Joe and Clara’s Christmas Countdown - Katey Lovell

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think the hard work you two put into this place goes unnoticed. We’re very grateful for everything you do for these kids.’

      ‘It’s worth it to see everyone enjoying themselves.’ Clara truly believed that, and loved being able to boost the confidence of the club members. There was a special atmosphere to the old place on showcase night, an almost palpable buzz of joy thronging through the building. ‘Plus, the kids are great, and it’s them we do it for.’

      ‘When I used to come here there was nowhere else for teenagers to go at this end of town,’ Simone’s brother added. ‘At least now there’s the indoor skate park, and the ice rink’s not bad since it’s been refurbished.’

      ‘They’re expensive, though,’ Clara pointed out. She’d been shocked at the cost of the tickets on a recent cinema trip with Deirdre, and that was before she’d splashed out on popcorn (sweet, naturally) and a large diet coke. By the time she was done she’d spent almost a day’s wages. ‘Not all the families around here can afford it. At least here they only have to find the money for subs once a term. Plus, some of the kids just want somewhere to hang around away from their parents.’

      ‘I suppose that’s what I did when I was a member. Me and my mates used to spend all our money in the tuck shop and then talk about music for a few hours in between stuffing our faces with strawberry laces.’

      ‘Strawberry laces. Good choice.’

      ‘We’d have competitions to see who could cram the most into their mouths,’ he laughed. ‘I managed forty-eight once.’

      ‘Wow. You must have a really big mouth.’ Clara clamped her lips together in embarrassment as she realised how insulting that sounded. ‘I didn’t mean any offence …’

      ‘None taken,’ he said with a shrug as he plunged the last mug into the soapy water and rubbed it with a battered scourer. ‘There,’ he proclaimed, placing the mug on the draining board. Suds slithered down its side. ‘We’re done.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Clara said genuinely. ‘You’ve been a great help, all of you. I’ll finish off here, though, if you want to get home. It’s getting late.’

      The clock read half-past nine. She’d have to get a wiggle on if she was going to make it back home in time for her programme.

      ‘If you’re sure?’ Simone’s mum replied, reaching for her large straw sunhat. She was well presented, as though dressed for an event. Mind you, she always looked smart. Part of the role of being a vicar’s wife, Clara supposed.

      ‘Absolutely. There’s not much to do now, you’ve done most of it already. You go,’ she smiled. ‘And thanks again.’

      ‘It was a brilliant evening,’ the vicar added. ‘A real celebration of everyone’s talents. I’m glad I came.’

      ‘It was fun,’ Simone’s brother said. ‘I thought the girl who did Riverdance should have won, though. She was amazing.’

      ‘She was great, wasn’t she? She’s got dreams of dancing on the stage one day. She’ll probably make it too, she’s a hard worker.’

      ‘You are too, by the look of it,’ he said, sliding into his leather jacket.

      ‘Well, there’s no point doing anything half-heartedly. My work’s important to me.’

      ‘It shows. It’s nice to finally meet you, Clara. Simone talks about you all the time at home. And Deirdre too, of course.’

      ‘Nice to meet you too …’

      Clara paused, realising she didn’t know his name.

      ‘Joe,’ he said, extending his hand to invite a handshake. ‘Joe Smith.’

The Countdown

       Clara

      Thursday, November 30th 2017

      Clara had always loved everything about Christmas, and although Advent hadn’t yet started she was fully prepared for the season. She’d retrieved her collection of knitted Christmas jumpers from the back of her wardrobe (they were now hanging prominently from the picture rail in her bedroom so she could admire them in all their hideously gaudy beauty), and already done the majority of her shopping. Her cards were written and stamped, ready to go into the post box at the end of the road on the first day of December. And now she was trying to persuade Deirdre to let her decorate the youth club with spangly decorations galore.

      ‘There’s no way you’re putting them up today, Clara. Not a chance. It’s still November!’ Deirdre shook her head with such vigour that her monstrous clip-on earrings threatened to fly off. ‘The ones at home don’t go up until at least the middle of the month. If they were up any earlier I’d get bored. I’m gagging to take them down by Boxing Day as it is.’

      ‘Spoilsport,’ Clara pouted.

      ‘You’re not going to change my mind. It’s November. It’s too early.’

      Clara sighed, ready to admit defeat. It was the same every year – she’d be itching to get the club covered in tinsel and glitter whilst Deirdre would be putting the Christmas dampeners on.

      ‘I’ve been patient. The supermarkets have had their decorations up since the day after Hallowe’en.’

      ‘Bully for the supermarkets!’ Deirdre blustered. ‘Go and work for them if you’re so desperate to have your bloody baubles up!’

      Clara laughed. ‘You don’t mean that. We’re struggling enough as it is with the two of us running this place. You’d have no chance if you were doing it single-handedly.’

      ‘Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,’ Deirdre replied, a cryptic smirk curling at the corners of her lips. ‘I wouldn’t be doing it alone. My new volunteer would be able to help me out.’

      Clara’s ears pricked up. ‘New volunteer? You mean someone’s actually been daft enough to sign up to spend their free time in this madhouse?’

      ‘Yes, and, what’s more, I think he’ll be great with the kids.’

      ‘He?’

      ‘Yes, he. He’s young and enthusiastic and it’ll be good for the boys to have a male role model. I know it’s all about equality these days, but I switch off the minute Jordan starts talking about football. What do I know about whether United would be better moving their right back into central defence or whatever it was he was rambling on about last night? This way he can chew someone else’s ear off about it rather than mine. Someone who might be able to make a more incisive comment than “Hmm, I don’t know”.’

      ‘Are you going to tell me who this saviour is or are you going to sit there teasing me all night?’

      Deirdre jokingly tapped the side of her nose with her index finger. ‘I could tell you, but it’s far more fun to keep you guessing.’

      ‘You’re so mean!’ Clara hated being left in the dark over anything, especially when it came to the youth club. Deirdre might be the manager, but Clara had taken on more and more responsibility over the years until they were pretty much equals. Everything was a team effort, from budgeting, to choosing which fundraising events to run and which local groups to work in partnership with. Clara couldn’t remember the last time Deirdre had made a decision without consulting her first. ‘So you’re not even going to give me a clue?’

      Deirdre shook her head once more. ‘Nope. This one’s for me to know and you to find out.’

      ‘Meanie.’

      ‘You love me really. And you’ll love me even more when you find out who our new volunteer is. I’ve

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