The Little Christmas Shop on Nutcracker Lane. Jaimie Admans

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      When he looks up, there’s sweat beading on his forehead from the effort it’s taken him, but he gives me a soft smile that makes every thought disappear from my mind and my body goes hot all over, and I realise I’ve spent the last few minutes staring at him.

      ‘I’ll clear these up.’ I look away and start gathering up the mini bare-wood nutcrackers, anything to give myself something to do besides stare at him.

      I take a couple of armfuls over to the counter, and he doesn’t look up again until I go back for the third and final lot. ‘At least it wasn’t the snowglobes. That would’ve finished the job for the multiple things that have been trying to kill me this week.’ He glances at the tiny globes lined up on the next shelf along. ‘And been a lot messier to clean up.’

      It makes me smile as I put the nutcrackers down and go back to hold my hand out. ‘Now do you need a hand up?’

      He smiles gently up at me and seems to consider it for a moment before reaching out and slotting his right hand into mine. My fingers close around his and I widen my feet and brace my knees and pull him up. Agony crosses his face as he stumbles to his feet and when he gets upright, he doesn’t let go of my hand, even as he leans against the shelf for support, short of breath again. I can’t imagine how badly that arm must be broken if it’s causing him this much pain.

      Eventually he opens big brown eyes with dark circles under them and moves from holding on to my hand to shaking it softly. ‘Seeing as we’re shaking hands anyway, I’m James.’

      ‘Nia,’ I murmur, feeling ridiculously entranced by his eyes. They’re light brown, an unusual wood-like colour. You’d expect someone with such dark hair to have dark eyes, but his are so light they’re almost out of place. ‘Are you all right?’

      ‘Well, let’s just say it’s a good thing the painkillers from last night are still in my system or I wouldn’t be functional at all.’ He ducks his head and his hair flops forwards, and I can’t help noticing he’s around six foot tall – exactly the same height as the nutcracker.

      Somehow, my hand is still in his, and we’re still mindlessly shaking them even though the introduction phase and the awkward phase have passed and we’re now just two strangers staring at each other and holding hands. A little tingle has sparked from the touch of his fingers and I can feel it gradually sparkling up my arm, across my shoulders, and down my spine, and it takes a long few minutes for me to realise I came here for a reason.

      ‘I’m so sorry about your nutcracker,’ I say in a rush.

      ‘My what?’ He blinks, looking dazed for a second, and then awareness seems to hit him hard enough to make him jump and he yanks his hand back and pushes it through his hair, which instantly falls across his forehead again anyway. ‘Oh, that. Don’t worry about it.’

      ‘I’m so sorry. I broke it, I have to pay for the damage.’ I don’t add “assuming you aren’t actually it come to life” to the end of the sentence. That would be one way to make an impression and not the good kind.

      ‘Oh, please. I couldn’t give a toss. You’ve done me a favour – I’ll mend it and sell it at a reduced price. It needed to be reduced anyway – believe me, no one is going to pay £926 for that thing.’

      ‘Yeah, but I damaged your stock. Everyone knows about the “you break it, you buy it” rule. I can’t afford it outright, but if you’d let me start paying—’

      ‘Nia, don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter.’

      ‘Yeah, but—’ I start again, but he cuts me off.

      ‘It’s nice of you to offer, but forget it. It’s just another Christmas decoration – exactly what everyone needs around here.’

      ‘You work in a Christmas decoration shop …’ I say slowly, confused by his attitude. I thought he’d be calling the police to have me done for criminal damage given half a chance, and now he’s telling me I don’t even have to pay it off?

      ‘Exactly. I think there are enough nutcrackers to go round, don’t you?’ He waves his good hand towards the pile on the counter. ‘You can smash up the rest of the shop too, if you want. I hate Christmas.’

      I take a step back in surprise and quickly think better of it and check behind me, lest we have another nutcracker-related disaster. ‘You hate Christmas?’ I shake my head in disbelief. Surely he’s winding me up? ‘You own a Christmas decoration shop in the most Christmassy place in the country.’

      ‘Exposure therapy?’

      ‘Are you serious?’

      He laughs a sarcastic laugh, which quickly turns into a wince of pain. ‘I didn’t think it through, okay? I usually do an office job but I needed a change this year. I took a wrong turn and pulled into your car park to turn around and saw a “Help Wanted” sign. And it seemed like a sign. You know, from the universe. And a literal sign. So I don’t own it, I just work here.’

      ‘I didn’t know there had ever been a “Help Wanted” sign up …’ I rack my brain, trying to think of a sign I might’ve missed. I go to push further but I realise how weird I must sound and stop myself quickly. ‘Sorry, it’s just that you’re selling off Nutcracker Lane stock …’

      ‘Am I?’ He looks around, seeming surprised by this. ‘I collected my keys this morning from Santa who was rolling his own earwax into balls and flicking it at passers-by. I have never been so grateful for antibacterial hand gel.’

      It makes me giggle again, even though with that Santa, I doubt he’s joking. ‘All this stuff used to decorate Nutcracker Lane. Where did you get this from?’

      He shrugs again but I can tell he’s being careful this time because it’s a muted shrug, and I want to ask him if he’s okay again, but he doesn’t seem like he’s going to elaborate either way. ‘I don’t know, it’s nothing to do with me. All I’ve been told is that the new owner’s selling off stock and needed someone to man the shop.’

      ‘It’s not his to sell!’

      ‘Well, if he’s bought the place, technically it is his and he can do whatever he wants with it …’ He sounds cautious, like he’s waiting for me to yell at him.

      ‘Have you met him? Do you know who he is? He sounds like an absolute monster.’

      ‘No.’ He shrugs with a blank look on his face. ‘Like I said, I’ve just got a job here until after Christmas. I needed to get out of the office for a while.’

      ‘And you thought this was the ideal place for someone who hates Christmas?’

      He pushes his floppy hair back again. ‘Look, I may not have thought it through properly, okay? I needed to do something different while I still can, and this came up and I grabbed it. It was only afterwards that I realised what I’d be doing and how festive it’d be.’ He pulls a face.

      While he still can? It makes it sound like he’s dying … Or like he’s a magical nutcracker come to life for a limited time … No. I have to keep repeating it until I believe it myself – he is not a giant nutcracker come to life who’s going to turn back into a wooden soldier on Christmas Eve. ‘What does that mean?’

      ‘Nothing. СКАЧАТЬ