Page 38 of Last Christmas in London

‘Sounds dreadful,’ Simon said, trying to hide his smile as he rubbed his eye, smudging the badly applied face paint.

‘What’s dreadful is the make-up. I’m so sorry,’ I added, patting his now furry green arm apologetically.

‘At least this costume is warm. I don’t have to worry so much about scarves and hats.’

‘Wait until we start running,’ I pointed out. ‘You might not be so thankful for that costume then.’

At that moment the marshals began calling for teams to come forward.

‘That’s us!’ Josh cried, moving immediately to get to the front of the starting line for his tray and Christmas pudding, with the three of us following, leaving our stuff at the side of the street. Thankfully, being a team within the race meant that we got to stand behind a security barrier and could leave our items safely.

‘So what actually happens?’ Simon asked me and Megan, as the two of us began pushing through the other groups to get in line.

‘It’s an obstacle course,’ Megan shouted over the rising din of competitive voices. ‘We each get a tray with a Christmas pudding on it.’

‘I got that part,’ Simon mumbled, grumpy that a Hans Gruber had pushed him aside to join his other collective Grubers.

‘There are obstacles we have to climb over and through, like that inflatable slide.’ I pointed to it for Simon’s benefit. ‘Oh, and the race marshals spray you with foam before you go on the slalom.’

‘And we’ve all got to decorate a Christmas tree and dress a snowman at the end as well.’ Megan grinned – of course, her favourite bit would be the home décor portion. ‘With Josh on our team, that will be a piece of cake.’

‘The winning teams battle it out in a Grand Final,’ I said finally as I was passed my tray and pudding, which was surprisingly heavy. ‘Oh, and don’t drop your pudding.’

Simon mouthed ‘Okay’ in that adorably bewildered way of his, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

‘£200 for Crisis,’ I muttered to him, raising an eyebrow. He glanced at me, his lips curling into a slow, easy smile.

‘At this rate, you’re going to raise more money for Crisis than you are Cancer Research.’ His voice was teasing, but there was something warm in the way he said it.

‘We’ll raise money for both, no jingle off my bells.’

His laugh was deep and unrestrained, a sound that sent a little thrill through me. We almost missed the MasterChef winner’s opening instructions, but we certainly didn’t miss the ‘Ready, get set, go!’ that followed.

The horn blared, and suddenly we were swept up in a wave of runners – shoved forward by reindeer, elves, fat Santas, bad Santas, and more. Megan let out a shriek, her sensible shoes propelling her forward with surprising speed, while I nearly slipped in mine. Simon, either suddenly possessed by competitive fire or eager to finish, jolted ahead.

I caught up with them as we all tried to climb the inflatable slide, our trays and puddings swaying dangerously. It was chaos, and not the good kind.

‘Give me a boost!’ Simon shouted and without hesitating Megan and I had one hand on either side of his backside and were pushing his furry green bottom up and over.

‘The gentlemanly thing would have been to help us!’ Megan pointed out, half-giggling, half out of breath, but there was no time for further complaints; Simon’s head suddenly reappeared at the top of the slide. I heard the commentator laughingly pointing out that ‘The Grinch appears to be saving Cindy Lou Who!’

Somehow, Simon managed to hold onto both his tray and the slide, pulling Megan up with him. She yelped as she rolled down the slide, and I heard Simon’s voice ring out, ‘Your turn now.’

Trying my hardest not to lose my slippery footing as I laughed, I lurched forward to grab him and squashed the Christmas pudding into my chest.

‘Oh, fuck!’ I exclaimed and I heard one of the Jingle Belles shout, ‘Language!’ at the top of her lungs. ‘So sorry!’ I screeched, as I toppled over and landed on top of Simon and we both fell down the slide together. Now two Christmas puddings pressed into our chests.

‘I hope these costumes weren’t rentals,’ Simon murmured, his breath warm against my cheek as we tried to right ourselves.

‘Knowing Josh…’ I said, groaning as I got to my knees and offered him a hand as I precariously peeled most of the Christmas pudding back onto the plate, ‘… they’re not.’

‘Come on,’ Simon exhaled with a huff but his face glowed with a rosy pink tint, the laughter and exertion painting him in a charming light. ‘We can still win this,’ he said, that infectious grin spreading across his face.

We had all made good time through the obstacle course, even if our puddings were a little more squashed than they had been at the start. Simon and I found Josh and Megan already expertly adding details to the Christmas tree as we arrived, and we were instructed to start work on the snowman.

‘What shall we call him?’ Simon asked, clearly getting into the spirit of things, as he wrapped a red scarf around the snowman. His focus on the task only seemed to make him more endearing.

‘Not Jack Frost,’ I said, my mind struggling for something clever as I began to place a hat on the snowman’s head.