This Time Next Year(108)

*

Primrose Hill was packed. They wouldn’t be able to push their way up through the crowd to get the best view from the top. It was four minutes to midnight – they’d made it just in time. Minnie laid the rug out on the only piece of grass that was free. It was near the bins at the bottom of the hill, next to a group of teenagers drinking beers and playing the guitar. Quinn opened up the bag of picnic supplies she had brought.

‘Milk?’ he said, laughing, as he pulled out a carton.

‘I didn’t have anything else to drink in my fridge,’ she laughed.

‘Weetabix and a banana,’ he said, pulling out the remaining contents of the bag.

‘They go with the milk,’ she laughed again. ‘Look, a picnic’s a picnic.’ She elbowed him gently. ‘We don’t keep champagne and canapés on tap in Willesden.’

Quinn took a bite of dry Weetabix and a swig of milk from the carton, then made an overblown ‘hmmm, delicious’ face. They both grinned. All around them, people started yelling out the countdown.

‘Ten, nine, eight … ’

In the sky there were a few early explosions, light streaming across the sky in bursts of colour. They could just see the top of the BT tower, shining brightly on the horizon.

‘Three, two, one, HAPPY NEW YEAR!’ cried voices all around them.

‘Happy Birthday, wonderful, beautiful Minnie,’ whispered Quinn, leaning in to kiss her.

‘Happy Birthday to you too.’

The teenager on the guitar started playing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and people began to sing along. As Quinn and Minnie kissed, the sky erupted in fireworks from all around the city. Light blazing and bursting high into the air, floating down again in a twinkling canopy of burnished rain.

Then Minnie’s phone began to ring. She pulled back from Quinn, took it from her bag and looked at the screen.

‘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 your details 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.