One Day in December(22)

Jack frowns, checking the time. ‘We’re cutting it fine.’

I nod. ‘Especially if they get through to the dance-off.’

‘Which they will.’

He’s right. There is not a shred of doubt in my mind that Sarah’s dancing shoes will see this thing through to the end.

He pauses for a beat, looks away and then back at me.

‘I could take you on it now, if you like.’ He half laughs, embarrassed. ‘Call it a birthday present, seeing as I forgot to get you one.’

It’s curiously old-fashioned of him to offer to take me on it, as if I need to be escorted, but the question works perfectly in this curiously old-fashioned setting. I stand on my tiptoes to catch Sarah’s eye to let her know we’ll be back in ten but she’s fully engaged in listening to the master-class host. I look behind me again at the beautiful Ferris wheel.

‘I’d like that very much, Jack. Thank you.’

A guy in white chinos with a Rydell High college sweater knotted casually round his shoulders lowers the chrome bar across our knees, raising his eyebrows at us as he gives it a rattle to make sure we’re secured.

‘You might want to put your arm round your girl, fella. It can get a little scary up there at the top.’

I’m sure he must say variations of the same to every couple he loads on to the ride, but all the same we both wade in to correct him.

‘Oh, we’re not …’ I stammer, at the same time as Jack rushes in with, ‘She’s not my … We’re just friends.’

Sweater boy winks knowingly. ‘Pity. You look good together.’

The wheel lurches a little to move round one place for the next car to be filled, and I close my eyes for a second because I have no clue what to say next.

‘Don’t tell me you’re a scaredy-cat, Laurie?’

‘No, siree!’ I laugh. Curling my fingers round the bar, I settle back into the deep raspberry-vinyl padding of the swing seat, my feet resting in the chrome footwell. ‘You’re not scared of heights, are you?’

He leans into the corner of the car and glances at me sideways, his arms flung out across the top of the seat, hands upturned as if I’ve asked a stupid question.

‘Do I look like someone who scares easily?’

Danny Zuko eat your heart out; but the way he drums his fingers on the top of the car close to my shoulder tell me he’s not as relaxed as his outward appearance might suggest. I don’t know what it is that’s making him uptight; being on the wheel without Sarah, or being on the wheel at all, or being on the wheel with me. I sigh, about to ask him, and then the familiar, swoony opening bars of ‘Hopelessly Devoted To You’ strike up and the wheel begins to rotate.

I shelve my question. It’s my birthday, after all, and I love Ferris wheels, and I’m with Jack, who I can’t help but genuinely like more and more each time I see him. And that’s good. I mean it, hand on heart, I mean it. It’s good, because he and Sarah are undeniably great together, and because I love her like a sister.

For the most part I’m pretty accepting of the situation. It is what it is. Perhaps if things had been different, if I’d found him first maybe, then he’d have his arm round me right now and be about to kiss me stupid as we crest the top of the wheel. Maybe we’d be deliriously loved up. Or maybe we would have been a terrible romantic match, and the very best outcome for all of us is exactly what’s come to pass. He’s in my life and I’m glad of him. It’s enough.

‘Wow,’ I murmur, distracted by the view as we climb higher. Barnes Common is festooned with bunting and lights: neon writing over the Airstream diners, disco flickers from the dance tent, tea lights on trestle tables as early settlers claim their spots on the grass close to the huge screen. We go higher still, and we can see beyond the common, over the spindly streets of South West London picked out by creamy street lamps.

‘Stars,’ Jack says, flipping his head back to look up as we near the top. I do the same and stargaze with him, and for a few seconds we hang there right on the brow of the wheel, the only two people in the world.

‘Happy birthday, Laurie,’ Jack says, quiet and serious when I turn to look at him.

I nod and try to smile but find that my face muscles can’t do it, because my mouth is trembling as if I might cry.

‘Thank you, Jack,’ I say. ‘I’m glad I got to spend it with you –’ I break off, then add, ‘you guys,’ for clarity.

‘Me too.’

Our car crests the summit and jolts over the brow of the wheel, rocking as the breeze catches it, making me squeal and grab hold of the bar with both hands. Jack laughs easily and puts his arm round me, the side of his body a warm press against mine.

‘It’s okay, I’ve got you.’

He gives me a brief, bolstering squeeze, his fingers firm round my shoulder, before he lounges back and lays his arm along the back of the seat again.

My stomach backflips slowly as I sit back too, and I’m ashamed to say it had nothing to do with the fact that we’re suspended high in the sky over Barnes Common and everything to do with the feeling of being alone on this beautiful old Ferris wheel with Jack O’Mara. Vintage pink and mint-green bulbs light up the spokes of the wheel as it turns, dancing shadows over his features as we slowly move.

Olivia Newton-John sings her hopelessly devoted heart out. I know how she feels.