Page 10 of Christmas Ever After
‘Because you have such a problem with me!’
‘And you have such a problem with me!’ I snap back.
‘Ah, the vicious circle of life.’ He sings it to the tune of theLion Kingsong, and holds the cotton bud container aloft like Rafiki presenting Simba to the rest of the Pride Lands.
I clamp my lips together to stop another laugh-snort escaping. He has no right to be this funny. I was totallyunprepared for him having such a silly, human side, and I’m determined not to give him the satisfaction of laughing.
‘Seriously, aside from yesterday, I don’t know what I’ve ever done to you, but you bad-mouth my shop at every opportunity and tell people not to come in because my snow globes are a scam to steal people’s money!’
‘And you tell people that nutcrackers bring bad luck and that I’m selling evil dolls that are possessed and are going to come to life and murder them in the middle of the night!’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever used thatexactphrasing, although now I’m going to remember it for future use.’ He gives me a cheeky wink and then looks around at the vast selection of handmade nutcrackers lining the shelves. ‘Although to be fair, some of the ones carrying swordshavegot a murderous look in their eyes. I wouldn’t be even vaguely surprised if we wake up to a news story about them going on a rampage one day.’
I let out an incensed gasp. Howdarehe insult my handsome nutcrackers? ‘Yeah, well,youruined my chances with Jorge!’
‘Your chances with Jorge?’ He scoffs. ‘No one’s got a chance with Jorge unless they’re his own reflection. I’ve never met anyone who spends so much time looking at themselves. It’s unnatural to bethatwell-groomed.’
‘It’s not a bad thing to take pride in how you look instead of just throwing on any old thing and finger-combing your hair!’ I hold my good hand out, indicating him, although I’m well aware that we both know I’m clutching at straws. After yesterday’s oinking antics, Jorge is hardly a gleaming example for all other men to compare themselves to.
‘Oh, thank you, you think I go as far as to finger-comb this?’ He rustles a hand through his floppy dark hair, deliberately scruffing it up. ‘And it’s not about being well-groomed but being so vain that he can barely function. He trims his perfectly shaped facial hair in the middle of a working day. People are lucky notto get beard trimmings in their mince pies! He also talks down to people, and apparently, oinks at damsels in distress. You can say a lot of things about me, but I’ve never oinked at anyone. If you seriously think you have a chance with a guy like that, for God’s sake, grow some self-respect because you deserve so much better.’
I take a breath, trying to summon up some indignation, but I think there’s a compliment mixed-up in there as well, and the two have got muddled and I’m still trying to figure out if Raff was saying something nice when he puts a finger on his lips and points downwards.
I lean over and see the mouse, puttering around at the edge of the shelf, and I can’t contain the silent shudder. Raff takes the lid back off the cotton bud container and we both watch in silence, barely daring to breathe as the mouse starts to make its way across the shop again, and quick as a flash, Raff bends down and plops the cardboard container swiftly over it with a dexterity and adeptness that I could only dream of. I let out a cheer that turns into a cry of pain when the movement hurts my throbbing fingers.
Raff looks at me, guilt crossing his features, and he looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it. Instead, he picks up the lid and crouches down to negotiate it underneath the container and turn it back upright without hurting the mouse or letting it escape. Eventually he stands back up with the little brown mouse safely enclosed.
‘That is a nifty bit of kit. My apologies for ever doubting your mouse-catching methods.’
‘Tried and tested many, many times.’ I hold my hand out for the container so I can go and release the mouse.
He pulls it further away from me. ‘How many times?’
I sigh. It can’t get much more embarrassing this morning. I may as well admit that I’ve got a mouse problem too. If he’slooking for ammunition against me, harbouring a gang of mice in my shop will certainly sway the council in his direction. ‘Several times lately. At least a few times a week for the past few weeks. The weather’s cold and maybe the sawdust from my carving in the back room attracts them – something cosy to nest in.’
His face screws up as though he’s trying to work something out. ‘And what do you do with them?’
‘Take them over to the Full Moon Forest and let them go.’ I wave my good hand behind me, in the direction of the wooded area between here and the Ever After Street castle.
I don’t expect him to start laughing. ‘Oh, Franca, you’re not being invaded by mice. It’s just the one mouse coming back again and again.’
‘It is not!’
‘Two miles is the rule of thumb. If a mouse finds somewhere it likes, it will travel averylong way to get back there. Two miles is the minimum, but it should be released six miles away to be absolutely certain that it won’t come back.’
‘That’s ridiculous!Icouldn’t walk six miles, never mind a tiny little thing like that! How the heck am I supposed to get it six miles away? It was all I could do to get myself home on the bus last night!’
I reach out for the container again, but he takes a few steps backwards and puts it on a shelf near the door. ‘I live about five miles away. I’ll take Minnie with me and release her in this little park not far from my house, okay? I almost guarantee that your “mouse problem” will be over.’
‘Minnie?’ I raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore how stupid I feel. He seems like he knows what he’s talking about, and it never even occurred to me that it could be the same mouse with a return ticket.
‘I’d have said Mickey, but I didn’t want any confusion between the mouse and the red-haired woman who runs The Mermaid’s Treasure Trove. People might be concerned if they think we’ve got one of our fellow shopkeepers trapped in a cotton bud container.’
My mouth twitches as I try not to giggle again, and when I go to ask him not to tell anyone, he stops me. ‘Not that I’m planning on telling anyone, obviously. Your mouse invasion secret is safe with me. I’ve caused enough trouble for you lately.’
I can’t help smiling at the deliberate repetition of what I said to him earlier. ‘Why are you being so nice?’
‘I’m not being nice – I’m just being myself.’ He gives me a wink and wanders over to a nearby shelf and picks up a cream and gold painted nutcracker, turning it over in his hands and running his fingers over it.
