Christmas on Primrose Hill (6 page)

Nettie frowned. ‘That’s really not a very sexy analogy.’

‘You’re right. Scratch that. Scratch it from the record.’ She waved her arms wildly and Nettie caught sight of the list in her hand again.

‘Just tell me what it is you think I should do.’

Jules held out the list, biting her lip apprehensively as Nettie scanned it with a bemused expression. ‘I don’t even know what half of this means. What is all this stuff?’

‘Just what I said – a round-up of the best Internet memes. Funny, random, bizarre stuff. Nothing dangerous.’

Nettie inhaled deeply, her eyes coming back to Jules’s. ‘So what exactly is horse . . . What does that say? “Horse-
manning
”?’

‘Oh, that’s one of the funniest,’ Jules laughed. ‘Always cracks me up.’

‘Yes, but what
is
it?’

‘You have to get someone to lie, like on a table or a bed, in a position where you can’t see their head, and then you put
your
head – just your head; that’s all they can see – a short distance away.’

Nettie frowned. ‘So, like that scene with the disembodied horse head in
The Godfather
, then?’

‘Exactly! Bloody funny.’

‘If you say so.’ She looked at the list again, puffing out through her cheeks. ‘If this is what passes for fun on the Net, no wonder I’m a technophobe.’ She frowned as she saw the last dare on the list. ‘Oh my God! Are you kidding?’

Jules frowned. ‘What?’

‘I am not dyeing my eyebrows blue.’

‘Not even for Jamie?’ her friend wheedled.

Nettie chuckled. ‘As if he’d want me after any of that anyway!’

‘He’d admire you.’

‘Thanks, but it’s not his admiration I’m after.’

Jules looked pained.

‘Forget it. I’m not doing it.’ Nettie opened the bathroom door, plumes of steam escaping ahead of her into the narrow landing. Jules trotted after her.

‘But that’s why I put it at the end. It’s the pièce de résistance. We’ll work up to it.’

Nettie stopped at her bedroom door. ‘No.’

‘Well, let’s keep it at the end for the time being; that way, you’ve got the chance to mull it over. Think it over at leisure?’

‘I’m not doing it –
any
of it. I don’t see how doing any of those things is going to attract someone like Jamie Westlake.’

‘Because they’re funny and that’s why he followed you in the first place. The guy’s obviously got a great sense of humour.’

‘The answer is still “no”.’ Nettie closed the door on her. ‘Now leave me alone. I’m getting dressed.’

Jules stood in the hallway for a moment. ‘Tell you what, I’ll go put the kettle on,’ she called, making her way over to the stairs. ‘And let’s just say it’s a “maybe”.’

Chapter Four

‘Get that down you, then – you’ll feel a lot better,’ Tom said, placing the steaming plate on the table in front of her.

‘Thanks, Tom,’ she said weakly, looking down at the heap of saturated fat. ‘Tomorrow, definitely fruit tomorrow,’ she resolved.

‘Refills?’ he asked, picking up their empties, knowing the drill.

Jules gave him a thumbs-up and a wink but couldn’t reply – she was already eating.

Nettie watched him go with a stab of poignancy. She’d been like him once – working behind the bar here during the university holidays. Saving up to move on to bigger and better things. Now she was just another punter, one of the locals who spent as much time – if not more – here as at home.

‘I know. Nice bum, right?’ Jules said, watching her wistful gaze.

Nettie began to eat, her eyes roaming the room. It was too cold to sit outside. The wind was still meting out punishing smacks, and every table in the Engineer was taken, the log fire crackling and throwing out a drowsy heat that was already making the bushy Christmas tree in the opposite corner droop. The flamboyant designer wallpaper contrasted with the rustic waxed tables (theirs had all their initials carved in the sides), and coloured-glass light globes hung from the ceiling. As ever, they were sitting beneath ‘their’ lamp – the green one – at ‘their’ table. She knew almost all the faces in here. ‘Heard from your Canadian fella?’

‘Ha! What d’you think?’ Jules asked with a roll of her eyes. ‘He’s in Austria now.’ She chewed not so quietly for a bit. ‘I’m not bothered anyway. He kept doing this weird—’

‘Don’t!’ Nettie held her hand up in a ‘stop’ sign. ‘It’s hard enough trying to get my food down.’

Jules shrugged. ‘Well, anyway, onwards and upwards.’ She dunked a chip in the ramekin of ketchup, stabbing it thoughtfully in the air. ‘Good body, though. I think athletes might be the way to go.’

Nettie pulled a face. ‘Nup. They’re always training all the time, and they can’t drink. Disaster for you.’

‘Oh yeah, true,’ Jules agreed with a disappointed expression as she chewed on the chip. A sudden glint sprang to her eyes. ‘Still, not a worry for you. International heartthrobs don’t come with caveats like that. Yours is as hard-living as we are.’

Nettie smiled as she was reminded yet again of her extraordinary new status and she wondered whether people could tell just by looking at her. She felt as mysterious as she had after losing her virginity. ‘He is not mine, sadly.
I
wish.’

‘Hey, we should post something right now,’ Jules grinned, leaning in over the table and getting ketchup on her jumper. ‘Let’s take a photo.’

‘Of what? My lunch? Hardly thrilling stuff.’ Tom came back with their virgin Bloody Marys and she took a sip. ‘Unless, of course, we start a food fight that turns into a riot.’

Jules winked excitedly. ‘You should go into the loos and take a photo with your top off. You’ve got lovely boobs. That’d make him sit up and take notice!’

Nettie spluttered on the drink. ‘What? And post it to the thirty thousand other people following me? I don’t think so.’ She wrinkled her nose, looking at her friend. ‘
You
don’t do that, do you?’

Jules shrugged.

Nettie felt shocked. ‘But what if it got out somehow?’

‘Why would it?’

‘Uh, bad break-up? Boasting? Any number of reasons.’

Jules shrugged again. ‘I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. It’s no biggie. You’re just a prude.’

‘I’m private – there’s a difference,’ Nettie tutted. ‘Besides, you wouldn’t be so relaxed about it if your mum saw. Or Mike—’

Jules grimaced. ‘Eugh. Don’t put me off my lunch.’ She narrowed her eyes, leaning over the table to her. ‘I bet he has sex with his socks on.’

‘You girls talking about me again?’ a male voice asked, stopping beside them just as something warm sat on Nettie’s feet.

‘Oh God, here’s trouble,’ Jules groaned, slumping back in her chair as the two spares beside them were scraped out and filled with a couple of tall, lanky frames.

Dan immediately nicked one of Nettie’s chips as she bent down to pat Scout’s head. He was the only dog allowed inside – a discretionary agreement that acknowledged and recognized Dan’s lifelong, and practically daily, patronage of the pub.

‘Hey!’ she said, smacking his hand. ‘Get your own. This is an emergency.’

He draped an arm round her shoulder and squeezed it fondly. ‘And how are you feeling now?’ He raised an eyebrow at Jules. ‘You do
not
want to know what she looked like first thing this morning. Smelt like Stig of the Dump, and with hair to match.’

‘Hey!’ she said again, joshing him in the ribs with her elbow.

He collapsed with a laugh.

‘Dan was telling me all about your new celebrity status,’ Stevie said, ripping open a bag of crisps. ‘I expected to find you sitting over there with David Walliams.’

Nettie stuck her tongue out at him. ‘Ha, ha.’

‘Actually, it’s not so improbable,’ Jules said, speaking with her mouth full. ‘Our Nets has got her own celebrity following now.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Stevie laughed. ‘Who? The Teletubbies?’

Dan laughed again, one hand cupped round his pint of lager, his long legs splayed in his battered jeans.

‘Jamie Westlake, actually.’ Jules said it with no small amount of pride.

‘Yeah, right,’ Stevie grinned. ‘And I’ve just accepted a friend request from Selena Gomez.’

‘See for yourself if you don’t believe me,’ Jules said, pushing her phone into the table, set to the exact spot on Nettie’s Twitter page where Jamie had commented – ‘
Cool
’ – exactly thirteen hours earlier. ‘And before you say it’s not him . . .’ She pointed to the blue tick beside his avatar, tapping it with her finger. ‘Official.’

Both men looked sceptical, then impressed.

‘Get you,’ Stevie grinned. ‘I knew we’d graduate to top table in this place one day,’ he laughed to Dan.

‘See if he can get me a signed Gooners shirt, then, will you? You know, next time you see him. Ha! I can’t wait to tell everyone about this.’ Dan grinned, stealing another of Nettie’s chips. ‘
What?
’ he asked, his face an expression of innocence as she slapped him again.

‘No! No one must know. You mustn’t tell anyone, ’ Jules said bossily.

‘What? About Westlake?’

‘Any of it. Strictly speaking, we didn’t have permission to post the film, and Nettie’s job is precarious enough at the moment. It’s best that no one knows it was her on that film.’

The boys looked back at her sceptically.

‘But who here’s gonna care about Nettie’s secret life as a thrill-seeking bunny?’ Stevie laughed, cracking himself up.

‘I mean it.’

Dan groaned. ‘Yeah, fine.’

Stevie frowned. ‘Obviously you don’t mean Paddy, though?’

Paddy was the third spoke in the boys’ wheel – an old school friend with more ambition than Stevie or Dan, currently flying by the seat of his pants as a broker at BarCap and usually the one picking up the tab on a Thursday, Friday and Saturday night.

‘No one,’ Jules said firmly. ‘You won’t be telling Em, will you, Nets?’

Nettie shook her head, wishing her other friend hadn’t bailed on her last night; it would have meant today was so much less painful.

‘Anyway, who’s coming back to mine to watch the match?’ Stevie asked. ‘I’ve got fresh Pot Noodles and everything.’

The girls guffawed, knowing he was quite serious.

‘Might do,’ Jules said. ‘As long as I get a sofa to myself. I’m going to need to nap after this.’

Nettie’s phone buzzed on the table and she jumped as she saw the name on the caller ID.

‘I’m in. I’m knackered,’ Dan said, yawning and stretching out further on the chair so that he was almost a six-foot-long line. His job as a plumber meant he often had late-night call-outs, particularly at this time of year, when boilers kept breaking down and pipes kept freezing.

‘Surely . . . surely you don’t mean to suggest you’ve actually been working, Dan?’ Jules gasped.

He chucked a paper napkin at her, one eyebrow cocked.

‘Nets?’ Stevie asked.

It was a moment before she heard him, her eyes glued to the message, which, as ever, told her nothing. ‘
Just checking in – nothing to report here. Hope you’re well. Call me if you need to talk.
’

‘Sorry, what . . . ? Oh, uh . . .’ She hesitated, keeping her eyes down. ‘Yes, I’ll drop by later maybe.’

Jules looked sympathetic. ‘Oh crap, you’re not working at the library today, are you?’

‘No, but . . .’ Nettie shook her head quickly, sensing the stares being passed round the table. ‘I’ve just got some bits to do, you know.’

There was a silence. Then Jules reached suddenly for the phone and saw Gwen’s name. She sat back in her chair like she’d been pushed.

‘It’s
Saturday
,’ Jules said, irritation and concern bringing a scratch to her voice. ‘You agreed to cut back. Sundays only, you said.’

‘I know, but . . .’

Dan looked at her, folding in the middle slightly and bringing himself up to a more standard sitting position. ‘You can’t go out in this weather anyway. Even Scout doesn’t want to go for a walk.’

‘It won’t be for long.’

‘Nets, it’s bloody freezing. The wind chill is minus five.’

‘Which is why I won’t be long,’ she said again.

A silence began to bloom.

‘Fine, well, then I’ll come with you,’ he said.

‘We all will,’ Jules said, prompting a panicky look from Stevie, who was in just jeans and a sweatshirt, and had obviously nipped in from parking his van outside. She took a deep breath and Nettie could detect the sallow, hung-over tinge in her skin, beneath her tinted moisturizer. ‘I’m quite up for some fresh air.’

‘Thanks, but . . .’ Nettie inhaled sharply. ‘Look . . . I’ll just come by later, OK?’ Her tone made it clear her wish was final.

It was a moment before anyone responded. Clearly it wasn’t OK.

‘Sure, yeah . . . whatevs,’ Jules nodded, forcing a smile. It was the only time, all day, a laugh wasn’t sitting on her lips or in her eyes.

‘If that’s what you want,’ Dan said after a moment.

‘It is. Thanks.’ Her voice was quiet, her smile strained. The hangover made it harder to pull off her usual low-key languor. She looked at Stevie, trying her best to dissipate the tension. ‘I might even bring some Ben & Jerry’s.’

His brown eyes twinkled as his face softened into an easy grin. ‘Oh right, we’re going posh, are we?’

‘Well, now that I’m friends with the rich and famous, I’ll be getting freebies left, right and centre,’ she said with affected nonchalance. ‘Diamonds, dresses, expensive ice creams – they’re all open to me now.’

Dan leaned in. ‘I meant it about the Gooners shirt, you know. And a season ticket would be nice too.’

‘I’ll have to see what I can do,’ she grinned, the pub door opening and her eyes darting to it as ever.

‘So spill the beans, then – what was it like going down that racecourse?’ Stevie asked, folding his arms on the table interestedly and clearly wanting all the gory details.

‘Quick,’ she quipped.

‘You hit those corners at some speed.’

‘Yep.’ She pushed up her jumper sleeve and showed off the livid bruises along her upper arms.

The men both winced and groaned sympathetically, as Jules had earlier.

‘Shit,’ Stevie laughed. ‘I bet you’ve never been so terrified, have you?’

‘Nope,’ she grinned, keeping the smile in place this time.