It’s a Wonderful Night: A delightfully feel-good festive romance for 2018!

‘What if it rains? Shouldn’t you be doing this on the inside? Won’t it wash off in the rain?’

‘Er, yeah, probably.’ I glance up at the dark sky. Leo’s blue and brown striped awning won’t give it much protection if those clouds decide to open. ‘But that’s kind of the point. I didn’t want to do anything lasting without Leo’s permission. This is just snow spray, it’ll wash off with a quick sponge-over or a heavy shower unless I give it a coat of lacquer, then it’ll need a bit of scrubbing first. But he doesn’t know I’m doing this and if he hates it when he sees it in the morning, at least he can get rid of it.’

‘He won’t do that. It’s a work of art and it’s not even finished yet. I’m going to be the first to come by tomorrow and see the finished scene.’

‘Thanks, Bernard. It’s really nothing. It’s just stencils and lines.’ I hesitate for a moment. ‘But you won’t tell Leo if you see him, will you? I don’t want him to know it was me.’

‘Of course not. Even if he questions me, which I’m sure he will. He brings me a cuppa and a muffin twice a day, you know? He always stops for a chat, just like you do. You know me, I love to chat, and I enjoy that even more than I enjoy his coffee, and I enjoy that a lot. I won’t breathe a word of this. I didn’t see anything.’

I give him a nod of appreciation, turning back to run the side of my hand over my tree stencil to adhere it to the window.

‘Thanks for these gloves, by the way,’ Bernard says, wiggling his covered fingers towards me.

‘You’re welcome, they would only have gone for rags.’

‘I don’t believe that. There’s nothing wrong with them and they still had the tags on. You could’ve sold them for a pretty penny. I bet you put your own money in the donation box and kept them for me.’

I shake my head because I’m a terrible liar and it’s best if I don’t say anything. ‘There’s a ham sandwich and a flask of tea in that bag, help yourself,’ I say to distract him.

‘Oh no, that’s your supper, I’m not taking that.’

‘I’ve already had mine, Bernard. Greedy thing that I am, I packed too much. You’d be doing me a favour by saving me having to carry it home later.’

I shine my torch towards the bag to give him enough light to see and watch as he takes the wrapped sandwich and flask of tea. ‘I’ll give this back to you tomorrow as usual, Georgia. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ I say. ‘Like I said, you’re doing me a favour.’

He narrows his eyes at me in the torchlight. ‘You say that so often that I don’t believe you anymore.’ He looks from me to the sandwich in his hand. ‘I know you made this for me. And I wish I wasn’t too hungry to turn you down.’

Guilt punches me in the stomach. It makes me feel stupidly privileged to have a soft bed and a warm house to go home to tonight. It’s bitterly cold out here, my gloves are fingerless because I need my fingertips to create the pattern in the paint and I lost feeling in them before I even reached the end of my street. I know that when I get home, the central heating will still be on because my dad will have ignored my plea to go to bed and not wait up for me. Bernard feels guilty for taking a sandwich and a flask of tea on his way home to a sleeping bag and a wooden bench.

Like Leo takes him something to eat and drink every day, I save anything we get donated to One Light that I think will fit him or be useful to him. Anything from gloves, coats, and shoes to a heavy blanket and a rucksack. He’s such a lovely guy who’s stuck in a vicious circle of not being able to afford rent and not being able to get a job, especially when everyone in Oakbarrow knows him as the local homeless man.

‘Can I do anything to help you?’ Bernard whispers, his grey moustache scratching the edge of the cup as he takes a sip of tea, visible steam rising from it into the cold night air.

‘No, you’re good, thanks. I won’t be here much longer. I only need to finish these trees and do some dots of falling snow. Just don’t tell Leo you saw me.’

‘Your secret’s safe with me, Clarence.’

‘Clarence?’ I say in confusion. Clarence is the angel who stopped George Bailey jumping off a bridge in It’s a Wonderful Life … does Bernard know more than I think he does?

He falters for just a moment too long. ‘I’m sorry, it’s been so long since I saw the film. I meant your namesake, of course, Georgia.’

I decide now is not the time to pursue it. If he did see something of Leo last night, then it’s not town gossip for us to stand here and discuss. I’m not going to mention it, and I know Bernard well enough to know he wouldn’t either.

‘Stay warm, okay?’ I say instead, even though I know it will be impossible in this weather. ‘Goodnight.’

Bernard raises the flask of tea in an imaginary toast and I watch his back as he disappears into the darkness of the street. I’m glad Leo takes care of him too. I see how many people walk past him with a sneer and a look of disdain. I’ve always thought Leo was lovely to look at and lovely to talk to, but now I know he’s lovely on the inside too it makes me even more determined to make this window a good one. Leo is so important to this street. He deserves to know how different things would be without him. Maybe I am a bit like Clarence here. I’ve already stopped Leo jumping off a bridge. Maybe now I can show him how different life would be if he wasn’t here.

Chapter 5 (#ulink_6569c787-1280-53cb-bc41-66050cb6d268)

I’m glad it’s December because my gloves hide the traces of white paint underneath my fingernails that won’t come off despite the multiple scrubbings this morning. The pavements are slick with ice, unlike the days when the gritting lorry used to come through at six o’clock on an icy morning, shortly followed by a council man with a bucket of road salt to make the pavements safe for all the people hitting the shops early or walking to school with their kids.

The bricks and windowsills of empty shops are furry with thick frost, and my design on Leo’s window is still intact. From the outside, his gingerbread house now looks like it’s standing in a forest of white trees, surrounded by snowy ground and falling snow, and the frost has stuck to the white paint, giving my snowflakes a sparkly, crystallized coating. I glance up at the clear blue sky, wondering if Mother Nature’s addition to my artwork is the universe’s way of telling me that I’m doing the right thing here, despite the fact that I shouldn’t have taken that phone call in the first place. I definitely shouldn’t be getting involved in Leo’s life now, and Head Office would see it more as ‘gross invasion of privacy’ than any form of ‘right thing’. Mother Nature’s support will just have to be good enough for me. And hopefully the courts if I’m likely to be in serious trouble for this. You couldn’t argue with Mother Nature as a defence witness, could you?

I take a deep breath as my hand closes around the icy door handle to It’s A Wonderful Latte and I put on my best face for feigning innocence. Leo’s setting out muffins in the display case behind the counter and he looks up as the bell tinkles.

‘Wow, what a fantastic window,’ I say with my innocent face firmly in place. ‘And I thought you weren’t doing Christmas this year.’

‘Good morning, my favourite Georgia.’ His face breaks into a smile but quickly turns serious again. ‘And I’m not. I didn’t do that.’

I glance between the window and him. ‘No? Who did then? Fairies that come in the night? Elves?’

He narrows his eyes at me. ‘I don’t suppose you’d know anything about it?’

‘Me?’ My voice goes up several pitches. I now sound like a dolphin going through puberty. ‘Of course not. What a completely absurd suggestion. I can’t draw a stickman. Why on earth would you think I’d know anything about that?’

‘Hmm.’ He doesn’t look convinced by my denial. ‘I don’t know. It’s just that you were talking about the gingerbread house yesterday. I thought … I don’t know. You were the first person I thought of when I saw it.’

I should probably be insulted, or maybe impressed by his powers of deduction, but honestly, being the first person Leo thinks of in any situation sends a little sizzle of excitement through me.

‘Bloody vandals graffiti-ing my shop,’ he continues. ‘I’m going to have to waste half the morning washing it off now.’

I gasp in horror. ‘Oh, don’t do that! That’s not graffiti, it’s artwork. Look at the way it incorporates the gingerbread house. Someone’s gone to a lot of effort to do that. Look at the snowflakes and the way the actual frost outside has clung to the paint and made it sparkle. It looks fantastic in the daylight. Don’t wash it off, please. It looks all festive and lovely.’

His blue eyes narrow again.

‘I mean, do whatever you want, obviously. I don’t care if you wash it off. If you don’t like it, that’s up to you.’ I clear my throat and look away.

‘So, what can I get you today, Georgia Bailey from the Oakbarrow branch of the Building and Loan?’ There’s such a fondness in his voice as he says it that it makes me smile involuntarily.

‘I think I’ll try your chestnut praline this morning, if –’

‘Just one, right? Because I’m not accepting another coffee from you. It’s not right.’

It’s my turn to narrow my eyes at him. ‘Fine. Just one.’

‘So did you have a good night?’ he asks as he turns to make my drink. ‘You’re early again this morning. Couldn’t sleep?’

‘Yeah, something like that,’ I say, touched that he knows my work schedule so well.

‘I thought so. No offence but you look like you were up half the night.’

‘Oh, thanks,’ I snort, knowing he doesn’t mean it in a nasty way. He’s just wheedling for more information about the window because he definitely suspects me.

‘Sorry, my lovely.’ He puts the coffee down on the counter and pushes it towards me. ‘On the house to make up for the insult.’

I slap my £3.50 down on the counter and push it towards him in return. ‘It’s not to make up for the insult, it’s to make up for me buying you one yesterday, and I’m not having that. It’s just a coffee, Leo. Accept it.’