It Started With a Kiss (32 page)

I’d never been in the capital just before Christmas – I’d only ever seen Christmassy London scenes in Richard Curtis films – but there was definitely something magical about the city in the throes of festive celebrations. Music from carol singers and a Salvation Army band floated up from street corners and every shop window glowed with Christmas displays. The pavements were packed with shoppers – Oxford Street and Regent Street barely passable at anything faster than a snail’s pace – but it all somehow added to the excitement. And nobody was more excited than Sophie.

‘Look at the lights!’ she squealed, pointing up at the beautiful Christmas lights spanning the street above our heads. ‘Aren’t they the most gorgeous decorations you’ve ever seen?’

Tom rolled his eyes and linked his arm through Sophie’s. ‘You know, I think they probably put them up just for you, Soph.’

She glared at him. ‘Perhaps they
did
.’

I smiled at them both. ‘So where to now?’

‘I vote we find hot chocolate, something very indulgent to eat and maybe a spot of skating?’ Tom suggested, laughing when Sophie’s eyes lit up.

We managed to bag a table in the window of a beautiful patisserie on Regent Street overlooking the brightly lit street and settled down to enjoy huge cups of hot chocolate with marshmallows.

‘So, how are you feeling about tomorrow?’ Tom asked, as the waitress arrived with three enormous slices of multi-layered gateaux – white chocolate for him and dark chocolate for Sophie and me.

‘I just hope I remember all the sax parts,’ Sophie said. ‘I know we’ve rehearsed them to death but I’m still worried I’ll get on that stage and draw a total blank.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ Tom assured her. ‘You sounded awesome at the last rehearsal. Just get up there and enjoy it – we’ve worked so hard for this one. I can’t wait. How about you, Rom?’

My stomach did a little flip at the thought of everything tomorrow might hold. ‘I’m a bit nervous, but it’s going to be amazing.’ Silently, I added,
I hope
.

After we finished our cake, Sophie suggested we visit Harrods. I didn’t feel like walking round a crowded Christmas store, so Tom agreed to take Sophie.

‘Will you be OK?’ he asked me.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I assured him. ‘I’ll just wander round for a while.’

As Sophie dragged Tom out of the door, I smiled at the waiter who had arrived to clear our table. ‘It’s her first time in London at Christmas. I think she’s a little overexcited.’

The waiter laughed. ‘You’re not joining them?’

‘No. I thought I might go for a walk somewhere.’

‘I’d recommend the South Bank,’ he said, wiping the table. ‘Very festive and really beautiful by the Thames.’

He wasn’t wrong. When I arrived at the South Bank a truly magical sight met my eyes. Every tree was covered in nets of tiny white lights, making them appear to be encrusted in sparkling diamonds, and multicoloured lights reflected in the dark waters of the river. All along the path were small wooden stalls, identical to those that lined New Street last year for the Christmas Market, and the same Christmas music was playing that I’d heard then.

Walking along with crowds of visitors, I couldn’t help but remember the way that Charlie and I had walked along New Street, laughing and happy, before we’d stepped into the coffee shop last year. And then, as I passed a group of revellers dressed in Santa outfits, I saw it: a toy stall, identical to the one I had collided with twelve months ago. The parallels between this scene and the Christmas Market in Birmingham were unavoidable, but rather than confusing, I found I was comforted by the memories flooding back – and excited about what the future held for me.

Later that evening when we all met up in the plush hotel bar, Wren was beaming. ‘The ice rink was
amazing
! D’Wayne insisted we go on the Ferris wheel, and I was so excited I went with it – completely forgetting that I’m not good with heights …’

‘You should have heard her screaming when we reached the top and the wheel stopped to let people on,’ D’Wayne chuckled, squeezing Wren’s hand. ‘Anyone would think she was being murdered or something.’

‘Ah, D’Wayne,’ Jack said, slapping his back sympathetically. ‘This is the kind of fun that lies in store for you now, my friend.’

‘Oi!’ Wren retorted. ‘I’m
fun
to be with, thank you very much.’

‘Yes, of course you are, dear.’ D’Wayne feigned terror, which made everyone laugh. It was so good to see Wren and D’Wayne so happy and comfortable with each other already.

‘We ended up in Trafalgar Square,’ Jack said, handing his mobile around so we could see the pictures he’d taken. The tall Norwegian Christmas tree, covered in multicoloured lights, was reflected in the water of the fountain and looked stunning against the darkened December sky. ‘The vibe there was incredible. While we were admiring the tree, this group of tourists arrived and just started singing Christmas carols – completely improvised.’

‘I hope you joined in?’ I asked.

‘Of course.’ Charlie’s eyes were sparklier than all the lights on the Trafalgar Square tree combined as he looked at me. ‘In three-part harmony, too, I’ll have you know.’

Jack tapped his wine glass with his mobile. ‘Your attention please, ladies and gentlemen! Seeing as we didn’t have our annual Pinstripes Christmas soirée tonight because of some random last-minute wedding, I would like to propose a toast. To The Pinstripes – onwards and upwards!’

‘Onwards and upwards!’ we cheered.

Later that night, snuggled up in the complimentary towelling robe watching television, I fetched PK’s photo from my bag and stared at it. This would be the last night I would ask him the question, but it had to be done.

‘If you’re still looking for me, come and find me. There’s still time …’

The shrill tone of Stevie Wonder from my mobile interrupted me.

‘Hey, you.’

I swallowed hard. ‘Hey, Charlie.’

‘I just wanted to say – I’m here for you whatever happens tomorrow. You’re my best friend and you always will be. I need you to know that.’

I smiled as a shiver of joy wriggled free and made its curly way to my toes. ‘Thank you. Ditto from me. Um, Charlie?’

‘Yes?’

‘Thanks. Even though – well, even though I know this whole quest thing has been difficult for you to understand, I promise you I’ll make the right decision – for us. Goodnight.’

His voice was gentle and velvet-soft against my ear. ‘Goodnight, beautiful.’

The next morning was bright and crisp as I joined the rest  of the band in the hotel’s sumptuous restaurant for breakfast. Wren and Sophie had sneaked out before the rest of us were awake to do some early morning Christmas shopping, much to the amusement of D’Wayne and Jack, and now an impressive array of shopping bags occupied the floor underneath our table.

‘Never let it be said that you two aren’t committed when it comes to shopping,’ Tom laughed.

I had slept like a baby in the enormous king-sized bed in my elegant room; for the first time in many months, neither PK nor Charlie entered my dreams. With my decision – and the death knell of the quest – fast approaching, my subconscious mind could offer no more supportive evidence. What happened this evening was down to me alone.

‘You know how people always nick things from hotel rooms?’ Sophie asked, as we tucked into a hearty English breakfast. ‘Well, I was wondering if they would miss the entire en suite in my room? That marble is to
die
for!’

‘We’d never fit it in the van, petal,’ Jack winked, as his secret fiancée made a swipe for him with her linen napkin.

‘What time do we need to get over to the venue?’ Charlie asked D’Wayne.

‘Sid said any time before five. I think we should aim for about four pm. We have dressing rooms, apparently, so we can chill there until it’s time for you to go on.’

‘I think we should get out and enjoy London some more before we have to work,’ Sophie suggested.

‘Haven’t you and Wren had enough already?’ Charlie laughed.

‘I think it’s a good idea, actually,’ D’Wayne said. ‘Blow the cobwebs out a little, get in the mood for tonight. But can I suggest that we don’t all dash about like lunatics this morning? You guys need to be well rested for tonight.’

Heeding our manager’s wise words, we decided to go for a walk together. Leaving the bright lights and bustle of Kensington behind us, we caught the tube to Hyde Park Corner and walked into the frosted park. The whole place felt imbued with Christmas spirit – twinkling lights were draped between the streetlights that lined the paths and framed the small refreshment booths beside the lake, families were enjoying the bright winter’s day together and couples snuggled close on park benches. It felt good to be out with my best friends in the crisp air, laughing and fooling around.

Tom found a discarded tennis ball and held it aloft like a prize. ‘Game on!’

Charlie, Jack, Sophie and I dashed on to the frozen grass for an impromptu game of catch, the activity made significantly harder by the slippery ground beneath our feet. Several times, we came crashing down, much to our amusement – and D’Wayne’s despair.

‘Come on, guys,’ he protested. ‘I said a
gentle
walk, not World War Three!’

Grinning like naughty schoolkids, we dutifully abandoned the game. On our way back into the elegant chaos of Kensington, clutching paper coffee cups to keep our hands warm, we stopped to watch a barbershop choir who were performing a great set of Christmas songs to a crowd of shoppers outside one of the expensive restaurants. It was impossible not to feel a sparkle of Christmas magic hearing tunes like ‘Let It Snow’, ‘White Christmas’ and ‘The Most Wonderful Time of the Year’. Jack started dancing with Sophie, moving until they were under a bunch of mistletoe tied to the restaurant’s awning and sweeping her into a passionate kiss as the onlookers cheered. It was beautiful – and perfectly set the scene for the romance of the day ahead of us.

We arrived at Syon Park at four thirty and were directed to our dressing rooms by a member of security. Jack laughed when he saw the two blue Portakabins in the backstage area. ‘Wow. Normally when an organiser says we have “dressing rooms” they mean more than one cubicle in the loos. How things change!’

Sophie, Wren and I changed into our stage costumes, chosen with great care and attention the week before. Sophie’s deep turquoise cocktail dress and matching shoes made her blonde hair shine like spun gold; Wren looked amazing as always in an opulent black velvet mini-dress and impressively high heels, the diamanté choker and matching bracelet she wore sparkling with every move. After much deliberation (and passionate persuasion by Wren), I had blown my Christmas budget on a silver slub-silk strapless dress, that I teamed with matching heels and a long string of amethyst beads. After much twirling and appreciative oohs and aahs, we picked our way over the frozen lawn to the boys’ dressing room next door. When we entered, the boys were gathered around Jack’s folder of lead sheets for the songs, going over the structure and making sure that everyone knew the nuances of each one.

‘… Don’t forget the double-push after the middle eight when the chorus comes back in – here.’

Tom looked up. ‘
He-llo
, mommas!’

Jack wolf-whistled as we entered their dressing room. ‘Ladies, lovely as ever.’

Charlie winked at me as the others made room for us to sit. ‘It’s possible they might want us to play background stuff while they rearrange part of the space for the evening gig – D’Wayne’s just finding out. Jack suggested we do some of the afternoon set we did for Frankie and Owen and the crooner stuff from the golden wedding gig last month.’

‘Sounds good,’ I replied.

The door opened and I was secretly thrilled when I noticed Wren’s eyes light up as she saw D’Wayne walk in.

‘OK, we’re on for a background set at five thirty,’ he said, checking his watch. ‘That gives us an hour before we’re due on stage. Sid reckons we can use it as a bit of an elongated sound-check, too. There’ll be a monitor desk at the side of the stage, so if you need any changes in your monitors you can ask the technician.’

Half an hour later, I remembered that I had left my earrings in my bag, so left the others to return to our dressing room. I checked my reflection in the large mirror, pleased with the elegant chignon that Wren and Sophie had swept my hair up in and the sparkling amethyst hair pins that shimmered as I turned my head. The effect with the soft silver of my dress was fantastic, and as I looked at my reflection I was thrilled to see the confident woman smiling back at me. Picking up my set list and water bottle, I stepped out into the chilly afternoon. The sun had already set over the park and house, but now a magical transformation had occurred: not only was the house dramatically floodlit behind the glowing marquee, but every tree had been lit from below with a different coloured light. It was so beautiful that I decided to take a detour around the front of the marquee to get the full effect across the immaculately maintained lawns and great lake beyond.

This was the most breathtaking place I had ever seen – a fitting location for the end of an extraordinary year. Over to my right, I spied a bench between the intricate frames of two beech trees, one lit with a golden yellow light, the other an emerald green.

That’s where I’ll tell Charlie
, I decided. It was the perfect place.

Feeling pleased with myself, I turned to head back to the dressing rooms … and froze.

Walking in my direction, fifty yards away from where I stood, a dark figure passed the entrance to the marquee, the light from within suddenly illuminating his russet-brown wavy hair and a face I had become so accustomed to seeing in my memories and the blurry photo. I blinked a few times, convinced that my mind was playing tricks again as it had done months ago with look-a-like Mark in George’s cosy interior. But there was no mistaking what I saw this time: PK was here, at the millionaire gig in stunning Syon Park, heading towards me. He was dressed in a full, dark grey morning suit with a scarlet embroidered waistcoat, his white cravat slightly loosened at his neck. He was just as I remembered him … only better. But a shot of panic seared through me as I suddenly remembered something Sid had told us earlier when Tom had asked how we would spot the groom in the sea of guests.