The Silver Bells Christmas Pantomime: The perfect feel-good Christmas romance!. Lynsey James

arguing with a younger man, who looked to be in his late twenties and was wearing a grey V-neck jumper and a pair of faded jeans. The more I looked at him, I realised that he was the moron who’d shoulder-barged me on my last day at Fox’s.

      ‘You can’t just turn your back on this, Ethan! You have responsibilities to think about. I won’t be around for ever and I want the family business to stay in the family! You’re my eldest son and it’s about time you started acting like it instead of wasting your time in America.’

      The younger man, who I now knew to be called Ethan, rounded on his father, his face contorted with rage. His voice could almost be described as cut-glass, whereas his dad’s was an unmistakable Yorkshire brogue.

      ‘It may have escaped your notice, Dad, but I have a successful career and a life of my own back in the States! I’m sorry I’m not prepared to drop everything I’ve worked for to come and bail this place out, but what do you expect? And for your information, I’m not wasting my time. My last movie was nominated for a BAFTA, but I don’t suppose you care about that.’

      A BAFTA eh? I looked at Ethan again and frowned; his face was vaguely familiar but I couldn’t quite place him. I hadn’t been to the cinema much since Jamie had died, so I wasn’t up on many of the latest releases.

      Ethan didn’t stick around to hear his father’s reply. Instead, he stormed out of the store. Or attempted to at least; he misjudged the revolving door and ended up being smacked in the face with it.

      ‘Argh! Fucking hell…’ He clutched his nose and I noticed blood spurting out of it and trickling down onto his jumper.

      Mr Fox rushed to his side, but Ethan batted him away. The more his dad fussed, the angrier Ethan seemed to get. Another heated argument was going to erupt between them, by the looks of things.

      ‘Is there a first-aider around?’ I heard Mr Fox shout.

      ‘Dad, for God’s sake I’m fine!’ Ethan’s voice was thick and his face was now covered in blood.

      What happened next came as a complete surprise. My feet started moving in their direction and I found myself walking over to them. I had no idea what the hell I was doing; I had loads of reasons for wanting to fly under the radar. But someone needed help and it looked like I was the only one around to give any.

      ‘Um…I-I’m a trained first-aider,’ I squeaked. ‘And I-I used to work here, so…’

      Mr Fox jerked round to see where the sudden noise had come from and jumped when he saw me.

      ‘Oh yes, well, er, see what you can do for him then. There’s a first-aid kit in the canteen.’

      Ethan rolled his eyes. ‘Honestly, Dad, you’re making a fuss over nothing. I’m—’

      He took his hands away from his nose and instantly regretted it. Blood gushed everywhere and made an already bad situation even worse.

      I cleared my throat, took a tissue out of my bag and handed it to Ethan. ‘Come on then, let’s get you patched up.’

      We headed to the staff canteen, which was nestled in the leftmost pocket of the store. Rather than the usual cold, clinical atmosphere with peeling tiles and a microwave that didn’t work, Fox’s had made the effort to make their canteen as nice as possible. There was a pair of comfy, squishy brown leather sofas in the corner, a flat screen TV, a round table that didn’t wobble every five minutes and two huge American-style fridges for people to store their lunches in. Plus, a microwave that actually worked.

      Ethan took a seat on one of the sofas while I fetched the first-aid kit. He kept his head dipped low, the now blood-soaked tissue pressed to it, and let out low groans of pain as I searched for the little green box. Eventually, I found it hiding behind the tea and coffee canisters.

      ‘Here it is!’ I yanked it out and brought it over to him, feeling more than a little squeamish at the thought of mopping up so much blood. ‘You’ll be back to normal in no time.’

      I hoped I didn’t sound as nervous as I felt. My brain was currently screaming, what the hell have you got yourself into this time? and cursing me for offering my help in the first place. This wasn’t like me; I hated putting myself out there and having the spotlight on me. Yet that was what I’d done, thanks to my big mouth.

      He mumbled something about getting a move on because he had stuff to do, before yelping in pain when he moved the wrong way.

      ‘Serves you right, ungrateful git,’ I muttered under my breath as I pulled on a pair of latex gloves before rooting round the box for some antiseptic wipes. When his eyes darted in my direction, I did the best fake smile I could. A couple of minutes and this would all be over. Then I could go back to being Anonymous Alice: the one who never got in anybody’s way, the one who kept herself to herself.

      ‘This might sting a bit,’ I said, ripping open one of the wipes, ‘but it’ll stop it from getting infected.’

      Ethan gently prised his hands away from his face and allowed me to clean his bloody nose. When it stung, his hands flew up to protect his face.

      ‘OWWWW! Bloody hell, that hurts!’

      I sighed and batted his hands away. ‘You know, the more you keep doing that the longer it’s going to take me to clean it and the more it’s going to hurt. Christ, you’re such a drama queen.’

      Ethan didn’t say anything and sulked instead, a thunderous look clouding his features.

      ‘You know, this is quite funny really,’ I said with a grin. ‘You shoulder-barged me the other day and now I get to clean up your nose because you walked into a door!’

      ‘I’m sorry about the other day, but please forgive me if I don’t laugh right now.’ He gave a dry chuckle and his mouth twitched into a half-smile. ‘OWWW! Are you nearly finished with that?!’

      ‘Just about. God, anyone would think you’d never been smacked in the face by a revolving door before!’

      I gave him a smile and he did his best to return it. ‘I have to admit…OWWW JESUS CHRIST…this is a first for me! Oh God, there’s not a scratch is there? Please don’t tell me there’s a scratch!’

      I rolled my eyes and shook my head. ‘There’s a tiny scratch, but you can barely see it. Anyway, just keep still for a second while I finish cleaning it, then I’ll put a plaster on.’

      His huge blue eyes widened with fear. ‘No, no, no you can’t put a plaster on my nose! I’ve got a really important audition today. I can’t go in looking like I’ve been in a fight.’

      ‘Well unfortunately you fought the revolving door and the door won.’ I chuckled and ripped open a plaster to put over the scratch he’d earned himself. ‘I’m sure the casting people will understand. If not, their loss and someone else can advertise their toothpaste or whatever.’

      Ethan let out a hollow chuckle and ran his hands through his thick wavy brown hair. ‘It’s not an ad for toothpaste, it’s… It’s an audition to see if this luxury fashion house is going to make me the face of its menswear brand. They’re deciding between me and this other bloke and thanks to the revolving door, I think I’ve just handed it to him on a plate.’

      I looked at him for a second. He definitely looked like the model type: angular, chiselled cheekbones and expressive eyes. I could just imagine him gracing billboards all over the world.

      ‘Oh I don’t know about that; this other guy might take a sudden allergic reaction to something and show up to the audition with a face the colour of rhubarb. Then you’ll have it in the bag!’ I stuck the plaster over the scratch and patted it down. I had to laugh; it was quite noticeable and made him look a bit ridiculous.

      I was struck by how easy it was to talk to him. For the last three years, I’d barely spoken to anybody. Joining Fox’s and talking to the kids who came to the grotto every day had been my biggest steps into the outside world for