Picnics in Hyde Park

by Nikki Moore

  ‘You thought it was romantic?’

  ‘Um, yeah,’ she answered, ‘any girl would.’

  ‘Aren’t you angry with me about making you leave? And that I believed Stephen over Melody?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said bluntly, taking a step towards him, desperate to feel his strong arms wrapped around her now she knew how he felt. ‘And no. I was hurt and pissed off that you didn’t listen, but once I calmed down I could see how it must have looked. Do I think you should have given me more of a chance to explain myself? Yes. Can I blame you for feeling betrayed or mistrusting me? No. I said so at the time and like you said in the interview, people make mistakes. As for Stephen, I understand why as his brother you would want to believe him. Mel and I have talked about it. She doesn’t have an issue with you, only him. She gets it. I do too.’

  ‘Right,’ he nodded slowly.

  ‘So what did happen with Stephen? And how did you find out?’

  Matt shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘He popped up out of nowhere a week or so ago like he’d never been away and never worried me sick. When he saw the state I was in, he felt really guilty, got drunk one night and turned up on my doorstep at three in the morning. He started going on about loving Melody, rambling on about fucking it up and being scared,’ he took a deep breath, ‘and after a very painful hour, admitted to me he’d made the whole thing up because he was petrified of commitment and panicked. Would you believe it? He didn’t want to break up with Melody because he’d fallen for her but he couldn’t face the thought of settling down either. So he forced me to do his dirty work. He’s a coward. I guess if it was me that made her leave, he could fool himself it wasn’t his fault. He was miserable when he was away though and said he’d been a tosser. I didn’t disagree. He shocked me by apologising for being stupid, selfish and causing us all a lot of pain. To be honest I think he wants her back but knows he’s gone too far.’

  ‘He has. I honestly don’t think she could ever forgive him for it. God, what he did is really messed up,’ Zoe muttered, wondering if it would be a good idea or a bad one for Mel to know that what had been an awful thing for Stephen to do had been fear borne out of the strongest emotion of all. Love. ‘So what did you say to him?’

  ‘I was too furious to say anything. I rang a taxi to take him back to his place in Chelsea and haven’t spoken to him since. It’s been a week. He’s left a few messages but hasn’t worked up the courage to come round yet.’

  ‘What will you do when he does?’

  ‘I don’t know. All I know is that I’m so, so sorry for what I did to Melody.’ He pushed his hands through his dark hair, looking wretched. ‘I got it wrong and feel awful. I really want to talk to her, to try and make amends. At the very least she should get some notice and holiday pay, right? I need to see her. Would that be okay, do you think?’

  ‘I think it’s too late for that, Matt.’

  ‘Really? Shit. She hates me.’

  ‘No, she doesn’t,’ she reassured him. ‘She’s gone travelling for a few months. But I’ll happily let her know you’d like to see her when she gets back. Whatever happens after that is between the two of you, okay?’

  ‘Yes. I’d appreciate that, thanks.’ He hesitated. ‘What do you think I should do about Stephen?’

  Shrugging, she edged closer to him. ‘I’m not sure. If you’re looking for me to tell you never to see him again, never to forgive him, I won’t. Firstly, because it’s not my place to or my decision to make, and secondly because as much as he broke my sister’s heart and I’ll have a hard time reconciling that, life is too short to shut people out of it forever. I think it’s like we agreed once when we were talking about us. You take it one day at a time, and see how you feel.’

  ‘Sometimes that’s not the right thing to do, though,’ he answered, striding forward and finally scooping her up in his arms. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her neck, her mouth as she laughed. ‘Sometimes you don’t take it one day at a time,’ he continued, ‘because when you’ve found something that might last forever, you want to commit to it, make it yours. You never know what might happen or when it might be taken away.’

  From the look on his face, Zoe could tell Matt was thinking about Helen. About how precarious and precious life was. ‘Say it then,’ she ordered.

  ‘Say what?’ he pulled a puzzled face, before burying his head in her neck and whispering, ‘you smell so good. I’ve missed you so much.’

  ‘Me too. Now say you love me.’

  Lifting his head, he smiled down at her. ‘I love you. I’m sorry I doubted you. When I read that other article you wrote and spoke to Rayne, I knew I was wrong. You never would have done that to us. Do you love me?’ he demanded. ‘Is that why you came?’

  ‘Yes. As well as the fact that you still owe me an ice-cream.’ She yelped when he pinched her bum. ‘Okay, I love you too,’ her lips curved, knowing it was the improbable, wonderful truth. She thought about the redraft of the kiss and tell story left on his pillow.

  The Truth About Matt Reilly

  There are many truths about Matt Reilly, infamous music producer. He is rich and doesn’t mind spending his money on expensive cars. But he is also generous towards other people and thinks about their needs. He doesn’t have many friends because he doesn’t trust the people around him, but he is fiercely loyal to those he does have and their happiness is important to him. He is hard working and driven to be a positive role model for his children, and though this can mean he is distant and works long hours, you can’t doubt his love for them. He gives himself a hard time when he shouldn’t, but doesn’t always hold a mirror up to himself when he should. He is funny, caring and an all-round nice guy with firm principles. The truth is, though he might not realise it, he is imminently lovable.

  The question is, will he let himself be loved?

  ‘So you’ll come back to mine? You’ll be the kid’s nanny again?’ Stroking her hair off her face, Matt tucked it tenderly behind her ear.

  She turned into his touch, revelling in it, feeling safe and loved. ‘No. I won’t be their nanny again.’

  ‘What? Why?’ he dropped his hand, confusion and distress creasing his face up.

  She held a hand up to his stubbly cheek, delighting in the rasp of his whiskers. ‘They don’t really need me in that way now if they’re both settled at school. But we’ll tell them I’m their nanny and I’ll move back into my old rooms until we’re ready and they’re ready for it to be more, if you want that?’ She smiled at the relief on his face as he nodded emphatically. ‘I’ll do the school runs and help with homework in the evenings, but I’ll be doing it because I want to, not for pay. And we’ll redecorate their rooms together. While they’re at school I’ll be pursuing other career options. How does that sound?’

  ‘That sounds perfect,’ he hugged her close, laying his chin on top of her head and breathing in deeply. ‘Let’s do it.’ Leaning back, he stared down at her. ‘So what other options are you thinking of?

  ‘I have some money put away, so I was thinking of training to be a counsellor. What do you think?’ she held her breath, dreading the idea that he might laugh at her as Greg would have done.

  ‘I think you’d be brilliant at it. I also think that whatever you want to do, I’m a hundred per cent behind you.’

  ‘Thank you. That means a lot,’ she grinned, knowing she’d found someone lovely. Someone who would always support her dreams. Someone who would always help her reach for the stars in the summer sky.

  ‘Zoe! Zoe!’ Jasper’s excited cry greeted her at the same time as two extra pairs of arms did.

  ‘Zoe,’ Aimee’s more sensible voice piped up. ‘You’re here.’

  Zoe shrieked at the dampness seeping through her top. ‘Jasper, you’re soaking.’

  ‘Sorry,’ the little boy said sheepishly, moving back slightly.

  Aimee shook her head at her brother, ponytail swishing. ‘You’ll make her leave again,’ she tutted.

  ‘Its fine,’ Zoe re
assured, hungrily taking in their adorable faces. ‘I have missed you guys so much.’ She looked at Matt, who nodded and mouthed home. ‘I’m sorry I left but I’m not going anywhere. I’m back. How do you feel about that?’

  Jasper let out a, ‘Yay!’ and delivered an air punch, while his sister gave a more sedate but equally enthusiastic nod.

  ‘Great. What about a little rest before we have ice-cream? I don’t know about you, but I’m a bit tired.’

  ‘Kay,’ Jasper dropped to the blanket, followed by Aimee. They both looked expectantly at their dad.

  ‘I guess I’m the lucky one who gets to go underneath,’ he said with a raised eyebrow, appearing far from horrified by the idea, green eyes warm and full of affection.

  She winked at him, love swelling her heart and her chest. She was back where she belonged. ‘I guess you do. If you’re really lucky we can do that tonight too,’ she said suggestively under her breath.

  Without hesitation he lay down and waited for them to clamber over him and get comfortable.

  Zoe grinned widely as she lay down and rested her head on Matt’s flat stomach, her arms around his adorable but complicated children as they snuggled into both adults.

  For the first time in a long time, she was hopeful that she would get her happily ever after. She was also certain that for many years to come they would enjoy picnics in beautiful, leafy Hyde Park.

  Bonus Material

  If you enjoyed Picnics in Hyde Park, see where the #LoveLondon series began and read Holly and Noel’s story in Skating at Somerset House…

  Skating at Somerset House

  Noel Summerford hated Christmas.

  The intense, harried craziness drove him half nuts every year. The pressure to buy everyone presents they didn't want and would never use. Shoving, rippling crowds on the streets forgetting their manners, desperate to cross every item off their shopping lists. People parting with their hard earned cash at rip-off prices that would reduce to near zero as soon as it hit Boxing Day. Endless turkey dinners with dry overcooked white meat, lashings of sickly cranberry sauce and stodgy stuffing. Unwanted, twee greetings cards with their cutesy reindeer or Santa cartoons. Cheesy, artificial music piped into every shop for months, seasonal tunes playing on every radio station until he thought his ears would bleed, especially as the girls in the office insisted on turning the music up to near deafening volumes. His female colleagues wearing silver bauble earrings and pressuring the men to dress in novelty ties and festive knitted jumpers made him grind his teeth, but worse was how they clambered up on desks in ridiculously high heels to hang decorations from the beige walls and white-tiled ceiling. It was an annual health and safety nightmare, given that he was the Corporate H&S Officer for a high-street retail giant.

  Yes, Christmas was definitely his least favourite time of the year, and his preference would be to hide in his man-cave for the whole of December. He therefore couldn't think of anything worse than ice skating – or in his case falling on his arse countless, humiliating times – at Somerset House. It was London's favourite outdoor ice rink according to The Evening Standard magazine, or so Matt had informed him. He could admit that the main sandstone neoclassical building, set in a square shape around the central courtyard, was quite impressive with its graceful columns, Victorian style black lampposts, mini white-encrusted trees in massive gold leaf pots and grand entrances on the Strand and the Embankment. Right now that was contrasted against the modern single-storey, white-framed, temporary buildings that housed Tom's Skate Lounge, the Cloakrooms/Box Office and main skate entrance. Mint green and teal SKATE posters were displayed prominently and matching Fortnum & Mason flags flapped in the winter breeze. You couldn't deny there was a great buzz to the place with all the noisy, excitable visitors chattering and skating, both locals and tourists from the sounds of it. But Noel was a disaster on the ice, and the giant Christmas tree in a huge wicker hamper was overdecorated and overdone… as well as a sharp reminder it was only a few days until the dreaded C-day. There was no escaping it.

  Leaning up against the transparent waist-high wall guarding the rink, taking a much needed break from skating, he shivered and shifted from one foot to another. Cold vapour formed in a puffy cloud in front of his face as he exhaled. It was seriously bitter today. He checked the watch that'd belonged to his grandfather; rectangular face, brown leather strap, built to last. It was three in the afternoon, so it was only going to get colder and bleaker. Although, if he froze to death, at least it would be a merciful release from this ice-encrusted hell. This was the last time he was doing a favour for a friend. Not that refusing had really been an option, given the favour was to carry out perfectly reasonable god-fatherly duties for Jasper, whose dad Matt was Noel's best friend.

  Teeth chattering, as he watched people - including Jasper - whizz around the ice, he decided he was going abroad for Christmas next year. Somewhere he could sit on a beach, dewy beer bottle in hand and read a crime thriller while soaking up the sun's rays. Because even though he was wrapped up in black jeans, a long sleeved top, thick green jumper, woollen winter coat, scarf, thermal lined gloves and a beanie hat pulled right down to cover his hair, he was still bloody freezing.

  As if the weather wasn't bad enough, every time he got on the rink four year old Jasper skated rings around him. It was embarrassing to be a thirty year old guy with no sense of coordination who couldn't push away from the wall, stop, or glide along the blindingly white ice without falling over … but it was mortifying that Jasper, who'd only skated once before (or so he claimed) was showing Noel up with such natural talent. Already having taught himself to do some kind of spinning stop, he was currently attempting to skate backwards, forcing his heels together then apart in curved S shapes. The kid had absolutely no fear, throwing his little body around like it couldn't be bent or broken. But that was kids for you. They were resilient little things, unlike some adults.

  No. Not today. There were other things to worry about, like looking after Jasper, which was why he'd fought the temptation to dive into the Skate Lounge with its windows overlooking the rink and rainbow coloured assortment of round paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and was staying put. He should probably get Jasper to calm down a bit, stop with the tricks and skate in nice sensible circles holding Noel's hand instead. That was what the H&S part of him would do with a potentially dangerous activity; minimise the risk. Except:-

  a) the kid probably wouldn't listen to a word he said,

  b) Jasper was always on the verge of hyperactivity so it made sense to tire him out,

  and most importantly,

  c) it was probably safer for Jasper not to hold his hand.

  The little tyke came hurtling towards him in an expensive blue ski suit, stopping with a scrape and spraying ice up into Noel's face.

  'Jasper!' he snapped, scowling and scrubbing the sharp ice crystals off with his gloves.

  The boy's round-cheeked face fell, eyes widening. Noel sighed, feeling like a complete bastard. It wasn't cool to upset Jasper, just because he wasn't enjoying himself. Besides, he was genuinely fond of the little whirlwind and loved being his godfather.

  'Never mind,' he joked, forcing a grin and stretching over the wall to straighten Jasper's hat, 'it's only a bit of ice. I was getting bored anyway, needed something to wake me up!' Rolling his eyes in an exaggerated cartoon character way, he crossed then uncrossed them, making the boy giggle. 'How's it going? Enjoying yourself? You're doing some good stuff out there, Jay.'

  'Uh-huh,' Jasper nodded, dark head bopping up and down like the dog in the insurance ads, 'it's really, really awesome. But it would be better if you were skating with me '’ncle Noel.' He beamed, showing a gap where his two front teeth should be, reminding Noel of the carol, All I Want For Christmas…

  The hope that Jasper might be ready to go after nearly three hours of skating died, and the boy's expression became pleading as Noel fell silent. The rest of the day would be spent with a storm cloud of guilt hanging over hi
s head if he said no. Jasper had been bugging Matt about skating at Somerset House for months, ever since one of his friends had mentioned going the year before.

  Time to do his duty. Careful to keep the dread off his face, Noel nodded. 'Sure, I'll give it another go.' My seventh one today. 'Be right there.' He clomped through the skate entrance building and stepped on to the ice. Clutching the wall for support, trying to balance on the metal blades - stupidly risky if you asked him, who would think to put knives on a pair of boots? - he pulled himself over to his godson, sure his knuckles were not just white but positively glowing beneath his gloves. Perhaps he could manage a circuit without making an idiot of himself this time.

  Nodding at Jasper, 'Come on then,' he smiled bravely and carefully pushed off from the side. Walking/wobbling more than actually skating, arms extended like a pair of crippled wings, knees shaking, doubt flashed through his head. There's a snowball's chance in hell of me not landing on my arse again.

  Holly Winterlake loved Christmas.

  The chaotic, festive madness of it all thrilled her every year. The delight of spinning and dodging around people in shops to grab the best bargain to cross off her gift list, bought with her Christmas slush fund which she saved up towards monthly. Scrumptious turkey dinners with moist white meat, lashings of fruity cranberry sauce and fragrant, tasty stuffing, not to mention crispy butter-slathered roast potatoes. Exchanging cheery greetings cards featuring cutesy snowmen or North Pole cartoons, watching the assorted envelopes dropping onto her parents' doormat every morning. The jingling, jingly, upbeat tunes playing everywhere to get everybody into the Christmas spirit, which she turned up to maximum volume on the radio while she and her mum bopped around the breakfast table each morning. Having the perfect excuse to wear her favourite tiny silver snowman earrings. Hanging the circular red berry foliage wreath on the front door, set off perfectly by the green ivy twined around a wire topiary frame. The optimistic pining for snow and a white Christmas. Catching the tube with her mum's favourite metal tray if it did snow (more fun than a sleigh because you had to cram your legs onto it, tuck your chin into your knees and hope for the best) to slide down a steep Hampstead Heath hill.