Joe and Clara’s Christmas Countdown. Katey Lovell
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appeared in Joe’s eyes as he took the bait. ‘That’s debatable.’
‘You cheeky so-and-so! It’s a good job I like you. I wouldn’t let any Tom, Dick or Harry get away with that.’
Clara appeared from the kitchen, carrying a mug in each hand.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’d have made you a drink if I’d known you were here. I didn’t hear the door go. I can always brew up if you want one, there’s water in the kettle still, freshly boiled.’
‘Clara.’ Deirdre gave a stern look over the top of her steel-rimmed glasses. ‘You’ve met Joe before, haven’t you? Simone’s brother. He used to be a member here so I know him well. He’s a good lad, but you’ll have to keep your eye on him. He used to be one for the ladies when he was a teenager.’
Joe held his hands up in defence. ‘I could have you for slander, Deirdre Whitehall. I only had two girlfriends in the whole seven years I was a member at The Club on the Corner.’
‘You must have got serious young,’ Clara interjected. ‘I’ve only had one relationship I’d class as serious.’
‘And the less said about that the better,’ Deirdre added pointedly, before turning to Joe with a grimace. ‘Stupid bugger was sleeping with his masseuse, can you believe?’
‘He must have been an idiot,’ Joe replied, rubbing the heel of his hand against the chocolate- brown skin of his forehead. He could feel the start of a stress headache coming on. Probably from nerves. He really hoped it wouldn’t develop into a full-blown migraine.
‘He was,’ Clara replied shortly. ‘Didn’t realise it at the time, though, obviously.’
‘You had a lucky escape,’ Deirdre said. ‘Imagine if you’d married him!’
Clara shuddered, then pulled her thick black woollen cardigan more tightly across her chest. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘They were engaged, you know,’ Deirdre continued, wrinkling her nose in obvious distaste. ‘But I always had a bad feeling about him. He thought he was better than Clara, because he was a local star. I told him on more than one occasion that Clara’s the star around here. I must have had an angel watching over me the day she came for her interview.’
Clara tutted and her cheeks flushed pink. It made her appear vulnerable.
‘I don’t know about that,’ she replied modestly, before visibly perking up. Her shoulders sprang back, her eyes brightened. ‘But … it’s December the first today, and you know what that means.’
Deirdre rolled her eyes theatrically, while Joe watched on with interest.
‘Hand over the keys to the store cupboard. It’s time to unleash the decorations.’ Clara waggled her eyebrows excitedly before doing a dance of delight on the spot. ‘You can’t put it off any longer, it’s well and truly time to count down to Christmas.’ She grinned enthusiastically in Joe’s direction and Joe forced an uncomfortable smile. So Clara was a Christmas junkie. ‘Don’t you just love Christmas!’ she enthused, clapping her hands together.
Joe didn’t have the guts to tell the truth – that one of the reasons he’d volunteered at the youth club in the first place was to avoid all the preparations. He’d hoped to lose himself in endless games of table tennis and conversations about which teams had a chance in the FA Cup this season. Anything, so long as it didn’t involve Christmas. Since Michelle’s death, the festive season had never been the same.
‘Here you go,’ said Deirdre, handing Clara a long silver key attached to a small red key fob. ‘But don’t go overboard,’ she warned. ‘Leave Santa’s grotto to the Trafford Centre.’
‘Don’t worry, Deirdre. You can rely on me.’
‘When it comes to Christmas, she doesn’t know when to stop,’ she said with a laugh. ‘You’re not an elf in disguise, are you Joe?’
‘Far from it.’ He was aware his voice was short – clipped – so in a vain attempt to lighten the mood he added, ‘Green’s never been my colour.’
Clara laughed. ‘I’ll get you in the Christmas spirit soon enough. Come on, let’s get that box down. If we work fast we’ll have the whole place dressed before the kids arrive.’
She turned on her heels, beckoning for Joe to follow on.
Deirdre gave a little wave before saying, ‘You’d better get a move on. Christmas is a serious business to Clara. Oh, and good luck!’
Joe smiled weakly as he followed Clara, who was enthusiastically humming ‘Jingle Bells’, all the while silently thinking he might need all the luck he could get.
* * *
By the time the majority of the main hall had been decorated, plastic pine needles from the artificial tree that stood proudly on the stage were coating the well-trodden parquet flooring and Joe had clumps of silver glitter clinging to the tips of his fingers. Long metallic decorations were strung from the beams overhead, reminding him of the ones his parents had had in his childhood, and thick swaths of scarlet tinsel curled around the creamy-white pillars, so they resembled barber’s poles.
‘Just the lights to test now,’ Clara said, crossing her fingers in front of her. ‘They should be fine, they were new last year.’ Then she frowned and added, ‘But have you got a torch feature on your phone?’
Joe nodded. ‘Yeah, I think so.’
‘Good. Get it out and set up ready, just in case.’
‘In case what?’
‘In case the lights trip the electrics. That’s what happened last year. The whole place went black and I could hear Deirdre shouting but couldn’t see where she was. It was like something from a film.’
‘And Deirdre doesn’t like to relinquish control of anything,’ Joe smiled.
‘Tell me about it,’ Clara replied, unravelling the tangled wires. ‘She’s not always the easiest person to be around.’
‘But you like working here? I mean, I suppose you must or you’d have got a different job.’
‘I love it,’ she said, her eyes bright. ‘It’s the kids that make it special, but the whole place has a positive vibe that makes it so much easier to come to work. I joke about Deirdre, but she’s a friend as well as a boss. I never understand when people complain about their job, because I’ve always loved coming here. I guess I’m lucky.’
‘Sounds better than my job.’ Joe thought of how he’d spent the morning stock-taking. He’d had one customer, a pensioner looking for polyfilla. That had been the extent of his social contact – one customer in a four-hour shift. And although he’d like to think he’d made a difference, Joe couldn’t, hand on heart, say he had.
‘What’s it you do?’
‘I work at a hardware shop at the far end of the Northern Quarter. It’s pretty dull, most of the time.’ He shrugged his diffidence. ‘I’m only there part time these days, though. Hard to believe I used to do forty hours a week. Most of the time I was twiddling my thumbs.’
‘Fancied a change of scene?’ she smiled, and Joe’s stomach twisted. It was an innocent enough question, but he didn’t want to talk about the reasons behind the changes in his lifestyle.
‘Something like that.’
‘Well, there’s not much time for thumb-twiddling here,’ she warned, plugging in the lights. ‘We’ll be glad of the extra body. In the past we’ve tried to get people to help out but no one’s volunteered.’
‘I know what a difference this place makes to the kids,’ Joe said, ‘and I’ve got the time to give, so it makes sense to help out.’
‘Well, we really appreciate it. Now