Page 21 of Last Christmas in London

‘Yeah,’ he said, his grin widening. ‘If you were to take this £10 note back, it would be like stealing change from a wishing fountain.’

‘Except those are for charity, which you’ve just stressed this isn’t.’

He opened his mouth but shut it almost instantly.

‘Hmm. Want to keep digging your hole?’

‘Fine.’ He held his hand up. ‘I’m no master of wits.’

‘You’re not bad,’ I said, uncrossing my arms and placing my chilled hands in my pockets instead. ‘What’s next on the set-list then?’

He tilted his head in consideration. ‘Whatever I fancy.’

‘I noticed that you weren’t sticking to a purely festive theme.’

‘“Sweet Caroline” is a classic, all year round. And very suitable for this street, I would say.’

‘You know your audience; I’ll give you that,’ I agreed, and he nodded in assent.

Suddenly I heard my name being called: ‘Evie!’ Megan reappeared in the distance, lugging a massive Doc Martens bag at her side. I waved her over and she walloped my leg with the bag.

‘Sorry.’

‘Some early Christmas presents for yourself?’ I remarked, rubbing my calf – not realising at first that I was using the busker’s guitar to steady me; he put a steadying hand behind it for my sake, but I noticed his eye twitch as if in pain – Megan smiled innocently.

‘Hello,’ she said to the busker, in surprise and eager flirtation. Her impressed tone and the way she glanced between me and him felt very quick off the mark. ‘I’m Megan,’ she said to the busker, and that’s when I realised, he and I had never even exchanged names, even though we’d met twice and already sparred verbally both times, however unexpectedly.

‘I’m Simon,’ he said, offering her his hand as I released my own from his guitar.

‘Evie.’

Simon’s lip twitched upwards in amusement. Megan jabbed me in the ribs. ‘Were you making a request?’ she asked.

‘More like…’ I didn’t know how to explain, but Simon saved me.

‘Exactly that,’ he said smoothly.

Megan grinned. ‘Fab. What did you choose?’

I looked back to Simon, who raised the guitar strap over his head and licked his lip in one smooth motion that sucked every thought from inside my brain. I couldn’t remember a single song, even though cheesy Christmas songs were my absolute favourite.

After a moment I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. Simon rescued me again, mouthing ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’.

Thank Christ for Shakin’ Stevens!

‘I asked if he knew “Merry Christmas Everyone”.’

‘And I was just saying,’ he began immediately. ‘Who doesn’t know Shakin’ Stevens?’

‘One of my favourites,’ Megan agreed, perhaps a bit too earnestly.

‘I’ll just get set up,’ Simon said, pointing back to his amp and moving away.

‘Get you!’ Megan whispered. ‘And get in!’

‘Oh, ssh!’ I said, poking her in the side as Simon turned and adjusted his microphone before swiftly bringing his guitar in front and hitting a pedal on the floor which triggered the opening jingles and backing singer vocals.

‘Snow is fallin’, all around me, children playing, having fun…’ he began, and Megan bobbed from side to side until the drum section kicked in, and then she was full-on dancing. It was pleasant to see her letting her hair down, especially when she’d seemed so off colour earlier; soon I couldn’t help myself either, I was swaying with her, bobbing to the beat and trying not to blush too heavily as Simon grinned in our direction and tapped his foot on the floor.