gorgeously handsome, about six feet tall, with hazel-brown eyes and wavy, russet-brown hair. He was wearing a black coat and a green, cream and brown striped scarf, and he helped me to pick up the toys. We spoke for a while and then he gave me the most amazing kiss I’ve ever received, but he had to leave when his friend called him away.
Were you in the Christmas Market on that Saturday? Do you remember seeing him?
I’m not a desperate woman, or a crazed stalker. I just want to see him again, because I think he felt the same way that I did. So I’m setting myself this challenge in my last year of my twenties: I have between now and the next Christmas Eve to find him.
If you can help – even if it’s just an encouraging word to reassure me that I’m not a complete nutter – please let me know.
So, here goes the year of the quest … wish me luck!
Love, Romily xx
The next day, I met up with Wren for coffee. We wandered down the canal towpath from her apartment to George, the floating narrowboat café at Brindley Place.
‘I really am sorry about the other night,’ Wren said, dunking a cinnamon biscuit in the froth of her coffee. She looked so earnest it would have been impossible to be angry with her, even if I was – which I wasn’t.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I smiled, watching two ducks float lazily past the window. ‘I think Jack had already guessed something had happened between Charlie and me anyway.’
‘And how is everything now?’
‘We’re getting there. To be honest, we haven’t spoken much over Christmas, but he texted me yesterday thanking me for his present and it was the normal Charlie-type text.’
‘Let me guess: another Yellowjackets album?’
‘Ooh, you’re good!’
‘Nope,’ she smiled. ‘You two are just predictable.’
‘Cheers.’
‘Welcome. And what about … the other thing?’
I knew what she was referring to, but played dumb. ‘What other thing?’
Wren’s cheeks reddened. ‘Oh please! The Phantom Kisser?’
The mere mention of my handsome stranger sent a ripple of delight through me. Unable to contain myself any longer, I knew this was time to announce my plan to the world – even if, at that precise moment, that world consisted of Wren, an elderly couple at the table opposite and George’s waitress. Baby steps, I told myself.
‘I’m going to spend the whole of this year finding him. I’ve given myself a deadline, too. It’s an officially brilliant plan.’
Wren stared at me. ‘Tell me more.’
‘OK, here it is: I have from now until Christmas Eve next year to find the man who kissed me. I know it’s crazy and I know chances are I’ll probably fail, but I want to try this because, unless I give it a go, I’ll never know if it’s possible. No matter how barmy I may sound right now, I honestly believe there’s a possibility I could find him.’ I could feel the adrenalin pumping through me as my heart picked up pace.
Wren shook her head, auburn curls bobbling wildly around her porcelain cheeks. ‘Wow. So you’re actually going to do this?’
‘Yes I am. I’ve started a blog about it, too.’
‘No! When did all this happen?’
‘Christmas Day. Something Mum said really made me think.’
‘Blimey, I haven’t heard you say that before. What did she say?’
‘That it’s my twenty-ninth year and I should be making it count. And I thought about it and realised that spending the whole of this year looking for the guy from the Christmas Market might be a good place to start. Auntie Mags has been telling me that she was thinking about blogging her cake recipes and I thought a blog would be a great way of documenting the last year of my twenties.’
Wren sat back in her seat, an amused smile wriggling across her lips. ‘Wow, Rom, I can’t remember the last time I saw you so fired up about something.’
‘I feel so positive about it, I really do.’
‘That’s great …’ Her smile faded and I knew there was a ‘but’ coming. ‘But what about Charlie? You’ve been telling me that he’s the love of your life for the past three years, Rom. How do you know you won’t change your mind about this bloke?’
‘I don’t. But that’s all part of the adventure, don’t you see? It doesn’t matter if I decide halfway through the quest not to pursue it further. What will matter is that I tried in the first place.’
Wren giggled. ‘You said “quest”, Rom.’
‘Well, that’s what it feels like.’
‘I can’t believe you just called it a quest, you crazy woman. I think you should go for it. Just promise me you won’t do anything silly, OK? And tell me everything. Someone needs to be looking out for you.’
‘Uncle Dudley’s offered to help,’ I offered, although it was immediately evident that this did nothing to allay Wren’s concerns.
‘Even more reason that you should tell me what’s happening. Deal?’
I shook her hand. ‘Deal.’
Heavy rain had set in by the following morning, washing everything in a dull grey mist, the brave colours of the Christmas lights in the city’s streets and houses the only exception to the dimness. After a frustratingly slow journey stuck in endless traffic queues, I finally arrived at the old shoe factory where Tom rents a rehearsal studio. Charlie and Jack were already there, huddled on the curved steps of the peeling Art Deco entrance with identically grumpy expressions.
‘Let me guess, we’re waiting for Tom?’
Jack grimaced. ‘Correct.’
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Twenty-eight minutes,’ Charlie said, pointing at his watch.
‘Trust me, he’s been counting,’ Jack said. ‘I’ve had updates every minute. It’s like standing in a doorway with CNN.’
A frigid wind sprang up, blowing sheets of rain into the entrance. I shivered and pushed my hands deeper into my pockets, reprimanding myself for forgetting my gloves this morning. ‘I would have been here sooner, but the traffic was horrendous.’
‘I wouldn’t worry, Rom. It’s not like you missed anything. Wren’s running late, too, but no surprise there … Oh finally,’ Charlie announced, looking over my shoulder. I turned to see Tom sprinting through the puddles on the road towards us. ‘Leave your watch at home, did you?’
‘So-o-o-rry!’ Tom chirped. ‘Romily, charming as ever.’ He kissed my cheek and hugged me, then raised his hand at the lads. ‘Jack, Charlie, respect.’ Quickly, he unlocked
