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‘Unknown number,’ she said, making a puzzled face. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi Minnie, it’s Tara. Is Quinn with you?’
‘It’s your mum,’ Minnie mouthed to Quinn.
‘Yes, he’s here,’ she told Tara. ‘I’ll put you on … ’
Quinn closed his eyes and held out his hand to take the phone.
‘No, no, I don’t need to speak to him,’ Tara said. ‘I just wanted to check that he’d found you. He called me looking for your number earlier, and I only just managed to get yourdetails from your mother. I’m glad you managed to find each other.’
Quinn was still holding out his hand for the phone, his brow furrowed in confusion as to why Minnie was still talking to his mother.
‘We’re on Primrose Hill,’ said Minnie, standing up and waving at the blue house across the road. ‘I’m waving now, I doubt you can see me. We could come and say hello in a bit?’
‘No, don’t. Go and enjoy yourselves,’ said Tara. ‘Oh, and Minnie?’
‘Yes.’
‘Happy Birthday, sweetheart.’
Minnie said goodbye and hung up the phone.
‘What was that about?’ asked Quinn.
‘You called her earlier looking for my number, she just wanted to check you’d found me.’
Quinn nodded and rolled his eyes to the sky. ‘I called her from a friend’s phone when my mobile died. I hoped she might have your number.’
‘Well, she says Happy Birthday,’ said Minnie.
Minnie leant back against Quinn’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck, setting off a whole new wave of fireworks. Streams of light crackled on the horizon and Minnie let out a contented sigh. As they gently swayed to the music of the guitar, Minnie’s head resting on Quinn’s shoulder, he said, ‘In the morning, shall we go to the heath and watch the sunrise from our hill?’
‘Our hill? I like the sound of that.’ Then, after a pause, Minnie said, ‘Quinn, can I ask you something?’
‘Sure, anything.’
‘It’s a silly question Leila always asks on New Year’s Eve. It’s kind of a tradition – where do you want to be this time next year?’
‘Where do I want to be?’ Quinn paused for a moment. ‘I want to be right here, with you, on Primrose Hill, having a Weetabix picnic.’
She smiled, the kind of smile where you feel your muscles might soon tire from smiling so much. She turned her head to kiss his mouth. Kissing for Minnie usually came with a degree of self-consciousness. Beneath the physical connection there was always an awareness of what the other person might be thinking, of where it might lead, or that you might need to leave soon to get the bus. It was like reading subtitles while watching a film – your focus wasn’t always entirely in the right place. With this kiss, there were no subtitles. Her thinking mind surrendered to the pleasure of the moment.
‘What about you?’ he said eventually, his breath hot on her cheek. ‘Where do you want to be?’
‘I don’t mind where I am,’ she said softly. ‘As long as it’s you I’m kissing at lemming o’clock.’
She saw his eyes grow wide and he said in a strange voice, ‘Lemming o’clock? You? … I knew it was you … ’
And in the time it took her to realise what he meant, she leant in to kiss him again and the whole world folded into this small patch of grass on Primrose Hill.
