The street is busy, harassed-looking shoppers bustling around with bags, using their snow-coated shoulders to push people out of the way in a touching display of Christmas spirit.
‘OK. I won’t ask any more in case it’s … you know, a surprise! Just be careful out there – looks like you might need a riot shield!’
‘It is a surprise, and don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ll just limbo dance my way through. I’ll leave the heating on for you. Look after the two most beautiful girls in the world for me.’
He undoes his seatbelt, and closes the space between them. He places his hands on either side of Jess’s face, and looks deep into her eyes before kissing her. It’s meant to be a simple goodbye-for-now kiss, but something about the moment – the snow, the Christmas lights, maybe the sound of Percy Sledge singing about what happens when a man loves a woman – makes it catch fire.
When they finally pull apart, Jess mouths the word ‘wow!, eyes wide, breath short.
‘I know, right? We’ve still got the magic …’ says Joe, as he clambers out of the door. ‘And don’t forget – baby, I love you!’
He gives her a flirtatious wink as he leaves, and she waves to him before sinking back in her seat, smiling. Things feel so damn good at the moment, she thinks, as she twiddles with the radio, then glances back at the still-sleeping Grace.
Joe scurries across the road to the foyer of the shops, pausing by the giant purple-flowered Christmas tree to look back at his two girls. He can’t help smiling, seeing the way Jess gazes at the baby, still remembering that kiss. It was, he decides, a good omen – and this is going to be a very good Christmas for them all.
It’s not been easy, over the years – with her parents, his lot, the financial worries, raising a baby when they were so young themselves.
Mainly, he knows, it was Jess who had to adapt. He was used to having no money and bargain-shopping for packet noodles and living in a shit-hole. He was used to the rough and tumble of the city streets, and there were always babies in and out of his foster parents’ house, so he’d even put in the hours changing nappies and soothing colic.
All of it was new to her – new and terrifying. Yet she faced it, without her mum and dad and all her creature comforts, she faced every challenge. Sometimes, he’s felt guilty about that – about the way her life has changed since they met. Sometimes he feels like maybe he dragged her down to his level, when she had so much to aim for.
Sometimes, though, like on those magical days when Gracie said her first word – ‘bear’, for some reason – or took her first steps, or the time when they saved up and bought a new bed and decorated the frame with fairy lights and snuggled up in it for hours, eating toast and talking like they’d only just met, Grace asleep between them, it felt like heaven.
On magical days like this one, full of love and fun and kisses like dynamite, it felt perfect. Like every single moment of struggle was worth it.
They always had an advantage, he knows, because they never doubted each other. They never doubted they should be together – no matter how hard the rest of the world tried to tell them they were wrong. And now things are improving. Grace is thriving at nursery. Jess can consider studying again. He has a decent place to work, for decent money. They might be able to move soon, without the grudgingly offered help of her parents.
Her father had never even visited them in the city, and her mother seemed to be constantly looking for things to criticise – searching for mould that might poison the baby’s lungs, or drug dealers who might kill her in a drive-by, or the propped open communal door that could let the zombie apocalypse in.
Their offers of help were always loaded, always came with clauses and caveats and conditions. They had to live near them. Grace had to go to a ‘good’ school. Joe had to get a job that involved a suit and tie instead of boiler suit and steel-toed boots. Jess had always been the one to turn them down – he’d never dream of doing it on her behalf, but was always so secretly thrilled and proud when she did.
They treated her like a little girl, ignoring all the evidence that she was a grown woman with a mind of her own. A child of her own. A man of her own. A life of her own.
He stands watching them for a few minutes more, aware of the crowds of shoppers impatiently shoving past him as he blocks their way, not caring about them at all. He smiles, and ignores the cold night air, and gazes at them until the gathering snow flurries block them from view.
He turns, walks through the shopping centre until he reaches his destination – a small jeweller’s shop, tucked away between a Marks & Sparks and a toy store.
The manager recognises him, and gives him the ring to check over before he wraps it in the gift box. It’s a sapphire, her birthstone, surrounded by possibly the tiniest diamonds ever found on the face of the planet. It’s not the kind of ring that normal girls would brag about – but his Jess isn’t a normal girl. She’s the best girl.
‘Good luck!’ says the man behind the counter as Joe hands over the final instalment of his payments. ‘I hope she says yes!’
Joe finds himself suddenly nervous at that comment, wondering if he’s about to make a huge tit of himself. He thinks she’ll say yes – he’s 99 per cent sure she will – but what if he’s wrong? What if she says she’s too young, or not ready, or needs time to think about it, all of which would be reasonable responses? What if, what if, what if? That wouldn’t make for a very festive Christmas Day, would it?
He realises he is, yet again, inconveniencing other shoppers by standing still, and he shakes himself out of his reverie. He stows the box securely in his jacket pocket, and decides to make two more quick stops.
First, he braves the toy store and emerges with a pink and grey fleecy bunny rabbit, its ears so long they trail to its oversized feet, its tummy big and round and covered in super-soft fluff. It looks a bit wonky, and makes Joe laugh, and he knows Gracie will love it.
Next he navigates his way around the booze aisle of M&S, and buys the cheapest bottle of fizzy plonk he can find. It’s a luxury they can’t really afford, but he feels the need to celebrate – even if it isn’t actually Christmas for another week. Once Gracie is down for the night, he decides, he’s going to crack open the bubbly, and give Jess her present early.
Again, that thrill of fear runs through him – but he shakes it off, and heads for the exits. He can’t wait to be out of this madness and back with his girls.
He pauses at the Christmas tree, pats his pocket to make sure the box hasn’t magically disappeared, and scans through the crowds to spot the car.
He’s about to surge ahead, through the snow and the tidal wave of humanity, when from the corner of his eye he registers a car approaching. Fast. Way too fast.
Time seems to speed up and stand still at exactly the same time, as he realises several things at once.
He realises that the Volvo isn’t slowing down. He realises that the driver is slumped over the wheel. He realises that people are jumping out of its way. Mainly, he realises that it’s heading right for the parking spot he was so pleased with.
He drops his bag to the ground, hears the bottle break. He pushes people aside, head down, running as fast as he can on the slip-slide tarmac, looking on helplessly as the Volvo careers and screeches, out of control, a lethal weapon. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do when he reaches it, but feels he can stop it with a touch of his hand, if only he gets there in time.