It's a Wonderful Night

by Jaimie Admans

  ‘We can’t be emotionally involved. Part of the training procedure for staff on the helpline is learning to distance themselves. It’s a heavy, emotional job that takes its toll. You’re a retail manager, you don’t know how to cope or what to say, and the … mess … you seem to have got yourself into over that phone call is proof of that.’ She struggles to find an accurate word for the current situation and I know exactly how she feels.

  ‘Look, it happened once.’ I try to tamp down my annoyance. I understand what she’s saying but it’s done now. I can’t change it. ‘I’ve asked you repeatedly to get the leaflets reprinted with more space between the two phone numbers. It’s never happened before –’

  ‘And it won’t again?’ She phrases it as a question but uses a tone that suggests there’s only one answer.

  I don’t reply. Because honestly? If I picked up the phone again and someone on the other end asked me what it would feel like if they jumped, I still wouldn’t be able to hang up. ‘I answered that call because that’s what anyone would’ve done. What came after that was because I saw a way to help someone and I took it.’

  ‘We have no choice but to terminate your employment,’ the man says, finally glancing up from his tablet. ‘Taking that call and not immediately telling the caller they had the wrong number and giving them the right one, using the information he’d told you in confidence to gain access to his life, trying to fix the problems he’d shared with you in private, forming a relationship with him, and then there’s all this nonsense of getting the bank involved, pretending to work there … we don’t even know what to do with that. All followed by this scene with the police this morning. It falls far below the professional standards we expect from our staff. You are the face of our charity in the community. We are supposed to present a solid, strong, and steady base from which we help people.’

  ‘And yet, when someone actually turns to me for help, I get sacked for it.’

  ‘Actually, you would probably have only got a warning for taking the call. It’s everything that seems to have followed that’s grounds for dismissal.’

  ‘Great,’ I mutter.

  ‘I’ve just heard you tell that man that you don’t care about your job,’ the lady says.

  ‘That’s not true. I was just saying that … well, not just saying it, I do care about my job, I love working here … but I love him more.’ I pause as the words themselves hit me. Really hit me. Because what started off as a crush has turned into so much more as I’ve got to know him. ‘He needed to talk that night and if it means losing my job because I talked to him then so be it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’d do all of it again because we’ve made a difference to this street. Because of Leo’s call, we managed to do something good here that has brought people and businesses back. Our sales this month have almost tripled from what they were last December. Our donations are up. Our high street feels alive again. People are happy. People are doing their last-minute Christmas shopping here rather than rushing through as quickly as possible to get to the retail park. But mainly, I would answer that call again because Leo is still alive, and if I had any part of that then it was all worth it.’

  The man tuts.

  ‘What if he was your son? Your husband, your brother, your uncle, your nephew, your cousin, your friend? Anyone you loved? Would you say the same then?’

  ‘Rules are there for a reason,’ the lady says, not answering my question.

  ‘Sometimes rules have to be broken.’

  The man gives a nod of acquiescence. ‘Your final pay cheque will be in your bank next week.’

  ‘We don’t have an option here, Georgia,’ she says. ‘Everyone understands that you were trying to do the right thing. Mary has been pleading your case while you were still outside. Even the girl from the bank came in and tried to take the blame, but ultimately, you are in a position of responsibility and we can’t have a manager behaving like this and let it go.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I say, because I do get it. How many times has the thought of being fired crossed my mind in the last few weeks? I knew the consequences. I just convinced myself that I’d never be found out, not by them and not by Leo.

  I collect my bag from my locker and hand her my set of keys.

  I never did find out their names.

  I trudge home the long way round to avoid walking past It’s A Wonderful Latte.

  Maybe it’s for the best that I don’t work on Oakbarrow High Street anymore. I’ll never be able to set foot in It’s A Wonderful Latte again, and that’s always been the highlight of my day.

  Chapter 20

  It’s Christmas Eve and even thinking that reminds me of the first line of ‘Fairytale of New York’ and singing along with Leo in the car, and that sends me down a spiral of memories I’d be better off forgetting. I should be working today. I always work Christmas Eve and Mary always has the day off, and volunteers don’t come in this close to Christmas. It’s usually just me in the shop, which is fine because it’s always absolutely dead on the high street on Christmas Eve, so it doesn’t matter if I close up for two minutes while I pop to the loo or make a cup of tea. I was looking forward to it this year because Oakbarrow High Street is so much more lively now, I thought the Christmas Eve atmosphere might feel like it did when Mum and I walked home from getting last minute Christmas dinner supplies when I was young.

  In reality, I haven’t got out of my pyjamas all day and the closest I’ve ventured to Oakbarrow High Street is the bottom of the garden to put food out for the cats, and the most interaction I’ve had is sitting on the step with the nervous little tabby who usually hides under the hedge on my lap while I cried into her fur.

  Now it’s ten o’clock and I’m in the kitchen peeling potatoes in preparation for tomorrow’s lunch that I always try to do just like Mum would’ve made it. All I can see is the Christmas rose Leo bought me, taunting me with its creamy white petals from the window ledge.

  I’ve wanted to call him so many times today, but I haven’t. I didn’t think I’d be able to cope with him putting the phone down on me, as he undoubtedly would. I just want to make sure he’s all right because he seemed so broken as he walked away yesterday and it was all because of me. I did that to him. Maybe I’ll try again after Christmas. Maggie will know what happened by now and she’ll look after him. She’ll make sure he’s oka –

  A sudden hammering on the door makes me jump out of my skin.

  ‘Who on earth’s knocking like that at this time of night?’ my dd asks from the living room.

  He starts to get up out of his chair but I stop him. ‘I’ll get it.’

  When I pull the door open, I’d be less surprised to see a sentient snowman than the sight that actually greets me.

  ‘Oh, George, I’m so glad I’ve caught you!’ Bernard pants, sweat beading on his forehead. He’s bending over trying to catch his breath and looking like he ran all the way here. ‘It’s Leo. He’s on the bridge again and he needs to talk to you, can you come right now?’

  My dad has appeared behind me, and he grabs a coat and thrusts it into my hands. ‘Go! I’ll defrost the car and be right behind you!’

  ‘Bloody hell, Bernard!’ I say, shrugging my arms into my coat as we run down the icy garden path and out onto the street. ‘What’s he doing up there again?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he wheezes. ‘He wouldn’t tell me anything. You’re the only person he’ll talk to.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s me he wants to talk to,’ I shout over the noise of our feet hitting the pavement. ‘You must’ve heard what happened?’

  ‘I don’t think there’s anyone within a hundred-mile radius who didn’t hear what happened.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ I mutter. Small town gossip spreads faster than superglue you’ve accidentally got on your fingers and this must’ve been the zenith of small town gossip. ‘How did Leo seem? What if he jumps before we get there, Bernard?’

  ‘George, I don’t think …’

  ‘This is
all my fault,’ I say as we pass the magnolia tree that Leo and I stood under, and turn out of the residential streets and onto the upper end of the high street. The pavements are gritted and I feel a flash of satisfaction that the council have sat up and taken notice. This is the first time in many winters that Oakbarrow has been gritted.

  ‘It’s my fault,’ Bernard says. ‘I said too much on Saturday night.’

  I shake my head even though he’s concentrating on where he’s going rather than looking at me. ‘I did it, Bernard. I asked everyone to lie for me. Even you. You love Leo, you didn’t want to lie to him, but I gave everyone no choice.’

  Bernard makes a noncommittal grunt. ‘But I understand why.’

  ‘How did you know, anyway?’

  ‘I was around that night. Doing my nightly patrols, as usual. I saw him up there, was on my way to go and talk to him when I heard him on the phone. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything but when I realized what was going on, I thought I’d better stay nearby in case he tried to jump again. I put two and two together after that. After he went home, I walked over the bridge and saw the little pile of leaflets you leave there. I’d seen your light on in the shop. The next night, I caught you painting his window and telling him you worked for the bank. He asked me if I knew anyone from the charity shop because he’d talked to someone on the phone and couldn’t find her. Things started to add up.’

  I nod because I’d guessed as much already.

  ‘I love that boy like a son. Derek was one of my greatest friends and he’d be so proud of the man Leo’s become. I care for you too, Georgia, but you both needed a shove in the right direction. How much longer did you think you could pretend to work in the bank? He was already suspecting. I was trying to give you the opportunity to tell him before it turned out worse than it was.’

  ‘How come we didn’t know you were friends with his father?’

  ‘I didn’t want him to feel some sense of responsibility towards me. If the old man had bought the café as planned, he would’ve brought me food and drink every day, I know he would. I didn’t want Leo to think he had to do the same. But it turns out he does the same anyway because that’s the kind of person he is. He’s a good lad, Georgia, and the closer you two got, the worse this was going to turn out for both of you.’

  ‘I know,’ I pant as we race past the war memorial and the Christmas tree, and turn right at the church, onto the main traffic road out of Oakbarrow.

  Water is running down my face and I’m not sure if it’s sweat or tears. Pure panic at the thought that we might be too late. I cannot let Leo go after all of this. Especially when the way he’s feeling now is my fault.

  The adrenaline is making everything numb. My muscles are burning in my legs, my feet are screaming, and even with the road salt, I’ve been doing a good Dancing on Ice impression on the more slippery spots.

  The bridge is in sight. I can see the superstructures overhead, and I somehow manage to run even faster, despite the fact that the bottoms of my pyjama trousers are wet from the road and flapping around my feet, doing their best to trip me up.

  And then he’s there, standing on the patch of grass at the side of the bridge, between the bollards, and I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around him and holding on so tight that he’s going to have difficulty breathing.

  ‘I know you hate me but I’m not letting go. I love you too much to let you jump, Leo.’

  He … laughs? A gentle, bemused chuckle. Why is he laughing? I squeeze him tighter just in case he’s lost it completely.

  ‘I’m not jumping off this bridge.’ His lips press against the side of my neck. ‘And I love you too, George.’

  ‘What?’ My eyes spring open in surprise as I suddenly realize we’re at the side of the bridge – there’s a six-foot-high barrier wall at this part. We’re nowhere near the broken rail where it would be easy to climb over.

  ‘I am, however, going to die of a punctured lung if you don’t loosen your grip a bit.’

  I mumble an apology as he sets my feet down on the grass and I scrunch my hand in the sleeve of his coat, determined not to let him go, even though I suddenly get the feeling that this isn’t as straightforward as I thought it was.

  ‘If I had any doubt that you love me, at least now I’ve got the bruised ribs to remind me.’

  ‘What?’ I ask as my eyes adjust to the darkness and I realize what I’m looking at on the bridge.

  Maggie is standing there.

  And Mary and Patrick are holding hands.

  And Casey is standing with my dad. How did he get here without us seeing him?

  Bernard is limping over to join them.

  Have they all come to stop Leo jumping?

  Have they come to push me off?

  ‘What’s going on?’ I ask as some of the unexpected exercise haze clears and I can think over the blood rushing in my head to realize what he said. ‘Did you just say you loved me?’

  ‘I did. I do. It’s Christmas Eve and I wanted to see you at the place where we first “met”.’

  ‘We first met in the coffee shop a couple of years ago. It’s a lot warmer and a lot less … bridge-y … than this. What are you doing up here, Leo? From the audience, I take it you’re not jumping?’ I gesture to said audience. Dad’s car is parked on the pavement and they’re standing in the beam from the headlights facing us. He must’ve gone the other way round to get here before me and Bernard.

  He shakes his head. ‘No. I’m apologising. I overreacted yesterday.’

  ‘Well, thanks for the heart attack.’ I still won’t let go of his sleeve but I put my other hand on my chest to try to stop my heart bursting through. It’s pounding so hard that it might be a very real possibility. ‘You couldn’t have just phoned and said “meet me on the bridge”? What is this, some sort of revenge? Nearly kill me with worry?’

  ‘Who said I was jumping off the bridge?’

  ‘Well, Bernard …’ I go to point at him but stop in midair, feeling sheepish as I realize he didn’t actually say that. ‘He said you were on the bridge and you wanted to see me. I kind of jumped to conclusions.’

  He smiles. ‘You worry too much.’

  There’s no disputing that. I feel overwhelmed and elated and excited because Leo’s just said he loves me, despite everything that’s happened since that phone call. Even when I’m standing here in tatty pyjamas that I’ve been wearing since last night, damp from the melting ice and covered in road salt, and my dad’s old coat that’s baggy enough to wrap around me twice.

  ‘But you came anyway,’ he continues. ‘Even after everything I said yesterday, how harsh I was to you, you still ran the entire length of Oakbarrow on a glacial Christmas Eve because you thought I needed you.’

  ‘I needed you, Leo. All I care about is you being okay.’

  ‘I am, because of you. Because you lied to me. Because you were right, I wouldn’t have talked to you that night if I’d known you were someone I’d see the next day. If you’d told me afterwards, I’d have clammed up and avoided you because I’d have been embarrassed. I really do get it, George. I know why you said you worked in the bank and that once you’d said it, you couldn’t do anything but go along with it.’

  ‘Well, you knew that yesterday. What’s changed?’

  ‘Time to think about it. And Mary can be really vicious when she’s angry.’

  ‘Mary talked to you?’ I ask, my eyes flicking up to the row of people on the bridge.

  ‘Mary threatened to cut my toes off and feed them to the pigeons. But yeah, she talked to me. Casey too. And Bernard. Your dad was a little more polite but the implication was the same.’ He gives me a tight smile. ‘I’m sorry about your job. I didn’t mean you to get fired because of me.’

  ‘It’s not because of you. It’s because I’m an idiot, and because I couldn’t promise them I’d never take a call like that again. I couldn’t tell them I regretted it because I don’t. Oh, and the whole population of Oakbarrow watched me get arreste
d for trying to rob a bank. That might’ve had something to do with it.’ I look over at our audience again. ‘I can’t believe they all talked to you. No wonder my dad was so keen to go and wish our neighbour a happy Christmas today, he was finding an excuse to phone you without me hearing, right?’

  ‘In all fairness, it made a nice change from my mum’s constant scolding over how badly I treated you yesterday.’

  ‘Leo, it’s fine. You were shocked and –’

  ‘It’s not fine. Everything you did was to help me. And between us, I think we achieved something pretty damn special. I still mean what I said on Saturday. I don’t want this to end. You’ve made me love this place again because you’re in it. I’ve spent so many years desperate to get out of here, but when I’m with you, I can’t remember why I ever wanted to be anywhere else. I’ve spent years resenting this town, and all of that disappeared when I met you. Spending this month with you, running around the streets in the dark, making our town better … it’s felt like home. When I’m with you, there’s no place I’d rather be than right here.’

  ‘Me neither.’ My voice catches in my throat, unable to believe this is happening.

  ‘Except Paris.’ He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out an envelope and holds it out to me. ‘Two weeks in January. Just you and me. And before you start worrying, every single one of those people up there have volunteered to look in on your dad multiple times a day and make sure your cats are well fed.’

  Tears are pooling in my eyes and blurring the tickets in my hand. It’s not even the tickets that are making me cry, it’s the fact that Leo knows me well enough to know all the excuses I’d find not to go and has already taken care of them.

  ‘Leo, I …’ I’m at a loss for what to say to get across how much that simple thing means. ‘How can you afford this?’ My words come out in a stuttery jumbled mess. I’m terrified of the idea of leaving here but exhilarated at the idea of finally going somewhere and seeing a bit of the world, with him.