Page 1 of On Circus Lane

Chapter One

BEE

Mariah Carey is fully embracing her time in the festive spotlight, as “All I Want for Christmas Is You” pumps out over the pub speakers. Even so, she’s barely managing to compete with the noise of party revellers. It’s one week before Christmas, and everyone seems to be throwing their all into the festive cheer.

I relax back in my chair and lift my drink to my mouth while idly looking around the converted Victorian warehouse. The bar is part of a big chain, and opened only last year. The heavy use of company colours in the space makes it look like an uneasy mash-up between Christmas and their annual general meeting. However, even their version of corporate holiday chic can’t stop the happy atmosphere.

A red-headed man leans over the bar, watching me with a sultry expression. I drop him a wink, and he brightens and immediately makes his way over.

“Hi,” he says.

I smile at him. “Hey.”

“Fancy a drink?” he asks, coming closer and gifting me a waft of his expensive cologne.

I look him up and down. “I’d love one. Rum and Coke, please.”

Smiling, he wanders over to join the huge queue.

My best friend heaves a heavy sigh next to me.

“What’s up with you?” I ask.

Ivy grimaces at me. “Well, look at you. It’s just not fair.”

“My combination of looks and brains?”

She rolls her eyes. “And your modesty. Don’teverforget that.” I laugh, and she nudges me. “I can’t believe you. You only looked at each other once, and now you’ve pulled. Meanwhile, I can’t even get a bloke to give me a second glance.”

I drain my glass. “You’d have loads of blokes giving you third and fourth glances, but they don’t fit in with your marital timetable.”

“I told you. I don’t want casual one-night shags anymore. I’ve been there and done that, and now I want someone to spend the next fifty years with.”

“That’s alarmingly precise. What happens if he lasts beyond the time scale? Will he wake up and find you’ve chucked him in the dustbin?”

She grimaces. “I just want a bloke with a few years of monogamy in his tank. I know you don’t understand.”

“I don’t. I just want a man who’s capable of maintaining an erection for twenty minutes.”

There’s a sudden silence at the table next to us where a group of women wearing sparkly veils have been celebrating a hen party. Either that, or they’re contemplating entering a nunnery. They look at me and then immediately hoot and holler.

I grin at them, and Ivy rolls her eyes. She says, gloomily, “Good luck with your Erection Plan.”

“Is that a thing?” I ask, amused.

“By midnight, most of the men in here will be drooping like a daffodil on Mothering Sunday.”

As if on cue, a man reels over to us. He’s wearing a suit with his tie flapping limply. “Whash up, darlin’?” he slurs.

“Beyond getting pissed off your breath, not much,” Ivy snaps.

It seems to take an eternity to travel to his brain, but then he grins and sidles close to her. “Fancy a shag?”

“Ugh,” she says, shoving him. Unperturbed, he moves on to the group next to us, where his question is greeted much more congenially.

Ivy brightens as she looks to her right. “Sal,” she shouts, half standing and waving.

Her friend Sally comes towards us. She’s looking as gorgeous as ever, with her long brown hair shining in the light and her eyes sparkling.

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