there’s more to people than meets the eye.’
‘You can’t say something like that and just leave it there,’ she said, looking forlornly at the now-empty napkin. All that was left of her hot dog were a few stray crumbs and a smear of red sauce. ‘Come on. Spill the beans.’
‘There’s not much to spill. It was during my first month at uni. The guy I lived next to in halls had a friend come to stay.’ He could picture him clearly in his mind’s eye, even now – the slicked-back blonde hair, the sharp, pale features, the all-black clothes. ‘He looked like the actor who played Draco Malfoy in the Harry Potter films.’
Clara nodded her approval. ‘Not bad.’
‘We all went out to a club, everyone from our floor, and when we got back someone suggested we played spin the bottle. There were maybe ten of us still up, all steaming drunk. And when he spun the bottle, it landed on me. I thought he’d kiss the girl I was sat next to instead because he’d been flirting with her all night, but he didn’t. He walked straight across the middle of the circle and lowered down onto his haunches, placed his hands on my cheeks and kissed me.’
Clara fanned her hand in front of her face. ‘Sounds hot.’
‘It wasn’t. Not for me, anyway.’
Michelle had been there, sat on the other side of the circle, watching in amusement, not remotely threatened by someone else kissing him. If roles had been reversed he’d have been squirming with jealousy, but then Michelle had always been easy-going, a free spirit. She’d teased him mercifully about it forever more. At least, as forever more as they’d been granted, which hadn’t been long enough.
‘Were there tongues?’
Joe pressed his lips firmly together, wondering what had made him willingly share something so personal with Clara, who he barely knew. He’d not breathed a word of this to anyone who hadn’t been there, not even Billy.
‘Yeah.’
‘You’re a dark horse, Joe Smith. Snogging men after a drunken night out. I wouldn’t have had you down as the type.’
‘It was a game,’ he shrugged. ‘And it wasn’t for me. Anyway, why is it me revealing all this stuff? Make it fair, come on. Tell me more about you.’
‘I might go down in your estimation if I tell you too much.’
‘Not a chance.’
‘When I was fourteen I let Darren Wilder touch my boobs at the school disco.’
Joe laughed. ‘That’s not shocking, that’s just teenagers being teenagers.’
‘I graffiti-ed the toilets in the Imperial War Museum once on a school trip.’
‘What did you write?’
‘Clara was here,’ she laughed.
‘Stealthy,’ he nodded. ‘I like it. But it doesn’t shock me.’
‘I once climbed out of my window to go to an Avril Lavigne concert at the Apollo because I knew my mum wouldn’t let me go if I asked.’
‘Now that’s shameful. Avril Lavigne? Really?’
‘She had some classic tunes, I’ll have you know.’
Joe snorted. ‘Whatever you say.’
‘She did!’ Clara laughed, playfully slapping his arm. ‘I bet even you liked Sk8er Boi.’ She proceeded to sing it theatrically, and Joe found himself joining in. He hadn’t realised he still knew the lyrics after all these years.
‘Ha! I knew you were a closet fan.’
‘Simone liked her.’
‘She did not, you liar. She’s not the right age.’
‘It’s only that one song. It’s a catchy tune.’
‘It’s immense,’ Clara agreed. ‘But enough talk about Avril. Are you ready to hit the stalls? Because I noticed one back there that I’d like to have a look at.’
‘The one with the alpaca-wool hats?’ he grinned. The stall had stood out for Joe, the brightly coloured garments catching his eye. There had been shawls and ponchos hanging on a rack and one of those twizzly stands covered in hats with earflaps, like the one the sausage-seller had been sporting. Then there had been knee-high socks, thick and striped, and pairs of mittens that looked warm and snuggly, similar to the ones Clara had been wearing the evening of the light switch-on, but in an array of garish clashing colours.
‘Haha,’ she said, poking out her tongue. ‘That wasn’t the one I had in my sights, actually. There was a stall with wooden ornaments that I thought would make nice gifts. My mum is as nuts about Christmas as I am, so I always get her a new decoration as part of her Christmas present.’
‘Cool,’ Joe replied, before looking through the crowds to try and locate the stall. There were so many, and every hut looked alike. He hoped Clara could remember where it was because otherwise it could take a while to find. ‘Any idea which direction we need to head in?’
Clara wafted her hands around. ‘Somewhere towards the middle.’
Joe couldn’t help but smile at her vagueness. ‘We’d better get searching then, hadn’t we?’
And they amiably linked arms and headed off in search of the perfect gift for Clara’s mum.
* * *
‘Aren’t they gorgeous?’ Clara said, as she ran her fingers gently over the smooth curves of a carved reindeer. The wood was varnished, yet the colour remained delicate and pale.
Joe wasn’t usually won over by ornaments, but even he had to admit they were beautifully made. The attention to detail was phenomenal and the intricate nativity scenes had particularly caught his eye.
‘Handcrafted in Scandinavia,’ said a ruddy-faced blonde in a fisherman’s sweater. ‘And all individual. You won’t find two the same.’
‘That’s what I like about them,’ Clara enthused. ‘That they’re all unique.’ She picked up a small reindeer, not much bigger than her thumb. ‘I think something like this would be best. Our place isn’t really big enough for one like that,’ she laughed, nodding towards the largest of the reindeers. It came up to Joe’s waist, and he wondered who would ever buy a decoration that big. He supposed they appealed to people who had mansions, or those families who turned their gardens into a winter wonderland for a month so it became a bizarre local attraction.
Clara handed the miniature reindeer to the stall-holder with a decisive nod. ‘I’ll take this one.’
As she handed over the money in exchange for the wooden trinket, now wrapped in shimmering silver tissue paper, she beamed.
‘My mum’ll love it. Thank you,’ she added, waving to the man as they moved on to the next stall, where a wild-haired lady was waxing lyrical about her homemade scented candles.
‘I’ve tried
