Christmas on Primrose Hill (23 page)

‘But . . .’ Nettie looked over to find the girls were already out of sight.

‘Not so fast. You ran away from me twice last night.’ He walked her a few steps towards the stage and, placing her with her back to it, released her wrist. ‘I get the distinct impression you’re avoiding me.’

She crossed her arms over her chest defensively. ‘Funny. I have the distinct impression you’re following me.’

He studied her for a moment. ‘Well, maybe I am.’

She tipped her head to the side fractionally, her arms folded over her chest like she was cold, keeping him away. What did he want? Rejecting her last night, chasing her again now? ‘Why?’

‘Why not? You’re a beautiful girl. You must get loads of men chasing after you.’

The world seemed to spin faster. He thought she was beautiful? She swallowed. ‘Not famous ones.’

‘Does it make a difference?’

She gave a dry laugh, remembering how everyone had stared last night, witnesses to her humiliation. ‘I think it must do, yeah.’

He was quiet for a moment and the amusement faded from his eyes. ‘Actually, you’re right. It does, sometimes. I tell myself I live pretty normally, but . . .’ He exhaled. ‘There are times it gets in the way. Like last night.’ His eyes skipped over her face like a laser, contracting the world, the dome down to just a black sheet billowing around them, like lovers in a bed.

‘Hey, you took me for a skating lesson,’ she said quickly, trying to keep the conversation general, not wanting to revisit the humiliation. ‘It was great. Thanks very much.’

He watched her, undeterred. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘Do I?’ She hoped she wasn’t blushing, knew that she was.

‘I just didn’t want an audience. For
once.
’ She heard the note of exasperation in his voice, wanted to laugh out loud at the irony of where they were standing, right now – one of the biggest stadiums in Europe. ‘Nettie, look – we scarcely know each other. And I know it’s weird for you – there’s a lot of strange shit that comes with knowing me, but . . . I like you. You’re funny and cute and pretty weird yourself. I’d like to get to know you better, but it has to be in private.’

Shock made her laugh. ‘God, you move fast!’ she exclaimed, holding her arms tighter to her body.

‘I didn’t mean . . .’ His voice trailed off as he watched her, an unreadable expression in his eyes. ‘Look, time’s a luxury I don’t have. I’m moving around constantly. I’ve had to learn to read people quickly. Sort the good from the bad, if you like.’ His hand touched her arm. ‘And that’s harder than you’d think. This industry attracts . . . Well, it doesn’t tend to bring out the best in people. It’s a mad job.’

‘Not as mad as mine,’ she muttered, looking out into the rows and rows of empty seats that extended into the blackness, out of sight. There were more seats than she could count and she didn’t need to ask if every one of them would be filled tonight – the concert had sold out in an hour when tickets had been released; she knew because she and Jules had been two of the many trying to get through online. She tried to imagine the thousands of people who’d be here in just a few hours, screaming his name, lifting the lid off the place so that London rocked to his beat.

And right now he was standing here, with her.

He smiled, as if detecting a chink of light. ‘That’s true. Your job is bloody odd.’

‘It’s not usually. Everything’s just . . . off-kilter at the moment.’

‘But you must be enjoying it? Everyone’s mad for you.’ His fingers brushed hers. ‘Including me.’ He was staring at her, a smile on his lips, his fingers resting lightly on top of hers, and for a split second she remembered the fantasy of what this would be like to have Jamie Westlake touching her and looking into her eyes. But it paled beside the reality. Her imagination wasn’t wild enough to have conceived the emotions he aroused in her. Every nerve ending was vibrating, her body shot through with adrenalin.

‘Do
you
love it?’

‘I love this,’ he said, motioning to the arena around them. ‘Playing live’s what it’s all about for me, but I’d gladly turn my back on the rest of it.’

‘The paparazzi, you mean?’

‘Them and the industry politics too – image, branding, all that crap. Sometimes it seems so difficult just to get to play the songs I want to play.’

‘But you’re a massive star. Surely you get to control what you do and don’t do.’

‘You’d think. But I’ve been around a while now. The powers-that-be want me to bring in a younger fanbase. Collaborate with the right producers and DJs, even if it’s not where I want to be.’

She hesitated. ‘I heard you’re doing a duet with Coco Miller.’

He glanced at her. ‘Did you? And who did you hear that from, then?’ His gaze was unnerving.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, embarrassed that he’d caught her out, reading gossip about him, rumour, innuendo. ‘Well, actually, I didn’t . . . didn’t actually
hear
it. I r-read it somewhere.’

‘You should believe very little of what you read about me,’ he said, turning to face her again, a reluctant smile breaking through on his mouth. ‘Although that bit is actually true.’

‘So you are singing with her?’

‘It’s a shit song and Coco’s . . .’ He sighed, stopping short, and Nettie bitterly wished he’d not been so discreet. ‘Well, Dave represents her and he’s trying to break her over here. He said if I do this with her, get her some headlines over here, he’ll give me carte blanche on the next song.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s what I mean when I say don’t trust what you read; it’s all just a game. You’ll only see what they want you to see.’

‘What’s the name of the one you want?’

‘What, song or girl?’

‘S-song,’ she stammered, taken aback by the question, again feeling like he’d tripped her up.

His eyes were roaming her again. ‘It’s called “Night Ships”.’

She blinked at him. ‘Are you going to sing it tonight?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s not finished.’ He locked her gaze with his. ‘But I’ll play it for you when it is, if you like.’

Her mouth parted. If she liked? If she
liked
? She stared back at him; he didn’t seem to understand the impact of his words. He said such normal things, clearly oblivious to the stark fact that nothing about him was normal. She didn’t feel normal around him. The oxygen felt thin and too pure; she wanted to gasp for air, to hold on to the walls for balance.

‘Will you come tonight?’

The question startled her almost as much as the touch of his hand on her arm. She went to shake her head, but he beat her to it.

‘If you come, I’ll say something about the campaign.’ A smile started in his eyes.

She arched an eyebrow, a smile escaping her. ‘That’s blackmail.’

‘Not at all,’ he demurred. ‘You’re simply . . . incentivizing me.’

His hand slid down her arm, finding her hand and squeezing it lightly. She looked away, feeling overwhelmed. ‘Say you’ll come.’ His eyes had found her and wouldn’t put her down.

She swallowed, remembering last night’s pain as she’d sat in the taxi home, creeping into the house and diving under the duvet, knowing sleep wouldn’t come. It had hurt far more than it should have done; she barely knew him, and what was ever going to come of it anyway? She had way more to lose than he did. ‘I can’t.’

‘You’ll be perfectly safe; we won’t be alone. It’ll be you, me and nineteen thousand, nine hundred and ninety-eight other people.’

She laughed even as she shook her head. ‘Sorry, but I’ve got plans.’

‘Cancel them, then.’ His expression changed. ‘This is work. We’ve got work to do.’

‘Oh.’ She felt foolish again. She’d thought . . . ‘You mean you want me to wear the costume and do an appearance or something too?’

He winked, laughing lightly at his trick. ‘No. I want
you
to be there. I’m just messing with you.’

She rolled her eyes and groaned.

‘Hey, where were
you
?’ Daisy demanded, coming back onto the stage and stopping dead at the sight of them talking, side by side. Daisy’s eyes dropped to Jamie’s hand, covering Nettie’s. She quickly withdrew it and straightened up.

‘Y-you went off too quickly. I got lost,’ Nettie said as Caro and Jules reappeared too. Their happy-go-lucky expressions all changed when they saw Nettie had been left behind with the star. ‘Was it good?’

Daisy didn’t reply. Betrayal swam in her eyes like a shark.

Caro shrugged. ‘Dressing room was boring. You need to have higher standards. J-Lo demands all white. Or is it Mariah Carey?’ She stopped chewing to concentrate. ‘Anyway, whatever, that sofa in there is rank.’

‘Duly noted,’ Jamie quipped. ‘Did you see the rider, Jules?’

‘I certainly did.’ Her eyes were again sliding between him and Nettie. ‘I agree with Caro. You can hardly call a bottle of whisky, Sky Sports and
Top Gear
magazine living the dream.’

‘Well, what would you suggest?’ he asked, jumping athletically onto the stage. Nettie tried not to stare.

‘Well, if it was
me
, I’d have baskets of kittens and men in loincloths to give me a massage,’ Jules cackled.

‘Niche,’ Jamie said slowly. ‘What about you, Caro?’

Caro considered. ‘Sour Skittles, a gaming chair and Xbox, and the whole place black with just lava lamps.’

‘Huh.’ He turned. ‘Nettie?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t see it, remember?’

‘Yes, but if you could demand anything back there, what would it be? What would make you relax?’

A double bed ran through her mind as he locked her gaze again. Was this . . . was this normal? Did every girl feel like this in his presence? Yes, probably. More than likely, she told herself as he walked towards her again. ‘A bath and a good book and a glass of champagne,’ she said quickly, opting for the safety of a stereotype to hide behind.

‘A bath in the dressing room?’ He had his back to the others now and a glint glimmered in his eye that made her blush again, shocked to see what was running so clearly through his mind. She felt her body respond in an instant, a heat running through her limbs and pooling in her belly.

‘You asked.’

Jamie’s name was shouted suddenly and he turned, shielding his eyes against a bright light coming from the far end of the arena. He gave a thumbs-up. ‘Damn. I’ve got to go.
Sound checks
.’

‘Bummer,’ Caro said, quickly reaching for two Danishes and putting one in her jacket pocket. The girl was permanently famished.

‘Any of you free to come tonight?’ He deliberately, it seemed, didn’t look at Nettie, and she felt her stomach plunge at his question. She had thought he had been asking only her. She stared at the ground, not sure which way was up with him. Would he have asked them all if she’d said yes, or had it been his intention to invite the entire team along?

Jules’s eyes widened. ‘You mean backstage passes?’

‘Of course.’

‘I am
so
in,’ she said, rubbing her hands together in excitement and prompting a stern look from Nettie. They were supposed to be seeing the Bond film tonight.

‘I’ve got a dinner!’ Daisy wailed, her hands clutching her hair. ‘I’ve got nearly all the food. Ten people coming over. I couldn’t cancel on them.’ She looked at Jamie. ‘Could I? Maybe I could. Do you think I should?’

‘You shouldn’t,’ he said firmly. ‘That’s too many people, and no one likes a flake. How about you, Caro?’

‘It sounds great, but I’ve got tickets for Cirque de Soleil tonight. There’s a group of us going.’ She gave a shrug.

‘Never mind.’ He turned to Nettie. ‘Nettie?’

She blinked. Was she going mad? They’d already had this conversation.

‘I’ve already got plans,’ she said, looking pointedly at Jules. ‘We made plans, remember? We’re supposed to be going out together.’

Jules laughed. ‘Give me a break! If you think I’m missing watching this man in action to watch James Bond save the world, think again!’ Then Jules saw Nettie’s expression. ‘But we can always see it tomorrow, if you like.’

‘I might join you, in which case. I haven’t seen it yet either,’ Jamie said casually, as though it was perfectly normal for one of the biggest rock stars in the world to announce he’d accompany them to the cinema.

‘
You’ve
already seen it. You were at the premiere!’ Jules pointed out with a laugh.

‘I know, but I was distracted that night. I couldn’t keep my mind on the film.’ Every sentence was coded; every look was loaded.

‘Will we get to meet the rest of the band too?’ Jules asked, shooting strange looks over at Nettie.

He looked back at her. ‘Of course. Anyone you want to.’

Jules raised a prayer to the skies. ‘I love my job. I bloody love my job.’

‘Great,’ Jamie smiled as Ron reappeared. ‘We’ve arranged some cars to take you on to wherever you need to go.’

Daisy’s eyes widened happily. A chauffeur? ‘Well, actually, I need to go to Selfridges food hall.’ She looked across at Jamie. ‘They do the
best
truffle oil there, and I believe in spoiling my friends.’

Jamie nodded. ‘Great.’

‘I’m going to Selfridges too, then,’ Jules beamed. ‘Methinks tonight warrants something new. Nets? Coming?’

‘No, I need to get back.’

Jules gave an irritable groan.

‘Caro?’ Jamie asked quickly.

‘Thanks, but I brought my bike,’ Caro shrugged.

‘Great, so then two cars, Ron – Oxford Street and Primrose Hill.’

Ron nodded, waving an arm out to indicate for the women to follow him.

‘So I’ll see you later,’ Jamie said as Jules and Nettie walked past him. ‘I’ll be on at nine.
Don’t
be late.’ His eyes were on Nettie, but she wouldn’t look at him. She didn’t dare.

‘It’s a date, handsome,’ Jules said with a jaunty wink, making him chuckle.

‘It certainly is,’ Jamie replied, still pointedly staring at Nettie until she was forced to look up and stare back. She lasted three seconds.

‘What?’ Jules laughed as Nettie jabbed her in the waist with her elbow. ‘Where’s your sense of fun?’ she asked, hooking her arm through Nettie’s as they walked off the stage and into the warren of corridors out the back.

The waiting cars gleamed in the morning sun – waxed coats and tinted windows setting them apart from the dusty and dented hatchbacks parked at odd angles in the loading area as the crew buzzed about busily, their day already in top gear.