Page 35 of Last Christmas in London

‘He said he’d get his mate Billy to do it,’ Megan said, pressing ‘Dial’ on her phone again. ‘But I can’t get hold of Billy and now Alex isn’t answering his phone. What if he’s doing a Love Actually?’ she asked suddenly.

‘A what?’ I said.

‘You know – when Colin Firth goes to the wedding and leaves his girlfriend at home as she has a cold, but she’s actually fucking his brother.’

‘Well, in this scenario that would surely mean Alex is fucking me, which I can swear by Mary, Joseph, and the wee donkey he is not,’ I pointed out.

‘But he’s not answering,’ Megan practically wailed.

‘And we’re a team member down!’ Josh also wailed.

‘Okay, calm down,’ I said and both of them glared at me, since when has anyone ever calmed down because they were told to? ‘He’s probably not answering as he’s downed too much NyQuil and is sleeping it off and besides, this is Alex, he can’t prepare a takeaway order let alone a coordinated cheating moment. And we can run just the three of us.’

‘The minimum team is four,’ Josh pointed out. ‘If we don’t have a fourth, we have to forfeit our place.’

‘Surely we can speak to someone,’ I suggested calmly – putting my practice with Pim to good use – and looked for one of the Santa hats with a clipboard. ‘There must be a few spare runners who couldn’t get a team together on the sidelines, or someone we can just pinch from the crowd.’

‘What about the costume?’ Josh shouted, flinging his arms in the air. How many espressos had he had this morning? ‘We need a man to fit the costume and we need them now.’

My heart skipped a beat.

Call it a lightbulb moment or a ton of bricks, but I knew exactly what to do. He was going to hate me. But it was for charity. And deep down, I knew he’d do it. At least, I hoped he would.

‘I know who we can ask.’

Before Josh or Megan could question me, I bolted out into the crowd. If I didn’t get to him before he wrapped up his set, I’d lose him to the sea of people flooding the streets.

‘Excuse me!’ I shouted, pushing past racers and the growing crowds of viewers, all of whom took double takes when they spotted – or heard – my wildly jingly costume. ‘Christmas emergency!’ I added for good measure, feeling my role overtaking my personality. It was remarkable how many people seemed to stop and pull children and their handbags out of the way at that declaration. Suddenly it was as if I was an ambulance, and crowds were respectful enough to pause and pull into gaps. ‘I’m trying to save Christmas!’ I shouted again for effect, and once again the crowds parted, and I found myself back in the open-air market of Covent Garden.

Looking around to find my bearings, scanning the festive chaos, I spotted the Christmas tree and ran towards it. A police officer shouted, ‘Slow down, love!’ but I simply waved energetically and carried on running.

Simon was still there.

He was reaching the crescendo of ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day’, his voice soaring above the crowd, his arms flung wide, his body moving to the beat, and the onlookers were completely enthralled, clapping, and singing along. I pushed through them, earning a few glares but mostly laughter as my jingling skirt swished around me. I stopped just short of tackling him.

His eyebrows shot up when he spotted me. For a second his voice faltered, his eyes widening as if he couldn’t quite believe I was back so soon. His mouth curled into a half-smile as he continued to sing, his voice unwavering even as his expression clearly asked, ‘What are you doing?’

Awkwardly I bobbed along, looking to one of the observers that I had just pushed past with an apologetic ‘I’m just excited’ smile, before turning back to Simon. My heart was racing, anticipation bubbling in my chest. Waiting for him to finish was excruciating. I couldn’t help it – I started making subtle hand gestures, mouthing hurry up, which only earned me a confused head tilt and a playful eye roll.

Finally the song ended and he stepped back from the microphone, slightly breathless but grinning, as he called, ‘Thank you so much! Merry Christmas!’ Coins clinked into his hat as people came forward, and I took my chance, ducking around them to reach him.

Simon immediately made room for me with a very confused and amused: ‘What’s up with you?’

‘I’m so sorry, but I need a favour,’ I blurted out, trying to keep the urgency out of my voice, but failing miserably.

‘A favour?’ He turned every few seconds, nodding and thanking the crowd as they dropped coins into his hat. ‘Couldn’t it wait?’

‘Well, it’s kind of time-sensitive,’ I said, feeling my phone buzz repeatedly in my bag. Clearly Josh was losing his mind. ‘I need you… now. Like, right now.’

‘Now? I’ve got to clear up, I’m…’

‘I know! And I swear I wouldn’t ask unless it was life or death.’ I hesitated, then amended, ‘Okay, maybe not death, but definitely Christmas.’

His eyes softened, his posture relaxing just a fraction. ‘Christmas, huh?’

‘Yes! We need a fourth for the Great Christmas Pudding Race.’

His head swerved and his eyes bulged in a way I could easily translate as ‘No fucking way!’