Katey Lovell - Joe and Clara’s Christmas Countdown

Deirdre’s face softened as she spied the tin of chocolates on Clara’s desk. ‘I’d feel better if I could have one of those orange creams …’

Clara froze rigid. The chocolates were her first festive gift for Joe, but she knew that if she tried to explain the countdown to Deirdre she’d only end up reading more into it than there was. It was easier to say nothing.

Reluctantly, she handed the chocolates over. ‘Knock yourself out,’ she said with a smile she hoped didn’t look forced.

Deirdre was practically salivating as she clamoured to pull back the seal. ‘A brand-new tin, what a treat. Means nobody’s hogged the best ones already.’

‘Like I said, knock yourself out.’

As Deirdre rummaged noisily through the confectionery, seeking the distinctive amber wrapper of her most coveted chocolate, Clara hoped there’d be more than a tin of empty foils to give Joe when he arrived for his shift at six o’clock. Although, she reasoned, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if that was all that remained. Not much says Christmas quite as well as a half-eaten tin of Quality Street.

* * *

By the time they were shutting the heavy doors after the last group of kids had left for the night, Joe looked beat. He leant against the door and let out a long, slow sigh.

‘I don’t know how you do this and look so young. I’m convinced I’ve aged twenty years in one night,’ he said, rubbing his fingertips against his cheeks.

‘Lightweight. One night and you’re ready to throw in the towel?’ Clara clucked her tongue sarcastically. ‘I expected you to have more staying power.’

‘I didn’t say anything about giving up,’ he clarified. ‘Just that I feel like I’ve been mauled by a pack of wolves, and my shoulder’s killing me.’

He massaged the joint, before rolling his shoulder in a circular motion.

‘You should never have told them you could breakdance. You should have known they weren’t going to stop badgering until you demonstrated your windmill,’ Clara teased.

The group of awestruck pre-teens had watched on in amazement as Joe showed off his flips and tricks with apparent ease, and Clara herself had been impressed. These were the kind of moves Diversity would be proud of and, she’d realised, Joe had a look of Ashley Banjo about him. Part of it was the height and rich skin, although Joe’s was darker than the breakdance king’s, but it was more the open face and wide, friendly smile. Clara had to admit, Joe was handsome, and, from what she knew, kind and unassuming too. The total opposite of blonde, show-off Dean in every possible way.

It had been Clara leading the applause when Joe had stood, arms folded across his chest and an unbelievable mean look on his face as he finished his routine, but she wasn’t his only fan. She’d noticed a group of girls whispering, and recognised their giggling ways as a sure-fire sign of a crush on someone older and unobtainable. She’d had a similar infatuation herself when she was twelve, with her maths teacher Mr Miles. He’d been the one thing that had held her interest in trigonometry and quadratic equations.

‘I’ve learned my lesson,’ he said. ‘I’m sure it’s swelling up.’

‘Come on,’ Clara said, nodding to the stairwell. ‘There’s all sorts of stuff in the first-aid cupboard in the office. I’m sure we can find something to make it more bearable.’

She started up the stairs, her fingers tickling the strands of tinsel that were wrapped around the banister.

‘Ouch,’ Joe said, as he slowly followed in Clara’s footsteps. ‘I think I’ve strained a muscle in my thigh too. I’ve not pulled off those moves for the best part of ten years.’

‘Well, you’ve still got it.’ Clara was glad Joe couldn’t see her face, which was half smug grin and half flushed cheeks. ‘Right,’ she said, pulling open a tall cupboard and whipping out a green bag marked with a white cross, ‘let’s see what’s in here.’

She unloaded bandages and plasters (always near the top, as they were the most frequently used) until she found a tube of Deep Heat. She tossed it to Joe, who caught it with one hand and a wince, before checking the use-by date.

‘These aren’t standard first-aid kit supplies,’ Joe noted.

‘This is the staff first-aid kit.’ Clara held up some of the other contents, which included a box of Alka Seltzer and a family-sized box of Rennies. ‘The Deep Heat is Deirdre’s, for when her leg’s playing up. She says the warmth helps her bones.’

Joe smiled. ‘And the Alka Seltzer?’

‘Mine,’ Clara admitted, shamefaced. ‘I had a couple of big nights out when I split up with Dean. I never came to work drunk,’ she added hastily, ‘but there were a couple of occasions where I was a bit … let’s say “worse for wear”.’

‘Ah,’ Joe said, raising a knowing eyebrow. ‘They work wonders, don’t they?’

He squirted a generous dollop of the smelly cream onto the palm of his hand before rubbing it into his shoulder, and Clara watched as he closed his eyes with blessed relief and exhaled.

‘That’s taken the edge off,’ he said finally.

‘I’ve got something else that might cheer you up.’ Clara walked to the desk and picked up the now half-empty tub. ‘This was supposed to be your first gift.’

His eyes lit up at the sight of the trademark purple packaging. ‘Chocolate. That’s exactly what I need right now.’

‘Don’t get too excited. Deirdre got to them before I had chance to hide them away.’

His lips curled up into a knowing smile. ‘So my first gift is a half-eaten tin of chocolates?’

‘Yep,’ Clara replied with a chuckle, relieved Joe could see the funny side of the situation. ‘I’m a chocoholic, but Deirdre is something else. As soon as she saw them she pounced. I’ll have to up my game next time I bring anything sweet for you.’

She handed him the tin and he prised off the lid. It popped as it loosened. ‘At least all the good ones are left,’ he said, taking in the golden wrappers of the toffees.

‘That’s because Deirdre can only have the soft centres. The chewy ones play havoc with her false teeth.’

Joe pulled at either end of the wrapper of a slender toffee finger, the sweet twisting as he unravelled it from its shimmering casing. He moaned as he popped it into his mouth.

‘So my first gift was a good choice, then?’

‘Mmm,’ Joe replied with a nod, still chewing on his toffee. ‘The Deep Heat works, but this is the best medicine.’

He swallowed it down, then offered the tin to Clara, who shook her head.

‘I’ll admit it, I had a few earlier too. What’s left are all yours.’

‘I admire your honesty.’

‘So food works as a gift for you?’

‘Food’s always a good choice,’ he said, selecting a second chocolate.

‘That’s useful to know.’

‘And what about you? I’m supposed to be taking you out on a non-date tomorrow,’ he reminded her. ‘And the place I was thinking of probably involves half your daily calorie intake. You’re not one of these women who doesn’t eat, are you?’

Clara swallowed down the laugh that was rising in her throat, thinking of how much she loved her food. If it wasn’t for her constant nervous energy about the future of The Club on the Corner she’d probably be a good few dress sizes larger than she was.

‘It’s safe to say food’s always good with me, too,’ she confirmed. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

And she realised with a jolt that she was. She really, really was.

Clara tilted her head back as she inhaled the super-sweet aroma that lingered in the air. Sugared almonds and cinnamon. Whiskey and mulled wine. Balsam and fir trees.