Christmas on Primrose Hill (19 page)

‘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.’