Page 17 of Christmas Ever After
‘The broken fingers have revealed how many other parts of my life are broken. One spinning plate falls and all the others falter too, like a ripple effect. I didn’t realise how much I was barely holding on, and now I can’t hold on. Literally.’ I wave the splint around over his shoulder, even though the movement hurts deep inside my fingers. ‘I hate that it’s Christmas. Working here, our entire lives revolve around this month, and now it’s guaranteed to be the worst Christmas ever.’
‘No, it not,’ he murmurs into my hair. ‘No one has a bad Christmas on my watch.’
It such a nice thought. As if he could influence the kind of Christmas I’m going to have in any way, but his strength and deep, reassuring voice have the effect of making anything seem possible, and I let my control slip and let everything out. I blub into his chest, and he does nothing but hold me, his hands stroking, soothing me, making me feel safe while I fall apart. I’m not okay. Every year, Christmas seems to get harder and harder, and my family seem to get further and further away, and the loneliness builds with every passing month, but I feel it more during December. I haven’t been okay for a while now, and I didn’t realise how much I needed someone to know that.
He makes me feel like he’s got all the hours in the world, and it takes a long, long time for the tears to dry up and I sniffle my way out of his arms.
‘Sorry, I’ve soaked your top.’ I step back and rub my good hand over the wet tear stains on the black long-sleeve top that he’s wearing under his hoodie. I look up and our eyes meet, and I have an out-of-body experience where I’m looking down onthe shop, and I can see myself standing there, rubbing Raphael Dardenne’s chest, and I havenoidea how I let this happen.
I make a noise of anguish and stumble backwards as I come back to myself. I am going tohaveto stop taking those paracetamols. Maybe the hospitalhasmuddled up my prescription and given me mind-altering drugs by mistake because there’snoway this would’ve happened if I was in my right mind.
‘Sorry, I’m a hugger.’ He steps back sharply and holds both hands up in a surrendering gesture. ‘If I see someone in need of a hug, I can’t help myself. Even if they’d probably impale me with a giant nutcracker if they had full use of both hands.’
I laugh a wet laugh and swipe a hand over my face as he leaves the sacred space behind my counter and goes back to stand opposite me, and I try to fight the instinct to reach after him and cling on. I can’t remember when the last time I had a hug was. Not a proper hug like that from a man whowantedto hug me, at least.
‘Sorry, Franca, I didn’t mean to cross any lines there.’ He rubs a hand over his face and pushes his hair back. ‘I don’t even know you – I had no right to hug you. That was hugely inappropriate.’
‘It’s okay. It was nic—’ I stop myself. Icannottell Raff Dardenne that it was nice to hug him. His family con is responsible for the destruction of my childhood, ripples of which still disrupt my life to this day. It might not have been Raff’s fault personally, buthe’sstill running the con that started it all.
I don’t know what to say. I’ve just hugged Raff. I’ve just cried on Raff. Raff’s top is wet frommytears. I’ve just opened up to Raff. I don’t open up to anyone, let alone my arch-nemesis. He doesn’t know what to say either. We’re just blinking at each other in awkward silence.
‘What was your favourite Christmas mug like?’
I chuckle at how obvious he is about trying to ease the unseen tension between us. ‘Like you really want to know. You don’t need to pretend to care, Raff. It’s just a mug, it doesn’t matter.’
‘It does matter. I love Christmas mugs. I buy at least one new one every year. Hot drinks from a Christmas mug are the highlight of December for me… By that I mean yes, my life really is so dull and boring that a new mug is the highlight of it.’
I let out a reluctant laugh, trying really hard not to appreciate the way he’s trying to make me feel better. I get my phone out and try to scroll through the gallery one-handed until I find the photos I took of my favourite mug last year.
‘I appreciate a dedication to Christmas dining ware, but I’ve never gone as far as taking photos of my mugs yet…’
‘I took it to show Thelma who runs A Very Muggy Christmas. I like mugs and she likes mugs, so I thought I’d show her, and I was hoping she might know where to get a spare one in case I ever broke it.’
He picks up my phone from the counter. ‘If I put my contact info in your phone, can I send these to myself?’
I nod with a shrug.
‘Even though you’ll have an evil Dardenne’s number in your phone?’
‘I’ve just cried on you, it can’t get any worse than that!’
I watch as he fiddles with my phone. ‘This isn’t me, Raff. I’m strong and independent. Inevercry this much, and yet somehow,you’vecaught me crying twice in the past two days.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he says without looking up. ‘I’ve been known to cry at Christmas adverts. Crying doesn’t make anyone weak. You don’t always have to be tough and standoffish. It’s okay to need help sometimes, especially whensomeonehas caused you an obviously painful injury and?—’
He’s cut off by the shop phone ringing, and the screen reveals a number I called earlier to cancel an order, but the customerwasn’t in so I left a message on her answerphone. ‘Sorry, gimme a minute, I have to take this.’
I wedge the landline phone to my ear with my right shoulder and pull my order book out from under the counter with my good hand, rifling through it to find the right page.
‘Yes, I’m so sorry,’ I say in response to the customer’s question about cancelling her nutcracker order. ‘I’ve had an accident and I’m going to be unable to make any nutcrackers for the foreseeable future. It’s likely to be March at the earliest before I can work again. I know you wanted it as a Christmas present, but the only thing I can do is cancel I’m afraid.’
I can feel Raff’s eyes on me as she expresses her disappointment down the line, and I turn away, wishing he didn’t have to hear this. It’s bad enough that I have to cancel orders withouthimknowing how bad things are. ‘I’m really sorry, I wish there was something I could do. I’ll refund your dep?—’
‘Forgive me for this.’ Before I realise what he’s doing, he’s taken the phone out of my hand and put it to his ear.
‘Raff!’ I shriek and try to grab the handset back, but he steps away, holding a hand out to stop me getting any closer. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Excuse me for interrupting.Hel-lo,’ he says to the customer in a melodic, charming voice, emphasising both syllables. ‘You’ll have to forgive my colleague. Shehasbeen in an accident and she’s overdone it on the pain medication and isn’t thinking clearly. We certainly have no intention of cancelling your order. I’m so sorry for the confusion. Youdostill want the nutcracker you ordered?’
