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‘Great,’ I said, tucking my gloved hand into the crook of his arm. ‘Then how about an ice bar for our next date? My shout. Let’s see how well you do at minus five degrees, where even the seats are made of solid ice.’
We were paused at a pedestrian crossing, and in the seconds before a van stopped to let us cross, I caught the hint of a smile as it played over Finn’s lips. ‘That’s assuming you’re not about to disappear back to Sydney in the next week or so,’ I added hastily. There. I’d finally asked it. Not particularly subtly or casually, and with absolutely no degree of finesse, but at least I’d now know how things stood, one way or the other.
‘I’m planning on sticking around for quite a while, actually.’
As much as I tried not to look delighted, I was pretty sure my emotions were plastered all over my face.
‘Oh, really?’ I said in an attempt at nonchalance no one would have bought. ‘I didn’t realise your plans had changed.’
‘It only happened recently. Just this minute, in fact,’ Finn replied, his hand squeezing mine. And even though we were both wearing gloves, I swear I could feel the warmth of his touch straight through the leather and suede that separated us.
It was gone eleven o’clock at night, yet there were still plenty of pedestrians on the streets. Among them was a cluster of people who appeared to be queuing for something beside the park gates. They were stamping on the pavement, trying to restore feeling to feet that had probably long since gone numb, and when they spoke, clouds of vapour floated above their heads like silent speech bubbles.
As we got closer, I noticed that the group appeared to be comprised mainly of couples. I still had no idea what they were queuing for, until I heard a noise that sounded like sleigh bells, quickly followed by the trundle of heavy wooden wheels on tarmac.
The group fidgeted and sprang to attention with palpable excitement as three old-fashioned horse-drawn carriages emerged from the shadowy park. They drew to a halt in front of the queue with a stamp of impatient hooves and a chorus of whinnies from the horses.
I laughed as passengers in the carriages scarcely had time to disembark before their seats were filled by the next customers waiting in line.
‘Ever been on one of those?’ Finn asked, looking down at me with a quizzical smile.
‘No,’ I said, shaking my head from side to side, making the ends of my scarf flutter like sails. ‘This kind of thing is just for the tourists.’
Finn nodded as though in complete agreement, before observing, ‘Of course, you did just call me a tourist.’
I slipped my hand back into the crook of his arm and drew us one step further away from the queue. ‘I meant overseas ones.’
Finn nodded wisely, paused for a moment, and then innocently remarked, ‘Although last time I looked, Australia was overseas.’
‘Are you saying you want to go on a carriage ride, Finn Douglas?’ I challenged.
He was grinning as he shook his head. ‘No. Not really. But I rather suspect that you do.’
‘Nope. Not at all. Crazy idea,’ I said, tugging him further down the footpath. ‘It’s way too cheesy, and it probably costs a fortune. These things are always a rip-off,’ I said, as though I was doing an in-depth exposé on the best way to fleece foreign holidaymakers of their cash.
‘Fair enough,’ said Finn with a shrug.
We couldn’t have gone more than twenty steps down the pathway before Finn came to an abrupt stop. ‘You really want to go on one, don’t you?’
‘More than anything,’ I admitted sheepishly.
*
We were in luck; a fourth carriage had just returned, and miraculously the queue was now gone.
‘Have we got time for this?’ I worried belatedly as I climbed into the carriage and tucked the thick plaid blanket the driver had handed me over our legs. It felt curiously intimate to be beneath the cover with Finn, even though we were both fully clothed and wearing winter coats to boot.
‘It’s a thirty-minute ride,’ said Finn, sliding closer towards me on the padded leather banquette and putting his arm around my shoulders. ‘We’re just about okay for time.’
It was cheesy. Maybe even a little tacky. And I suspect our driver might have made up his ‘interesting London facts’, because some of them sounded dubious to me. But I absolutely loved every last minute of it.
I leant back and looked up at the clear, star-strewn sky as we clipped our way through the London park. Held tightly against Finn’s side, I could smell the cocktail of him, and I inhaled it deeply, wanting to commit the aroma to memory. Whatever might happen in the days, weeks and months ahead, this would remain a moment I’d cherish for ever.
*
I caught the train by the skin of my teeth. The taxi we’d hailed for the station must have been driven by a cabbie who’d needed numerous attempts to pass the Knowledge.
‘How did he not know the way to one of the major train stations in the city?’ I gasped as Finn bundled some notes at the driver and took my hand as we raced together up the steps towards the concourse.
