers if you want some to put in – they’d look quite fetching wearing necklaces and earrings.’
I can’t help giggling at the mental image. ‘As much as I love the idea of jewellery-wearing nutcrackers, you don’t have to do that.’
‘It’s no problem. The old owner must’ve bought a whole shipping container of them and the new owner can’t have any use for them because he wants the majority shifted before they go for firewood.’
‘Firewood?’ I say in such horror that it makes him laugh.
‘Don’t worry, no nutcrackers will die on your watch. I’ll bring some over tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you any longer tonight.’
‘Yeah, I should …’ It’s my turn to gesture vaguely back towards the door of the shop.
‘Yeah, me too.’ He sounds as sad as I feel. ‘Thanks again for last night. And for the gift-wrapping today.’
I take a step back and he does the same. ‘So, I’ll see you around then …’
I force myself to drag my eyes away from his and turn away and I hate the sound of his footsteps crossing the lane behind me. I don’t want him to go.
‘There’s a chilli mac and cheese in the slow cooker,’ I blurt out.
‘About that ending of Elf,’ he says at the exact same moment.
We both turn around and grin at each other across the lane. ‘I made way too much. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.’
He comes nearer again. ‘And how am I ever going to be un-Grinched if I miss the end of Elf?’
‘Exactly.’ I nod sagely. ‘So you pretty much have to come over again tonight, right?’
He closes his eyes and nods like it’s a relief, and I can feel the tension drain from me too. I indicate the shop over my shoulder. ‘I just need to finish cashing up. Give me five minutes.’
‘I’ll get my coat.’
Since I got the keys to the shop, I’ve not yet left Nutcracker Lane as early as six o’clock, but now I can’t get out fast enough. I sort the cash float for the till in record timing, grab my coat and bag, and when I get back onto the shop floor, James has let himself in, dumped a pile of the fifteen-centimetre plain wood nutcrackers on the counter and is arranging some of them in the window display. He holds one up to show me with a pair of Stacey’s tiny acrylic candy-cane earrings slid into the white hair on either side of its head and a gingerbread man necklace resting on top of its beard.
‘Cross-dressing nutcrackers. What more could you want for Christmas?’ I throw my hands out in a shrug.
James is wearing the same baggy black hoody he had on last night. It looks totally out of place with his uptight work outfit of charcoal slacks and a long-sleeved blue check shirt with the tight collar buttons undone, and I get the impression it’s probably the easiest thing to shrug on with his arm in plaster.
‘You could have a Christmas party in the other window.’ He uses the nutcracker in his hand to point to Stacey’s side. ‘There are so many display stands of jewellery that they look like clutter. If you emptied it out and put up sparkly backing paper, another tree in the corner hung with your decorations, a flashing disco ball or something to attract attention, you could have all these nutcrackers standing around like they’re at a party, all wearing a necklace and earrings each. Their plain bodies will make each piece stand out. They can all hold something, so how about miniature wine glasses?’ He taps his thumb on the hole in the hand of the one he’s holding, meant for a sceptre or sword or some other accessory to go through. ‘Make it look like they’re at a Christmas party enjoying themselves.’
‘Cross-dressing drunken nutcrackers. It just gets better.’ I can’t help giggling at the thought.
‘You want people to remember you.’
‘I’ll make a mini photocopier and have one photocopying his bum. No one will forget that.’
He grins, and when he sees I’m ready to leave, he positions the last nutcracker and darts across to open the door and holds it for me to go through first, only stepping aside to let me lock up behind us.
It’s raining outside tonight and nowhere near as cold as it was last night when we start walking up the darkened lane towards the magical nutcracker at the entrance.
James suddenly stops. ‘Do you hear that?’
‘No, what?’
He doesn’t say anything but puts his hand to his ear like he’s listening to something. I listen too, but all I can hear is the pattering of rain on the roof above us.
‘Nothing. The sound of silence.’ He lets out a relieved sigh. ‘We’ve been out here for a whole two minutes and no one’s “fa-la-la-ed” at us yet. That’s some kind of record.’
‘How can you be talking about squiffy nutcracker parties one minute and then be so grumpy the next?’ I screw up my nose at him, even though his way of putting things makes me smile. The carol singers have been walking up and down a lot today, cycling through the usual repertoire of songs like “We Wish You A Merry Christmas”, “The First Noel”, and “Silver Bells”, and while I never get tired of it, the same can’t be said for him. ‘Your Grinching would be much more reasonable if we weren’t on our way to watch Christmas films.’
He looks over and slowly raises an eyebrow. ‘Films?’
‘Well, I don’t know how far into Elf you dropped off, but there can’t be more than half an hour left, and it’s barely six
