It’s a Wonderful Night. Jaimie Admans

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       Chapter 4

      It’s dark when I go back to Oakbarrow High Street. The bag over my shoulder is heavy with spray paint and the tube that holds my stencils is battling for space in my hands with a torch, and my dad’s old portable steps are swung over the other shoulder.

      There are no streetlights as I walk down the main road through Oakbarrow, hoping not to run into anyone except Bernard, and telling myself I’m being stupid to worry about it. No mugger would bother with Oakbarrow anymore; there’s nothing to mug.

      I stop outside It’s A Wonderful Latte and lower my bags carefully to the pavement. I don’t know why I’m being quiet but everything seems quieter in the night, and, while I don’t expect to see anyone, I think it’s a good idea not to draw attention to myself.

      Even so, I can’t help looking up at the empty toy shop beside the coffee shop. I remember walking home on winter evenings and pulling on my mum’s hand to get to it. It would often be closed, of course, but the window displays used to be spectacular. The old Hawthorne Toys building is four storeys high, towering above the other shops on the street, and on ground level there are two Edwardian-style bay windows on either side of the entrance. When I was young, the displays inside them would run all night, lit by spotlights and flameless candles. There used to be toy trains running around snow-covered model villages, nutcracker soldiers standing guard, dancing Santas, wind-up elves, and reindeers with flashing red noses. I often wonder if looking at those displays as a child helped my interest in window displays now. As an adult, it’s an interesting concept to look back on. At One Light, our windows have to display as much as possible that we have to sell, whereas when Hawthorne’s were still open, their displays were just to entertain anyone who walked by.

      Maybe it’s a sign that this is a good idea for Leo’s window. I can’t get inside to build a Christmas tree out of his pretty, festive cups or otherwise showcase his coffee, but I can make his window look attractive from the outside.

      I wash the window down and remember a few days this summer of watching Leo out here, washing his windows in nothing but a vest and long shorts, soap suds clinging to his muscular forearms and water from the hosepipe dripping down his curved legs.

      I shake myself. Now is not the time for thinking about Leo’s forearms. Or legs. No matter how sexy they are.

      I dry the window and crouch down, unrolling my tree stencils from their tube and spreading them across the pavement as I try to figure out the best design to do. I know I have to incorporate the gingerbread house as well as making the whole window look Christmassy.

      I spray the bottom part of the glass solid white and start using my fingers to wipe off key parts to create the base of the scene. Just as I’m sticking my first stencil up, I hear footsteps coming. I listen to the telltale extra slap of a broken sole against concrete and sigh in relief – Bernard. I’ve been trying to find him a replacement for those shoes, but the man has got ridiculously large feet and One Light don’t get that many pairs of size thirteens donated.

      ‘Whatcha doing, Georgia?’ Bernard asks, not sounding surprised to find me here.

      ‘Just a little decorating.’

      He stands back and folds his arms across his puffy coat and casts an appraising eye across what’s done of the window so far. ‘I know it’s dark but you do realize One Light is on the opposite side of the road and around the corner, right?’

      I smile at him. ‘I know. I thought I’d try to spread a bit of Christmas cheer. Leo doesn’t seem to have much this year.’

      ‘Leo doesn’t have much of anything this year,’ Bernard says, seeming to hint at what I already know. ‘Lovely guy though. Single too, you know?’

      ‘Have you been talking to Casey?’ I narrow my eyes at him, quite annoyed that Casey isn’t the only one who seems to be obsessed with me spending time with a guy my own age. It’s not that unusual. Really, it’s not. ‘Besides, I think Leo’s got more on his mind than relationships at the moment.’

      ‘I don’t doubt it, but there’s never a bad time to find love.’

      ‘Love?’ I snort. There’s not much chance of that around here.

      ‘Well, it makes life worth living, doesn’t it?’

      Did he say that with a hidden meaning? Or am I just imagining things?

      Bernard is whispering for some reason, perhaps because it’s so dark that it seems like whispering is the right thing to do, even though the street is completely deserted, but I follow his lead anyway. It never feels right to talk in normal voices in the dark. ‘Where’ve you been at this time of night?’

      ‘Just on one of my walks. Nightly patrol before I go back to my bench.’ He points a gloved finger at the window. ‘And you? Why the sudden interest in Leo’s festive window?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ Obviously I can’t tell him the truth any more than I can tell anyone else. ‘I get a coffee here every day. It just seems a bit unfestive lately.’

      His look says he’s expecting something more.

      ‘And Leo seems sad,’ I whisper. It seems okay to say this much to Bernard. I know he’s a perceptive bloke, and I know he sees Leo every day too – if anyone knows about Leo’s current situation, it’s him.

      ‘I thought I was the only one who’d noticed,’ Bernard says, surprising me. And making me feel a bit guilty because I hadn’t noticed. ‘He loves Christmas really. He’s just struggling a bit this year.’

      I watch Bernard try to shake off the sudden sense of sadness in the air. Bernard is not someone who ever looks on the СКАЧАТЬ