Christmas on Primrose Hill

by Karen Swan

  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 i
mplied 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.

  Chapter Twelve

  They sped through London like city sprites, his moped weaving easily through the heavy traffic, her grip round him so tight that her arms ached. It had been a shock to see his bike parked outside the pub – she had expected a chauffeured car, or at the very least that he’d hail a cab; she would have been less surprised to find a chopper on the roof than the Vespa, but she understood it now – the full, tinted visors on the helmets were an effective disguise, and as the bright lights gleamed on them, he moved through the city easily, hidden in plain sight.

  Her cheek had to rest against his shoulder; there was nowhere else to put it – looking over his shoulder was too scary – and she tried to calm herself as they cut through the dark. If she’d thought sharing a stage or sharing a pint with him was overwhelming, riding pillion on his bike, her arms and legs round him, was almost enough to stop her heart. She could feel his muscles tighten as he angled the bike round cars and corners, the bass of his voice as he muttered at cyclists getting in the way, reckless drivers not seeing or caring that he was there. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of their faces, should any of them be so stupid as to knock him off and see who they’d cut up.

  And what was going to happen when they got to where they were going? Were they really even going to Somerset House? Or had that just been an excuse, a cover story to peel her away from the others and get her alone? Because she had no doubts that he was chasing her. Every look he gave her – since that first moment at the premiere in Leicester Square – confirmed that the heat between them wasn’t imagined. He felt it; she felt it. The difference was, he probably did this every night of the week, pursuing every girl who took his fancy – and who would say no to him?

  She knew she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Her head told her one thing, her body quite another. Her blood felt sparkling, bubbles of excitement fizzing down her limbs, flushing her cheeks, quickening her breath.