Page 18 of Christmas Ever After
The customer must agree because he nods. ‘Then that’s no problem at all, you can pick it up on the date you’ve already arranged…’
‘Raff!’ I get out from behind the counter and swipe at the phone again, but he sidesteps me easily as the customer speaks on the other end, and I make frantic ‘cut’ gestures, trying to get him to shut up. What on earth is he playing at?
‘At the Christmas market,’ he repeats her words. ‘Yes, absolutely, it will be ready to collect. That’s no problem at all. The Nutcracker Shop will be delighted to see you then. Have the loveliest of days. Thanks for ringing.’
He hangs up and hands the phone back to me, and Isnatchit out of his hand. ‘Raff! What the hell? I can’t make her order! I can’t makeanyorders! Look at me!’ I hold up my splint. ‘My dominant hand is out of action formonths. I’ve had broken bones before; it takes alongtime to get your full range of motion back and recover your strength in the affected limb. It’s going to be a long time before I can use my lathe again. I worked that out while sitting in a pond of hot chocolate on my kitchen floor last night, crying. Because that’s all I do lately – cry and drop things.’
‘Are you going to lose the shop?’
‘Yes!’ I snap in indignation. ‘To you! Because you’re going to match your couples and I can’t get customers interested in nutcrackers when I can’t make a single bloody nutcracker so you’re going to win, and then…’ My mind goes to a million places. I thought I had a pretty good chance when they suggested it. Raff is aterriblematchmaker. The bad reviews that his shop getsaredragging us all down. Everyone knows it. And customers are still enthusiastic about nutcrackers. The only person who hasn’t been very enthusiastic about nutcrackers lately is… well… me.
‘I’m not talking about that.’ He sighs, sounding drained by this whole thing, and I get the feeling he didn’t mean it in that way, and I feel bad for expecting the worst of him. ‘I run a festive business too, Franca. I know how it goes. We rely on December to make up for the shortfall during the other months. With abad December, we’re up that well-known creek without a paddle. Christmas Ever After has been quiet lately – everyone has noticed it. Assume for a moment thatIwill be gone in January andyouwill win this council nonsense, if you could call it a win.’ He stops to do the air quotes. ‘If you don’t fulfil your orders, how much trouble is The Nutcracker Shop going to be in?’
He waits for me to answer, but I’m so surprised by his insight and clear dislike of the council’s scheme that I’m struggling to come up with something to say. No matter how gorgeously kind he’s been today, I have to remember that this man is my nemesis. He slags off my shop at every chance he gets. He tries to persuade customers not to come in here, just like I tell people to avoid Love Is All A-Round at all costs. He would, no doubt,loveto discover that The Nutcracker Shop is going to struggle to cover the bills next year, even with a good December, andthisis definitely not going to be a good December.
‘Do you think I didn’t hear what you said earlier – you’ve lost one career to an injury and you’re about to lose another one?’ he prompts, and I go to snap that it’s none of his business, but he doesn’t let me. ‘Honestly. No putting on a front. No pretending. No “that’s Raphael Dardenne andhecouldn’t possibly care”. Just tell me.’
His brown eyes are so deep that it’s hard to look away, and his voice is soft and low. Maybe he genuinely has hypnotised me because every time I think about telling him where to go, I end up telling him everythingbutwhere to go. ‘September to December are our busiest times – you know that. We’re lucky to be on the end of Ever After Street and benefit from their year-round interest, but not many people are bothered about buying Christmas decorations in the summer. The “ber” months usually earn enough to cover the costs of staying open the rest of the year, and I was relying on things picking up in December. I’ve had a tonne of orders for custom nutcrackers in the pastfew weeks, but now I can’t make them. And then there’s the Christmas market…’ Last year, I took a load of accessories and different options for things the nutcrackers could be holding. I took some different colours of fur for their hair, different button options, and hat choices – it was like Build-A-Bear but with nutcrackers, and it went down a storm. But now, all I have are the nutcrackers on the shelves. I can’t even customise them, never mind make new ones. ‘I’m going to tell Mitch to give my market cabin to someone else. It’s pointl?—’
‘Teach me.’
‘Oh, ha ha, hilarious,’ I mutter. Iknewhe’d have a field day with this.
He spreads his arms wide on the counter and bends until he can catch my eyes. ‘Teach me. Show me how to do what you do. I’ll fulfil your orders.’
‘What?’ I narrow my eyes at him, waiting for the inevitable punchline. ‘It’s a skill I’ve perfected over many, many years, Raff. I inherited my grandfather’s lathe when I was in my twenties. It can’t be learned in a day or two!’
‘I know that, but I’m a craftsman anyway. I work with resin and ceramic mainly, but I’ve done woodwork here and there. I might pick it up easier than someone who’s never done any craftwork before.’
He sounds serious, but he can’tbeserious. ‘I care about my work.’
‘I care about my work too.’
‘You make a joke of your work with your ridiculous love twaddle,’ I snap. ‘This is the most ludicrous suggestion I’ve ever heard. You and I are rivals. Only one of us is going to stay in January. Are you seriously suggesting thatyouare going tohelpme to beat…you?’
‘Call it helping to level the playing field.’ His hair is parted to one side and flopped over at the other side and he runs ahand through it again and pushes himself off the counter to pace the floor. ‘This is my fault. I’m the reason you can’t make the nutcrackers that have been ordered. I don’t care if you think I’m your arch-nemesis, but I amnotletting you lose your business because I was angry and stepped off that stool without looking.’
Every sentence that comes out of his mouth surprises me more than the one before. I expected him to gloat, to be ecstatic that the council’s scheme has just become a one-horse race, but Ineverexpected him to be so genuinely sorry for one split-second misjudgement of a step, and it’s making it almost impossible to remember why I’ve always hated him. My voice is stuttery when I try to formulate a response, but my brain can’t catch up with the implications of what he’s suggesting. ‘Accidents happen. It was terrible timing, but it’s not like you did it on purpose, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it n?—’
‘Yes, there is. Thereissomething we can do about it now. Teach me how to make nutcrackers. Teach me how to turn wood and carve and… well, I know how to paint. I spend every day making tiny little figurines and landscapes – I’ll pick it up easily enough. Use my hands as your hands. You can boss me around to your heart’s content. I won’t complain, I’ll do everything you tell me without objection. We can even do the “Unchained Melody” pottery scene fromGhostif you want, but with more clothing on.’
I laugh, and yet, one look into those dark eyes and I know heisserious. He stops pacing and leans his elbows on the counter, his chin in his hands, looking up at me again, and my breath catches in my throat. God, he isgorgeous. Before, I’ve always thought he was annoyingly gorgeous. It was irritating for someone so dastardly to be so good looking, but it suddenly seems like everything about him is as charismatic and charming as his Disney prince outer shell, and it’s a fight to get my brain back onto the task at hand and away from thoughts of theforearms under the sleeves of that hoodie and how tempting it is to reach out and touch the lock of brown hair that’s fallen over his forehead. ‘Why would you help me? It’s youorme. We’re pitted against each other. What about your own work – runningyourshop, makingyoursnow globes, matchingyourcouples?’
He sighs and scruffs his hand through his hair again, his head bowing. ‘My shop’s not going to make the cut.’
‘What?’ It’s the kind of honesty that feels like a punch in the gut, and I can’t hide the shock at the bluntness of his open admission.
‘I can’t matchmake five couples before the Christmas market. You know that – that’s whyyousuggested it.’
‘Well, yeah, but… I didn’t mean…’ I stutter for the right answer. Yes, it was me who suggested that Raff prove his magical matchmaking snow globe malarkey at the last Ever After Street meeting, but I never expected it to spur the council into making us stand against each other. It was just another trivial way of getting at him. I never thought there was any chance of it leading to either of us actually being evicted. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want…’
What did I want? At that meeting a few weeks ago, I’d have been delighted to see people realising that the snow globes in Love Is All A-Round are a sham, but now Raff is standing opposite me, his brown hair flopping over where his head is bowed, looking broken-hearted, I’m reconsidering everything I’ve ever thought about him. The inverted quotes he put on the word ‘win’ earlier suddenly make blisteringly uncomfortable sense. Nothing about this feels like a win.
‘It’s okay.’ He reaches out and slides his hand over my good hand where it’s resting on the counter and then quickly pulls it back. ‘If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else. Everyone’s had enough of me. Iamdragging down the whole street. My bad reviewsdoreflect badly on everyone else. My shop’s failing. I don’t have the knack for matching people thatmy granddad had. I’m missing the magic. My heart isn’t in what Love Is All A-Round is supposed to stand for. There are no hard feelings. I can’t save my shop, but Icansave yours. What do you say?’
I go to speak but my voice catches in my throat because I’m suddenly choked up again, and it’s not from his offer. I’ve always had it in for his shop, but it’s always been superficial, almost comedic in a sense, like cartoon enemies – the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote or Tom and Jerry. I never thought that somethingIsaid could lead to him really being evicted. I thought he’d get five couples matched and he’d be laughing at me, but he’s not laughing. His shoulders are slumped, and his hair has fallen over his face and he hasn’t bothered to push it back. He seems weary and tired and like he’s given up. Is he not even going to try? Is he really just going to accept eviction in January?
I always thought it would be an exhilarating moment of victory to see Love Is All A-Round being replaced by a different shop, but now I’ve got to know him even a little bit, seen his kindness, his good-heartedness… thinking about Raff Dardenne being evicted doesn’t feel anywhere near as good as I thought it would. In fact, it feels pretty bloody awful.
