Joe and Clara's Christmas Countdown

by Katey Lovell

  ‘Did it work?’ Clara asked.

  ‘Did it heck! I was up at five o’clock, begging to open my presents. Dad had to be up to lead the Christmas Day service anyway. By the time I was a teenager and would happily have lazed in bed until dinner time, Simone had come along and taken over the “Wake up, it’s Christmas” baton.’ He smiled. ‘I didn’t mind, though, because seeing her face as she opened the presents was worth being dragged out of bed for.’

  He sat at one end of the settee, pulling a cushion up behind him before wrapping first his coat and then the two blankets over his knees. Clara sank down into the other end, where the cushion was saggy with Deirdre’s indent, and tucked her feet under her body.

  ‘Give it here.’ Clara held out her hand in demand.

  Joe did as he was told and handed the book over, before burying his hands under the cover and allowing his head to flop back against the settee. His mouth dropped open into a yawn.

  ‘Tired?’

  ‘Shattered,’ he admitted, yawning once more.

  ‘Let me read to you,’ Clara said, opening the book. She loved the imagery of the famous poem, the rhythm of it, and soon she was lost within the winter fairytale, not stopping for breath until she reached the final line.

  She snapped the book shut and looked up to find Joe’s eyes closed and mouth open, the steady rise and fall of the blankets echoing his peaceful sleep-filled breathing pattern. He looked younger now he was asleep, smaller. Child-like, although that might have been because the hood of his onesie was askew. He looked half sleepy human, half cock-eyed turtle.

  ‘Goodnight,’ she repeated in a whisper, as she stretched her arm out to flick the light switch to the off position. ‘Sleep tight.’

  The room went black, the only light the silvery flash of crescent moon peeping in at the window.

  Clara didn’t fall sleep straight away. Instead, she listened to the pattern of Joe’s ragged, barely-there breathing as she shivered in the darkness; whilst resisting the inexplicable urge to snuggle with him on the half of the settee he had claimed.

  Joe

  Monday, December 11th 2017

  Joe yawned.

  He’d not slept well last night, and woken up stiff and sleepy, momentarily confused about where he was. Then he’d seen Clara, peacefully sleeping underneath her blankets, and remembered the previous night’s unexpected lock-in. He’d called Deirdre straight away and was relieved when she answered on the second ring. She’d not sounded surprised to hear from him, even at that early hour, and when Joe had explained the predicament Deirdre had searched her handbag and found that she’d somehow managed to take both sets of keys. She’d arrived soon after to let them out, and Joe had had time to get home and shower (and, most importantly, brush his teeth – he hated the slimy feeling of unbrushed teeth) before heading for his shift at the hardware shop. He’d left an emotional Clara berating Deirdre. She was still emotional nine hours later.

  ‘I’m getting nervous.’

  Joe could tell. Clara had been jiggling in her seat for the past fifteen minutes – twisting her rings distractedly round and round her fingers, tapping her feet against the tiled floor of the corridor, leaning first forwards and then backwards in her seat, as though fighting to get comfortable.

  ‘You’ve nothing to be nervous about,’ he replied softly. ‘The presentation is great – it’s got all the facts and figures and enough emotion to tug on the heartstrings of the committee too. They’d have to be soulless creatures not to take pity on the club.’

  ‘It’s more that I’m nervous about getting up there and talking in front of them all. What if I get flustered and end up missing out key points?’ Clara wrung her hands together, before wincing and adding, ‘My palms are sweaty. I thought that was just a saying. I didn’t think it actually happened in real life.’

  ‘You’re not going to miss out anything, and even if you did it’s there on the slides for them to read for themselves. Honestly, the run-through you did earlier was brilliant. I was on the verge of tears myself, and I helped you put the whole thing together.’

  Clara smiled at that, which gave Joe a warm feeling in his core. It felt good to be able to put her at ease.

  ‘I knew they were tears I saw building in your eyes!’ she said with glee, before her smile faded and she added, ‘I’m not confident about speaking in public, and this feels more important than any of the times I’ve had to stand on stage in the youth club and ask families to give generously.’ She fidgeted again. ‘I’m genuinely not sure if I can do this.’

  Joe smiled kindly and reached out to place his hand on hers. Clara’s constant twitching was making him feel restless too, so smothering her delicate hand with his meant neither of them were able to squirm.

  ‘You can do it. I know you can. And I’ll be right there next to you. If it does get to be too much then give me the nod and I’ll take over.’

  Clara sighed a sigh that Joe thought was most likely of relief. ‘It’s reassuring to know I’m not going into this alone. I don’t want to let Deirdre down by letting my nerves get the better of me, that’s all.’

  ‘Sshhh,’ Joe said, with a stern look. ‘You wouldn’t be letting anyone down. The Club on the Corner is in your heart – in your bones, even. No one would ever question how much it means to you.’

  ‘That’s not enough, though. Love alone won’t keep the place going. We desperately need to find money from somewhere if we can open our doors to everyone on that waiting list. And if we had money to give the place a facelift too … there’s so much potential to make it amazing.’

  ‘It’s amazing already,’ Joe corrected. ‘True, it would benefit from some work, but I’m confident we’ll get funding from somewhere to spruce it up. I tell you what, if we don’t get lucky with this, I’ll write to one of those TV shows that turn up and blitz the place in a day.’

  Clara giggled. ‘It’d take a lot of MDF to fix everything that needs fixing at the club.’

  Joe laughed along with her, until the door to the church hall opened and his dad invited them in.

  The committee were at the far end of the hall, sitting behind a long row of tables that made Joe feel as though they were auditioning for X Factor. Reverend Smith was in the seat at the end of the row, less judgemental than Simon Cowell, but equally as expectant. Joe and Clara’s presentation was the fifth and final one of the day and Joe hoped the committee weren’t flagging. A plate at the centre of the table was piled high with custard-cream biscuits and Joe willed them to pick up one of the little rectangles and get a sugar-hit so they’d be able to take in the information Clara was about to present.

  ‘Whenever you’re ready, Clara,’ Reverend Smith said.

  Clara looked at Joe, the fear evident in her eyes. Then, with a smile, she walked towards the long table and handed a copy of the presentation to each of the committee, before starting her spiel.

  ‘I’m Clara O’ Connell,’ she began, ‘and I’m the deputy manager at The Club on the Corner. The youth club has been using the building since the 1980s, providing a safe place for young people within our community to socialise with each other. The building was originally multi-purpose, but we are now the only users.’ Clara took a breath, Joe nodding his encouragement. She continued with confidence, sharing the club’s current plight and the ambitious renovation plans and the ideal staffing structure, not once faltering over the numbers she’d been so afraid would trip her up. When she finished talking through the final slide, Joe wanted to whoop with pride and delight, and he gave a thumbs-up as he took to the floor to invite any questions.

  Five minutes later they were out, Clara placing the flat of her palm against her chest.

  ‘My heart’s still pounding!’ she exclaimed, as they walked down the winding pathway through the church grounds. It was not long after four o’clock, but due to the season it was already pitch black but for the luminous white glow of the ankle-high lamps that marked out the walkway.

  ‘You were brilliant. So co
ol and calm. I’d never have guessed you were as nervous as you were.’

  ‘I’m good at hiding my feelings.’ Clara shrugged as Joe looked curiously on. ‘When my dad left I pretended I wasn’t hurting. Didn’t want to upset Mum any more than she already was, because I could hear her crying at night as I lay awake in bed. I had to be strong for her, so I put on a brave face and a smile and hoped she wouldn’t notice my heart was breaking as much as hers was.’

  ‘Oh, Clara.’

  ‘I was the same with Dean. I knew things weren’t right but I hid behind a mask, clinging grimly on to the future I’d thought we’d have. I’ve become quite adept at making out things are fine when inside I’m crumbling.’

  ‘That’s so sad.’ Joe fought the urge to reach out and hug her, instead saying, ‘Don’t ever feel you have no one to talk to. I’m always here with a shoulder to cry on. Two actually,’ he said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, folding her arms in front of her chest. A body-language expert would probably have said this was Clara closing herself off again, but Joe knew it was nothing more than her way of wrapping herself up against the grim weather of the evening. ‘And the same goes for you. You can always tell me anything that’s bothering you. Nothing’s too small or too silly.’

  Joe’s heart plummeted until he could have sworn it was in his gut, every throb uncomfortable and unpleasant. He wished he could tell Clara what was bothering him, what had been continually bothering him for the last eight years. But sharing would mean facing up to old demons, and so, instead, Joe clenched his lips shut, keeping both his guilt and his grief bottled up, the way he always had.

  Clara

  Tuesday, December 12th 2017

  ‘Cally! Get down from there this instant!’

  Deirdre’s panic was evident as the chair Cally precariously balanced on teetered, quivering like a wobbly bottom lip of a toddler caught doing something it shouldn’t, before tipping backwards.

  Cally landed on the floor with a dull thwack, which reverberated around the room.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ Deirdre chastised, fisted hands pressed into the folds of her ample waist. ‘I knew that was going to happen. I could see it coming a mile off.’

  Clara, who was closer to the incident, hurried to the scene, the usual hubbub of the club hushed into an ear-piercing silence.

  ‘Deirdre –’

  ‘You’re not an infant, Cally, and you’ve been coming here long enough to know I won’t stand for you acting like one. This is no time to act like a jackass!’

  ‘Deirdre.’ Clara adopted a no-nonsense tone. This wasn’t the time to be criticising. It looked as if Cally could have done serious damage. ‘I think we’re going to have to get her to A&E. I’ve got Mum’s car with me today as she’s not working, so I’ll drive if you ring her parents and tell them what’s happened. They can meet us at the hospital.’

  Cally’s arm was bent at a right angle, but not at her elbow. Clara’s stomach churned at the sight, salty bile rising in her throat. She wasn’t the squeamish sort, but Cally’s arm was in such an unnatural position that she could hardly bring herself to look.

  Poor Deirdre’s face fell, her jowls dropping a good inch and a half as the severity of the situation hit home.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Cally. I shouldn’t have ranted and raved without making sure you were alright. Does anywhere else hurt?’

  ‘Just my arm,’ Cally replied, through tightly gritted teeth. Her right hand was tentatively protecting the left arm, despite the damage already having been done.

  Clara gently offered her support as the teens watched, both horrified and enthralled. It was like a car crash, but on a smaller scale. Chair crash.

  ‘What can I do?’ Joe asked.

  His stance suggested discomfort and Clara was aware of the shakiness of his body, but the determination in his face was stronger. However, after their conversations about Michelle, Clara was wary of taking him to the hospital. Cally’s situation wasn’t life or death, but he’d still have to face up to ambulance sirens and overworked doctors. It might bring back bad memories.

  ‘You stay here and help Deirdre and Lynsey tidy up. It’s nearly time for this lot to be heading home anyway.’ The clock on the wall indicated it was closing in on nine.

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own?’

  Clara nodded. ‘Cally’s family will probably get there just as quickly as we will, but I don’t want to risk it. She’ll need a cast to reset this arm.’ She had to concentrate really hard not to gag at the thought. ‘Come on,’ she said, holding the door open for a whimpering Cally, ‘Let’s get going.’

  As she allowed the door to shut behind her, Clara could have sworn she heard Joe say something, but it was indecipherable and she didn’t have time to turn back. Cally’s arm was far more pressing.

  ***

  By the time Clara was leaving the A&E department her head was splitting in two. The stark strip lighting had made her head hurt and the noise – it wasn’t as though she was used to silence, she worked with young people, after all – but what with the high-pitched wails of babies with red faces and high temperatures, and the babbling chatter of anxious parents, she’d been relieved when Cally’s parents appeared through the revolving doors.

  Wrapping her coat across her body to protect herself against the cold, Clara made her way towards the overflow car park, her eyes firmly fixed on the glistening pavement ahead. The streetlights bounced off the frosty ground, making the usually dull-grey tarmac look as though it had been covered with a dusting of glitter, and she sensibly shortened her stride in response. She didn’t want to fall head over heels. One broken bone was enough for one night.

  ‘Hey.’

  Clara jumped back with a start.

  ‘Joe! Hey.’

  ‘I wanted to check Cally’s parents had arrived. Has she been seen yet?’

  ‘A triage nurse saw her pretty much straight away. She’s ninety-nine per cent certain it’s a break but they’re waiting for an x-ray to confirm it. Thank God for the NHS. What they do is bloody amazing.’

  ‘We’re so lucky,’ Joe agreed. ‘It’s a national treasure.’

  ‘Cally’s parents weren’t impressed that she’ll likely need a cast,’ Clara said with a wry smile. ‘She’s already broken her wrist, two fingers and her ankle. Sounds as though she’s a bit of a calamity.’

  ‘At least they won’t blame the club for not looking after her properly. We’ve avoided the lawsuits yet again, hopefully.’

  ‘I don’t think they’re the ‘where there’s blame, there’s a claim’ type.’

  ‘You’re right. Her mum goes to church and she’s the gentlest woman I’ve ever met. So softly spoken and wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Definitely not the type to drag us through the courts.’

  The two of them started walking, Clara matching his long stride despite her fears. At least if she did fall, now Joe was here she’d have someone to get her medical attention.

  ‘Where are you parked?’ he asked.

  ‘The car park on Upper Brook Street. You?’

  ‘I’m on the road. Couldn’t find a space and took a chance,’ he said, before wryly adding, ‘I think your rebellious streak must be rubbing off on me.’

  Clara cocked an eyebrow.

  ‘What?’ he said with mock innocence.

  ‘You make out I’m wild, when in reality I can’t wait to get home and have a long soak in the bath, if my mum’s not used all the hot water already.’

  ‘It’s been an eventful day. Wanting to relax doesn’t make you any less wild. I bet even Russell Brand baths, now and again.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Clara replied, scrunching her lips until her nose wrinkled. ‘He always looks a bit … crusty.’

  Joe threw back his head in a laugh, his breath visibly billowing as he exhaled. ‘I bet you wouldn’t say that to his face.’

  ‘I doubt he’d care. He’s too busy being outrageous.’

 
; ‘So were you that night we went to town. Don’t you remember that bar where you got up and started dancing?’

  ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘That last bar, the one with all the wood and the posh lights? You were throwing all kinds of shapes.’

  Clara raised her hand to her mouth as vague recollections of shouting about her ability to do the Macarena wormed their way to the forefront of her mind. The Macarena hadn’t even been playing. There had been a pianist … Oh dear.

  ‘Let’s not talk about that,’ she said hastily, ‘and you don’t have to cross the car park if you’re not parked up here. I can already see Mum’s car.’

  As though to prove her point she pulled her keys from her pocket and pressed the unlock button, her headlights flashing in response.

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  A comfortable silence enveloped her as Clara reached for the handle on the driver’s side. As she lifted the lever upwards she gasped. ‘I nearly forgot to give you your presents. It’s a good job they’re in the car. Why don’t you get in and I’ll drive to where you’re parked. It’s too cold to walk when you don’t need to.’

  ‘If you’re sure,’ Joe said, gratefully climbing into the passenger side.

  Clara was briefly ashamed of the sweet wrappers that had amassed in the foot well. There was quite the collection, enough that Joe’s shoes crunched as he pushed the seat back to accommodate his long legs. He was much taller than Clara, who usually occupied the seat.

  ‘Your presents are on the back seat,’ she said, pushing her keys into the ignition and checking her mirrors as Joe purposefully clicked his seatbelt. She noticed him pull on it to check it was secure, but didn’t pass comment. ‘Help yourself.’

  Joe reached over as she reversed out.

  ‘Are both of these for me?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘I’m touched, but you didn’t have to. This is only meant to be a bit of fun, not making more work for you when you’re already rushed off your feet.’