Christmas on Primrose Hill

by Karen Swan

  Jamie was laughing too. She could see his shoulders shaking as he played and she shook it all out, burned it all off, and everything that had gone wrong between them – the confusions and misunderstandings, unspoken explanations and soured passions – melted away so that it was just them, in this moment, on stage in front of all these people.

  But four minutes was all she got of that freedom. Four minutes and it was all over and she was left remembering what he’d said as she lay on her back, panting on the stage of the O2 arena, with 20,000 people shouting her name.

  Jamie offered a hand and she let him pull her up, her flinch not visible beneath the costume as he put his arm round her shoulder, flashbulbs going off as their partnership was cemented. The crowd was going wild and she wriggled out from under his arm, running from one end of the stage to the other.

  Jamie walked over to the microphone and picked it up from the stand again.

  ‘I guess you’re all pretty fond of my new friend, huh?’ he asked the crowd.

  Cue frenzy. Nettie punched the air delightedly and did a little jig.

  ‘Yeah, me too.’

  She ran to Gus and hugged him. The crowd whooped. She ran round to the back of the stage and hugged Jimmy. The crowd roared.

  As she went to leave him, she picked up Jimmy’s water bottle, the one he kept beside his drums, ready for his pièce de résistance in the next song. Fanning herself with one of her paws, she ran to the front of the stage again. She could see Coco standing in the wing, waiting to come on for her duet, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

  Jamie was watching on, bemused – but also now confused. She was supposed to have left the stage after the shake. ‘London, give it up for my good friend Blue Bunny Girl!’ Jamie shouted into the mic as she came to stand in front of him, waving to the crowd with her left hand.

  As the crowd gave her another roar of appreciation, she mimed surprise, flinging both arms up like a gun was being pointed at her, the water in the bottle flying backwards in a perfect arc. It landed on Jamie in an almost solid heap, the noise from the crowd cutting out like the National Grid had been unplugged.

  But only for a second.

  In the next instant, they lifted the roof, cheering and screaming and whooping, whistling and clapping as Nettie pulled a pose and bounded happily off the stage to where Jules was standing, open-mouthed.

  ‘Oh my God!’ she hollered. ‘Nettie, what did you do?’

  ‘You should know, Jules. It’s your favourite – “hashtag Blakeing”,’ Nettie laughed, disappearing into the shadows with a victor’s strut.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘Right, well, today’s off,’ Mike said in his tetchiest voice, walking into the conference room. Caro hastily took her feet off the table.

  ‘Off? What do you mean, off?’ Daisy asked, watching as he irritably threw his paperwork down on the desk.

  ‘Jamie’s refusing to show. Says he wants no further involvement after last night’s humiliation.’

  ‘Oh, come on!’ Nettie said, swinging defiantly in her chair, her hands on the armrests. She still felt high from last night’s win. Groupie? Ha! ‘How was it humiliation? It’s one of the memes.’

  ‘Which he knew nothing about! It would have been a courtesy if you could have kept him – no, all of us, in fact – informed!’

  Nettie tutted. ‘He needs to grow a sense of humour,’ she muttered.

  ‘He was wearing a mic pack, Nettie! It blew an entire circuit when the water hit him.’

  Nettie tried to look serious, but the laughter wanted to burst out of her like, well, water from a dam. The thought of blowing the electrics at the O2 was too much.

  Another memory of working the crowd last night rippled through her and she smiled to herself.

  ‘It’s not funny!’ Mike said, seeing the way her eyes danced.

  There was a pause.

  ‘It kind of was,’ Daisy said, clearly also trying to swallow down her laughter.

  ‘Yeah, and the Interweb’s gone fricking mad for it,’ Caro added, nodding vigorously and chewing her gum in tempo.

  ‘Language, please, Caro,’ Mike sighed. ‘We’re not on the streets in here.’

  ‘Do you want to hear the stats?’ she asked, one eyebrow cocked.

  Mike, resting his weary head in one hand, gestured for her to continue.

  ‘Twitter retweets for last night: three point two million . . .’

  Every single one of them gasped, Mike sitting as upright as if he’d been pulled up on strings.

  ‘Twitter likes: also three point two million. Total Twitter followers: three point four million. YouTube views for this link’ – at this point, she took a breath – ‘five point seven million.’

  Mike closed his eyes and pulled a fist, whispering, ‘Yesss,’ under his breath.

  ‘And total donations to Tested as of nine o’clock this morning: one . . .’ She dared to breathe again, making them all groan.

  ‘Spit it out!’ Daisy harried her. But Caro just smiled.

  ‘One million, three hundred and seventy-four thousand, eight hundred and twenty-two pounds and’ – she held a finger in the air – ‘thirteen pence.’

  ‘Oh my God! We broke a million?’ Daisy yelled.

  ‘And then some!’ Jules hollered, jumping to her feet, along with Caro and Daisy, and running round the room and waving her arms in the air. Even Mike was joining in the group hugs. They were making so much noise, Nettie noticed the people in the events management agency across the road staring in at them.

  Jules dragged her to standing, throwing her arms round her neck. ‘You do my head in! Do you know that?’

  ‘I told you it’d be the biggest one yet,’ Nettie yelled as Jules clasped her arms and they skipped round in a circle.

  ‘We freaking rule!’ Caro yelled.

  ‘Let’s get drunk!’ Daisy cried, punching the air delightedly. ‘I know someone at the—’

  ‘Ladies, ladies.’ Mike came swiftly to his senses. ‘While I applaud the sentiment, it is only ten a.m. and I’m afraid we still have work to do.’ He sat down in his seat again and waited for the girls to do the same.

  The excitement fizzled out of them like air from a punctured ball as they dropped back into their seats, chewing on the ends of biros and drumming their nails as they took in Mike’s subdued demeanour.

  ‘The fact remains that we now have a problem. As successful and funny as last night’s skit was, we’re screwed without Jamie. We were doing well before him, but it’s the two of you combined that’s given this campaign a whole new platform. You’re a dream together, a marketing power couple.’

  ‘You’re the new Beckhams,’ Jules teased, giving her a wink.

  ‘It’s gone global, Nettie,’ Mike said sternly, trying to establish a sensible tone. ‘Or at least it had. The song vote had the potential to break us out to yet another level. Internet traffic was our highest yet yesterday. “Hashtag team-jamie” and “hashtag teambunny” were the top trends on Twitter, and actually, after the prank last night, you’re in the lead, Nettie, for the song.’

  ‘But no one’s even heard it yet!’ she half laughed. This was crazy.

  He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t seem to matter. They just love you.’

  ‘It’ll change by Friday, don’t worry,’ Caro said assuredly, knowing that would be Mike’s next concern. He had promised the record company #teambunny wouldn’t win.

  ‘That’s if we still have a vote by then. Obviously without Jamie, there’s no contest. We need to get him back in the game. We have to change his mind.’

  His eyes had settled upon Nettie, his fingers pointed together in a steeple.

  ‘Uh . . . why are you saying that just to me?’ Nettie asked him nervously.

  ‘Because you did this to him. It’s because of you he bailed. You’re the one who’s going to have to try to build a bridge and repair the relationship.’

  Nettie spluttered, sitting up adroitly. ‘Y-you mean, you want me to apologize to h
im?’

  ‘You were the one who went off plan and covered him in water in front of all those people. It’s not going to mean anything coming from me.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head firmly and crossed her arms above her chest. ‘I won’t do it.’

  ‘Nettie, you have to. There are three days left of the campaign. You’ve raised almost one and a half million pounds for the charity.’ He leaned in, gathering her gaze with a conspiratorial glint. ‘Don’t you want to get to two?’

  She blinked. Over her dead body was she apologizing to that man. After what he’d said about her? Uh-uh. No way. Not happening. ‘No. I’m good, thanks. Very happy with that number. It’s a good, solid number, one and a half mill.’

  Mike smacked the desk with his palm and pushed himself back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling for strength.

  ‘Nets,’ a softer voice tried.

  Nettie looked across at Daisy, who was leaning on the table, a compassionate look on her face.

  ‘Look, I know you and Jamie don’t really . . .’ She rolled her hands in the air in front of her, searching for the right words. ‘You don’t really hit it off. You’re not each other’s cup of tea, and that’s fine . . .’

  Under the table, Jules’s foot gave her ankle a swift kick.

  ‘But couldn’t you put your personal differences aside – for the good of the campaign?’

  Nettie stared at her in dismay. They had no idea of the gravity of what they were asking her to do. She looked over to Jules for support – she’d have an alternative idea, a better idea; she always did.

  ‘I hate to say it, but they’re right.’ Jules shrugged.

  ‘Jules!’ Nettie cried.

  ‘Listen, you know I’d disagree with them if I possibly could, but the finish line is in sight, Nets. It’s only for a few more days. And then you don’t ever have to see him again – if you don’t want to.’

  ‘Ha! See him again?’ Daisy trilled. ‘We should be so lucky. By the time we clock off on Friday, he’s going to be on a private jet to the Caribbean.’

  Nettie felt a jolt of ice arrow through her veins. It was true. If he wasn’t gone from her life already, he most certainly would be then. ‘How do you know that?’

  Daisy stared back at Nettie, pleased to have Jamie’s ball in her court for once. Nettie tried not to be riled. She probably knew the sister of his travel agent’s dog-walker. Or something. Daisy planted her hands firmly on the desk. ‘Look, we have got three days left to spend with one of the hottest men on the planet. Don’t blow it for the rest of us.’

  Nettie swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut and letting a woolly silence blanket them. There was no way to get out of this. Without a rock solid explanation as to why she had every reason to consider herself the injured party, she was cornered. And no way, no way, was she telling them what she’d done – going back to his hotel, running out the next day, how Jamie had called her a ‘groupie’ to Coco Miller.

  ‘Fine,’ she said finally, through gritted teeth.

  ‘Yes!’ Caro and Daisy high-fived each other, Mike punching the air again in a short victory jab like Andy Murray.

  ‘You’re doing the right thing,’ Mike said, the colour returning to his cheeks.

  Nettie watched, feeling an impression of an idea beginning to gather in her mind. ‘But it’s not going to be an outright apology,’ she said quickly, making them all halt their celebrations again.

  ‘Huh?’ Daisy asked.

  ‘What?’ Caro mumbled.

  ‘Well, this is the digital age, right – or so you all keep telling me. I say we use the momentum we’ve got with all the views and retweets and whatnot, and put a bit of pressure on him to relent, rather than me just apologizing to him. I mean, he’s being a pretty sore loser. Everyone else thinks the gag is great.’

  ‘Well, they would! But we don’t want to do anything that’s going to embarrass him further, Nettie,’ Mike said gravely.

  ‘Of course not. But we can play this a bit more cleverly than a simple “sorry”, can’t we? I mean, let’s work the crowds. If they like it so much, let’s get them involved. Let’s get them to convince him to forgive me.’

  ‘So you mean peer pressure, but on a global scale?’ Jules asked with a laugh. She gave Mike a wink. ‘There’s no stopping her now.’

  ‘You know, I actually like that idea,’ Caro said, chewing at speed and nodding intently. ‘It’s always better to keep the conversation flowing, and they’re already really mobilized – we can see that from the conversion stats, and with last night’s clip still trending, we should take advantage of the discussions happening out there. Everyone’s already intrigued by the link-up. He’s sexy; she’s funny. He’s famous; she’s cool. Plus there’s a real groundswell out there about wanting to know who you are, Nets. It’s on loads of chat forums and fan pages. We could feed that into it – maybe tease that we’ll do a big reveal on Friday too.’

  ‘No! I don’t want to be revealed,’ Nettie said quickly.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s too big now. I don’t want . . . I don’t . . .’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘That’s totally fine, Mike, isn’t it?’ Jules asked rhetorically. ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘Uh, yes . . . yes, fine,’ Mike said reluctantly.

  Caro exhaled, bored. ‘Whatevs. But if they think you two have had a tiff, so much the better. Any publicity is good publicity.’

  Mike rolled his eyes. ‘Why a straightforward “sorry” won’t suffice I don’t know. It’d be a lot faster.’

  Daisy’s phone rang. Her eyebrows furrowed as she clocked the number on the caller display. ‘Hello?’

  Everyone looked up in surprise. No one ever took phone calls mid-meeting. Mike looked outraged, but Daisy simply put her finger to her lips to silence him.

  They all fell quiet, watching as she uh-huhed into the phone, her eyes sliding over to Nettie. She gave her a wink, their rivalry over Jamie a moment ago already forgotten.

  ‘Who was that?’ Mike demanded the moment she put down the phone.

  ‘The One Show.’ Daisy looked at Nettie, a grin growing on her face. ‘They want you and Jamie for a fifteen-minute segment tonight, and he’s to perform one of the songs.’

  ‘Oh. My. God!’ Jules cried, clapping her hands together.

  ‘But that’s so soon!’ Nettie gasped.

  ‘We’ve got to get you to the studios for six o’clock,’ Daisy said, opening her iPad and bringing up a train timetable. ‘Which is easier said than done, given that they’re recording the Christmas specials in Salford this week.’

  ‘Well, how long will it take to get up there?’

  ‘About two hours, I reckon . . .’

  Caro looked out of the window at the heavily falling snow. ‘That’s if the trains are even running.’

  ‘Oh crap, that’s all we need,’ Daisy muttered, remembering too late the difficult travelling conditions.

  ‘Ladies, langu—’ Mike started to protest, but no one was interested.

  ‘Have they spoken to Jamie’s camp yet? What if he says no?’ Jules asked.

  ‘Of course he won’t! He’s about to release the Christmas single. He wouldn’t do that,’ Daisy said with certainty, just as her phone rang again. Her eyes fell to the caller ID. ‘Oh shit!’

  Mike groaned again. They all watched anxiously as she took the call. ‘. . . See what I can do. I’ll come back to you in the hour.’ She dropped the phone on the desk again. ‘So he did do that,’ she shrugged. ‘He’s not going.’

  ‘The bastard!’ Nettie gasped, shocked by the extent of his reaction. ‘What about the charity? He’s going to deprive them of a prime-time slot on TV just because his precious pride’s been hurt?’

  ‘You have really pissed him off,’ Caro chuckled wickedly.

  ‘It’s fine. We can sort this,’ Daisy said confidently. ‘We’re going to sort this. Worst comes to worst, I’ll call my ex. He’s a producer on BBC Two. He knows people.’

  Caro
dropped her head to the table and began banging it against the top. Daisy watched on in bafflement.

  ‘Look, Nettie’s on to something with this peer-pressure thing,’ Jules said, appealing for calm. ‘If he’s not going to do the honourable thing, then we’re just going to have to play dirty and force his hand. But how?’

  The room fell silent as everyone thought, brows creased as they doodled, twirled biros, chewed pencils, spun on the chairs . . .

  ‘We could photograph Nettie holding a sign saying, “Sorry”?’ Caro piped up after a while. ‘Or . . . or a load of messages in a short film – you know, like in Love Actually?’

  ‘I loved that film,’ Daisy sighed.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jules nodded. ‘That could work.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t. It still means me saying sorry when he’s the one with no sense of humour,’ Nettie protested.

  Everyone rolled their eyes.

  ‘Could you not just—’ Mike pleaded.

  ‘No!’

  There was an irritated silence.

  ‘Well, then we have to get the public behind you,’ Daisy said. ‘Yeah, they need to feel sympathy for you because you’ve been dumped, basically. We need for them to see you as the victim here. He doesn’t want you anymore.’

  Nettie willed her to stop speaking, for the sounds to stop coming from her mouth now. They were too close to the truth.

  ‘Doesn’t want you . . .’ Mike murmured. ‘Hey, what’s that song . . . ? You know . . .’ He began humming, clicking his fingers and doing just enough of a shoulder-wiggle to alarm the lot of them. ‘Oh, who was it? Who sang it? You know . . .’ The answer came to him in a flash. ‘Human League!’

  ‘Who?’ Caro asked, her upper lip curled in a sneer.

  He closed his eyes and began singing again. ‘“Don’t you want me, baby?”’

  ‘Oh yes!’ Jules said, her eyes wide with excitement and joining in. ‘“You know I can’t believe it when you say that you won’t see me,”’ she sang. ‘The lyrics are perfect!’