One Christmas Kiss in Notting Hill

by Mandy Baggot

‘So … back then, fresh out of school, Colt went to prison for armed robbery,’ he stated.

  He heard Isla’s intake of breath. Yeah, it was shocking. He was shocked every time he thought about it. His parents had never really recovered, were still touched by the stigma now.

  ‘And now he’s back,’ Chase said. ‘Picking up right where he left off. Like nothing’s changed.’

  Forty-Three

  Isla didn’t know what to say. What could you say? She wanted to ask a hundred questions but also nothing at all. Maybe that was what he needed, for her to say nothing, just to listen.

  ‘God, would you listen to me?’ Chase asked. ‘What was in that hot wine?’

  ‘Mulled,’ Isla responded. ‘Warmed, not boiled.’

  ‘It’s given me some sort of contagion,’ Chase insisted. ‘I’m going to start coming out in lesions like Maddie.’

  ‘Because you’re being honest?’ Isla queried.

  He stopped walking and looked at her. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Honesty shouldn’t be something you’re afraid of,’ Isla said. ‘You told me you like honesty and … life isn’t a perfect, cosy tinsel ball, even at Christmas.’

  ‘I … don’t know how I feel about you telling me that,’ Chase admitted. ‘You’re the girl who loves Christmas. The girl with all the stars and glowing references and—’

  ‘A photo with Lord Sugar on my mantelpiece.’

  ‘I have no idea who that is,’ he said.

  ‘I think,’ Isla began. ‘I’m just trying to say that if you’re not honest … if you try to hide things, even from yourself, it doesn’t ever make it go away. The truth is always still there. The good truth … and the bad truth.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Life isn’t perfect but it’s ours. And I believe we have to make the most of it,’ Isla said. ‘And it is beautiful and sparkly even if sometimes it’s hard.’

  Right at that moment Chase thought Isla Winters was the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on … and talked to. He suddenly felt that if the world ended right then and there his two regrets would be not hugging his daughters enough and not pressing his lips to Isla’s. Was he ready to move on? To feel something for someone else? Or was this just emotion railroading him …

  ‘Mr Bryan, I would very much like to show you something.’

  ‘Is it the one hundred and first use of an umbrella?’ Chase asked, recovering his composure a little. ‘Because that might come in useful right about now.’

  ‘And I thought you said you could suck up a little snow,’ she replied with a grin, walking away from him.

  They had walked another half mile or so and were now outside an ugly building covered in unreadable graffiti. Even with its roof capped with snow it didn’t look like somewhere anyone with any sense would want to hang out.

  ‘Remind you of Chicago?’ Isla questioned, taking a deep breath.

  ‘What is this? And what the hell happened here? Did whoever owned it die?’ Chase inquired.

  ‘No,’ she sighed. ‘This is Life Start Community Centre. Where Hannah comes to meet like-wheeled people.’

  ‘No kidding,’ Chase stated.

  ‘Yes, this is a little corner of Notting Hill that most people seem to have forgotten about, unless you count the property developer who wanted to knock it down and turn it into luxury apartments.’ She turned to him then. ‘I know what you’re thinking.’

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘That perhaps Breekers could have pitched in and built them. Made this into something a lot better than it is.’

  ‘I don’t—’ Chase began.

  ‘I just wish someone would make it better than it is and want to keep its purpose.’ She sniffed. ‘Hannah says she hates it because it’s full of disabled people but I know that isn’t true … that she hates it, I mean. And when she first had her accident and got used to the fact she had Ronnie for good it was a safe place where she could ask questions of people who knew all the answers because they’d been there.’

  He looked at this building with the gutter coming away from the brickwork, the safety glass on the front door cracked, and as much as his brain was telling him this road was, without doubt, in the zone for development if the super-village came to Notting Hill, his heart was telling him he wanted it fixed. In fact, the more time he spent in this area of London the more it was slicing into him what he was preparing to do. Isla loved this place. Isla lived here, with her disabled sister. They had never lived anywhere else. It was their comfort zone. And he was planning to destroy it.

  ‘This wasn’t all I wanted to show you,’ Isla said. She had turned around and was indicating a fenced area across the street. ‘Remember that residents’ park Will and Anna broke into in the film Notting Hill?’

  ‘I remember something about whoops-a-daisy.’ He said it as Hugh Grant as he could manage.

  ‘Very good, Mr Bryan.’

  ‘Is this it?’ he asked, crossing the road.

  ‘No,’ Isla answered. ‘This one is better. And I have a key.’

  Forty-Four

  Larkspur Gardens, Notting Hill

  Isla wasn’t sure why she had shown Chase the community centre or this park but there had been something different about him since he had told her about his brother. An air of vulnerability. Openness. He had, despite himself, shown her something of the man he was, not just the motivational head of Breekers he appeared to be on paper. And she was a people person, in so far as people mattered to her much more than any blurb written about them. And she was finding Chase’s reality rather more intriguing than the synopsis she’d got from Aaron.

  She slipped her grandmother’s key into the lock and turned, still worrying, still hoping like she did every time she and Hannah came here. It clicked open and that deep sense of relief washed over her.

  ‘Are we breaking in?’ Chase inquired, his voice close to her ear.

  She smiled, turning to look at him. ‘I don’t think you can call it breaking in if you have a key.’

  ‘Okay, Miss Winters, let me rephrase.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Are you meant to have a key?’

  ‘I find sometimes it’s best not to ask too many questions.’

  He put his hands up in surrender. ‘Not asking another damn thing.’

  She pushed open the gate and then gasped. They had decorated for the season already. The ancient spruce you could only see the very top of from the outside was strung with glittering gold lanterns and interspersed between its branches were smaller twists of red and green flashing gently on and off. There was a dusting of snow on the grass and the paths through the park and the stark trees were glittering with frost. Then her eyes moved to the small fountain with the marble frog that squirted water from its mouth. It was lit up, but no water was forthcoming. Isla took steps towards it.

  ‘What is this place?’ Chase asked. ‘It looks like the land that time forgot.’

  ‘Does it?’ Isla said, standing in front of the frog. ‘Or does it look like a simpler time that everyone wants to remember?’ She rubbed at the frog’s mouth with her fingers.

  ‘Is this something you do for luck?’ Chase inquired, standing next to her.

  ‘No, it should be shooting out water but I guess it’s frozen.’ She rubbed her fingers over the spout until they started to go numb.

  ‘Let me,’ Chase said.

  She stepped back and watched as he put his mouth over the frog’s like he was resuscitating it. Then he jumped back like he’d been electrocuted and straight away water began jutting out into the frozen pool below.

  ‘God, that was cold,’ Chase said, rubbing his fingers to his lips.

  ‘You’re completely mad,’ Isla said. ‘You could have got your lips stuck.’

  ‘But we got the frog working,’ Chase said, indicating the now running water. ‘I could tell you really wanted the frog working.’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered. She looked to the bench, just a few steps away, with the view of pretty much everything here. Her grandmother
’s bench. The bench held a plaque that said: Edith Rose Winters. Forever a kiss on the wind.

  ‘You wanna sit down?’ Chase asked her.

  ‘It’s freezing,’ Isla reminded him. She turned to look at him. His shirt was damp from the snow. She didn’t want him getting the look of Jack Dawson in the water after the boat had sunk.

  Before she could say anything he had marched up to the bench and started scraping off the layer of snow that covered the wood.

  ‘Ta da,’ Chase said, spreading his arms wide. ‘One hardly wet bench for you to take in the view.’

  ‘You are certifiably mad,’ Isla said, a smile widening her mouth.

  ‘So some people tell me,’ he answered with a grin. ‘Come on, we’ll sit on the jacket and we’ll share your poncho.’

  ‘Poncho,’ Isla said with a laugh, clutching at her shawl. ‘This isn’t a Western. And it’s actually vintage.’

  ‘As long as it’s warm I don’t care when it was made.’

  His teeth were juddering a little now and she stepped up to him, taking his jacket from her shoulders, laying it on the bench then untying her wrap. She sat down and he joined her. She moved a little closer, passing her shawl around his body until he caught the end with his ice-cold fingers.

  ‘So, this place is special to you,’ Chase remarked, his breath a little disjointed as he fought the dropping temperature.

  ‘We’re sitting on my grandmother’s bench,’ Isla informed him. She turned her head to read the plaque again.

  ‘Edith Rose Winters. Forever a kiss on the wind,’ Chase read aloud.

  Isla smiled. ‘That was her catchphrase. Whenever Hannah and I were frightened or being silly over something trivial, she would say “Ah now, don’t be afraid, remember there’s always a kiss on the wind.”’ She smiled. ‘We didn’t really understand it back then but now it comforts me to believe that she’s always here, and my mum and dad too. You know, kisses on the wind.’

  ‘That’s beautiful,’ he replied.

  ‘She lived here, in that house across there.’ Isla pointed to a three-storey townhouse with a cat sitting on the wall, licking its paws. ‘That’s how come I have a key to the gardens.’ She sighed. ‘She died when I was fifteen. Nothing horrible or spectacular, just fell asleep and didn’t wake up.’

  ‘That’s not a bad way to go,’ Chase admitted.

  ‘And so much better than hyperthermia,’ Isla remarked, teeth juddering.

  ‘Don’t you go dying of cold on me,’ he warned. ‘I think I would probably end up losing my job if I killed my Go-To Girl.’

  She laughed. ‘There’s true compassion.’

  ‘Come here,’ Chase said. ‘Neither of us are dying tonight.’

  He put an arm around her and pulled her in tight to him. And immediately her stomach started to move around like a bumper car, waiting for the jolt she knew was going to happen.

  ‘I really needed to know that British winters are just as cold as New York ones,’ Chase remarked. ‘I might have been more prepared.’

  ‘I love the sky this time of year,’ Isla said, breathing in and becoming more and more aware of his firm torso in line with hers. ‘On a clear night like this, even in the city, you almost feel like you can see everything. Everything outside of here, you know?’

  She looked up, away from the sparkling Christmas tree and the frog whose water spurting was starting to slow, to the thick blanket of night above them.

  Then she felt Chase shiver and she looked back to him. ‘You’re cold,’ she said. ‘Let’s walk to the Tube or call the car.’

  ‘No,’ Chase whispered. ‘I really don’t want to do that.’

  There was something in his tone that made Isla turn her head to look at him a little more fully. And when she did, she found those caramel-coloured eyes were studying hers. She caught her breath, held on to it, and tried to beat down the sparks that were zipping through her like excited fireworks. This man, her boss, did something to her and there was absolutely no denying it.

  ‘You don’t?’ She barely managed to get the words out.

  ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘Because, I think, if we leave, I’m gonna miss out on seeing the stars.’

  She couldn’t move. Her heart was pounding. She was looking at him, he was looking back at her and the snow was starting to fall more rapidly around them. She couldn’t feel the cold. All she could feel was the warmth radiating from his body, stuck fast to hers, so close but yet not close enough.

  There was nothing Chase wanted to do more right now than kiss her lips. He couldn’t tear his eyes from hers, but the longer he held the contact the more his emotions were threatening to spill over. That meant losing control and he wasn’t so great with losing control.

  He reached out a shaking hand, slowly, his fingers grazing her jawline, his thumb resting against her cheek. He watched her close her eyes in reaction to his touch and he knew then he was totally invested in this moment.

  ‘Isla,’ he whispered.

  Hearing her name made her eyes open again and he moved then, inching his body a little closer to hers, increasing the pressure just a fraction to indicate his intent. He didn’t want to mess this up.

  Cupping her cheek with his hand, he drew her face towards his, ultra-slowly, giving her every opportunity to back out, subconsciously thinking that was probably what was going to happen and then … she did move and disappointment started to invade until … she slipped a hand around the nape of his neck and gently edged him nearer.

  He kissed her then and she kissed him back, unhurried at first – soft, beautiful, tame – then deeper, darker, with intensity he hadn’t experienced or displayed in such a long time. It felt good. She felt so good …

  Her lips left his and she sat back, the shawl dropping off her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry,’ she gasped.

  ‘No, Isla,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t be sorry.’ He took a breath. ‘You can feel anything you want to feel about it but please … please, don’t be sorry.’ He reached for her hand. ‘I’m not sorry.’

  ‘I don’t know what came over me,’ she continued. ‘Can I blame Colin’s mulled wine?’ She let go of his hand, claimed back the shawl and got to her feet.

  ‘Isla …’ he began, trying to calm her. He could see she was like a deer caught in the headlights, wide, scared eyes, shaking legs. His kiss had done that to her. That hurt a little. Actually, it hurt a lot.

  ‘We shouldn’t have done that,’ she said through chattering teeth.

  ‘Why not?’ Chase dared to ask.

  ‘Because …’ She appeared to have no answer.

  ‘Because?’ he queried, standing too.

  ‘Because … you’re my boss and, officially, we are still meant to be at a networking party and—’

  ‘Okay,’ Chase interrupted. ‘I get it.’ He sighed. ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘It is?’ Isla queried.

  ‘Sure,’ he replied. ‘No problem. We can forget it ever happened.’

  He looked directly at her then, hoping for her to change her mind, longing for her to take a few steps back to him and kiss him again. Instead, she nodded and said, ‘We’d better go.’

  Forty-Five

  Beaumont Square, Notting Hill

  The whole ride home in the car Chase had been nothing but polite and Isla had hated every second of responding in exactly the same way. Pretending the kiss hadn’t happened wasn’t an option because it had changed everything. How was she going to work with him now? What had she been thinking? She had turned into Hannah, seeing movie scene kisses in her head and letting herself get sucked into some alcohol-enhanced dream state where you acted on impulse and temporarily ignored the consequences. That was what teenagers did, not twenty-five-year-old women with responsibilities and a job she needed to hang on to.

  Now she was standing outside her own front door, eyes closed, remembering just how it had felt to kiss him. It had been everything, all in one special moment. Passionate, gentle, hot … her stomach pulsed even now as she recalled how
he had tasted – berries, snow, midnight. She opened her eyes slowly, letting the memory disappear gradually until it faded into nothing. It was something so much better than Ptolemy. She couldn’t ask for anything more without a whole host of complications. And she just didn’t need them. Hannah didn’t need them either.

  ‘Isla! If that’s you can you just come in?! There’s only so long I can hold Hugh Grant in the air! And if it’s not Isla, don’t come in! Or face twelve inches of ceramic!’

  She was late. She needed to get Hannah up to bed. She should have thought more about that earlier instead of reminiscing about her gran and kissing Americans on park benches. She slipped her key in the lock and opened the door.

  ‘It’s me,’ she called to her sister. Slipping her head around the door first, she saw Hannah in the hallway, Hugh Grant raised above her head.

  ‘What were you doing out there?’ Hannah asked, lowering Hugh. ‘The light went on ages ago.’

  ‘I was just …’ What did she say to this one? She couldn’t exactly say she was going over her best kiss ever millisecond by millisecond.

  ‘My God!’ Hannah exclaimed, putting Hugh down on the hall console. ‘You were snogging someone, weren’t you?’ Her sister’s eyes widened even more. ‘You haven’t … with Chase Bryan!’

  ‘No!’ Isla said quickly. ‘No, of course not. I was just … I had … a stone in my shoe and … I had to get it out.’

  ‘Right,’ Hannah replied. ‘Well, now you’re back you need to come in here and look at something.’ She began to wheel back towards the door to the living room.

  ‘Well, I was thinking we’d just go to bed,’ Isla said, following her sister. ‘It’s late and—’

  ‘Isla. How’s it goin’, bro?’

  Raj appeared from the living room looking suitably different without his Royal Mail uniform on. In fact he looked almost smart. Box-fresh white trainers, skinny jeans and a bright yellow polo shirt. She almost forgot to speak. ‘Hello, Raj. You’re still here.’

  ‘Of course he’s still here,’ Hannah remarked. ‘We need to tell you what we found while you were out.’ She looked to Raj. ‘Could you make some more macchiatos and I’ll start the story?’ Hannah suggested. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll let you do the bit about breaking in.’