‘In your own time,’ Dan moaned as she burst in through the door of the Engineer, waving to Tom behind the counter before squeezing through the chairs to where he was sitting at their usual table. ‘You said you were going to be early.’
‘I said I hoped I was going to be early,’ she corrected, kissing him quickly on the cheek and sinking gratefully into her seat. Her heart was galloping like she’d run all the way here. ‘I got held up.’
He took in her red cheeks and bright, quick eyes. ‘Doing?’
‘We were at the Savoy.’
‘Ooh, very nice, darling, sweetie,’ Dan said, trying to pull off his best fashionista impression, but it wasn’t very impressive coming from a Norf Lundun boy. ‘Cocktails in the American bar, was it?’
Nettie coughed. That, in fact, had been exactly what Jamie had proposed in the name of ‘bonding’ – to the team, but with his eyes on her – and she had been more than delighted to make her escape, pleading this prior arrangement and leaving him stranded with Jules and Daisy and Caro. ‘It was just work. You? Had a good day?’
He rolled his bright blue eyes, which had a slightly hangdog look to them today. ‘Run off my feet. Apparently there’s not a single other person in the country but me who can lag a pipe.’
She grinned. ‘Well, don’t complain – just think of the money. You’ll be able to spoil your mum this year.’
‘Yeah.’ He looked at her hopefully. ‘Had any ideas?’
‘Tch, you are a nightmare. Have you really not got a single thought about what she’d like?’
He pulled a face. ‘I did think about one of those foot bucket things.’
‘Do you mean a foot spa?’
‘Yeah, them!’
She sighed. ‘You gave her one three years ago.’
‘Really?’
Nettie nodded, draining her flat beer and standing up again. ‘Come on. Let’s have a wander and see if there’s anything out there.’
‘There never is,’ he complained, pulling on his beloved grey Superdry puffa, which she’d bought him last Christmas and which he’d worn to death. ‘It’s just gingerbread biscuits and them smelly heart pillow things.’
‘Lavender sachets.’
‘Exactly. We’d be much better off just going straight to Argos.’
‘Over. My. Dead. Body,’ she said, holding the door open for him. ‘See you later, Tom!’ she called, waving as she stepped back out into the chilly street.
It was one of her favourite nights of the year – the local Christmas Market had been set up, ready for the switching on of the Christmas-tree lights tonight – and yes, there was a bias towards gingerbreads and lavender sachets, but there were also gorgeous Scandi Christmas decorations made from twigs and bells and brown gingham ribbons, hand-blown tree baubles in the colours of boiled sweets, gourmet sausages being freshly cooked on a metal drum, hand-knitted childrenswear such as strawberry-shaped baby bonnets and 1970s-style dungarees, wooden-toy stalls, French cheeses and eight-foot Christmas trees that fit perfectly in the area’s high-ceilinged homes.
It didn’t matter about the carefully considered – and budgeted – Christmas list that she’d spent weeks in advance drawing up, trawling through the catalogues as they dropped through the letterbox from October onwards: invariably, year after year, she staggered home from this market with an eclectic, budget-blown hoard of goodies – some of them presents, some of them just treats, like the stollen that wouldn’t keep till Christmas Day.
Regent’s Park Road was already crowded, the stalls ablaze beneath the brightly illuminated icicles that were strung up above the red-and-white striped awnings. Men ambled slowly down the middle of the street, small children on their shoulders waving sparklers and trying to touch the suspended stars, as their wives tarried by the displays, surreptitiously buying stocking fillers while chatting to neighbours and friends from playgroup.
She caught up with him by a stall that had bags made entirely from Coke-can ring-pulls. He held one up for her approval.
‘Dan, your mum’s fifty-four, not fourteen. No,’ she said, pushing his arm back down and pulling him on.
They began to wander, their breath hanging like snowy plumes in the air before them. It was too cold for snow, the London sky clear and orange-tinted, as ever. A couple of children dodged past them, laughing, their hoods up and faces painted as tigers as they wove through the crowds, their father hurrying after and saying sorry to everyone as he tried to squeeze past.
‘Mad, isn’t it?’ Dan said, standing to the side to let the harried man past. ‘The perpetual worry you always see on their faces.’
‘Whose?’
‘Parents. They look terrified all the time, the lot of them – terrified crossing the road, terrified in the pool, terrified in crowds, terrified at the tops of escalators, terrified around saucepans.’ He shook his head. ‘Jesus, why would you put yourself through it?’
Nettie laughed, hooking her free arm round his, to keep closer in the crush. ‘Well, I guess there must be some upside or no one ever would.’
‘Ha, not that I can see – you’re broke, exhausted and scared for twenty-five years.’ He snorted. ‘And given that that pretty much sums up my childhood, it’s hardly an enticing prospect for the next twenty-five . . .’
Nettie glanced at him and squeezed his arm tighter. ‘You’ll feel differently when you meet the right girl.’
‘Nope.’ He turned his face towards a lingerie stall and promptly turned back again.
‘Any word from Stacey?’
She felt Dan flinch and pull away from her slightly, but she kept her grip on him. ‘Why would I want to hear from her? She’s made her decision.’
‘The wrong one, obviously.’
‘Listen, I’m not bothered. It wasn’t going anywhere anyway.’
‘Did you ever tell her how much she meant to you?’
Dan looked down at her like she was mad. ‘Why would I do that?’
‘Because girls need to be told, Dan. We’re not mind-readers. I know you were batty about her, but did she? You need to put yourself out there. If she felt like you were taking her for granted, then maybe it’s no surprise that she . . .’ Her voice faded away as she saw the expression in his eyes. ‘Not that I’m advocating cheating. She never should have done it.’
‘Damn straight.’ His mouth had set into a thin line and she bit her lip.
They stopped at a stall selling cashmere ponchos. Dan frowned as he picked up one of the edges, baffled by the shapeless, armless triangular shape.
‘It goes over your head,’ Nettie explained. She pointed to the vendor, who was wearing one, helping another customer.
‘Oh right. I couldn’t work out—’
‘I know.’
‘Well, what about one of them? The orange?’
‘Yep, it’s nice.’ She reached for a subtler shade. ‘Or your mum would look nice in this caramel one too.’
‘Or . . .’ He held up another, a bright smile on his mouth, Stacey already forgotten.
She shook her head. ‘I think the royal purple might be a bit . . . bold.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. How much are these, anyway?’ he wondered, reaching for one of the tags. ‘Bloody hell, how much?!’
‘Evening, both,’ a male voice said, interrupting them.
Nettie turned to find Lee standing beside them in a green shooting jacket and yellow scarf. ‘Oh, hi, Lee,’ she said, forcing a smile. She remembered Sunday and felt awkward. ‘How are you?’
He threw his hands up in the air. ‘It’s been flat out this week.’
‘Yes,’ she nodded, thinking how it was funny everyone always said the same. If they only knew how active her week had just been . . .
‘Everyone’s desperate to exchange and complete by Wednesday so they’ve got enough time to unpack by Christmas Day.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘The removals companies are almost at breaking point, all these enormous rugby-playing Aussies and Kiwis and Polish guys on their last legs trying to fit two house moves in a day. It’s madness.’
‘I bet.’
The estate agent’s eyes slid over to Dan. ‘How about you, Dan? I hear everyone’s been having terrible trouble with their pipes.’
‘Vicar,’ Dan quipped.
They both laughed.
‘I may well be calling you in the new year, actually. Our usual man’s been letting us down lately on the rental properties.’
‘Who’s that, then?’
‘Oh, well, I wouldn’t want to be indiscreet, but perhaps you might be interested in picking up the contract?’
‘Sounds interesting.’ Dan nodded. ‘How many units you got on your books?’
‘A fair few. More than twenty, less than a hundred.’ He smiled. ‘Put it this way, you wouldn’t be short of regular work, that’s for sure.’
‘Happy days,’ Dan said. ‘Give me a bell in the new year, then, and we can talk turkey.’
‘Righty-ho.’ Lee looked back at Nettie. ‘Had any second thoughts about the flat at all?’
‘Nope,’ she said quickly.
‘What flat?’ Dan asked.
‘Oh, no, it’s nothing,’ Nettie said quickly, wishing Lee hadn’t brought it up. ‘I just looked at a flat. But it wasn’t right.’
‘She had first pick and missed out on it by two and a half thou.’ Lee winced, as though he’d said ‘pennies’ instead of ‘pounds’. ‘It had a view of the Hill too.’
Dan looked aghast. ‘Two and a half k?’
‘She would not budge.’ Lee shook his head. ‘I tried talking her up. No one else had seen it at that point. It only went to market the next day.’ He pulled a face. ‘Went to sealed bids yesterday. One eighty-five over asking.’
‘Ah well, it just wasn’t meant to be,’ Nettie said quickly with what she hoped was a philosophical shrug. ‘And think of the commission!’
There was a pause and she saw that familiar look of pity climb into his eyes. ‘I suppose you’re right. These things can’t be forced. All in good time, eh?’ Lee took an expansive breath. ‘Anyway, Mrs Denton isn’t going to have a very happy Christmas if I stand here chatting away. A merry Christmas to you both.’ He slipped back into the crowd, but Dan didn’t notice. He was too busy staring down at Nettie.
‘What?’ she asked defensively. ‘It was out of my budget.’
‘By two and a half grand?’ Sarcasm tinted the words.
‘Two and a half thousand pounds is a lot of money, Dan, and it was two and a half thousand pounds that I didn’t have.’
‘Oh, come off it, Nets! I could have given you that.’
She swallowed. ‘Well, it’s the principle of the thing. Grandpa always said, “Never a lender nor a borrower be.”’
‘Yeah, right,’ he scoffed.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘This isn’t about the money and you know it. It’s about you refusing to take the next step.’
Nettie stared at him, filling herself up with air as she gawped indignantly, unsure where to start. ‘That is not true,’ she said finally.
‘It bloody well is. You’ve been talking about moving out for years.’
‘And I will. I want to!’
Dan cocked his head to the side. ‘Jeez, and you lecture me about putting myself out there? You talk the talk, but you are without doubt the most risk-averse person I know.’
‘I am not.’ Snapshots of the past week rushed through her mind. ‘Look what I’ve been doing this week, for heaven’s sake,’ she said in a quieter voice.
‘That wasn’t you.’
Her mouth opened in surprise. ‘Yes, it was!’
‘No. It was the Blue Bunny Girl. She’s not you.’
‘Dan, I’m telling you, I—’
‘I know it’s you in the costume, dummy. But she’s not you. Nets, you’re the girl who puts a thermometer in the bath before getting in.’
‘How . . . how do you know that?’ she blustered.
‘Well, what else is it up there for?’
She glared at him. This was the problem with him treating their house as his own. He thought it entitled him to know every last thing about her.
She turned to stomp off, but he caught her by the shoulders and held her firm. His baggy hangdog eyes were kind and soft upon her. ‘All I’m trying to say is that moving out doesn’t mean letting go.’
She blinked up at him, her mouth trembling as she resisted the downward pull that would trigger tears. She couldn’t bear to break down here, to confirm the suspicions that lurked in everyone’s eyes whenever she passed by – but before she had any choice in the matter, he had pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her so that her face was nestled in his puffa. ‘Listen, don’t look like that. It’ll be all right,’ he murmured, the vibrations of his voice ticklish against her ear.
She pulled away and looked up at him. ‘Dan, have you or Stevie told anyone else about me being the bunny?’
He frowned, looking confused. ‘Don’t think so. Why?’
‘Because you mustn’t. It’s really important. White Tiger are making everyone sign confidentiality contracts. Hiding my identity’s going to be part of the marketing now.’
‘And I bet that suits you down to the ground,’ he murmured, watching her closely, tracking the gradual recession of tears from her eyes.
‘You’ve got to tell Stevie. Will you? Because if you—’
‘I’ll tell him – don’t worry. We’ll keep your secret.’
‘It’s really important.’
‘Hey – when have I ever done you wrong?’
She smiled, nudging him gently on the arm. ‘Thanks, Dan. You’re a mate.’
He snorted lightly, his gaze falling back to the poncho in his hands. ‘Yeah.’
They joined the crowds that had begun to gather round the Christmas tree. More children were sitting atop their fathers’ shoulders now, eating hot dogs, and fresh pots of mulled wine were brewing and being dished into cups. Nettie had gone to get a new batch, leaving Dan chatting with some of the regulars from the pub. She wove her way back to them, white plastic cups bending slightly in her grip.
‘Here you go,’ she said, passing them round to the nearest outstretched hands.
‘Where’s Jules tonight, then?’ asked Jake, a scaffolder she’d gone to school with and the local ladykiller. ‘She never misses this. She’s always trying to cop off with Jude Law at this do. Reckons it’s her best chance, don’t she?’
Nettie grinned. ‘Oh, I’m sure she’ll make it. She got stuck at a work thing earlier.’
‘At the Savoy,’ Dan said, sucking in his cheeks and trying to pull a ‘posh’ face.
Jake’s face brightened. ‘Talking of that – did you hear about that thing that went down at the Savoy earlier?’
‘Diamond heist?’ Dan quipped.
‘Nah. They rolled out that blue bunny.’
‘Blue what?’
Nettie noticed Stevie give Dan a perplexed look. He glanced at Nettie, but she warned him off with her eyes.
‘Oh, mate! Don’t tell me you ain’t heard about it? It’s this crazy chick. She’s been doing stunts all over London dressed as this massive blue rabbit,’ Jake grinned.
‘Why?’
Nettie could have kissed Dan. He was the consummate actor.
Jake shrugged. ‘Dunno. One of them charity things, I think, but, mate, mate, it’s funny! You should’ve seen her planking on this postbox the other day. She looked like she was going to face-plant the pavement. Christ only knows how they got her up there. Must’ve winched her in.’
‘No, no!’ cried Ray, who – as the local milkman – wasn’t usually seen out after 8 p.m. ‘It was the thing with her going down that ice course. I nearly pissed myself.’
‘Charming,’ Nettie muttered.
‘Her arms are waving about like she’s trying to fly, ears flapping . . .’ He laughed again at the memory.
‘I can’t believe you haven’t heard about it. It’s gone viral,’ Jake said, screwing his face up at the glühwein and reaching for his pint instead. ‘Nettie, you’ve heard about it, right?’
She swallowed. ‘Well, vaguely, you know. I haven’t actually . . . seen it.’
‘You are missing out. You’ve gotta google it. It’s well funny.’
Dan shrugged.
‘Here it is. This is it,’ Ray said, handing over his iPhone. ‘That’s the best one.’
Nettie saw the YouTube clip with her blue-shaped self paused at the top of the ice wall. Even just the sight of it made her go cold. She looked away as Dan hit ‘play’ with his thumb and she began to whizz down the ice, her paws like skis and the only things that kept her upright.
Dan chuckled convincingly, playing his part to perfection. Nettie took out her own phone and checked for messages, not trusting herself to be anywhere near as convincing. Anyway, it was unlike Jules not to be here. She had presumed the drinks would only take half an hour or so, but it had been a couple of hours now since she’d made her escape. What were they all doing? Had they gone on – to dinner? To a club?
Her stomach lurched at the thought of them all drinking, dancing, having fun, flirting . . . She wished now she hadn’t run – not that it had been a conscious decision: the words had been out before she could stop them, her feet through the door in a flash. On the one hand, she wanted to take a flying leap at the man and wrestle him to the floor. On the other, she wanted to sprint in the opposite direction, as far and fast as her legs would carry her. It was disconcerting having someone like Jamie Westlake suddenly step into her life.
She clicked onto Twitter. The ‘followers’ gauge wasn’t moving with the same rapidity, not now she’d moved up into the next level and increments were measured every thousand units, but it was still rising – 503,000 – and the comments, favourites and retweets kept coming, jamming her inbox.
She scanned the crowd, eyes falling on the groups of young women in leggings and DM boots, wrapped in over-sized boyfriend coats and beanies on their heads. She didn’t look so different herself, in fact; she’d been born in this tribe.
‘Who’s doing it tonight, anyway?’ Jake asked, craning his neck as a murmur rippled through the crowd, a sign that the authorities were almost ready. ‘Not Kate Moss again?’
‘No, she did it last year,’ Dan replied.
‘Shame. Sadie, then?’
‘No,’ Nettie murmured, standing on tiptoes and trying to get a better view. ‘I think I saw pictures of her on some detox camp in Thailand.’
‘You been reading that “Sidebar of Shame” again, Nettie?’ Stevie laughed. ‘Tut, tut, naughty girl.’
She stuck her tongue out at him. ‘I reckon it’s Gwen Stefani.’
‘Nope. They’re in Aspen,’ Ray said distractedly, his eyes on a blonde in the crowd in a red coat. It was a moment before he realized that everyone was staring at him. ‘What? No, no, I didn’t read that in— Listen, they cancelled their order till the beginning of January!’
‘Yeah, right,’ Jake laughed.
‘Phew! Am I in time?’ an excited voice bubbled up next to them all.
They turned to find Jules standing beside them, rubbing her hands quickly, her eyes as bright as a squirrel’s.
Nettie opened her mouth but didn’t say anything. Jules just winked at her.
‘You haven’t missed him, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ Stevie said, passing over his barely touched mulled wine. ‘Lover boy’s just about to come on, we reckon.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ Jules giggled, nudging Nettie in the ribs. ‘My favourite bit.’
‘Good of you to join us, m’lady. Nettie’s been telling us you’ve been lording it up at the Savoy today,’ Jake called over.
‘Yeah, you know how it is,’ she shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Places to go, people to see.’
A sudden whine through the tannoy made them all wince and turn to the front. The local MP was standing on an apple crate, his arms raised as he appealed for hush.
They duly fell quiet, pinched fingers clasping tepid cups and rosy faces turned towards the tall, dark shadow of the fifteen-foot tree.
‘It’s wonderful to see so many of you gathered out here tonight,’ he began. ‘I know the freezing temperatures are making this something of a challenge for the younger members in our audience today, so I’ll keep it brief and just say what a pleasure it is to see the community gathered together, once again, for one of the highlights of our year. Thanks to all of you who have supported the Christmas Market by choosing to do your shopping here tonight. Not only are you filling the coffers for the Christmas lights, it’s events like this that enable us to keep the high-street brands out and the independents in. We all know this is a special place to live – our island in the middle of the city – and we welcome all the new faces to our streets, along with the old.
‘And it is in that spirit that I’m sure you’ll join with me in welcoming a new face tonight. His name will be recognizable to very many of you already, and I expect most of you will know his songs by heart, but tonight he’s agreed to step in – at the last minute, I might add – as an honoured guest resident, to turn on the lights of our beloved Christmas tree. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and well-behaved dogs on leads, I give you . . . Jamie Westlake.’
A jubilant cheer rose into the sky as Jamie – dressed now in jeans and a chunky white jumper beneath a grey padded flannel Prada jacket – stepped onto the apple crate, one hand in the air in a wave, his eyes roaming the crowd as that famous grin made the women yelp.
‘What is he doing here?’ Nettie whispered desperately to Jules.
‘Helping out.’ Jules rubbed her arm. ‘We were leaving the hotel and when I told him who was switching on the lights tonight, he told me they’ve just gone into rehab. Just as well I mentioned it, hey?’
‘But . . . he can’t be here,’ Nettie said desperately, her eyes flitting back up to find him scanning the crowd.
‘Why not? It’s fucking A that he’s here!’
Nettie swallowed. ‘People will make the link.’
‘Nah, they won’t. There’s two hundred people out here. Who’s going to be looking for it?’ She frowned a little. ‘What was up with you earlier, anyway? Why’d you go running off like that?’
‘I . . . I’d arranged to meet Dan, hadn’t I?’
‘Seriously? Christmas shopping with Dan?’ Jules hissed incredulously. ‘Come off it, Nets! I think he’d have understood if you’d told him you were having a drink with you-know-who!’ She jerked her head towards the stage.
Nettie turned back to face the front again. Jamie had flicked the switch and the tree shimmered beside him like a woman in couture. The glow of the white lights cast him in high relief, but from the angle and stillness of his body, she could tell that he had found her again.
The pub was rammed. Everyone, it seemed, except the young families had spilled into the Engineer and the crowd was six deep at the bar. The pub windows were already steaming up, and the fire was roaring so hard, it could have powered a steam engine.
‘Hurry up! Your beer’s going flat,’ Stevie said as she rushed over to the table, visibly shivering as the warm air hit her and she shrugged off her coat.
‘Gah! It’s a scrum out there,’ she protested, struggling with her gloves.
‘We thought you’d got a better offer and dumped us!’ Dan said.
‘Better offer? Is there anything that can top being bought a round by you, Stevie boy? It’s a rare enough thing,’ Nettie teased, dropping onto the seat opposite them with a happy sigh. ‘Where’s Paddy?’ she asked. ‘He said he’d be here.’
‘Probably in Spearmint Rhino by now. It’s his office party tonight,’ said Steve.
Nettie rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, well. In that case, definitely bottoms up!’ she joked, lifting her drink and raising a toast as she soaked in the atmosphere. This evening was the official kick-off for Christmas to her. ‘Happy Christmas, everyone.’
The three of them drank deeply, boasting foam moustaches on their upper lips that only she bothered to wipe away. Nettie scanned the crowd, looking – always looking.
‘Where’s Jules? I thought she was coming with you?’ Dan asked.
‘Oh, she’s—’ Nettie faltered. ‘She just got chatting to someone. You know what she’s like. I was just too cold to stay out there. She’ll be along any minute.’
Dan grinned, his eyes behind her on the door. ‘When you say chatting to someone, do you actually mean “trying to pull Jamie Westlake”?’
Nettie’s expression changed. ‘What?’
Dan jerked his head. ‘Well, look who’s her new best friend.’
Nettie twisted and looked across the room. Jules and Jamie were standing by the gaggle of people bustling in through the door, Jamie slowly unwinding the scarf round his neck, a navy beanie on, his head bowed as he listened to something Jules was saying. She was in full flow, clearly, her dark bobbed hair bouncing around animatedly as she spoke in his ear.
Nettie blinked, transfixed by the sight of him. She didn’t think she would ever get used to seeing the flesh-and-blood, live version of him. Even in a room as full as this, he was the most stunning person in it; even in a room so filled with buoyant and excited chatter, his low-key calm was mesmerizing. Cool, not-bothered eyes kept sliding his way, though no one was so gauche as to stare at him outright.
Except her.
She watched as he nodded, Jules turning and making her way over to them – years of experience telling her they’d all be at their usual table under the green globe light. She grinned and gave a massive wink as she saw them staring on her way over, Jamie following behind her and looking somewhat embarrassed. His attempt at passing incognito appeared to have failed.
‘Fuck,’ Stevie muttered under his breath, both he and Dan straightening up, shoulders back, as the two of them approached.
‘Hey,’ Jules exhaled happily, as though it was perfectly normal for her to rock up to their local with a megastar in her wake.
‘Hi – again,’ Nettie said warily as Jamie stood by the table.
‘Jamie, this is Dan and Stevie,’ Jules said, making the introductions and arching back so they could all shake hands. She placed a hand on Jamie’s arm. ‘Like I said, they know who Nettie is, so to speak; we can totally trust them. Can’t we, boys?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ Stevie said, pulling his most honest face.
There was a brief pause, the boys seemingly at a loss as to what to say next.
‘So, are you going to budge up or what?’ Jules asked with a laugh.
‘Oh, yeah, sure . . . Sorry,’ Stevie said, sliding closer to Dan to make a space. It was too small for another man, so Jules took it.
Nettie was sitting on her own on the bench opposite the boys and she smiled politely as Jamie took the space beside her.
‘You did that, uh . . . very well,’ she said.
‘What? Flicking the switch?’ Jamie grinned, as he unzipped his jacket. ‘Yeah. Luckily I’ve been getting lots of practice. I used to have someone turn on my lights for me, but I had to get rid of him. Thought I should learn to do it myself, you know.’
There was a moment’s silence before the little group cracked up, Dan and Stevie grateful for the self-deprecation. They weren’t the kind of lads to pay homage to starry behaviour.
Jamie kept his eyes on Nettie as she laughed, as though checking he hadn’t offended her on his way to relaxing the others.
They looked up as Tom suddenly arrived at the table with a fresh round of beers. ‘On the house,’ he murmured discreetly.
‘Thanks, mate,’ Jamie said, ‘but there’s really no need.’
‘It’s our pleasure,’ Tom said quickly, setting the drinks on the table and disappearing again with the tray.
Stevie groaned. ‘Don’t tell me – that happens all the time to you?’
Jamie shrugged apologetically. ‘I know, it’s mad.’
‘Damn straight it is. It’s not like you’re ever short for a round, is it?’
‘Ignore him – this is his excuse all the time,’ Jules sighed with mock-exasperation. ‘You always just so happen to be in the loos whenever it’s your turn to get a round in, don’t you, Stevie?’
‘Hey! Some of us aren’t lucky enough to have some cushy job where you get overpaid to sit around in a warm office all day, eating biscuits and discussing strategies and targets.’
‘Tragic, really – so bitter, so young,’ Jules tutted, making them all laugh again.
‘So, you a football man?’ Dan asked, his eyes steady upon the new guest, one hand resting on the table, fingers ready to drum.
‘Yep. I try to keep up with the league when I can, but I travel so much . . .’ Jamie shrugged. ‘Who’s your team?’
‘Gooners,’ Dan said solemnly. ‘You?’
Nettie sensed Jamie’s answer would be critical to how well the boys accepted him.
‘Same.’
Dan visibly softened. ‘Yeah? You ever meet them?’
‘Sure. A few of the guys have come backstage after some of my gigs and they’ve given me an honorary lifetime membership, which is cool. I go to the games whenever I’m back.’
Dan nodded, clearly liking Jamie more by the second, and Nettie had an instinct as to what he was building up towards. She saw the way he inflated his chest slightly, his body preparing to ask the question before the words were out. But he didn’t get the chance.
‘Oh crap, spare us,’ Stevie suddenly muttered. ‘Two o’clock.’
Dan crumpled with laughter. ‘Seriously, dude, stop saying that. You’re not in Top Gun.’
But Nettie wasn’t laughing. She watched as a well-built man with floppy, dark blond hair and wearing a rugby shirt and pea coat stopped at their table. ‘Hey, Nets.’
‘Hi, Alex.’
He looked at the others briefly – and unseeingly. Glances were passed between them all, and they grew increasingly more amused as it became apparent that he didn’t appear to have clocked who Jamie was. ‘Hey, guys.’
‘Hey,’ Jules, Dan and Stevie chorused, nodding ridiculously and cupping their pints.
Alex looked back at her. ‘How are you?’
‘Great. Great,’ she nodded. ‘You?’
‘Yeah, great.’ There was an awkward silence and Nettie willed him to go, to leave their table and not linger like a bad smell. There was nothing left to be said between them – they had taken three and a half years to say goodbye, but it had been done at last. That was four months ago now and it had been nothing but a relief. ‘Good turnout for the lights again.’
‘Yes. Brilliant.’
‘Your dad will be pleased.’
‘He will. He will.’ She was aware that she was nodding at a ridiculous rate. She felt like that nodding dog in the car insurance advert, but she already knew that he was about to ask her if there was somewhere they could have a quiet word.
‘Although why the hell they got—’
‘Alex! Have you met Jamie?’ she said quickly, cutting him off abruptly. She knew perfectly well his views on guitar-led singer-songwriters. He was more of a heavy-metal fiend.
‘Hi.’ Jamie smiled up at him benignly, offering his hand.
Alex’s expression changed, his mouth dropping open as he slowly tried to remember how to shake a hand. ‘Hey.’
Another silence ensued, this one stunned.
Nettie was aware of Jules, Dan and Stevie colouring up as they tried to rein in their amusement.
‘Right, well . . .’ Alex clapped his hands together awkwardly. ‘I can, uh . . . see you’re all busy, so, uh . . . I’ll leave you to it.’
Everyone nodded.
‘Bye, then. Good to see you guys . . . Nice to meet you . . . Jamie.’
‘Bye, Alex,’ Nettie smiled as he scooted off, the crowd swallowing him within moments, Jules, Dan and Stevie bursting into laughter.
‘His face . . .’ Jules cried, smacking her palm on the table.
‘Oh, man, I wished we’d recorded that,’ Stevie laughed. ‘Talk about willing a sinkhole to open up.’
‘He’s Nettie’s ex,’ Jules said, leaning over the table conspiratorially.
‘Yeah, I got that,’ Jamie smiled.
‘They took, like, forever to break up. They were only actually together for about six months before they started with the break-up/make-up routine. On and on it went – he said this; she did that. Honestly . . .’ Jules groaned, dropping her head into her hands.
‘Yes, thanks, Jules,’ Nettie said with a withering stare. ‘I’m sure Jamie isn’t interested in my romantic history.’
‘Are you, Jamie?’ Jules asked wickedly.
‘He’s such a tosspot,’ Dan muttered with a frown, his eyes still on the spot where Alex had disappeared into the crowd. ‘I thought he moved to Camden, anyway?’
Nettie shrugged, cupping a hand round her half-pint. ‘Don’t know, don’t care.’
‘He probably thinks you’re going out together now,’ Jules laughed, reaching over and pushing Jamie on the arm.
‘What a thought,’ Jamie grinned, looking straight at Nettie with glittering eyes.
Nettie tried to smile back, but having Jamie Westlake tease her about the thought of them being together wasn’t an easy joke to shrug off.
Dan’s attention suddenly switched to what was happening at the table.
‘So how did the meeting go?’ Nettie asked, aware of how Dan’s eyes had narrowed slightly as he sipped his fresh beer and tuned in to the banter. ‘Did I miss much?’
‘Oh great, yeah. Jamie and Dave have got some really great ideas.’
‘It was a shame you weren’t there,’ Jamie said evenly. ‘You are, after all, the person who’s got to do everything with me.’
Dan’s eyes narrowed further still.
‘That’s why when Jules said she was hooking up with you here, I thought we should go over the plans. Hope you don’t mind?’
‘Of course not. What kind of things were you talking about?’
‘Tandem parachuting? I thought base-jumping off Nelson’s Column might be fun, but apparently you’re not good with heights . . .’
It was a moment before Nettie realized he was joking. ‘Oh my God! Bastard!’ she gasped, smacking him on the arm before she knew what she was doing.
She gasped again, her hands flying to her mouth. He probably had a contract somewhere that meant you couldn’t even make eye contact with him and had to curtsey when he passed, and she’d just called him a ‘bastard’ and assaulted him.
Jamie was laughing. ‘No? Too much? But I thought you were hard-core?’
‘So that’s what got your interest in the first place, was it, Jamie?’ Jules asked, leaning in interestedly. ‘You’re an adrenalin junkie?’
Jamie smiled. ‘Actually, one of the roadies showed it to me. They were all laughing over it. I expected to see some beefy bloke playing up to the crowds, so when she took off the rabbit head . . .’ He turned back to face Nettie. ‘You looked so tiny in there. I couldn’t believe it, this gorgeous girl looking so stunned. And you hadn’t done it on purpose? I couldn’t stop thinking about it . . .’ He shrugged. ‘You must have been so scared.’
Dan replaced his beer on the table with slightly too much force. Nettie was oblivious. He thought she was gorgeous? He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her?
‘Only then you went and did the Ice Bucket gag so I figured you couldn’t have been that scared.’
‘I only did it because you donated such a crazy amount of money to make it happen.’
He shrugged, his eyes pinning her in place. ‘Good cause. Besides, I couldn’t resist seeing you be mental again.’
‘Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not mental – I’m officially a chicken. Doing an ice cross course dressed as a bunny is not my idea of a good time. I can’t even ice-skate.’ She shook her head, resting her cheek in her hand. ‘It’s a miracle I lived to tell the tale.’
‘Seriously? You can’t skate?’ Jamie seemed astonished.
‘No,’ she shrugged, before catching sight of his expression. ‘Why?’ She felt suddenly self-conscious. ‘What? Loads of people can’t skate.’
Jamie looked at the others. ‘Can you?’
Jules, Dan and Stevie all nodded.
‘Not well,’ Stevie added.
Jamie looked back at her. ‘This is terrible. Everyone should be able to skate.’
‘Should they?’ Nettie asked sceptically.
‘Of course! Ice skating at Somerset House is one of the defining moments of a London Christmas.’
‘Well, I’ve never had Christmas anywhere but London and it’s never defined my Christmases,’ she said with a certain defiance.
‘Then we must rectify the situation while we still can.’ And he drained his pint in one go, earning himself admiring glances from the boys. He put the glass down and grabbed his jacket. ‘Come on.’ He looked at the others. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’
Jules, Dan and Stevie gawped back. Dan looked like he minded very much, heat colouring his cheeks.
‘What do you mean? Where are we going?’
‘To Somerset House, to teach you to skate.’
‘What, now? But it’s nine o’clock at night!’ she spluttered.
‘Exactly. It’s best at night. The lights are gorgeous.’
‘But by the time you get over there . . . even if it is still open, it’ll be fully booked,’ Jules said. ‘I know. I tried booking tickets a few weeks ago.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Jamie said, rising to standing and holding out a hand for Nettie.
She stared at it in amazement, like Alex had done a few minutes earlier, as though she’d never seen a hand before. ‘Well, are they coming?’ She indicated to the others.
‘They can all skate.’ Jamie smiled, calm and clearly in control.
Nettie blinked, her gaze drifting to the others, who were watching the scene with a mix of astonishment, bemusement and envy. Jules’s eyes, particularly, were dancing with delight, her mouth open.
‘Listen, you don’t have to go if you don’t want, Nets,’ Dan said, breaking the pause. ‘Remember we were all going to head back to mine after for another game?’
‘Game?’ Jamie asked.
‘Poker,’ Stevie said.
‘Strip poker, you mean,’ Jules laughed. ‘Honestly, you should’ve seen Nets. She was swaddled in about nine layers of Dan’s clothes last time. You must’ve been boiling.’
‘I was,’ Nettie giggled. ‘But at least it meant I didn’t lose!’
‘You play strip poker,’ Jamie said, almost to himself, watching her closely, laughter in his eyes.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Very badly.’
‘Excellent.’ His smile widened. ‘Well, I’m more than happy to play tag if those are your plans.’
There was a horrified silence, and Nettie could guess from the boys’ faces that the prospect of stripping down to their boxers in front of Jamie Westlake was as appealing to them as trying on a bikini next to Miranda Kerr would be to the girls.
‘Actually, that was just a one-off,’ Dan said quickly. ‘It wasn’t that good playing like that. Bit gimmicky. It’s much better actually focusing on the cards, you know?’
‘Eh?’ Stevie spluttered, coughing on his beer. ‘Listen, you weren’t saying that when Em sat on your lap in her undies.’
Jamie looked down at Nettie. ‘What do you want to do? I don’t want to get in the way of your plans, but I’m pretty busy the next few days; I don’t think I’ll get any more free time before Christmas, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if I just left you unable to skate.’
Nettie looked back at Jamie. His gaze was steady and warming. She felt like a flower opening up in a sunspot. Without a word, she raised her hand to his and he pulled her up.
‘See you tomorrow, then,’ Jules said with unconcealed excitement. ‘Have fun.’ Though she didn’t say the words out loud, her tone of voice implied the unspoken ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
Jamie nodded down at them all. ‘Good to meet you, guys. See you again soon, I hope.’ And putting his hand on the small of her back, he guided her quietly out of the pub, every single set of eyes upon them.