And now she was trying to persuade Deirdre to let her decorate the youth club with spangly decorations galore.
‘There’s no way you’re putting them up today, Clara. Not a chance. It’s still November!’ Deirdre shook her head with such vigour that her monstrous clip-on earrings threatened to fly off. ‘The ones at home don’t go up until at least the middle of the month. If they were up any earlier I’d get bored. I’m gagging to take them down by Boxing Day as it is.’
‘Spoilsport,’ Clara pouted.
‘You’re not going to change my mind. It’s November. It’s too early.’
Clara sighed, ready to admit defeat. It was the same every year – she’d be itching to get the club covered in tinsel and glitter whilst Deirdre would be putting the Christmas dampeners on.
‘I’ve been patient. The supermarkets have had their decorations up since the day after Hallowe’en.’
‘Bully for the supermarkets!’ Deirdre blustered. ‘Go and work for them if you’re so desperate to have your bloody baubles up!’
Clara laughed. ‘You don’t mean that. We’re struggling enough as it is with the two of us running this place. You’d have no chance if you were doing it single-handedly.’
‘Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,’ Deirdre replied, a cryptic smirk curling at the corners of her lips. ‘I wouldn’t be doing it alone. My new volunteer would be able to help me out.’
Clara’s ears pricked up. ‘New volunteer? You mean someone’s actually been daft enough to sign up to spend their free time in this madhouse?’
‘Yes, and, what’s more, I think he’ll be great with the kids.’
‘He?’
‘Yes, he. He’s young and enthusiastic and it’ll be good for the boys to have a male role model. I know it’s all about equality these days, but I switch off the minute Jordan starts talking about football. What do I know about whether United would be better moving their right back into central defence or whatever it was he was rambling on about last night? This way he can chew someone else’s ear off about it rather than mine. Someone who might be able to make a more incisive comment than “Hmm, I don’t know”.’
‘Are you going to tell me who this saviour is or are you going to sit there teasing me all night?’
Deirdre jokingly tapped the side of her nose with her index finger. ‘I could tell you, but it’s far more fun to keep you guessing.’
‘You’re so mean!’ Clara hated being left in the dark over anything, especially when it came to the youth club. Deirdre might be the manager, but Clara had taken on more and more responsibility over the years until they were pretty much equals. Everything was a team effort, from budgeting, to choosing which fundraising events to run and which local groups to work in partnership with. Clara couldn’t remember the last time Deirdre had made a decision without consulting her first. ‘So you’re not even going to give me a clue?’
Deirdre shook her head once more. ‘Nope. This one’s for me to know and you to find out.’
‘Meanie.’
‘You love me really. And you’ll love me even more when you find out who our new volunteer is. I’ve got a good feeling about the two of you.’
Clara’s face dropped. Deirdre and her meddling.
‘If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. I’m not looking for a man. They’re smelly and lazy and slob about on the settee with their hands shoved down their pants.’ Clara remembered the time she’d called Dean out on that, because she’d been sick of the sight of him with his hands in his trousers. He’d insisted he wasn’t playing with himself but she’d had her doubts. The excuse that his hands were cold didn’t wash with her. Hadn’t he heard of pockets? ‘Not to mention they have a habit of sleeping around.’
Bitterness filled her mouth. She’d got past the sadness of their relationship ending, but she couldn’t get past the anger at being lied to and cheated on. It took a lot for her to trust someone. Watching her mum’s confidence dwindle away to nothing after her dad’s infidelity had been painful. Dean screwing around behind her back had only reaffirmed her distrust.
‘Not all of them, and not this one. This one’s a good one.’
‘I thought Dean was a good one, once upon a time,’ Clara grumbled in retort. ‘If there are good ones out there, why have you never got married, eh? Answer me that.’
‘I’m married to this place, remember. The club, the kids – they’re all the family I need.’
‘Well, maybe that’s enough for me, too,’ she answered defiantly. ‘Maybe I’ll be married to this place.’
Deirdre waggled her finger in front of her face, wearing a stern expression no one in their right mind would argue with. ‘I don’t think so, Clara. I think you need to trust me for once.’
‘I always trust you. Except when it comes to your decisions of when to put the Christmas decorations up, because when it comes to that you’re just downright wrong.’
‘The decorations can go up tomorrow. December the first. Which is still too early, but at least it’ll tie in nicely with the lantern parade. Plus Joe will be around then, so you can do it together.’
‘Joe? Simone’s brother Joe?’
Deirdre smacked the heel of her hand into her forehead. ‘I can’t believe I let that one slip. Me and my big mouth! But yes, he’s our new volunteer. Be nice to him, Clara. I’ve known Joe since he was eleven years old and he had lines shaved into his eyebrows like he was some sort of gangster. He was trying to be tough, but he’s was a softie then and he’s a softie now.’
She looked dreamy, and Clara suspected her boss was imagining Clara in a puffy meringue-like dress and Joe in a jet-black top hat and tails. Typical Deirdre, never one to let reality get in the way of a good story.
‘Don’t go getting any ideas, Deirdre. I barely know the guy.’
‘But you’ll get to know him,’ Deirdre reasoned. ‘Don’t rule anything out yet, that’s all I’m asking.’
Clara didn’t have the energy to argue. In ten minutes’ time they’d be opening the doors and the stream of excitable kids would flood into the hall ready to spend the next two hours wreaking havoc.
‘If I can’t have fairy lights, I’m going to need caffeine,’ she grumbled, heading towards the kitchenette.
‘Clara?’ Deirdre called after her.
‘Yeah?’
‘If you believe in the magic of Christmas, you can surely believe in the magic of love too.’
Clara rolled her eyes. Christmas was one thing. Love was something else altogether.
Friday,
