twinkle in your eyes, the way I want to run my fingers through the curly mass of hair on your head. ‘The warm glow of light pouring out in the evenings, the gorgeous roasted coffee smell that filters right the way across the road, the festive window,’ I wave at the display behind me, even though I probably shouldn’t have drawn attention to it again. ‘If you can’t be nice to people at this time of year, when can you? I wanted you to know that you brighten my day and this street wouldn’t be the same without you.’
It’s a roundabout explanation, a bit rambly, and more forward than I’d usually be, but Leo needs to hear that he’s important to people, no matter how much my cheeks have heated up. It’s worth the embarrassment because his eyes have softened and his cheeks have gone pink.
‘Yeah, well, business is not exactly booming so you’ll probably be getting used to a street without It’s A Wonderful Latte sooner rather than later.’
‘All the more reason for you to let me buy an extra cup of coffee then, right?’ I say, trying to ignore the pang in my chest at his words and how resigned he seems to it. Maybe I should act more shocked, but I already know how bad business is from the phone call, and even without that, I should have figured it out earlier. The coffee shop is empty, as it has been every other morning in recent months. When it first opened, I’d have to queue for a coffee even as early as half past eight, and at lunchtime you could just forget it. I’d be able to see the back of the queue from down the street and around the corner.
‘Yeah, but you don’t have to buy it for me,’ Leo says before I have a chance to question him. ‘I don’t des –’
It reminds me of what he said on the phone and I want to reach over and squeeze his hand. Who am I kidding? I want to vault over the counter and give him a massive hug. Instead, I nudge my coffee cup against his on the counter, pushing it so his cup touches his hand. ‘Whatever that was going to be, you’re wrong.’
He drops his head onto his hands and exhales slowly, sounding and looking completely exhausted, and for another moment, the mask slips. The smile and the chitchat don’t come as easily as he makes it seem. The flippant way he said he’s going out of business is a much bigger deal than he’s letting on, and as he presses his forehead into his hands on the counter, I can see the physical weight of that on his shoulders.
He looks up and blinks in the brightness. ‘You know you’re going to have to stay and drink it with me now, right?’
‘Good, I was hoping you’d say that.’ I give him a bright smile. Again, it’s more forward than I’d usually be, but Leo needs to know that someone cares.
‘Unless I’m going to make you late for work?’
I glance at my watch without actually looking at the time. ‘Oh, I’ve got bags of time. It’s fine. My manager’s easygoing.’
‘An easygoing bank manager, huh? Who’d have thought it? I thought you had to be uptight and serious to work in the financial industry.’ He thinks for a moment. ‘Although on this street, banking is a joke, isn’t it? There’s no money left to bank. You must’ve noticed the decrease in traders banking with you?’
‘Er, yeah.’ I stutter out a one word answer. I don’t know the first thing about banking or the financial industry and it’s absolutely ridiculous to let him think I work there, but at the same time, I’d only have to mention One Light and he’d put two and two together. Firstly, he’ll wonder why I lied to him, and then he’ll work out the rest about the phone call.
‘Too early to talk about work, huh?’
‘Er, yeah. I clearly haven’t drunk enough of this coffee yet.’ I take another slurp from my cup and go for a speedy subject change. ‘Where’s your mum today?’
‘Early doctor’s appointment.’
‘Oh God, is she okay?’
‘You worry too much,’ he smiles. ‘Yeah, just a routine blood pressure check and monitoring her thyroid medication. She’s fine. Tough as old boots, she is. Nothing gets her down.’
‘It must be nice to work with her?’
‘It would be nicer if she could relax and enjoy her retirement,’ he sighs. ‘To be honest, even if I hired another baker, I think she’d still be here every day keeping watch, making sure they didn’t put a quarter of a milligram too much baking powder in her famous gingerbread recipe. If I tried to sack her, she’d probably put me in the muffins.’
I laugh. ‘She’s a real character. Whenever I see her, she’s whistling and humming around the kitchen. She seems to love it here.’
His eyes go distant for a moment as his gaze turns to the window. ‘She’s going to go crazy when she sees that window. She’s going to want to track down who did it and get their autograph. They have window paintings in that charity shop next door to you and she always admires them and wants to go in and find out who they use.’
I freeze. Crikey, I’d remember if she’d ever actually done that, wouldn’t I? What if she’s been in and spoken to Mary when I’ve not been there? She’s going to know it was me in a flash. I love doing a bit of seasonal window-stencilling on the inside of our windows. Nothing that obstructs the display, just a few flowers in the spring, eggs at Easter, falling leaves in the autumn. There are white snowflakes tumbling down now, although I did have the forethought to use a different stencil on Leo’s window to avoid suspicion.
Leo’s gaze is on the window but his eyes are still distant and he’s not really seeing it. ‘My dad would’ve loved it.’
‘Did he like Christmas?’
‘He loved it. He was Christmas personified. You were saying yesterday that you grew up here? Did you ever come into the café that was here before I bought this place?’
‘Yeah, all the time.’ I smile at the memory. ‘My mum would come into town to do her shopping every Saturday morning and we’d always stop here for a hot chocolate and a toasted teacake on the way home. Especially at this time of year. She’d take me to visit Santa’s grotto at Hawthorne Toys and then we’d come in here for a cuppa and something nice to eat, loaded down with bags of presents.’
Leo’s eyes are suddenly intense; far from being distant, they’re shining with amusement. ‘Do you remember an old guy who used to sit at that table?’ He points to a single table in the corner, next to the window, looking out. It’s the only part of this shop that hasn’t changed in thirty years. Leo redid everything when he took over, except that chair and table.
A memory stirs in my mind. ‘Did he have a mop of white hair and a dark grey beard? Always had a newspaper or two spread across the table in front of him?’
He nods.
‘Yeah. I remember him helping Mum with her bags one day when it was crowded. Another time, he overheard her wondering what the weather was going to do that afternoon and looked it up in his paper for us. He gave me 50p once. I must’ve been really young because it was, like, the most money I’d ever seen. Mum let me go into Woolworths on the way home and get pick ‘n’ mix with it.’
‘He was my dad,’ Leo says with a smile that’s halfway between proud and sad.
‘No way. Really?’ I remember the man well, he was never without a kind smile and a friendly wave. ‘He was like a permanent
