Читать книгу It’s a Wonderful Night: A delightfully feel-good festive romance for 2018! - Jaimie Admans - Страница 10

‘All right, what’s wrong with him?’ Casey’s standing with her hands on her hips when I close the door and turn around.

‘What? Nothing!’

‘Another waif or stray? Are you going to put Kitekat out for that one too?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I say, even though Casey’s always moaning about me putting food out for the cats.

‘At least he’s handsomer than the old guy from the churchyard you insist on feeding and taking clothes to.’

‘Looks don’t really come into it when someone’s homeless, do they?’ I ask, mainly to distract her from asking me about Leo because she’s going to want to know why I’ve just walked into the bank and pretended to work here, and I can’t tell her the truth.

‘I’m not having this conversation again, George.’ She tucks a stray lock back into the bun that I know she hates having to hide her long hair in for work. ‘So, the guy from the coffee shop … homeless? Ill? Poor?’

‘None of the above. Just a nice guy.’

‘No such thing,’ she says without missing a beat. ‘What’s wrong with him? Other than the teeth?’

‘What’s wrong with his teeth? He’s got a lovely smile.’

‘Yeah, for Dracula. He’s got fangs!’

‘He’s got slightly sticky-out canines that do not look like fangs. They just make his smile wider. And he’s self-conscious of them so don’t go and offer to recommend a dentist in your usual abrasive way. He’s too scared of the dentist to look into getting them fixed.’

‘Isn’t that a bit personal for a barista? How do you know so much about someone you buy coffee from?’

‘Because he’s friendly. He chats. And he’s never told me he’s self-conscious but you can tell from the way he smiles. And the dentist thing just came up, and let’s face it, it’s not like anyone actually likes the dentist, is it?’

She raises a disbelieving eyebrow.

‘I talk to him, Case. Every day bar Sundays. He’s a lovely –’

‘Oh, spare me the “some men can be nice” spiel. Heartbreakers, the bloody lot of them. Led by, well, something bigger than their tiny brains.’

‘Ah, yes. “He who shall not be named unless it’s in an obituary for death by castration.” Not all men are going to be like him,’ I say. Casey hasn’t always been so intolerant of men. She used to believe in love and wanted to find a happily ever after. Until her ex-fiancé found several happy endings with several other women.

‘How can you still say that when the love of your life jumped on the first plane out of here when New York came calling?’

‘Who wouldn’t?’

‘You, Georgia. You wouldn’t. You chose to stay here instead of go off on an adventure with him.’

‘He wasn’t the love of my life, Case. And the only adventure would’ve been navigating around the airport for the first flight home.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, well, you’ve been single for years now, so let’s get back to you and Mr Shining Knight in a fetching blue apron. If there was nothing wrong with him, he would’ve walked you to the door of the charity shop, about three steps further than this one, where you actually work. What’s going on? Why have I just breached our security rules to let a non-staff member in before opening time?’

‘It’s complicated.’

‘Things usually are with you.’ Casey purses her lips. ‘Well, at least he’s young and nice looking. Single?’

‘I have no idea. Not every man is a potential date, you know. It’s actually possible to be friends with a guy.’

‘Pah. Where’s the fun in that? If everyone had that attitude, we’d all be as miserable as I was when I was engaged. Sometimes you don’t need to get to the bottom of every teeny tiny feeling and fix a guy’s every problem. Sometimes you just need a damn good shag.’

‘Leo doesn’t need a good shag, he needs …’

‘Ooh, Leo. Good name. Brings to mind all sorts of DiCaprio-related goodness. Coffee Apron Guy is way hotter than DiCaprio though, even back in the Romeo and Juliet days, and that’s saying something. What does this Leo need and if you won’t give it to him, do I have permission to?’

‘No. And no. And if you want to help me or Leo, you can go and buy a coffee at lunchtime.’

‘He is homeless. I knew it. I suppose I need to buy him a hot meal too?’

‘No. Not everyone I know is “in need”. Leo’s just a friend. Without mentioning any part of this conversation, will you go and buy a coffee in It’s A Wonderful Latte at lunchtime? Please? For me?’

She waggles an eyebrow. ‘No part of this conversation but I can mention my single colleague Georgia, right?’

‘No. No, no, no. Just a coffee. And no mention of me or where I work or don’t work. This doesn’t need to be bigger than it is. He makes really good coffees and they’re way cheaper and less sweet than the overpriced cups of liquid sugar you usually get from the big coffee chains. And tell all your colleagues to do the same, please?’

‘Here, you can tell them yourselves.’ She opens the security-locked door behind the counter and beckons me through to the back. ‘You’re late, aren’t you? When are you ever late, George? This Leo must be someone really special.’

I shake my head, knowing Casey will be like a dog with a bone on this. ‘Just a guy I got chatting to. Makes good coffee. There’s nothing else to it.’

‘Well, it’s nice to see you chatting to a man your own age and not old ladies and homeless men.’

‘I work with old ladies. And I chat to one homeless guy because he’s a nice, interesting guy; being homeless doesn’t come into it.’

‘Oh look, speaking of old ladies, two of yours are standing in the car park and they don’t look happy about being out in this downpour.’

‘Morning Georgia.’ As we walk down the corridor connecting the back offices, Jerry, Casey’s boss, comes downstairs with a mug of tea in his hand. I prepare myself for a bollocking but he doesn’t even look surprised to see me. ‘Locked yourself out, eh?’

‘Er, something like that.’

‘She’s trying to impress a guy,’ Casey says for me. ‘He thinks she works here.’

‘Oooh, tell me more.’ Jerry clutches both hands around his mug and looks uncharacte‌ristically excited. ‘People can be funny about charity shops, can’t they? Fancies a banker type, does he?’

‘It’s really not like that –’

‘Feel free to use the bank as much as you want. I’ll let everyone know to stick with the story.’

‘You really don’t have to. This is already getting way out of hand –’

‘No trouble at all. My wife’s favourite ever gift is still that Royal Doulton vase you kept for me. I still get rewarded handsomely for that every time she catches sight of it on the mantelpiece. This is the least I can do. Come in whenever you want. Now, who are we looking out for?’

I think about it. On one hand, this is a huge lie, but on the other hand, what else am I going to tell Leo? I’ve already made the mistake of telling him I work here; I can’t exactly go back on it now, can I? And the problem still stands. I cannot tell him I work for One Light because he’ll realize who I am. The bank is really convenient because it’s next door to One Light and we share a car park at the back with the other buildings in this part of the street. Our back doors are literally one step away from each other. It wouldn’t be too difficult to come in here if he happens to be watching like this morning, and walk through and out the back into the charity shop. And I’m determined to help Leo in some way. I’m going to become his friend whether he likes it or not. This doesn’t end at him walking me to work in a downpour …

‘The bloke from It’s A Wonderful Latte,’ Casey says when she’s decided I’m not answering fast enough.

‘Oh, good going, Georgia!’ He holds his hand up for a high five. ‘Leo Summers. I know him. His father used to bank here. Lovely lad.’

I reluctantly slap his hand, feeling like this conversation has happened without me.

‘Consider the bank at your disposal. Use us whenever you like. I’d love to be part of a good love story. It’s like something you see in the movies, isn’t it? Like your It’s a Wonderful Life. My wife keeps saying it’s on the telly but we never find time to sit down and watch it.’

‘You definitely should. It’s timeless and so heartwarming, especially at this time of year.’

‘I know because she’s made me watch it with her seventy thousand times over the years. Anyone would think she was named after the main character or something,’ Casey says.

‘It’s a good film,’ I say, glancing out the back window at Mary and one of the volunteers standing under their umbrellas, undoubtedly talking about how late I am, and I’m standing here discussing films.

‘I don’t like films that make me cry,’ Casey says.

‘My wife loves a good weepie. I’ll make it a mission to watch it this Christmas.’ Jerry leans over and unlocks the back door for me. ‘Don’t forget, come in any time you need to for your love story.’

‘It’s not a love story,’ I protest.

‘It’s a coffee story,’ Casey says. ‘Apparently we’re all having a coffee with lunch today. Georgia’s paying.’

‘Fine, but yours will be an apple pie latte,’ I say, knowing full well that Casey thinks festive-flavoured coffees are an affront to humanity. ‘It’s not about money. It’s about making Leo feel like his hard work is worth it.’

Even as I think it, I know it’s pointless. Leo doesn’t need to sell an extra coffee or two and another batch of muffins. He needs a massive increase in customers. Like every other business on this street has needed for years. Like One Light needs to sell more than a couple of Christmas party dresses and hideous old suits as Halloween costumes to stay afloat. A whole round of coffees for the bank might help for a day but it won’t do anything in the long run.

I can’t stop thinking about it as I go to rescue Mary and the volunteer from the sopping car park. My mind is elsewhere as I listen to Mary worriedly ignoring her own wet coat and soaking grey hair to make sure I’m not late for reasons of ill health, ask if everything’s okay with my dad, and why I look so distracted.

I don’t tell her I’m distracted because seeing Leo makes my day better every morning, and I’ve never realized how much truth there is in the saying that the saddest people always try the hardest to make others happy.

I know above all things that I want to help him. And not just because I fancy him, but because I’ve been handed a unique opportunity. He doesn’t know that he’s shared this with me. Or, at least, he doesn’t know that I’m who he’s shared this with. This is fate. He found a leaflet on the bridge that I put there. He owns a shop called It’s A Wonderful Latte, named after my mum’s favourite Christmas film. She didn’t name me Georgia Bailey for nothing. This is fate telling me to be like Clarence, the guardian angel who stopped my namesake jumping off a bridge in the film. This doesn’t just happen, does it? Leo needs help. And I’m going to help him.

I’m just not sure how yet.

* * *

It’s while I’m in the window getting the mannequins dressed in our best evening wear and standing them around in groups like they’re nattering at a Christmas party, setting up tables full of empty glasses and a sparkling tree in one corner of the display that an idea comes to me. I keep going outside to see how the window looks, and every time I do, I back up just a little bit more than needed so I can see around the corner and up towards It’s A Wonderful Latte.

A woman is peering in the window, but her eyes fall on the gingerbread house and she turns away rather than going in. There are a couple of people around, but not one of them so much as glances at Leo’s window.

‘The windows look wonderful,’ Mary says, having made no comment about them being left unfinished last night even though she must have noticed. ‘Just as wonderful now as they did when you went out to check them the first sixty times.’

She knows something is going on. I can feel her eyes on me because I never go outside to see how the windows look from a customer’s perspective this often.

Creating eye-catching displays that showcase the very best of our stock is probably the biggest part of my job. I know how hard it is to get anyone on this street to look at your window displays, and Leo hasn’t even got a window display, he’s just got a gingerbread house. It might be a good gingerbread house, but it’s not going to make anyone stop in their tracks and rush into his shop. Windows on this street need to be special. This is no longer a street where people mosey about and leisurely wander into shops. These days, the only reason anyone walks down this street is because it’s a shortcut to somewhere better. Window displays don’t just need to be good, they need to be spectacular. They don’t just need to be eye-catching, they need to grab people by the eyeballs and drag them through the door. Figuratively, not literally. That would just be weird. And probably painful and a bit messy.

It does get me thinking though. Window displays are kind of my thing. I got this job because of decorating a window. I’d gone for the interview at the flagship shop in Bristol, and one of the tasks was to decorate their window with only items in the shop. They loved what I did with it and offered me the job despite my lack of experience.

We’re told again and again the importance of seasonal windows. It’s December – everyone wants a bit of Christmas at this time of year, and Leo’s gingerbread house isn’t cutting it. It’s doing nothing to attract customers, and customers are what he needs.

I go outside and look again, not even pretending to be looking at our windows this time. Normally Leo loves Christmas. It wouldn’t hurt to remind him of that, and make his window a bit more attractive in the process, would it? I used to paint. Once upon a time, I wanted to be an artist, and my dad still has a shed full of my old paint. I could do something with that, couldn’t I?