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
