by Lucy Knott
‘You’re a superhero. I saw you on my TV,’ I hear Penny say, leaning in a little closer to Devon and speaking in a hushed whisper. I think my heart just melted quicker than an ice lolly on a scorching sunny day.
‘He’s cute with kids,’ Hope says coming up behind me and making me jump. I hastily turn my attention away from Penny and Devon and pat down my coat, freeing it of falling snowflakes as the wind blows a small flurry under our canopy.
‘Yeah, well he’s a superhero; all kids love superheroes,’ I remind her. It’s not hard to win over kids when you have a plastic action figure made of you, I find myself thinking, trying to weigh down the butterflies that are attempting to flutter around in my belly at the sight of him decorating cookies with Penny.
‘Yeah, that’s it,’ Hope says, shoving me in my bicep. ‘Right, come on, get your signs up and help me with the banner and let’s get to work,’ she finishes with a smirk.
*
Where once lay an array of naked and plain gingerbread trees, houses and people, there is now a multi-coloured, sparkling, sprinkle-covered table of unique festive masterpieces that I can’t stop smiling at. I need to gather them up and clingfilm them now that most of them have set and move them to the back of our booth ready for the kids to pick up on their way home, so I can make room for the afternoon’s customers.
I’ve been overseeing the decorating table and encouraging the children and adults alike to add their famous scribbles or artwork to the communal gingerbread house. It looks positively enchanting with everyone’s different ideas. One side looks like a fairy garden with butterflies, wings and tiny flowers creeping up the side and lining the bottom edge. Another side, one of the adults drew Santa climbing up the house to get to the chimney and it looks fantastic. At the front door, one of the older children decided they were going to draw a dog; they wanted the inhabitants to own a dog. It was the cutest thing. And the roof is crammed with so many jelly tots, dolly mixtures and chocolate buttons, I’m not sure Santa would be able to find the chimney. It’s glorious. It’s up to the afternoon fair-goers to finish off the last side of the house and maybe decorate the small path that I made up on the tray. I can’t wait to see what they come up with. Even my dad added his penmanship, drawing a tinsel-covered scaffolding on one side.
I’m moving the last few plates when one of them catches my eye. It’s two gingerbread people and their outfits make my eyes blink fast and furiously and immediately an image of mine and Devon’s book springs into my mind. One gingerbread is wearing a pink all-in-one spandex-like attire. Emblazoned on the chest is a bright yellow star surrounded by lots of smaller stars. She has white wrist cuffs that match a pair of white boots; they have extra sparkle added to them with silver balls and edible glitter and a pink glittery headband is in its black hair. The other wears a red all-in-one, a lightning bolt taking centre stage, a little less glitter but a few extra stars around the lightning bolt. I think back to our book and our drawings. I had made Devon have some stars on his costume too when we were little.
‘It’s me and you.’ Devon’s whisper tickles my ear as he comes up beside me.
‘I know,’ I instantly whisper back. ‘You remembered our superhero costumes,’ I say, taking my eyes off the gingerbread Devon so I can look at the real Devon.
‘Of course.’ He smiles, hands tapping his pockets, looking a little nervous. ‘I think we make for cute gingerbread people,’ he adds, making me laugh. I look back to his designs again and my eyes narrow in thought.
‘D, your childhood dream costume doesn’t look that different to your current real-life movie superhero costume,’ I note, mouth open and looking back at him to see his nose crinkle, his eyes crease and all his pearly whites on show.
‘I know, right?’ he says excitement all over his features.
‘Oh, my goodness, aren’t they adorable.’ Upon hearing the fake shrill voice, I turn my head away from Devon to see Ruby standing next to him, her arm weaving its way through his. Devon’s cheeks burn bright red as he gives me a look I can’t quite read before giving Ruby a sort of half-smile.
‘The children do such a great job with these little craft things and messy kids play. Come on, I’ll show you what the adults get up to for fun,’ Ruby says, gripping Devon’s arm tighter. I want to tell her that Devon loves messy play then realise it was twelve-year-old Devon who loved getting messy and the words don’t make it out of my mouth. I take a step back. Devon opens his mouth to speak but I get there first.
‘Oh, yes sure. He’s all yours, Ruby. You won’t be able to move around here in a minute with all the kids enjoying themselves – arrgh, you best get away quick. Who’d want to be around that?’ I say, through a fake chuckle, flailing my arms in mock fear. I’m sure I see Devon smirk, but it’s only small before Ruby is dragging him away. He goes to speak again but Ruby cuts him off with talk of the documentary. I shrug and wave him off as cheerfully as I can muster before he looks away, getting lost in the packed afternoon crowd.
‘Have you asked him about her yet?’ Hope asks from behind me, startling me once more.
‘Jeez, would you stop doing that?’ I say, hand on my chest as I leave the kids decorating and wander over to her table where more than half of The Village Gazettes on display have gone – making me feel proud. They have been replaced by family’s entries into the gingerbread house competition. This town sure is imaginative. They all look fantastic.
‘Why so jittery today?’ she asks coyly, munching on sweets from a pick a mix bag then offering the bag to me. I retrieve a fizzy cola bottle and bite it in half.
‘I see you’re eating sweets – something’s up,’ I note, grimacing slightly as the sourness tickles my taste buds.
‘I see you’re avoiding my questions,’ she responds, stoically not letting the fizziness affect her or taking her eyes off me.
I shrug, popping the other half in my mouth, only to repeat the pursed-lip, shiver process.
‘Christmas can be a stressful time of year,’ she says pointing a milk bottle at me, her eyes assessing me knowingly. With my brain being so consumed with thoughts of Devon and the Christmas fair last night, I had completely forgotten to check in with Hope and see how she was coping after yesterday’s email.
‘Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t check in with you last night. I can’t believe you let me have the afternoon off to go skateboarding with Devon when you needed me. Are you feeling OK about the magazine?’ I ask, my voice softening.
Hope looks at me and lets out a chuckle. ‘Don’t be daft, you’ve gone above and beyond with all your ideas and have kept me sane. Let’s enjoy this magical weekend and then Monday, we’ll Tony Stark it and put our heads together the minute we step foot in the office, OK?’ Hope says with a slight wobble to her voice.
I nod my support and not try not to let her see me gulp. I believe in us – we’ll figure it out.
‘Besides, Devon is only here for a short time. You deserve to enjoy him and I’m fine – it’s just this damn dog,’ Hope explains, putting a handful of assorted pick a mix in her mouth.
‘You’ve got a dog?’ I say loudly, then hastily look around for Jess. How had he not told me yet?
Hope hunches over and scans the tent too. ‘No and that’s the problem. I’m actually really considering surprising him for Christmas but look at me. I’ve not even got the thing yet and it’s already stressing me out,’ she whispers.
‘Aww but you’re going to be great doggy parents and you know Jess is going to love it and squish it and take care of it,’ I say, unable to hide the teasing in my tone as I wrap my arms around Hope and snuggle into her.
‘You’re not funny,’ she tells me, pushing me off her. ‘But you and Devon would make for great kiddie parents,’ she adds, getting me back. I pinch another cola bottle and pull a face. She shakes her head at me. ‘If you don’t want a dog, you could always adopt Devon, I think Jess would be just as thrilled.’ I chuckle.
How I had managed to keep Devon a secret for ten years
, I have no idea. I have to admit it feels good being able to have that part of my life out in the open even if it does mean Hope wants to talk more about my feelings. Before Devon, it had been easier to just pass off that I was simply not an emotional person and was happy keeping myself to myself. Hope knew my mother could sometimes get me down, that I had been bullied at school, and I wasn’t very lucky with men, but I was happy around her and Jess, so everything was cool. I am who I am and all that, but ever since Devon showed up it’s like she keeps testing the keys to see which one fits in the lock. She certainly gets best friend points for recognising that maybe there was more to my often-guarded state, and that more came in the form of a six-foot-four superhero.
‘Uh, take these off me,’ Hope says, as we both go quiet, eating pick a mix and staring into the distance contemplating parenthood.
‘Would you prefer an avocado doughnut?’ I tease. ‘But really? Healthy doughnuts – I can’t believe the thought even crossed your mind when we have Mr and Mrs Rolph if we want doughnuts,’ I say, pulling a gummy ring from the bag as I take it off her and glance over at the children who are happily singing Christmas songs and throwing handfuls of sprinkles on their creations, which look marvellous and magical.
‘You certainly get points for avoiding questions. Do you not think you should talk to him about how you feel?’ Hope says, referring to her initial question that I have done a rather brilliant job of avoiding.
‘What? Mr Rolph knows how much I love his doughnuts.’ As my words hit the airwaves, I clock how they sound and nearly choke on my candy ring. Hope doubles over, hand on her side, cackling like a hyena and tears are streaming down my crimson face.
‘What’s so funny?’ Jess asks, making his way over to our table with a tray of mulled wine and Devon by his side. I wipe at my eyes as Hope tries to stand up straight but when she looks at me, another cackle and snort let loose between the two of us. We haven’t even had a sip of mulled wine yet.
I do a double take of Devon, wondering why he’s not with Ruby and then I shoot a look at Jess who gives me an innocent grin. ‘He’s off the clock today and I don’t think the man needs anymore fashion tips,’ he says patting Devon on the back.
‘Thanks, man,’ Devon replies, his hands together, as he nods in gratitude with a shy smile on his face. I am just about to pop a fizzy peach in my mouth, content with the four of us together, when Devon walks over to me, leans down and bites the whole thing out of my fingertips.
18
‘OK, here it goes. Is everyone ready with their tickets? The number is: 5264,’ Hope announces to the gathered crowd. The adults are sipping on their cocoa or mulled wine; the children are already munching on their decorated gingerbread which Devon, Jess and I have just been giving out; and the sound of Cliff Richard singing can be heard softly in the background. Our stall is all nearly cleared away, but we’ve taken a brief pause to round up all the raffle entrants to see who the winner of our communal gingerbread house is. Everyone is smiling and looking around as we wait for the winner to wave their ticket in celebration.
‘Wave it, sweetheart. Tell Hope it’s you.’ I turn to my left and see Emily, with her little boy of two years old in her arms, encouraging him to hold aloft their ticket. Emily is a single mum and our town’s seamstress. All those gorgeous handmade pieces I have been telling you about are her creations; she is simply magic with a needle and thread. Her beautiful little boy Barney, with his shocking white hair and blue eyes, is as cute as can be. They couldn’t be more deserving of this treat. I clap my hands feeling elated when Barney shyly waves the ticket and Hope spots them. It’s clear to see Hope is pleased with this outcome too as she makes her way over to Barney and gives him a high five and Emily a giant hug.
Today has been a huge success. We had so many entrants into the competition and I think pretty much everyone in town stopped by the stall to decorate a cookie. The winning gingerbread house had been announced earlier along with the winner of Emily’s craft competition and Mrs May’s “guess how many sweets in the bottle” game. Our winning house was a family of four who had just moved to village and were eager to join in with the festivities. They had created a gorgeous replica of the village square with fluffy grass frosting and a beautiful tree and you could see the kids had been allowed to do most of it. It was a sure-fire winner and a lovely way of welcoming the family to Springhollow.
As the crowd begin to disperse, I congratulate Emily and Barney with hugs and high fives of my own while Devon introduces himself making Barney come out of his shell as he tugs Devon’s leg – Devon immediately squats down to the little boy’s level as Barney whispers, ‘Are you Superman?’
‘What makes you say that?’ Devon asks in playful whisper and a beaming grin.
‘You look like a superhero. You’re big,’ Barney replies poking Devon in his broad chest. Devon chuckles as Barney then pokes at his bicep through his parka. ‘You got muscles.’
Emily and I both giggle watching the scene out of the corner of our eyes while I help Emily tuck the gingerbread house into the bottom of their buggy.
‘Well, thank you. It looks like you’ve got muscles too. Are you a superhero?’ Devon asks gently squeezing Barney’s little arm. ‘Whoa, you’re very strong,’ he adds, making Barney laugh.
‘When I’m big like you,’ Barney responds, making my chest swell with pride. He’s a little boy after my own heart and is just like Devon and I were at his age. And Devon went out and achieved his dream. I couldn’t be prouder of him either.
‘I think you will be the best superhero,’ Devon notes causing Barney to fling his arms around his neck and squeeze him tight. Barney’s heart-warming actions create a little domino effect and when we say bye to him and Emily, a small crowd of children form, all wanting autographs from Devon. Hope and Jess nip over having folded up the last of our signs and having cleared up my baking bits and pieces. Hope gives me a heads-up that she’s going to get a head start dropping our stuff off at my house on their way home and I tell her we will catch up with them shortly.
Ten or so families later and Devon and I each have a takeaway mulled wine for the short walk home. Snowflakes are teasing the navy blue sky, drifting along the evening breeze as we crunch the heavier snow from earlier underneath our feet.
‘Am I not going to get to see you in all your spandex glory?’ I blurt out, feeling deliriously joyful. With all the superhero talk it occurred to me that I haven’t yet got to witness Devon in his costume besides the posters and the trailer I have watched a hundred times.
Devon splutters on his wine and gives me a side glance.
‘I mean, aren’t you wearing it right now under all those clothes? Isn’t that what superheroes are supposed to do?’ I say, grinning so hard my eyes crinkle as I skip along.
‘Ooh the secret nerd is now telling me what superheroes are supposed to do,’ Devon teases, wiggling his eyebrows at me. I stick my tongue out and shove him in the ribs.
‘We always said we’d never take our costumes off, so, I have to say I’m rather disappointed. I guess Superman will just have to remain at the top of my list as my favourite superhero of all time then,’ I tease back.
‘Oh yeah,’ Devon says with a smirk, throwing his mulled-wine-free hand over my shoulder and bending down to whisper in my ear. ‘Does that mean we need to get you in spandex, or will Spider-Man forever remain at the top of my list?’ His warm breath tickles my ear sending a shiver down my spine. I just want to wrap my arms around him and keep him close but instead I let out a laugh, hip-check him and race to my front door as I spot Hope and Jess coming up my path.
‘Great timing,’ Hope says. ‘I’m shattered. We’re going to call it a night and head off. Let us know what you guys are doing tomorrow,’ she says, wrapping me in a quick hug. Jess gives me a fist bump and repeats the action with Devon before scurrying out the gate. Something inside me stirs when Hope ever so casually says “let us know what you guys are doing tomorrow”. I like the way it sounds, like Devo
n being here is a more permanent and normal thing.
‘Was that a yes or no on the spandex?’ Devon says as he steps up next to me on the front step as I unlock the door Hope had just locked. I turn to look up at him and give him a dramatic eye-roll in response. But when I meet his mischievous gaze, the child within me starts jumping with glee.
‘I have an idea.’ Pushing open my front door, I quickly step out of my black boots and unravel my scarf. My house feels nice and toasty as I make to dash for the stairs. Devon follows suit. ‘Arrgh wait.’ I pause thudding into Devon as I turn round and make my way back down the stairs. Devon isn’t fazed by my smacking into him; he’s filled out a lot more since we were sixteen, but I ignore that and pop our empty mulled wine cups in the recycle bin. ‘We will need snacks.’
‘OK,’ Devon replies, simply watching my movements and holding out his arms as I begin to pile chocolate chip cookies, leftover gingerbread men, bags of popcorn and a box of mince pies in them. Then I collect a bottle of red wine and two glasses and march back up the stairs.
‘Are you moving?’ Devon asks when I push open the door to the right of my landing. I place the wine and glasses on one of the boxes and duck through the narrow gap towards my desk. Devon follows and frees his arms of the treats, placing them on the chair, looking around in awe. Switching on my twinkling lights, I survey the floor space and look over the mix of empty and full boxes.
‘No, no, it just keeps people from snooping around and seeing my drawings and stuff,’ I say, waving off my confession like it’s been no big deal harbouring that secret for ten years.
‘You made yourself a secret lair? Cool,’ Devon notes. He wanders over to my desk, looking over all the drawings I have pinned to the wall and the piles of drawings and papers sprawled out on my desk. I can tell he doesn’t want to burst my current glee-filled bubble and start questioning my need to keep my artwork a secret for all these years again and for that I’m grateful. I’d like to move past that now. He’s here and Hope and Jess know all about him now and I feel a sense of relief. Plus, I’m too excited for my plan to be distracted by heavy conversation.
