short story
icy cold air blew in as their first customer of the day marched across the threshold. It was not Michael. “I need something for my wife,” the customer said,
pointing rather distractedly at a poinsettia plant. “That red thing’ll do.” The exact moment that marked the anniversary of
her first meeting Michael came and went, and the day passed in a frenzy of people – little girls begging for a miniature Christmas tree to put next to their bed, people preparing for a family visit by buying a plant that would very probably be dead by the start of January. The wreaths flew off the shelf, as did the bunches of mistletoe that Mrs Jessop had insisted on hanging up in lieu of tinsel. There’d been a moment, a lull late in the afternoon
when the all-too brief hours of daylight were already dwindling, when a young man came into the florists and bought a bunch of mistletoe. Lily and Mrs Jessop watched as he waited outside the shop with the little sprig of festive magic tucked out of sight behind his back, waiting. When his girlfriend finally appeared, sparkling with joy on the freezing afternoon, he pulled her close with one arm, and holding the plant over her head with the other, kissed her until she giggled and swooned all at once. “Been a long time since I’ve been kissed
like that,” sighed Mrs Jessop, saying what Lily was thinking. “Although Dennis at the Seniors Club isn’t bad when he’s got his teeth in.” Shortly after six, Lily sent
on his face. Awkwardly, he held out a rather battered bunch of dyed carnations. “I know,” he said sheepishly. “I couldn’t come empty
handed, and I bet no one gives you flowers, right?” Lily took the sorry looking blossoms that had been
marked down to half price at the 24-hour garage and stared at them. “You’ve no idea who I am, do you?” Michael said,
his face falling. “Of course you don’t. What sort of plank am I to think that you’d remember me? It’s been a year.” “And ten hours,” Lily added before she could stop
herself. “We met at 8.15 last year, and now it’s just after six.” “So you do remember me?” Michael gasped,
wonder in his eyes. “I think I do,” Lily said. “Although there are times
when I think what I remember can’t be real. That the things I felt, and thought you might have felt, were all in my imagination. I was sure of it until just now, and then… well, you’re here?” The question of why and what for hung between
them in the air. “I’m here to find out if the things I felt, and thought
Mrs Jessop upstairs, and as she got ready to close up, she got the strangest feeling that the moment she turned around the open sign, it wouldn’t just be her shop she was closing, it would be her future too. When the shop re-opened next week, she knew she’d have to start again, perhaps let Darren take her out for a drink. She’d have to stop waiting for life to begin and to actually start living. The bell over the door jangled once more. And there he was. Michael, in the same long coat, snow melting in his dark tousled hair, a look of joy and anxiety mingling
open sign, it wouldn’t just be her shop she was closing, it would be her future too
turned around the moment she The
you felt, are real,” Michael said. “Because it doesn’t happen in real life, does it? Love at first sight?” Lily made herself look into Michael’s eyes, her heart brimming with hope. “Perhaps it does, sometimes,” she said. “It is Christmas after all.” There was a beat of silence
in the small shop, fresh snow falling thickly outside, families drifting home to be together,
arms around each other. And then Michael reached
out and took hold of Lily’s hand, drawing her close to him. Glancing up, he smiled shyly as he spotted the last
remaining bunch of mistletoe that hung right above their heads, and before Lily could take another breath, he leant forward and kissed her. At that moment, Lily knew that the perfect
Christmas present was always worth waiting for. Even if, in her case, it had been a wait of 12 months, ten hours and six minutes.
CANDIS.CO.UK | DECEMBER 2011 131
Lucy Truman
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