It’s a Wonderful Night. Jaimie Admans

see anyone, I think it’s a good idea not to draw attention to myself.

      Even so, I can’t help looking up at the empty toy shop beside the coffee shop. I remember walking home on winter evenings and pulling on my mum’s hand to get to it. It would often be closed, of course, but the window displays used to be spectacular. The old Hawthorne Toys building is four storeys high, towering above the other shops on the street, and on ground level there are two Edwardian-style bay windows on either side of the entrance. When I was young, the displays inside them would run all night, lit by spotlights and flameless candles. There used to be toy trains running around snow-covered model villages, nutcracker soldiers standing guard, dancing Santas, wind-up elves, and reindeers with flashing red noses. I often wonder if looking at those displays as a child helped my interest in window displays now. As an adult, it’s an interesting concept to look back on. At One Light, our windows have to display as much as possible that we have to sell, whereas when Hawthorne’s were still open, their displays were just to entertain anyone who walked by.

      Maybe it’s a sign that this is a good idea for Leo’s window. I can’t get inside to build a Christmas tree out of his pretty, festive cups or otherwise showcase his coffee, but I can make his window look attractive from the outside.

      I wash the window down and remember a few days this summer of watching Leo out here, washing his windows in nothing but a vest and long shorts, soap suds clinging to his muscular forearms and water from the hosepipe dripping down his curved legs.

      I shake myself. Now is not the time for thinking about Leo’s forearms. Or legs. No matter how sexy they are.

      I dry the window and crouch down, unrolling my tree stencils from their tube and spreading them across the pavement as I try to figure out the best design to do. I know I have to incorporate the gingerbread house as well as making the whole window look Christmassy.

      I spray the bottom part of the glass solid white and start using my fingers to wipe off key parts to create the base of the scene. Just as I’m sticking my first stencil up, I hear footsteps coming. I listen to the telltale extra slap of a broken sole against concrete and sigh in relief – Bernard. I’ve been trying to find him a replacement for those shoes, but the man has got ridiculously large feet and One Light don’t get that many pairs of size thirteens donated.

      ‘Whatcha doing, Georgia?’ Bernard asks, not sounding surprised to find me here.

      ‘Just a little decorating.’

      He stands back and folds his arms across his puffy coat and casts an appraising eye across what’s done of the window so far. ‘I know it’s dark but you do realize One Light is on the opposite side of the road and around the corner, right?’

      I smile at him. ‘I know. I thought I’d try to spread a bit of Christmas cheer. Leo doesn’t seem to have much this year.’

      ‘Leo doesn’t have much of anything this year,’ Bernard says, seeming to hint at what I already know. ‘Lovely guy though. Single too, you know?’

      ‘Have you been talking to Casey?’ I narrow my eyes at him, quite annoyed that Casey isn’t the only one who seems to be obsessed with me spending time with a guy my own age. It’s not that unusual. Really, it’s not. ‘Besides, I think Leo’s got more on his mind than relationships at the moment.’

      ‘I don’t doubt it, but there’s never a bad time to find love.’

      ‘Love?’ I snort. There’s not much chance of that around here.

      ‘Well, it makes life worth living, doesn’t it?’

      Did he say that with a hidden meaning? Or am I just imagining things?

      Bernard is whispering for some reason, perhaps because it’s so dark that it seems like whispering is the right thing to do, even though the street is completely deserted, but I follow his lead anyway. It never feels right to talk in normal voices in the dark. ‘Where’ve you been at this time of night?’

      ‘Just on one of my walks. Nightly patrol before I go back to my bench.’ He points a gloved finger at the window. ‘And you? Why the sudden interest in Leo’s festive window?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ Obviously I can’t tell him the truth any more than I can tell anyone else. ‘I get a coffee here every day. It just seems a bit unfestive lately.’

      His look says he’s expecting something more.

      ‘And Leo seems sad,’ I whisper. It seems okay to say this much to Bernard. I know he’s a perceptive bloke, and I know he sees Leo every day too – if anyone knows about Leo’s current situation, it’s him.

      ‘I thought I was the only one who’d noticed,’ Bernard says, surprising me. And making me feel a bit guilty because I hadn’t noticed. ‘He loves Christmas really. He’s just struggling a bit this year.’

      I watch Bernard try to shake off the sudden sense of sadness in the air. Bernard is not someone who ever looks on the gloomy side of life, despite the fact he lives on a bench in a churchyard. Nothing ever seems to get him down. ‘Well, this’ll help. Bring him in a few customers for those new festive flavours he’s got. He brought me a cinnamon hot chocolate today and it was quite possibly the best thing I’ve tasted this year. He deserves more people to know that.’

      I nod in agreement and tell myself that if I’m ever awake enough not to have caffeine one morning, I’ll try the cinnamon hot chocolate instead.

      ‘What if it rains? Shouldn’t you be doing this on the inside? Won’t it wash off in the rain?’

      ‘Er, yeah, probably.’ I glance up at the dark sky. Leo’s blue and brown striped awning won’t give it much protection if those clouds decide to open. ‘But that’s kind of the point. I didn’t want to do anything lasting without Leo’s permission. This is just snow spray, it’ll wash off with a quick sponge-over or a heavy shower unless I give it a coat of lacquer, then it’ll need a bit of scrubbing first. But he doesn’t know I’m doing this and if he hates it when he sees it in the morning, at least he can get rid of it.’

      ‘He won’t do that. It’s a work of art and it’s not even finished yet. I’m going to be the first to come by tomorrow and see the finished scene.’

      ‘Thanks, Bernard. It’s really nothing. It’s just stencils and lines.’ I hesitate for a moment. ‘But you won’t tell Leo if you see him, will you? I don’t want him to know it was me.’

      ‘Of course not. Even if he questions me, which I’m sure he will. He brings me a cuppa and a muffin twice a day, you know? He always stops for a chat, just like you do. You know me, I love to chat, and I enjoy that even more than I enjoy his coffee, and I enjoy that a lot. I won’t breathe a word of this. I didn’t see anything.’

      I give him a nod of appreciation, turning back to run the side of my hand over my tree stencil to adhere it to the window.

      ‘Thanks for these gloves, by the way,’ Bernard says, wiggling his covered fingers towards me.

      ‘You’re welcome, they would only have gone for rags.’

      ‘I don’t believe that. There’s nothing wrong with them and they still had the tags on. You could’ve sold them for a pretty penny. I bet you put your own money in the donation box and kept them for me.’

      I shake my head because I’m a terrible liar and it’s best if I don’t say anything. ‘There’s a ham sandwich and a flask of tea in that bag, help yourself,’ I say to distract him.

      ‘Oh no, that’s your supper, I’m not taking that.’

      ‘I’ve already had mine, Bernard. Greedy thing that I am, I packed too much. You’d be doing me a favour by saving me having to carry it home later.’

      I shine my torch towards the bag to give him enough light to see and watch as he takes the wrapped sandwich and flask of tea. ‘I’ll give this back to you tomorrow as usual, Georgia. Thank you.’

      ‘You’re