London, Can You Wait?

by Jacquelyn Middleton

  “Wow! It’s SO beautiful!” She climbed on the Vespa. “This is definitely my new favourite.”

  Photos happily snapped, they drove past Tiffany and Chanel and down a few side streets until they were zooming up The Mall with Buckingham Palace at their backs and Admiralty Arch and Trafalgar Square beckoning ahead.

  Alex fondly remembered this route from their first date: their Vespa ride around London and the two hours they had spent in the sun, lounging on the green and white striped deckchairs in St. James’s Park. An excited flutter tickled her stomach, just like it had almost three and a half years ago. She squeezed Mark’s waist, prompting him to turn his head slightly, acknowledging the relevance of their whereabouts. That hazy June day they shared stories, ‘took the piss’ out of each other, and began a friendship that would blossom into the kind of love Alex had only read about in books.

  Cheese sandwiches…rollercoasters…the photos and texts that had followed an hour later—Mark’s words: “London is definitely better with you in it”…

  Passing under Admiralty Arch, the wheels of the Vespa jolted over a pothole, bouncing the happy memories from Alex’s mind. Her soft gaze snapped into sharp focus.

  Except for a few lights illuminating the fountains, Trafalgar Square and its four bronze lions were plunged into almost complete darkness. A huge Christmas tree stood in the centre of the public space, but no lights dazzled from its boughs. Only a shadow of Alex’s smile remained. Mark slowed his bike and parked by the curb.

  She laid her chin on his shoulder. “Booo! Didn’t Traf Square get the invite? They’re totally late to the Christmas party.”

  Mark turned his head. “Now that I think of it…these lights get switched on after the others. We’re probably early by a week. Sorry, Mouse.”

  “It’s okay.” She laughed. “Gives me a reason to come back when they’re lit.” She lightly pressed her lips together. “So…home, then?”

  “Tell you what…I know a pretty place you’ll like, but it’s a bit of a drive.” He winked. “Hold tight?”

  Alex perked up. “Holding tight!”

  Mark retraced their journey, flying through Admiralty Arch and back down The Mall. Passing Buckingham Palace, he veered off in a different direction, joining Park Lane as it stretched north along the east side of Hyde Park.

  Alex spotted the Animals in War Memorial, a beautiful bronze sculpture including two mules, a horse, and a dog, but Mark zoomed by so fast, she barely had time to blow the pup a kiss. Watching it disappear over her shoulder, she faced forward for the drive along the north side of Hyde Park. She cuddled into him, clasping his waist tighter as she laid her head on his shoulder.

  After a few minutes and several traffic lights, Mark reduced his speed. Alex took it as a hint that they were near his intended destination.

  Mark tilted his head back. “Welcome to Notting Hill, Lex!”

  Alex knew the name but wasn’t familiar with the area at all, so rolling along its posh streets was a welcome adventure. Twinkling fairy lights blinked from the windows of candy-coloured terrace houses and quaint shops peddling on-trend jewellery and clothes.

  As the Vespa slowed, a flapping black and white awning above a large shop window on her right stole her breath—Biscuiteers! The café famous for its exquisite hand-iced cookies, like the heart and bird-shaped treats Mark had bought for their second anniversary. So sweet…he must have remembered me saying I wanted to visit!

  He parked along the curb and pulled off his helmet, his hair pointing in all directions. He peered over his shoulder with a mischievous smile, looking ridiculously adorable.

  “You did good, babe! I could murder some cookies.” Alex eased her leg over the scooter and gasped at the festive window display of a gingerbread Santa riding a whimsical cookie train around a colourful—and edible—North Pole.

  “It’s adorable! The website doesn’t do it justice. Let’s go inside!” She bounced over to the door. “Oh, noooo! It’s closed…shut at six.”

  “Yeah, for everyone else. I arranged extended hours—just for us.” He waved at the woman inside, who promptly opened the door. “Hey, Evie, thanks so much.”

  The smiley brunette nodded. “Great to meet you, Mark. Please come in.”

  He gestured for Alex to enter first and followed close behind. The shop manager quickly locked the door, preventing the Frank Sinatra holiday classic crooning through their speakers from escaping on the evening breeze.

  Alex’s wide eyes darted from the blue and white tissue flowers and snowflakes dangling from the ceiling…to the red bows and fairy lights hanging from the framed mirrors in the seating nook…to the twinkling lights hugging the tree. This café didn’t just do Christmas; it was Christmas. The disappointing dark tree in Trafalgar Square was already forgotten.

  “Evie, this is my girlfriend, Alex.”

  “Welcome to Biscuiteers, Alex.” The manager grinned. “Please make yourself at home. We have some treats and hot chocolate with marshmallows prepared for you on the table, and if you need anything, I’ll be downstairs. I’ll leave you to enjoy.”

  “Thank you!” Alex’s eyes flew around the boutique, its vintage feel welcoming and warm and inviting her to explore. So much pretty. “Where to look first?”

  Mark laughed and kissed her on the temple. “Take your time.”

  Phone raised, she left Mark’s side and began photographing the beautiful gingerbread houses. Next were the cute snowmen, reindeer, and ice skate biscuits.

  She pointed to a familiar blue, green, and pink lovebird anniversary tin. “Mark, maybe we could get this one again? Enjoy them together in front of the TV…?”

  “Absolutely.” He smiled.

  She skipped back to him, her eyes dancing with delight. “This place is my new Christmas favourite.” She turned away and snapped a few more shots of snowflake biscuits. “It’s a dream come true.”

  Festive Frank gave way to a sweet ballad on the shop’s speakers. It wasn’t Christmassy, it was old…and familiar…

  Alex spun around. “Mark, isn’t this that song—”

  Mark was down on one knee…arm outstretched…an opened velvet box in his hand with a dazzling diamond ring, sparkling under the shop’s vintage chandeliers. His eyes barely blinked, brimming with excitement and hope.

  She gasped. Oh. My. God. He’s doing it…! Her hands rushed to her mouth. “Mark!”

  He took a deep breath. “Lex, I’m just an actor who reads other people’s words. Most of the time, I don’t know what to say without a script…but tonight, the words are all mine.”

  Tears began to glisten in her eyes.

  “I never thought I could love someone as much as I love you, Mouse. No matter where I am, what I do, you’re always in my heart.” Mark’s smile grew. “You’re the writer, darling girl. So, I’m hoping you’ll help me write a new story—the story of us. Alex Sinclair, will you hop on, hold tight, and enjoy the ride with me…for as long as we both shall live?”

  “Yes!” Alex beamed through her tears. “The answer’s always yes!”

  Mark laughed. “That’s my line, Mouse!” Tears shone in his eyes as he stood up, and he barely made it to his feet before Alex lunged to squeeze and kiss him.

  “Not so fast.” He licked his lips and removed the ring from the box. “May I?”

  Alex, face wet with tears of joy, gave Mark her left hand.

  “Lex, this is Mum’s ring, the one Dad gave her when he proposed…”

  He slipped on the white gold band with its pretty half-carat diamond. The brilliant gemstone, along with two delicate Celtic love knots hugging it on either side, caught the Christmas tree’s fairy lights and glittered on her finger.

  Alex had imagined so many times what this moment might feel like, but nothing had prepared her for this joyous reality. The exquisite ring, the beautiful setting, and Mark’s cheeky, committed grin were perfection. Sometimes real life is even better than your dreams…

  “It’s engraved with the title of Dad�
�s favourite song—it’s about living in the moment with the girl you love.”

  Tears cascaded down her cheeks as she stared at her hand…lost for breath, lost for words. She pulled the ring from her finger.

  Mark’s shoulders deflated slightly. “Or I can get you something bigger, something new…”

  Her eyes pored over the dainty engraving—Here, There and Everywhere—the Beatles song, the one Mark loved, the one playing right then. Alex’s heart melted…the classic ballad, adored by his beloved father, would forever be part of their own story now. So romantic, so perfect…so Mark.

  Alex returned the ring to her finger and grabbed his hand in a squeeze. “It’s stunning! It’s exactly what I hoped for. Thank you!” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  A relieved laugh broke through Mark’s lips. “Really? You love it?”

  “I do. I love it!” She wiped her eyes. “And I love you!”

  “Ah, my darling girl.” He picked her up and whirled her around, careful not to topple the Christmas tree. “I could kiss you forever! I’m never gonna let you go.”

  “Tried that once—never again!” Alex held her fiancé tightly.

  Mark set her feet back on the floor, but Alex still felt like she was flying. The gorgeous stranger who’d caught her eye over four years ago in the lobby of the Royal Court Theatre was hers. The ups and downs of their flirtation around London, months dating and living together, the separations for work, even their breakup—all worth it.

  In that moment, Alex knew: the paths they had taken, though heartbreaking at times, had brought them closer than ever before—stood here tonight in Christmas heaven with Niamh’s beautiful ring on her finger…

  She pressed her mouth to Mark’s, gently separating his lips with her tongue, their first proper kiss as an engaged couple. It was loving, tender, unhurried, and—perfect. They had shared thousands of kisses, but this one sealed the promise of a million more to come.

  Here, there and everywhere.

  Acknowledgements

  I would never have become a writer if it weren’t for my mum. That colouring book story of Lucy’s? Yeah, that’s really mine. Mum wanted my sister and I to draw and write, to express ourselves without being penned in by lines or perimeters. Mum, I want to make you proud, even if you’re not here to hold my books or give me hugs. In every story, there’s so much of you that lives on. Love you, always.

  To my husband, Darren…you bounce ideas around with me, read hundreds of drafts, and come up with the best names for Mark’s TV shows and movies. When I’m doubting myself, you never do…you bring me hot chocolate and urge me to keep going. Love you, my BritBoy.

  My sister Heather, my bezzie mate and the only person I want dancing by my side at a Duran Duran concert. Plus, she’s a kickass artist—I love you!

  To Zoey—the best dog ever. She understands the word ‘work’ and tries to prevent me from doing it every day, but her smiley face and beetle bum own my heart—always.

  Big hugs to my family and friends: Bill and Tobey; Dad (miss you); Val, Tony, Jason, and Therasa; Sally, Bruce, Lily and Tiki; Esther and Danielle; Gabrielle; Sheila; Maria; Popie; Susan; Michal; and Helen.

  Big love to Emily, Vicki, Charlotte, Renate, and Cristina—friendships that began online across miles, borders, and oceans. You are the Lucys to my Alex, in more ways than one.

  Yasmin! Thank you SO much for my LBTM collage and your writing feedback.

  Special thanks to my beta readers who kicked me in the pants and shook up the London, Can You Wait? universe when I needed it most.

  Seamus and Paula, cheers for your Dublin help, and for taking me to the Stag’s Head after Andrew’s play.

  Amy! Thanks for answering my questions about your experiences in London theatre and sharing crazy fan stories.

  My amazing editor Caitlin (Editing by C. Marie) rocks! Thank you for your detailed eye and expertise in making LCYW polished.

  Crystal Patriarche and BookSparks, thank you for your expertise promoting the heck out of my books to US and Canadian media.

  Don’t mind me while I fangirl over my fellow authors: cheers to Andrea Dunlop, the first author to graciously provide me with a fantastic book blurb; big hugs to Kristin Contino and Nicole Trilivas for their friendship and for loving London just as much as I do; and, to Colleen Hoover…thanks to you and Stephanie for featuring LBTM on Instagram. There aren’t enough heart-eyed emojis in the world to express my gratitude to each of you.

  Cheers to Teenage Cancer Trust and Biscuiteers for assistance with story details.

  I’m a big nerd, so big love to La La Land—for keeping me sane this past winter, and for celebrating dreamers like myself.

  To all the bloggers, BookTubers, and Bookstagrammers who championed LBTM and LCYW…I’m so grateful for your supportive reviews, in-depth videos, and gorgeous book photos.

  And most importantly, I must thank all the book lovers who purchased and read London Belongs to Me and London, Can You Wait? and lovingly took Alex, Mark, and the gang into their hearts. You guys make it all worthwhile—thank you! Keeganites Unite! xoxo

  Glossary

  Some people, places, or things mentioned in London, Can You Wait might not be familiar to all readers. Here are a few helpful explanations:

  Ben Whishaw: BAFTA-winning English actor famous for his roles in the Bond franchise (Skyfall and Spectre), Hamlet, London Spy, and Paddington (Ben’s the bear’s voice). “Whishy” is also Alex Sinclair’s favourite thespian—besides Mark Keegan, of course!

  Dramaturg: A dramaturg collaborates with a playwright, bringing creative input and an objective eye to their work. Think of how an editor would work with an author, and you’ve got the idea.

  Attachment: An attachment is an invite-only, short-term arrangement (ranging from two weeks to several months) between a playwright and a theatre. An attachment gives the playwright a desk, computer, and phone at the theatre. While there, the playwright writes and explores ideas, builds relationships with theatre colleagues, and takes advantage of the professional support available. The playwright is under no obligation to present a finished play to the theatre after their attachment, and the theatre doesn’t have to produce whatever work the writer creates. The playwright usually receives a small fee.

  National Theatre: The National Theatre is one of the most respected and popular theatres in the world. Its imposing cement headquarters on the South Bank is home to three theatres: the Olivier, seating 1,100; the Lyttelton, with its 900 seats; and the 450-seat Dorfman. It also offers several bars (including the Long Bar where Mark and Naomi worked in London Belongs to Me), restaurants, and a cosy café called Kitchen (Yes, that one featured in LBTM).

  Mitching: Irish slang for skipping class. (Thanks, Seamus!)

  Cyberman: A robotic villain in Doctor Who. (Lucy’s Cyberman tattoo is based on a colourful, real-life design I spotted on a woman’s arm at a 2014 con in Chicago. We chatted before John Barrowman’s panel, and I’m still kicking myself that I didn’t get her contact details!)

  Swing: A performer in musical theatre who learns several ensemble roles so they can fill in at a moment’s notice when an actor is sick or unavailable.

  Time Out magazine: Free, weekly London magazine featuring articles and listings for the best in food and drink, entertainment, movies, and events in the city.

  TARDIS: The famous blue phone box featured in Doctor Who. The Doctor and his companions use the TARDIS to travel through time. TARDIS stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space.

  Minger: An unattractive (or fugly) person.

  Olivier Award: The most prestigious theatre award in the UK. Basically, the British equivalent of a Tony Award. (And yes, Alex is right—it would make a handy weapon!)

  ADR: Stands for automated dialogue replacement. Sometimes an actor’s dialogue in a TV show or movie has to be rerecorded if the background sounds are too noisy, or the lines cannot be understood on the original recording. The actor gets called into a recording b
ooth to perform the lines, which are then ‘looped’ to match the movement of his/her lips on the screen.

  Burying the lede: Journalism speak for failing to start an article with the most important part of the story first.

  Pulp/Jarvis Cocker: Some may argue, but I think Pulp are the best band EVER to come out of Sheffield, England (Apologies to Lucy! As per LBTM, she adores the Arctic Monkeys). Jarvis Cocker is their nerdy, charismatic lead singer, famous for his eyeglasses, dry wit, and invading the stage during Michael Jackson’s 1996 Brit Awards appearance. (Seriously, YouTube it!)

  Mental Health Resources

  If you or someone you know suffers from anxiety or panic attacks, help is available:

  United States

  Anxiety and Depression Association of America–www.adaa.org

  Canada

  Canadian Mental Health Association–www.cmha.ca

  United Kingdom

  Anxiety UK–www.anxietyuk.org.uk

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