Christmas on Primrose Hill by Karen Swan Read Free Book Online Page B

“no”.’ Nettie closed the door on her. ‘Now leave me alone. I’m getting dressed.’
    Jules stood in the hallway for a moment. ‘Tell you what, I’ll go put the kettle on,’ she called, making her way over to the stairs. ‘And let’s just say it’s a “maybe”.’

Chapter Four
    ‘Get that down you, then – you’ll feel a lot better,’ Tom said, placing the steaming plate on the table in front of her.
    ‘Thanks, Tom,’ she said weakly, looking down at the heap of saturated fat. ‘Tomorrow, definitely fruit tomorrow,’ she resolved.
    ‘Refills?’ he asked, picking up their empties, knowing the drill.
    Jules gave him a thumbs-up and a wink but couldn’t reply – she was already eating.
    Nettie watched him go with a stab of poignancy. She’d been like him once – working behind the bar here during the university holidays. Saving up to move on to bigger and better things. Now she was just another punter, one of the locals who spent as much time – if not more – here as at home.
    ‘I know. Nice bum, right?’ Jules said, watching her wistful gaze.
    Nettie began to eat, her eyes roaming the room. It was too cold to sit outside. The wind was still meting out punishing smacks, and every table in the Engineer was taken, the log fire crackling and throwing out a drowsy heat that was already making the bushy Christmas tree in the opposite corner droop. The flamboyant designer wallpaper contrasted with the rustic waxed tables (theirs had all their initials carved in the sides), and coloured-glass light globes hung from the ceiling. As ever, they were sitting beneath ‘their’ lamp – the green one – at ‘their’ table. She knew almost all the faces in here. ‘Heard from your Canadian fella?’
    ‘Ha! What d’you think?’ Jules asked with a roll of her eyes. ‘He’s in Austria now.’ She chewed not so quietly for a bit. ‘I’m not bothered anyway. He kept doing this weird—’
    ‘Don’t!’ Nettie held her hand up in a ‘stop’ sign. ‘It’s hard enough trying to get my food down.’
    Jules shrugged. ‘Well, anyway, onwards and upwards.’ She dunked a chip in the ramekin of ketchup, stabbing it thoughtfully in the air. ‘Good body, though. I think athletes might be the way to go.’
    Nettie pulled a face. ‘Nup. They’re always training all the time, and they can’t drink. Disaster for you.’
    ‘Oh yeah, true,’ Jules agreed with a disappointed expression as she chewed on the chip. A sudden glint sprang to her eyes. ‘Still, not a worry for you. International heartthrobs don’t come with caveats like that. Yours is as hard-living as we are.’
    Nettie smiled as she was reminded yet again of her extraordinary new status and she wondered whether people could tell just by looking at her. She felt as mysterious as she had after losing her virginity. ‘He is not mine, sadly.
I
wish.’
    ‘Hey, we should post something right now,’ Jules grinned, leaning in over the table and getting ketchup on her jumper. ‘Let’s take a photo.’
    ‘Of what? My lunch? Hardly thrilling stuff.’ Tom came back with their virgin Bloody Marys and she took a sip. ‘Unless, of course, we start a food fight that turns into a riot.’
    Jules winked excitedly. ‘You should go into the loos and take a photo with your top off. You’ve got lovely boobs. That’d make him sit up and take notice!’
    Nettie spluttered on the drink. ‘What? And post it to the thirty thousand other people following me? I don’t think so.’ She wrinkled her nose, looking at her friend. ‘
You
don’t do that, do you?’
    Jules shrugged.
    Nettie felt shocked. ‘But what if it got out somehow?’
    ‘Why would it?’
    ‘Uh, bad break-up? Boasting? Any number of reasons.’
    Jules shrugged again. ‘I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. It’s no biggie. You’re just a prude.’
    ‘I’m private – there’s a difference,’ Nettie tutted. ‘Besides, you wouldn’t be so relaxed about it if your mum saw. Or