Page 24 of Christmas Ever After
I wrinkle my nose because he kind of has a point. And when he makes it sound so reasonable, I feel a bit daft.Hehad nothing to do with what happened between my parents and I already know I’ve been a tad irrational in holding my grudge against Raff too, especially in the face of his kindness this week. ‘But you’restillpeddling those same fake-moving snow globes.’
‘When have you ever seen one of my snow globes move?’
I do something that’s a cross between a laugh, a scoff and a snort. ‘I haven’t. Obviously. Why would I have? That would be ridiculous.’
He raises that all-knowing eyebrow again as I overcompensate.
‘You’re still promising to help people find love over a snow globe. Youstillsay that a snow globe will move if you look into it with the person you’re meant to be with,’ I say while my face blazes with heat at the memory of the nutcracker prince twirling the ballerina around inside the snow globe when he handed it to me. I feel like I’ve seen something I shouldn’t have, but admitting that to him would be a step too far. ‘And people still believe you. But regardless of what happened with my parents, snow globes don’t move, Raff, so you’re up tosomethingthat’s dodgy and underhanded – I just don’t know what it is yet.’
‘Yet…’ He’s smiling at me good-naturedly, indulging me, but he obviously isn’t going to be drawn in to any insults about his family legacy. ‘Through all this, you’re forgetting one vital bit of information.’
‘What’s that?’ I give him the same sweet, indulgent look that he’s giving me.
‘If your parents hadn’t met, you wouldn’t exist.’
He’s not wrong there, and I mouth at the air, trying to come up with a clever retort, but my mind is frustratingly blank. I’ve never thought of it from that angle before.
He nudges his shoulder gently against mine. ‘And I’m not convinced that wouldn’t be a Very Bad Thing.’
I go hot all over. It’s one of the nicest things anyone’s said to me in years, and it’s like I’m in a parallel universe because it’s Raff Dardenne saying it, and I can’t help but wonder, yet again, quite how wrong I’ve got this man and just how unreasonable my grudge against Dardenne Snow Globes has been.
8
‘How much for the snowman?’
I clutch the snowman Raff made the other day protectively. ‘He’s not for sale, sorry. Just my Christmas mascot.’
‘Shame.’ The customer looks at it longingly. ‘You could make a killing with those. Mix it up a bit. Nutcrackers get quite samey after a while, don’t they?’
I stutter for an answer but the man has gone before I come up with one. Is he right? Is that why business has been so slow lately – because The Nutcracker Shop is a one-trick pony when it comes to selling only nutcrackers? Would people like more choice? WouldIlike to make something else and change things up a little? I run my fingers over the snowman’s smooth hat. Maybe itwouldbe nice to do something different with the lathe when I can use it again…
It’s the third enquiry this week about purchasing the snowman. When Raff came in with something in mind on Wednesday, after our chat about my parents, he came out that afternoon with a beautiful, woodturned snowman. Very simple, very far from perfect, and quite possibly the most touching thing anyone’s ever given me. It’s got a body, a head, and a top hat,all carved from one piece of wood, with deep grooves separating each rounded section. He’s buffed it up by turning it against a handful of sawdust for a smooth finish, and finally glued on a tiny carrot-shaped nose. He’s made a few of them as practice pieces and I love that he knew how much he needed to learn before starting on making nutcrackers and I’m both touched and impressed by how much he’s throwing himself into this. It’s now 6 December, and he’s been here every day this week, arriving just after opening time and staying until long after closing time when he insists on driving me home, presumably for no reason other than trying to prevent a repeat of the first bus journey I told him about.
‘Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?’ Raff appears from the workshop holding two nutcracker legs and goes to one of the shelves to compare it to a pre-made nutcracker, and then looks horrified and quickly backpedals. ‘I mean, not inthatway, just… er… I bet you’re not managing to cook much lately and it might make a change from sandwiches at The Wonderland Teapot.’
‘I had a bowl of cereal this morning. More milk ended up on the kitchen unit than in my mouth, but still. Baby steps,’ I say, despite the fact that an actual baby would probably take less messy steps than me when it comes to eating lately. It ishardto do everything with your non-dominant hand, and I have never wished so much that I was ambidextrous.
‘You could come back to mine after work, enjoy a nice, hot, home-cooked meal, and I’ll run you home afterwards?’
I think about it. On the one hand, eating is not an easy task at the moment and do I really want Raff to pity me even more? But on the other hand, I’ve been enjoying spending time with him, and I’ve got to admit that I’m curious about where he lives and itwouldbe mildly interesting to see his house… and I feel a bit fluttery that he’s asked. We’ve been spending every day inthe workshop, a fact that hasn’t gone unnoticed by Mrs Bloom and the other shopkeepers, but the idea that any gossip doesn’t bother him and he wants to spend evenmoretime together makes me go hot all over. It would be nice to see him outside of work, away from nutcrackers, to talk about something unrelated to Christmas Ever After, and the fact that he wants that too… I can no longer deny that the fluttery feeling inside of me is butterflies. Big, big butterflies.
I’ve been so lost in thought that he’s mistaken my silence for abject horror. ‘Sorry, it was a silly idea, I shouldn’t have asked.’
‘No, actually I’d love to. That would be really nice.’
The size of his smile has no right to be as wide as it is. ‘It would.’
I try to ignore the intense fluttering in my belly. I’ve been spending far too much time with Raff Dardenne lately, and it’s hard not to want to spend even more time with him. In the back of my mind, there’s a little niggle. In a couple of weeks’ time, the council are going to be deciding whether he gets to stay or whether I do. What if this considerate and thoughtful man, who is throwing himself headfirst into making nutcrackers to help me, trying so hard to make up for one misjudged step, is no longer a part of Christmas Ever After – because of me? But then again, what ifI’mnot – because ofhim? Whatever this truce between us is, it’s going to come crashing down sooner or later, in one way or another, and I don’t want it to. No matter how much I’ve always hated Dardenne Snow Globes, it’s becoming increasingly impossible to hate Raff.
It’s 6p.m. before we finish for the night. The shop is long closed and I’ve been out the back while Raff uses the lathe. I sit next to him, pass him each wooden blank as he needs them and take the completed ones over to the painting desk, ready for the next step. The only useful thing I’ve been able to do is bevel theedges of the square base pieces by running them along the disc sander, but everything else is a two-handed job.
As we step out the door and I lock up, the sound of a children’s choir reaches our ears.
‘The Carollers’ Cabin must’ve been set up,’ Raff says.
Every year on Christmas Ever After, they put up an open-fronted shed and invite choirs from nearby schools to sing there to entertain the shoppers and practise for any upcoming carol concerts.
‘My niece’s school are doing it and she’s super excited to be in the choir this year. She hasn’t stopped talking about it.’
