Christmas on Primrose Hill

by Karen Swan

  ‘Jules!’ she called, making to run after her; but she stopped abruptly in her tracks as a uniformed driver suddenly jumped out of a glistening Mercedes that was parked on the street and helped Jules to the car. Nettie’s mouth dropped as he opened the gleaming back door and Jules climbed in, disappearing behind the blacked-out windows. She’d hired a limo?

  Nettie shivered as she looked onto the reflected vision of her house, wishing she could see her friend through the windows. It was a moment before she realized the driver was walking up the path towards her.

  ‘Hello?’ she said questioningly.

  ‘Good evening. Are you Dan Parker?’

  Dan nodded back stiffly, reaching suspiciously for the package the driver held out to him. The driver looked across at Nettie. ‘And, Miss Watson, I was instructed to give you this in the event that you didn’t accompany Miss Grant.’ He held out a white envelope.

  ‘What’s that?’ she asked.

  The driver didn’t reply – he probably thought she didn’t need him to tell her it was a white envelope – and she took it from him, opening it with fumbling hands.

  ‘Prefer mine,’ Dan mumbled, only just suppressing a grin as he tore open his package. Nettie was aware of the way he sucked in his breath as the silky red football shirt fell free of the tissue paper, black scrawled signatures – some personalized to Dan himself – all over the front.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding me . . .’ he said under his breath, holding it up to the street light. But Nettie wasn’t concentrating. It wasn’t joy she was feeling at the sight of her gift, a handwritten note. It was a threat of sorts, really, and the shock made her laugh out loud.

  ‘If you don’t show, nor will I.’

  She looked back at the driver. ‘This is a joke, right?’

  The driver didn’t respond. Nothing about him suggested ‘jokey’.

  ‘He surely doesn’t mean . . .’ she faltered.

  The driver’s expression was impossible to read – had he read the contents of this? – but a tiny shrug of his hands indicated he knew nothing beyond these orders.

  She read the words again and again, vaguely aware of Dan reading over her shoulder. He couldn’t mean he wouldn’t go on stage tonight. Could he? He wouldn’t let down all those people . . . There was no way he could mean that, and yet . . . what other translation could there be? They hadn’t made any plans for the campaign next week. They hadn’t made plans for anything beyond tonight.

  She looked back at the driver, too stunned to move.

  Behind him, the rear window of the car slid down and Jules’s furious face peered out. ‘What’s going on?’

  The driver arched an eyebrow. ‘I’ll wait, shall I?’

  They were quiet in the car. Jules still wouldn’t look at her, and the bottle of champagne was untouched in the ice bucket between them.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry, OK?’ Nettie tried again, placing a hand lightly on Jules’s arm, but she snatched it away. ‘You were right. I know I’ve been selfish and . . . self-absorbed.’

  Jules stuck her nose in the air.

  ‘You’ve had a lot going on too, I know that. Mike totally should have given you that promotion in the summer: you deserved it. We all know he’s so threatened by you he’s terrified of giving you extra power. He knows you’re the real leader of this team, not him.’

  ‘Damn straight.’

  ‘And I know it’s been really hard living without a washing machine.’

  ‘You’ve got no freaking idea,’ Jules muttered.

  Nettie lowered her voice, knowing she was stepping onto thin ice. ‘And I also know you’re still cut up about he-who-must-not-be-named, even though you’ll deny it to the death.’

  ‘Oh no. I am over him. He was a lying, cheating git,’ Jules said fiercely, whipping round so quickly her own hair hit her in the face.

  ‘I agree,’ Nettie said quickly. ‘I never liked him.’

  ‘Thought he was God’s gift just because he had that sexy grin—’

  ‘Ugh!’ Nettie pulled a face.

  ‘And looked fit in the buff.’ Jules stopped talking abruptly, her eyes misting over. Nettie reached for her arm again, the gesture breaking her trance. ‘I was glad to see the back of him.’

  ‘Totally,’ Nettie nodded firmly. ‘He’s nowhere near good enough for you. He was punching way above his weight scoring with a girl like you, and one day, one day he’ll realize it.’

  ‘And it’ll be too late.’ Jules’s eyes were shining.

  ‘Yeah.’ Nettie squeezed her hand.

  ‘Way too fucking late,’ Jules murmured, dropping her gaze.

  ‘If he could only see you tonight, he’d die of regret on the spot.’

  Jules gasped. ‘Instagram me,’ she said, contorting herself into a seductive pose. ‘And make sure you get as much of all this in as poss. It’s got to be clear we’re in a limo.’

  ‘Of course,’ Nettie said, twisting in her seat as Jules quickly uncorked the champagne and filled a glass to hold. She flashed a truly dazzling smile. ‘Which filter?’

  ‘Hefe. I always look good in that.’

  Nettie smiled, relieved she’d been forgiven. ‘Done.’

  She passed the phone back to Jules and looked out through the dark windows. The O2 was just ahead of them, billowing against the horizon, and they had been crawling along in heavy traffic for several minutes now. They stopped at some sort of security checkpoint and she saw the driver flash a pass, upon which a barrier was raised and they pulled into an adjoining lane, clear of traffic.

  Ahead, blue lasers swung and flashed in the sky like samurai swords. This was the only place to be in London tonight, and they were VIP all the way.

  Jules giggled with excitement and held up her glass as they sped up again. ‘Bottoms up, then.’

  The same thing happened twice more – the driver flashing a pass to various security guards – and Nettie only just had enough time to drain her drink as they drew up to a large loading area round the back that was cordoned off and heavily guarded.

  ‘Here we go,’ Jules squealed as the door was opened and she stepped out, straight into a wave of noise. ‘Whoa!’ she cried, putting her hands to her ears.

  ‘Wow!’ Nettie echoed, doing the same.

  Ron was waiting by the door, seemingly for them. Nettie smiled her thanks to the driver, wondering whether to tip him, wondering whether he’d radioed ahead.

  ‘Don’t worry – we’ve got some noise-cancelling headphones you can use if you want,’ Ron said as they ran up to the door, eager to get out of the cold. Nettie wasn’t in the best-considered outfit, given the very limited time frame she’d had to get ready, and she felt underdressed compared to Jules, in her boyfriend jeans, strappy heels, acid-peach T-shirt and khaki jacket.

  ‘Are you kidding?’ Jules laughed, hooking her arm through Nettie’s and dragging her onwards as he quickly turned and led them both through a long, concreted corridor. He walked quickly, the girls almost having to break into a trot to keep up.

  To their left, behind the makeshift wall, was the stage and Nettie could feel the vibrations from the amps pulsing through her feet and making her bones hum as the music boomed. High-pitched screams came in a constant pulse, the sound like a force field that instinctively made her want to step away and take cover.

  She checked the time on her watch as she heard singing. Ten minutes past nine and he was on already. She felt a pinch in her stomach and a stain creep across her cheeks. Of course he was! How stupid she’d been to think he’d keep all those people waiting just for her – and she’d betrayed her egoism by falling for the bluff. She’d come, he would know now, in the very hope that he’d been telling the truth, flattering her . . .

  ‘Yeah!’ Jules yelled, beginning to dance as they walked.

  Nettie smiled back as Jules grabbed her arm excitedly, but she couldn’t let herself go in the same way. She felt breathless and overwhelmed by the scale of everything – the noise, the size, the energy that was elec
trifying the air. She could feel it crackling around her. It was the flip side, the good version to what had happened earlier. And this was just his job. He’d been right earlier when he’d said his job was odd. What was wearing a fancy-dress costume for a couple of weeks compared to this?

  She wondered where Ron was taking them. Down to the mosh pit? Into the wings? The anticipation of seeing Jamie again made her heart try to compete with the bass beat and she forgot all about the look on Dan’s face when she’d turned to him at the door.

  They climbed a few steps and turned into another corridor, which had a run of doors on both sides, huge black-and-white posters of Jamie slapped up along the walls, lest anyone should forget who was playing here tonight. She dared herself to look into his khaki eyes as they walked, a kind of endurance test. Maybe if she could practise holding that gaze before she had to do the real thing . . . ?

  Ron had stopped outside a door and popped his head in. ‘Sorted.’

  ‘Oh cool!’ Jules said, walking straight in, with the familiarity of someone who’d been here many times before, rather than just the once. She must have said something inside, for Ron nodded and Nettie stepped out of the way to let him pass, watching as he ran off in the direction from which they had just come and talking into a walkie-talkie.

  When she turned back, Jamie was in the doorway, watching her, wearing the faded black jeans he’d been in yesterday and an indigo T-shirt, the fit and feel of which looked indecently good.

  ‘You’re not on?’ she asked, after what seemed like an age.

  ‘I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?’

  She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Yes, but . . . I didn’t think you actually meant it.’

  ‘Didn’t you?’ His eyes were steady upon her, unrelenting. ‘And yet here you are.’

  She looked away. ‘I wasn’t sure if it was’ – she swallowed – ‘a joke, some sort of game.’

  ‘I never say what I don’t mean.’ He seemed amused. ‘So now I’m late because you’re late.’ He walked out into the corridor towards her with a slow tut. ‘You’ve made all those people wait . . . Can you hear them?’

  She should have done. They were right behind the wall, but as he stopped in front of her, all she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears.

  His hands brushed down her arms, leaving a ripple of goosebumps in their wake. ‘I’m sorry about earlier. I felt like such a shit for leaving you there.’

  ‘What are you talking about? It would have been dangerous if you’d stayed. The second you went, I was fine. I just felt so bad for making you go out without Pho.’

  ‘He was pretty mad with me when I got back.’ His eyes danced. ‘I guess he’s never tried to impress a beautiful girl before.’

  She didn’t know what to say to that and her eyes fell to his chest. ‘Nice T-shirt.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Selfridges?’

  He shrugged, a low laugh escaping him. ‘What can I say? They deliver.’

  She laughed too. ‘Good. I’m glad.’

  ‘I’m glad that you’re here,’ he replied quietly. He still hadn’t shaved and his stubble was now a light beard. It brought out the colour in his eyes and framed his mouth. He took her hand and wagged her arm lightly. ‘Although it’s just as well I resorted to blackmail. I didn’t think you’d behave.’ His eyes fell to her lips as they parted into a shocked ‘o’. Yet again, silence bloomed between them. Words couldn’t say what eyes could. ‘Come on, then. We’d better give them what they want.’

  He put his hand in the small of her back and walked her down the corridor to where Ron was now standing by a door, a guitar in his hands.

  ‘Ready?’ Ron asked, handing it over, and Jamie slung the strap over his neck, the instrument moulding into his body as familiarly as a child, the way she wanted to.

  ‘I am now,’ he said, glancing at her as he adjusted the strap. ‘Don’t. Leave.’

  She shook her head, overwhelmed. Overpowered. Her head had no chance against her heart.

  Ron opened the door and the wall of sound fell upon them, Jamie’s name amplified into a war cry that sounded to the heavens. He took a deep breath, a grin growing on his face as he took one last look at her, and then he disappeared through the doorway, the roars and cheers exploding in on themselves a moment later, like fireworks that kept repeating to something ever more beautiful, as the light found him and all those eyes came to rest upon him and him alone.

  ‘Come on, you can watch from over here,’ Ron said, leading the girls through the doorway and up another set of steps. Everything was draped in black cloth, the noise like a heat, a cloud she had to push through.

  She started as something touched her shoulder, turning to find Jules standing behind her with an expression of envy, excitement and concern marbled on her face.

  ‘Oh my God! Like, get a room!’

  But Nettie clutched her by the arm. ‘Jules, you’ve got to promise me you won’t tell him.’

  Jules looked taken aback. ‘But—’

  ‘Promise me! I’ll never speak to you again if you tell him.’

  Jules looked shaken by the wildness in her eyes, the ring of truth in her words. ‘Of course I wouldn’t,’ she said.

  ‘You have to say it.’

  Jules blinked, the excitement and envy disappearing from her face now so that all that was left was the concern. ‘I promise, Nets. He’ll never hear it from me.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  The after-party at Bodo’s Schloss was everything Jules had ever dreamed and she was in her element, dancing on a table with another girl and impressing the band’s bass guitarist with her air guitar. Many eyes were upon her and Nettie felt grateful, for once, that she was too far out of reach for Jules to drag her up there too, which was the usual way of things.

  Instead, Nettie was sitting in the middle of a semicircular booth, with Dave, Dave’s wife, Minnie, and Jamie himself. Nettie had Minnie to her left and Jamie to her right, and so far was doing an admirable job of appearing nonplussed to be sitting with the star of the show. His left arm was slung out along the booth behind her, his left thigh so close she could feel the heat from it, but he had yet to graze a single finger along her neck or touch his leg against hers – and the wait was killing her.

  Because Jules had been right earlier. They had a chemistry together that was impossible to ignore. She’d known it the moment she’d laid eyes on him at the cinema on Thursday night – had it really been only forty-eight hours since then? – and she knew just what they were spinning towards. It was as predictable as the rising of the sun, and for all her futile efforts to keep him out of her life, it was already too late: he was in, straight into the smack, bang centre of her world and she wouldn’t sleep now till she knew the feel of him; she wouldn’t eat till she knew the taste of him; she was addicted even before their first high.

  People kept coming over to their table to congratulate Jamie, slapping him hard on the shoulders and fist-bumping him in the case of the men, the women bending down to kiss his cheeks, flashing plenty of cleavage and lingering looks.

  Nettie didn’t know how to react to them. Jamie seemed as friendly to one as to the other, showing no particular favouritism or interest, but neither did he reassure her with a squeeze of her hand or something that told her – and all those other girls – that he was with her tonight. Nettie kept scanning the crowd for sign of Coco Miller. She’d thought she’d overheard someone saying she was here. Or was that just paranoia?

  ‘So how did you and Jamie meet, Nettie?’ Minnie asked her, recrossing her legs and seeming genuinely interested as she sipped through the straw of the famous ski-boot cocktail.

  ‘Uh, through work.’

  ‘You’re a singer too?’

  ‘Oh!’ She laughed quietly at the idea. ‘No. Nothing so exciting, I’m afraid. I work for an agency that handles the CSR of big companies – corporate social responsibility,’ she added, knowing from experience that that would be the next question. ‘We connect big
corporations with charities or community projects and create campaigns that help raise public awareness and funds for them.’

  ‘Oh, so you’re like a charity fundraiser, then?’ Minnie said brightly, holding out the boot for Nettie.

  ‘Basically, yes,’ Nettie smiled, finding her straw and drinking too. Her head was spinning, her entire body fizzing and she’d barely drunk a drop yet.

  ‘Oh, I get it! You’re involved with that thing Jamie’s doing with the bunny?’ Minnie said excitedly.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Oh my God – have you met the Blue Bunny Girl? She’s amazing!’

  ‘Thanks,’ she laughed, before adding quickly, ‘I’ll tell her you said that.’

  ‘Do you know her?’

  Nettie nodded, drinking a bit more.

  ‘What’s she like?’

  ‘Um, normal, I guess.’

  ‘Oh, I bet she isn’t,’ Minnie squealed. ‘She’s so hard-core. I’d be terrified if I ever met her. Jamie’s obsessed, isn’t he?’ she said, directing the question to her husband.

  ‘Yeah, I reckon so,’ Dave laughed, shooting Nettie a knowing wink.

  Nettie blushed. Really? Did he really mean it? Jamie, obsessed with her?

  ‘It’s so amazing you got him,’ Minnie continued. ‘I mean, he never says yes to that kind of thing, does he, Dave?’

  ‘Actually, it was all his idea,’ Dave said. ‘I was the one trying to talk him out of it. He’s in the middle of a world tour. We’re doing the States in the new year – thirty dates there, then down to Brazil and Argentina.’ Dave shook his head. ‘And with the single out next week, he should be trying to find time in his diary, not filling it up even more.’ He gave a big shrug. ‘But he’s a stubborn bugger. There’s no talking him out of anything he wants to do.’

  He drained a shot just as the crowd on the dance floor before them parted and a waiter came through, carrying an open nebuchadnezzar of champagne topped with a sparkling, hissing and crackling light fountain. A cheer went up as it was set down on the table in front of Jamie and he looked across at her, as if assessing her reaction. Compared to the frenzied revellers cheering and dancing and drinking around them, he seemed curiously calm – the eye at the centre of the storm, inured to the fact that all of this was for him, because of him, that everyone wanted to be with him, one way or another.