I settle back and sip my own tea as we look across the room at the tree, watching the white lights glowing steadily while the rainbow lights chase each other across the branches, reflecting off the glittery decorations and making everything sparkle. It’s raining outside, pattering down on the roof, but the room is lit only by the Christmas lights and the orange glow coming from the fireplace. It feels warm and homely and it’s special not to be alone for once. It’s been a long time since I shared evenings with anyone.
‘Doesn’t that make you happy?’ I nod towards the tree when he looks over at me.
He looks me directly in the eyes, and even in the low light, the look in his is breathtakingly intense. ‘Something does. And it’s been an impossible task lately.’
My hand drifts towards his bare arm on the cushions between us but I pull it back before I touch him. It’s bad enough to feel this comfortable with him, I can’t keep touching him too. ‘Why?’
His head flops back and he blinks at the tree for a few moments and then closes his eyes. ‘My father’s dying.’
‘What?’ I look across at him sharply.
‘I lied to you when I said he was retiring. I mean, he is retiring but he’s retiring because he’s dying of cancer. That’s why I have to take over the business. He won’t be here this time next year.’
‘Oh God, James, I had no idea.’ I sit up straighter and put my mug on the coffee table, pull my legs up underneath me and turn to face him. And you can forget about not touching him because my hand is already on his forearm, my fingers running through the fine dark hair covering it. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘He and my mum run it together. They’ve been married for nearly sixty years, and she is terrified of how she’s going to cope with losing him.’ He hasn’t opened his eyes yet. ‘She can’t deal with the business as well, so it’s up to me to take over. That’s why I came here this year. That’s why I need your help. Because that business is the only thing that’s ever mattered to my parents and it’s up to me to keep it going. And I’ve failed at everything I’ve ever done.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
‘No, it really is. That’s not being self-deprecating, that’s being realistic. Jobs, relationships, you name it. I can’t even cross a road safely.’ He lifts the broken arm and clonks it back down onto his chest.
‘And you have to take over the Christmas cracker business?’
‘What?’ He blinks his eyes open and focuses on me. ‘Oh, yeah, that.’
My finger is drawing circle patterns on his forearm and I can’t help the little fizzle of joy when he smiles at the movement. ‘Are you the only one who can do it? No siblings or anything?’
‘No, it’s just me. No one else. Not even any extended family. I can’t let my parents down, Nia. It means so much to them. They’ve put their whole hearts and souls into it, built it up into something really special for years, but things have been going downhill for a while, and now it’s going to be handed over to me. Next Christmas, I have to not only keep it afloat but also make it the success it once was.’
‘And you still can’t find any Christmas spirit?’
‘No.’
That one simple word makes a jolt go through me, because that’s it, isn’t it? He’s never going to like Christmas. It’s something I look forward to all year. Stace and I are already talking about our Christmas stock for next year. From late summer onwards, every surface of my house is covered with drying painted snowmen and sparkly red bits from glittering the chests of robin redbreasts. Realistically, what kind of relationship could I ever have with someone who’s going to ridicule that?
‘I get why it’s special to you. I get why people like this time of year, but I can’t wait for it to be over. I can’t wait to get away from Nutcracker Lane. I thought coming here might unlock some sort of inspiration in me and I’d magically know what to do. But I still don’t. And now it’s even worse because I can see how much this time of year matters to people, and I don’t want to let anyone down. My whole life has to go into saving this business.’
‘This is what you meant when you were talking about doing things “while you still can”?’ I think back to the things he said that didn’t make sense at first. ‘And what you said you hadn’t shared with your friends?’
‘Yeah. Like I said, I’ve kind of pulled back this year. Dad was fighting it. Operations, chemo, scans … everything that comes with a cancer diagnosis. We thought he was going to make it, and then early this year, we found out the cancer had spread and wasn’t responding to treatment. I don’t feel like going out drinking with the lads. I don’t feel like listening to their talk of conquests and football matches and cars and marriage and kids. I’ve just needed to be alone. I don’t know why I told you. I didn’t mean to. You make me feel so comfortable that it just fell out.’
I can’t help the proud smile that spreads across my face. ‘Isn’t that what friends are for?’
‘Friends. Yeah.’ He meets my eyes and then looks away, lifting his mug and downing his now-cold tea like it’s something much stronger.
“Friends” doesn’t feel right. I’ve never felt quite so strongly towards a friend before, but what else can we be? I’m not looking for another relationship, and he’s obviously got a lot more going on in his life than I thought.
