Christmas on Primrose Hill (29 page)

Finally, eventually, the steady stream dwindled to a trickle and she pushed her wet hair out of her eyes to find Jamie standing still, watching her, his shoulders shaking as champagne dripped off her nose and eyelashes.

He held a hand out to get her down from the table and she jumped, straight into his arms.

‘I can’t believe you just did that!’ she gasped, pushing her hair back again.

‘Enlightened self-interest,’ he grinned.

‘Huh?’

‘Well, now we need to get you out of those wet clothes,’ he murmured, a low flame flickering in his eyes.

‘Yo! Jay!’

A microphone was suddenly thrust between them. Gus, the band’s bass guitarist and seeming target of Jules’s affections, was standing beside them, a guitar hanging from his neck and a bottle of tequila in his hand. ‘Seems like a fine time to debut the new tune. You up?’

Jamie’s shoulders sagged ever so slightly, a tiny movement only she caught, and she understood what it meant – he’d done his job for tonight. But he took the microphone without breaking eye contact with her. ‘Three minutes, thirty-eight seconds,’ he said, gently grazing a finger down her cheek. ‘That’s all this will take.’

She nodded, too overwhelmed to reply as Jamie’s eyes fell to her mouth for a moment, before he turned and headed into the crowd. Seconds later she heard the guitars start up and then there he was, standing on one of the speakers, looking straight at her, singing every word straight to her.

She stood as still as a heron in the water, dripping wet and transfixed as the minutes counted down: one, two, three . . .

The seconds . . . fifty-three, fifty-four . . .

And then he was back in front of her – warm and tall, smiling and intent, oblivious to the way everyone rotated round him like he was the sun to their stars, the dance floor beginning to heave again now that he was standing on it. The crowd swallowed them up, holding them in a loose embrace.

‘You’re late,’ she managed.

‘A capella version,’ he tutted, shaking his head slightly. ‘Gus can’t resist going long on the solo.’

‘Ah.’

The room contracted down to just the two of them again and they both knew this was it.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ he murmured, his eyes on her mouth.

‘OK,’ she breathed.

He inhaled sharply and grabbed her hand.

‘Jay?’ Dave asked, looking on in surprise as they dashed past him.

‘Speak to you tomorrow, Dave,’ Jay said firmly.

‘Bye, nice meeting y—’ she began to say to Minnie, but Jamie was too quick for her to finish, pulling her along after him as he ducked everyone’s stares and led her to a side door the staff had been using. They darted through it into a narrow passage, Jamie’s grip firm and sure around her hand as she half ran after him, towards a fire door that led outside. They burst out into the night. It was sleeting, the snow orange as it dashed past the street lamps like arrows.

‘Where’s the driver?’ Jamie asked the security guard, who immediately stamped out his cigarette in surprise.

‘Round the front, Mr Westlake. We thought you’d be leaving by the front as usual.’

‘Get him here, now. I don’t want anyone seeing us.’

‘Yes, sir.’

He turned back to Nettie. She had her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, her wet clothes clinging to her and leaving her shivering in the cold. ‘I’ve left my jacket on the seat,’ she said. ‘I should probably go and—’

‘Min’ll take it for you.’

‘Oh. OK.’ The way he said it – so sure – she couldn’t help but wonder whether Minnie had done this for his other girls, swept off their feet so quickly they too had left their coats.

Another bolt of panic hit her, an adrenalin shot to the heart, as he shrugged off his jacket and put it round her shoulders, his touch like electric shocks. What was she doing? There could be no good outcome from this. She was flying too close to the sun here, dazzled and disoriented. His world was too bright, too big for her, and the flames that had been growing between them would be mere embers by morning.

‘Come back inside. You can’t stand out here in wet clothes,’ he said, opening the door and leading her back into the corridor again. The door closed with a thunk and they stared at each other in the dim light. Alone at last.

Those 20,000 people gone.

The VIPs in the next room gone.

Jules, Dave, everyone gone.

And then the barriers, the reservations, all the reasons why this was not a good idea – they were gone too as he rushed at her, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her with a passion that stripped the world down to just the two of them.

When they finally pulled apart, she wasn’t even sure if she was still standing. Gravity had lost its pull. He looked down at her. ‘Drive a guy crazy, why don’t you?’ he murmured, a small smile creeping into his eyes as he put his hands on her hips and pushed her gently against the wall. He kissed her again, his hands closing round her neck, his fingers reaching through her hair, tugging it back gently so that she was held in place, looking up at him. ‘Your place or mine?’

The question was like a nail hitting a pipe and laughter burst out of her. If he only knew what ‘her place’ translated into in reality – in his head, he probably imagined a flat in the inner suburbs, maybe a flatmate and an overused microwave, an Ikea bed and Habitat sheets. If he only knew what her life was like in reality.

‘Your house is completely empty.’ She smiled, amused that he needed reminding of this.

‘Yes, I’m staying in a hotel.’

‘Oh. Which?’

‘The Ritz.’

She suppressed another bubble of laughter. Of course he was. ‘I guess yours, then,’ she whispered, marvelling that he – the man who had held London in his palm tonight – should be choosing her.

The door opened and the guard peered in, looking only vaguely surprised at the sight of the two of them pressed against the wall. ‘Your car, Mr Westlake.’

Jamie took her hand and kissed it. ‘Let’s go, then.’

She swept an arm over the sheet. It looked like cotton, felt like silk. She tried her leg. Then the other. ‘Amazing,’ she murmured.

Beside her, Jamie gave a tiny groan in his sleep. He was lying on his stomach, his right cheek pressed against the back of his hand and his mouth parted slightly. Her eyes ran over him, every detail a story she wanted to hear: the cut of his shoulders – did he lift weights? The small whitened scar on his lower back – a teenage fight, or a childhood accident? The tan – a holiday with another lover?

A siren outside made him stir again. She turned her head towards the window, her eyes falling to the heavy cream silk curtains, the elaborate drape of the pelmet too fussy and feminine for a man like him. She eyed his T-shirt still on the floor where she’d pulled it off and her stomach tightened as she remembered how he’d thrown her down on the bed a second later. She took in the plentiful, Versailles-styled flower arrangements that adorned every flat surface, the giant curved TV opposite the bed, the Chippendale-style furniture.

The gulf between them was everywhere she looked, not only in the obvious indicators of wealth and privilege but also the everyday items: his phone on the table beside him a new-generation model that, as far as she was aware, hadn’t been officially launched yet, the Amex Black credit card beside it, even his T-shirt, which looked like standard cotton but felt cloud-soft to the touch, much like these sheets.

She sighed and performed a few small ‘sheet angels’, luxuriating in their silkiness against her skin. Her grandchildren would never believe this, but then this bit she would be keeping for herself. She wasn’t going to tell anyone – not Jules, not Dan . . . It was her memory, perfect and pure in its secrecy, her go-to pocket of happiness for when the clouds gathered, as they inevitably would, already were – even now. This was hers. Her moment. Her happiness. No one could take it from her.

‘
What
are you doing?’ he mumbled in a quiet voice, startling her so that she jumped and recoiled into a ball, clutching the sheet against her chest.

‘Oh my God, you frightened me,’ she gasped.

‘You’re frightening me,’ he quipped, pushing his chest off the bed and resting his head in his hand to watch her.

‘I was just admiring the sheets,’ she said after a moment, embarrassed to have been caught out and feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

‘Funny. I was just admiring you in the sheets.’

She smiled, relaxing. ‘Yeah?’

He grinned, leaning over her. ‘Yeah.’

His body was warm with sleep, the tension that had vibrated in it last night as he came down from the show now soft and heavy. She kissed him slowly, savouring these bonus moments, knowing the clock was ticking, aware she couldn’t outstay her welcome.

‘Are you tired?’ she asked, her voice lilting like a feather in the sequestered room.

‘No.’ As if to prove it, his hand began to wander and she sighed. Imagine a world where she could stay here with him, where getting out of bed to answer the door to the butler was the worst thing that could happen. (They had put in a middle-of-the-night order for smoky-bacon crisps, smoked salmon sandwiches and champagne, and his knock on the door had felt like a violent intrusion into their bubble.)

‘I meant from the show,’ she giggled as he nuzzled her neck, burrowing into the nook like a baby animal. ‘You didn’t stop.’

He pulled back and gazed down at her, propped on his elbows. ‘I am, yeah. It’s pretty draining.’ He pulled the sheet down to her hips and began walking his fingers up her navel. ‘We’ll have to stay in bed
all
day so I can recover.’

She laughed again, feeling ticklish and a little shy in the morning-after light. ‘Ha! You can, maybe.’

He arched an eyebrow. ‘I hope you’re not trying to suggest you’re getting up anytime soon.’

‘Well, it sounds like you need your rest.’

‘I think you’ll find I can’t rest
without
you. I’ve barely slept since Thursday, trying to figure out ways to track you down and get you alone.’

‘Oh . . .’ she murmured, losing herself in his gaze and feeling her heartbeat skip to a new rhythm.

‘Besides, you couldn’t leave even if you wanted too. I’ve got guards on the door,’ he said, lowering his head to her breast.

She laughed, as he tickled her with his breath. ‘Pho’s there to keep people out, not in.’

‘Not today.’

She arched an eyebrow. ‘Well, too bad, mister. I’ve got plans.’

‘Like you had plans last night, you mean?’ he teased.

‘No. This one
can’t
be broken.’

He shook his head disbelievingly. ‘Don’t try telling me you’ve got to work. It’s Sunday, and Caro already told me you shot today’s meme on Friday. Even Blue Bunnies need a day off.’

‘Urgh,’ she groaned, remembering the indignity of batmanning in Hyde Park, her long paws hooked onto one of the pull-up fitness bars, her ears dangling down to the ground. ‘I should be so lucky.’

He sat up slightly and propped his head in his hands as he looked down at her. ‘Well, what are you
supposedly
doing if not working?’ A shiver rippled over her bare skin as the cooler air crept beneath the duvet and she watched him watch the goosebumps ripple across her, his finger smoothing them down again.

‘Just stuff,’ she smiled teasingly as she looked up at him, raking her fingers through his hair.

‘Tell me.’

‘Nope.’

‘I said, tell me.’ His fingers tickled her waist, making her squeal.

‘Nope.’ She laughed, wriggling madly but refusing to give in.

He stared down at her and she could see he couldn’t read whether or not this was a flirtatious ruse. ‘You don’t have plans at all. You’re lying.’

‘No, I’m not.’

His eyes met hers, khaki and gold, hypnotic, mesmerizing, confused. ‘Cancel them then.’

‘Nope.’

There was a silence, and the smile faded from her lips as she realized that somehow, somewhere – without meaning to – the joke had stopped. She looked away, feeling reality begin to inch over her skin with sharp fingernails.

She wanted to stay in this fantasy, hide away in this hotel suite with him. She didn’t want to move from his bed or leave this room. But those were impossible dreams, and as the laughter dimmed in her eyes, her rejection came across not as coquettish or hard-to-get, but bald and absolute.

He pulled his hand away. ‘I don’t understand.’

Panic and desolation scurried through her. Of course he didn’t. How could he? She rolled away from him quickly and got out of bed, her eyes scanning for her clothes, which had been left strewn across the room, creating a chronology of last night’s events. ‘I do have to go. I’m sorry.’

‘But, Nets . . .’ He sat up in bed, bewilderment all over his features as he watched her step into her jeans and hook up her bra. She couldn’t look at him as she slid her T-shirt over her head. She couldn’t bear to see the look on his face. ‘I thought we could spend the day together.’

He made it sound so simple, such a straightforward request, and she felt the panic rear up in her. He was beginning to probe now, detect the flaw, his antenna up that something about her wasn’t quite right. She searched desperately for her shoes, finding one covered under a towel which had been abandoned, damp, on the floor on their way back from their midnight shower. ‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’ He watched her buckle it up. ‘You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?’ he asked, a worried laugh in his voice. ‘That Alex bloke? Jules said it was on and off—’

‘No!’ she cried. She glanced at him as she retrieved her other shoe from under the bed. ‘Of course not. There’s no one else.’

‘So then . . . ?’

She fastened the sandal, catching sight of her knickers across the floor and running over to stuff them into her pocket. She looked back at him finally, feeling her heart plunge to her feet as their eyes met again. ‘It’s not you. Really.’ She gestured hopelessly to the grand suite, the luxurious retreat where they’d so hedonistically given in to each other for a few short, magical hours. ‘You’re . . .’ She stared at him, seeing in his khaki eyes the growing confusion, hurt, anger. How could she put into words what he was? Intoxicating, exciting, magnetizing. How could she explain that he made her feel hopeful when all she ever felt around anyone else was hopeless? How could she explain that that was precisely the problem? For as long as her life didn’t change, neither could she. To all intents and purposes, she was stuck. ‘You’re incredible. This has been amazing. I’ll never forget it.’ Her voice clotted and she looked away. She had to get out of here before the tears fell and he saw how messed up she really was.