I think back over all the things James has said to me. He’s always been cagey about his job, but every so often, things have slipped out that, if I’m honest with myself, made it blatantly obvious he wasn’t talking about Christmas crackers. ‘And to be fair, if we’d have known he was Scrooge, we would have avoided him—’
‘I was hoping you’d find your way up here.’
We both scream at the unexpected voice in the quiet lane and turn to see James walking out of a fake-snow-covered gap between the shops, one hand shoved into his pocket, and the fingers of his broken arm clutching a few envelopes.
He’s wearing jeans and a red shirt with a white reindeer pattern all over it, and my first instinct is to run at him and jump into his arms, which is not advisable for his injuries. What I actually do is burst into tears because he’s real and not a giant nutcracker come to life.
‘What are you doing here so early?’ I stutter out eventually.
‘Putting letters through everyone’s door informing them that they now collectively own a third of Nutcracker Lane. I own a third, you own a third, and now they own a third between them.’ He closes one eye and tilts his head to think about it. ‘Could be interesting if there are disagreements.’
The sight of his smile makes the tears fall harder. ‘Why would you do this?’ I hold up the envelope in my hand so it hides my face as I try to get my emotions under control.
‘Because you once said to me that if I can’t take over this business, I need to find someone who can. And I found someone who can, and more importantly, I found someone who makes me believe that I can. And I can’t do this without you, Nia. I can’t imagine going to work every day without you next to me. And if we’re going to open as some kind of nutcracker museum year-round, we need permanent staff.’ He glances at Stacey, and he’s even enough of a gentleman not to mention the pyjama bottoms. ‘With plenty of time off for craft fairs, of course.’
‘Well, now you’ve found your nutcracker prince, Nee, I’m going to go home because Lily’s probably bouncing on the bed by now and I need to shower and change before work. See you both at nine!’ Stacey backs away with a wave, looking like she can’t get out of here fast enough.
I turn back to him and waggle the envelope around. ‘What are you playing at, James? What is this? Trying to buy me off? Typical Scrooge. As always, everything’s about money with him. And you.’ I realise I still can’t reconcile that they’re the same person, and that nothing I’ve said so far makes sense. It’s hard to hang on to my anger when I look at him, chewing his lip, his thumb fiddling with the corner of one of the envelopes in his hand, but if this is some attempt to throw money at a problem and hope it goes away in typical Scrooge style … I’m not willing to let my guard down yet.
‘It’s nothing like that. I don’t want or expect anything from you. I know this can’t undo how much I’ve hurt you, but I wanted to prove that I want what’s best for Nutcracker Lane, and you are what’s best for it. Even if you hate me. Even if you never want to talk to me again, Nutcracker Lane needs you at the helm. And the other shopkeepers – they are what makes Nutcracker Lane so special. They’re the heart and soul of this place. All of you are the ones who’ve kept the festive spirit up here despite the circumstances. I don’t want to be their employer, a boss they’ve got to answer to; I want us all to have an equal say in what goes on here. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m part of something here – a real little community – and everyone deserves an input into a community.’
It would be so easy to drift closer and my fingers twitch with the urge to touch him, to run them over his reindeer shirt, but I force myself to stay rooted to the spot. Trying to remind myself that this is Scrooge I’m dealing with – there has to be a catch somewhere. ‘You really think the museum thing is a good idea?’
‘I think it’s a fantastic idea. Adopting nutcrackers, make-your-own workshops, guided tours and school trips, wish-granting, giftshops, themed afternoon teas – everything you said. I talked to my folks last night and my dad cried with happiness. They want to meet you. I know things are weird and I know it’s going to take more than this to prove you can trust me, but Mum’s putting on a Christmas Eve tea tonight and she wants you to come. They remember you and your grandma, and they trust you with Nutcracker Lane a heck of a lot more than they trust me.’
I want to snap something about it serving him right, but he looks so genuine, and no matter what has happened, I find it hard to distrust him. On this. On everything else, I don’t trust him as far as I could throw him using a teaspoon as a catapult.
‘Please, Nia. You’ve shown me that every moment counts and I’ll never get this time with my family back. It’s the last Christmas Eve I’m ever going to spend with my father and I want you to be part of it.’
His voice wobbles and that does it for me. My
