Page 60 of Christmas Ever After
‘And we have other ideas to move forward with in the new year,’ Raff adds. ‘New ways of encouraging social media engagement and getting customers talking.’
My heart feels warmed by how hard he’s trying, but the glacial look on Mr Hastings’ face is enough to turn it back into ice. ‘If the only way you can get customers interested is by giving them something for nothing, you’re missing a key point of running a business. It’s unsustainable to run a big giveaway like this every month, and in the long-term, it will have a negative impact as customers wait to see if they’ve won, and take their chances again the next time rather than actually buying anything. You also have this hindrance.’ He returns to the hand issue again.
‘That’s discrimination!’ Raff snaps. ‘And temporary. In a matter of weeks, she’s going to be back to full strength. And I haven’t done what I set out to either. If we’ve failed, we’ve failed together. The playing field is level. We’ve both been here for years. We’re no longer against each other. You can’t seriously stick to this ridiculous plan. Neither Franca nor I have beaten each other. We’ve helped each other, and we both deserve a chance to move forward here.’
‘Hear, hear!’ Mrs Bloom starts a round of applause, but Raff’s deep voice is gradually getting higher as his panic rises, andthe horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach feels like it’s getting deeper with every passing moment. This really isn’t sounding like it’s going to go our way.
Or…myway?Hisway?
I search for Raff’s eyes in the group. He’s wearing a black hoodie with the sleeves pulled over his hands, and the hood has fallen forward so it’s half up, like he’s trying to hide himself. He feels it too, I’m sure he does. Both of us are on the chopping block here, and it feels like neither of us will get out in one piece.
Mr Hastings clears his throat. ‘There really is no easy way to say this, but we have a responsibility to Ever After Street and its festive little sister to ensure that every shop is pulling their weight and making for an exciting and engaging shopping trip for customers, and you’re both on uneven ground in that respect – you with the bad reviews, Mr Dardenne, and you with the rut you appear to have been stuck in, Miss Andrews. The council have come to the unanimous decision that things on Christmas Ever After are feeling stale and we need to inject some new life, and give some new shops a chance to shine, so with that in mind, we, er…’ He glances at Mrs Willetts, who gives him a helpless shrug in response.
‘Well, when we issued you two that challenge, we decided that it was actually a very good idea to cut some old deadwood. Wood – nutcrackers, see? Hah hah.’
I’ve never seen Mr Hastings nervous before. He’s the intimidating type of person who makes you think it’s an emotion he’s unfamiliar with, and that nutcracker wisecrack is more unsettling than anything else that’s been said so far today. Is that a hint at what’s to come?
Mrs Willetts is the kinder of the two, and even she’s avoiding eye contact in a way that people only do when theyreallydon’t want to tell you something. ‘You’ve both brought a lot to Ever After Street over your years of trading here, and you’ve madethis very awkward for us. Neither of you have quite met the targets we wanted to see, but you’ve both made a jolly good effort.’ She tries to start a round of applause but her attempt goes down like a damp hot air balloon with a rhino in the basket and she awkwardly trails off the clapping when no one else joins in, and one of the suits of armour along one wall even creaks in embarrassment.
I can feel my heartbeat outside of my body, pumping so hard that I’m sure the entire castle is throbbing in unison with it, an all-encompassing pulsing sound, like the wait on a TV talent show before the hosts announce the winner after an excruciatingly long pause. Except this is a no-win situation and instead of a cash prize and a clap on the shoulder from Simon Cowell, this is the end of one of our careers, and such a sense of despair has come over me that I already know who it’s going to be.
‘I’m sorry, Franca,’ Mr Hastings blurts eventually. He’s never used my first name before. ‘Dardenne Snow Globes have been loyal to Ever After Street for over thirty years. They’re a mainstay of Christmas Ever After, and their magical myth still gets people talking and encourages visitors. While your nutcrackers are very nice, you only started here a few short years ago, and?—’
‘Four years!’ Raff interrupts him. I should be glad of him sticking up for me, but I just feel numb. After so long of feeling ambiguous towards The Nutcracker Shop, now I can’twaitto get back to my lathe when my fingers have healed. I can’t wait to make all the nutcrackers that I have ideas for and photograph them for social media, and there’s a sense of injustice at being so excited about what’s to come, only to be stopped at the final hurdle.
This is the worst feeling I’ve ever had in my life. Worse than sitting in a physiotherapist’s office five years ago and being toldI was unlikely ever to dance again. Given how long my leg was taking to heal and how painful every movement was, I’d already reconciled myself with that fact and reached the point where I didn’twantto do ballet again, but now… Now, I’m still hoping Mr Hastings is about to start laughing and yell, ‘Joke!’ but he isn’t. Of course he isn’t.
He looks gravely serious, and so do the many other pairs of eyes that are blinking at me, waiting in trepidation to see what I’m going to do. I glance around the room. Mrs Bloom is dabbing her eyes. Thelma from A Very Muggy Christmas is shaking her head. Mrs Coombe is rubbing at her forehead like she’s trying to ease a headache. Ali and Imogen are clutching each other’s hands sympathetically. The thought of no longer working with this little team makes a lump form in my throat, and my eyes fall on the only other person still standing while everyone else is sitting.
Oh God, Raff.
Raff’s lower lip is taut and white where he’s gnawing on it. I meet his eyes and everyone else fades away. It’s just me and him.
He looks devastated. I can see the anguish in his eyes. Neither of us expected this. He pushes out a long breath and looks as if he’s psyching himself up, and then he gives me an encouraging nod, like he’s telling me to get on with something.
My eyebrows furrow in confusion, and he mouths two words at me. ‘Tell them.’
Tell them…? I repeat the words in my head for a moment before the meaning dawns on me.
The truth. He’s openly inviting me to tell them the truth about the snow globes.
‘It’s okay,’ he whispers across the room, so quietly that I’m lip reading. ‘Tell them.’
‘Tell them’ – two little words withbigimplications. If I tell them about the motor and wires hidden in the bases of his snowglobes, my shop will be saved. There’s no way they’d continue supporting Dardenne Snow Globes if they knew the truth. Their decision would be reversed immediately, and my shop would get to stay.
And Raff’s… wouldn’t.
This is what I’ve wanted for years. A chance to expose the Dardenne Snow Globes fakery to the people who believe in it.
My mouth has gone dry. With one sentence, I can turn this around. It’s what I’ve been waiting for.
I clear my throat.
Mr Hastings and Mrs Willetts are standing in silence, waiting to see if I’m about to cry, storm out, start shrieking like a hungry seagull, or otherwise. They won’t be expecting this.
I look over at Raff again. This man who has gone from being my worst enemy to making me wonder why he was ever an enemy in the first place. Without him, I would have lost my shop anyway.
He nods encouragingly again.
