Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
I think back to the number of times I’ve watched an action film and someone jumps from a moving truck or car or train and I’ve thought, you know, it doesn’t look that hard.
Jump and roll, right? Well, it’s not until you’re in a moving truck trying to keep hold of a terrified cat that you realise how hard it really is.
I look out the sides of the truck, and the traffic and the road are moving incredibly fast, and it’s not an entirely smooth journey.
We’re getting tossed around like we’re at sea here.
I mean, what if he’s taking us to the dump?
Or it’s a long overnight drive to somewhere far away?
I mean, he will stop eventually and maybe then I’ll have to think what to do.
In the meantime, I am also on all fours in this thing clutching a cat and attempting to look for my phone.
I knock at the back of the cabin again. How the hell do I explain this?
Really? Maybe Nick was right. I am slightly ridiculous. This is all slightly ridiculous.
On the other hand, as this truck is open topped, it’s a lovely way to see London by night.
Is that Hammersmith? I guess this could be worse?
The snow, which has been looming for weeks, falls in light, magical drifts.
I could be wearing a really awful coat. I pull my hat over my hair again.
I sit back against the branches, letting Bonnie settle on my chest, and look up at the lights, the sky.
I guess there could be worse ways to spend Christmas Eve.
Hold up, that’s the Natural History Museum on the left.
Yeah, I was there just a few weeks ago. That must mean Harrods is approaching.
I lie back again. But as I look out, I realise I’m being watched by a whole row of people on a double-decker bus, who all turn their heads to look at me.
I know how this looks. I’m either being kidnapped or a tramp.
It’s kind of neither. A woman puts her thumb up at me.
I do the same to signal that I’m alright. Someone takes a photo. Do I smile?
The truck starts up again and takes a sharp left.
I have no idea where we are now but we must nearly be there, right?
I look out of the side, hugging Bonnie the cat, and feel a sense of relief when the truck eventually rolls to a stop and the ignition halts.
I watch as Nick’s door opens and he steps out.
I see glimpses of his face, a green beanie on his head, wearing a thick checked jacket and jeans.
I smile for a moment. I don’t think there is a way to explain what’s happened here, not at all.
I see another man come towards him and greet him.
Nick finally takes off his earphones and I realise now is not the time to call out to him.
‘Nick North?’ the man asks.
‘Yep, that’s me. Mr Douglas?’
‘Yes, I’m Tom – thank you. It means a lot that you’re doing this on Christmas Eve.’
‘No problem, they’re not wrapped but they’re all in good condition. Shame to let them go to waste.’
‘Do you do this every year?’ he asks.
‘Yeah, we put all the old trees on Facebook Marketplace and see who wants them. Saves us putting them in the chipper.’ And as soon as he says that, I shut my eyes tightly to think of a moment about five years ago when my nana answered an ad on Facebook and a handsome yet faceless man delivered her a ten-foot tree that I had to saw in the street so she could get it in her house.
I spoke to that grumpy man. Maybe if we’re talking about the universe and signs, maybe I should have listened to Nana all along.
Even back then, she stood on those cobbles and tried to set us up.
She said we’d make a good couple. She knew.
I’m so distracted by these thoughts that I don’t hear the tailgate of the truck opening.
And now Nick is standing there with a very distressed-looking man called Tom who thinks that I possibly come with the trees. I don’t.
He looks at Nick who does a double take to see me standing there. ‘Kay? What the hell? What are you doing? Is that my cat?’
The cat and I will be forever bonded by this trauma. She sits in my arms in the same way a feline would nestle in the arms of a Bond villain.
‘Funny story…’ I start to say, and then I try to descend off the end of that truck as majestically as possible whilst Nick offers me a hand.
As soon as my feet hit the pavement, the cat jumps down and sits there as if ready to watch the impending drama.
Oh, it’s coming. I push Nick on the chest with both hands.
Given how tall he is, I am impressed that I have that much strength to make him topple a little.
‘Who drives with headphones on like that? I’ve been knocking at that cabin for most of the trip!
’ Tom stands there, looking at both of us, and I turn to him.
‘Please, take your trees. If you see a phone in there, can you give it to me?’
I turn to Nick and he seems to be laughing. ‘Why were you in the back of the truck?’
‘I went to the farm to look for you and then your cat went in the back of your truck and I was trying to beckon her out,’ I explain. ‘Why didn’t you check before you closed the gate?’
‘Because…’
‘Health and safety,’ I say, flaring my nostrils. ‘I want to fill in an incident form.’ He’s doing his best to contain a rather large smile but he’s also scanning me from my shoulders to my forehead. ‘I’ve got half those trees in my hair again, haven’t I?’
He nods, reaching over to pick out pine needles. ‘And a bit of snow?’
I look up at where we are, and it seems to be the back of a hotel right in central London, the Thames to our right, lit up as far as the eye can see.
A line of people have appeared to remove the trees from the truck.
‘Someone’s getting married here tomorrow, they wanted some more trees to add to the magic,’ Nick explains.
He watches as Bonnie jumps into the truck and curls into a ball on the driver’s seat. ‘You came to the farm?’
‘Because some idiot made me a desk,’ I say, still angry, still feeling huge swathes of emotion that make me literally fizz.
He pulls me away from that hotel loading bay onto stone steps, lit up by a single lamppost. Snow lands on his shoulders and gets caught in his eyelashes. ‘You could have texted “thank you”.’
‘You made me a desk.’
‘It’s just a desk. It was actually quite easy.’
‘I usually get my desks flatpack from IKEA,’ I say. I can tell that makes him wince a little. ‘No one has ever done anything like that for me before.’
‘Made you something?’
‘Just… raised me up.’ As soon as the words leave my mouth, I think of Nana and see her smiling.
I think about what she said. How love is supposed to elevate, to leave you almost floating.
‘I wrote this all down on my phone before I dropped it. You just… you’re pretty special, aren’t you?
’ He looks at me, his breath quickening.
That probably wasn’t as eloquent and meaningful as I’d wanted but I can feel a single tear running down my cold cheek.
‘Oh. And do you know who came into the library before we closed? A wonderful woman called Keira. The mystery K.’
‘The letters? You managed to return them? Find the owners?’ he asks, his face softening to hear the news. I nod. ‘They were from her husband. He passed away so she was worried she’d lost them forever.’
He looks at me with pained eyes. ‘But you know when that woman came in and talked about her husband and how a simple gesture like yours made her happy again, it made me see you with such clarity. You have such goodness. How you love people, how you exist so quietly. You give others your time, your attention, you’re wonderfully gentle and sweet but not for you, never for you.
’ I say all of it frenetically, not catching a breath.
‘That wasn’t what was on my phone at all. ’
‘What was on there?’ he mutters.
‘It was a full outline for that book about the beavers.’
He laughs so loud the people at the truck turn to watch. See, I am hilarious.
‘Did you like the desk?’
‘The desk is beautiful, sincerely the most beautiful thing I think I might ever own.’
‘I had a great muse.’
‘Are you saying I look wooden?’
‘Exactly that,’ he replies, beaming. He stops to look at me, wondering what all of this might mean and I melt to look into his eyes, to try and show him how much I care.
‘I don’t have a boyfriend anymore. I also came down to tell you that.’
His mouth opens slightly, his face still with the revelation. ‘Oh.’
‘I wanted to give you that information in person.’
‘Noted. What happened?’
‘Nothing. And that’s probably where it all went wrong.
’ He cocks his head to one side as if trying to understand what I’ve just said.
‘He was a relationship that didn’t quite work out first time.
I thought the universe was trying to tell me to give it another go, but really maybe the universe was throwing you in my direction again.
’ All these Nicks, like cosmic bumper cars, all running into my life at different times.
‘After I delivered that tree to your nana,’ he realises. ‘After I shouted abuse at you down the phone?’
‘Yeah, maybe the universe was trying to show me you’re not all bad,’ I say, giggling slightly to remember how ridiculous that Christmas tree really was.
‘So it was the universe that made you get in that Christmas-tree machine, was it?’ he asks me.
‘Shush now,’ I say, trying desperately to keep some romantic cool about me, trying to hide all the joy in every ounce of my being that he’s here, that what I feel is so very bright, so very clear.
He still doesn’t look away from me, his face filled with hope, anticipation. ‘What do I do now? Can I ask you out?’
‘You can.’
‘Can I also do something else?’ I nod.
And he sighs almost with a low growl, reaching around to grab my cheek and pulls me in for a kiss.
His skin is icy cold against mine, his lips soft, parting gently.
I stand on my tiptoes to meet him, to let him pull my body into his.
As we part, he rests his forehead against mine.
That felt right, so very perfect that I can’t speak.
‘I’m really sorry about your boyfriend,’ he says.
‘No, you’re not,’ I smile.
‘What was his name?’ he asks me.
‘Funny you should ask…’