Page 18 of On Circus Lane

Ivy hums an agreement, leaning against me, still sleepy. I hug her and watch as Tom and Jack pull out the cases from the boot, trying and failing not to notice the muscles bulge in Tom’s arms. It’s hard, though. He doesn’t seem to feel the cold and is dressed just in jeans and a T-shirt, his skin glowing golden. I spare a moment’s thought for his ruined jumper, but the floor show is just too nice to feel any guilt.

“Are the apartments nearby?” Ivy asks.

Tom grins at her. “They’re not far. Apparently, the building doesn’t have a car park, so this was the closest place for us to park.” He looks up at the grey sky. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it snows.”

Ivy perks up. “Really?”

He pushes her case towards her. “Yeah, they’ve forecast a white Christmas.”

“I used to know a bloke in the meteorology department of Oxford University,” I say. “He couldn’t predict what side of the bed he’d wake up on the next morning, let alone important meteorological events.”

“Was that Simon?” Ivy asks. “I liked him. What’s he doing now?”

“He works at a bookie’s.”

She blinks, and Tom chuckles. “It’s funny how people end up using their degrees. I think Jack and I might be the only ones in our friendship group who ended up working in the field we studied.” He hands me my case, expertly managing the wonky wheel. “What about you? Do you use your degree?”

“Which one? He’s got a few,” Ivy says wryly.

His eyes flare with interest. “Really?”

I scratch my neck awkwardly. I hate bringing attention to my academic qualifications. It always isolates me, but he’s waiting, so I answer. “Yeah, I’ve got a bachelor’s in mathematics and a bachelor’s in physics, and I’m currently doing a DPhil in mathematics.”

“You forgot the Art History degree,” Ivy observes.

I shrug. “Yes, but that was just for fun.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.” He pulls on a parka he retrieves from the boot. I note jealously that it’s a Canada Goose in military green.

I check his expression suspiciously. “Really? I’ve been told it’s rather off-putting to men.”

Ivy snorts. “No,youare rather off-putting because of your complete self-reliance.” She pauses. “Plus, your constant snark and the fact that you only ever hear one third of a conversation because you’re thinking thinky thoughts.”

“Yes, thank you, Ivy.” I grimace. “Thinkythoughts?”

“Maybe you’ve been talking to the wrong men,” Tom suggests. “I think it’s wonderful.”

I gape at him. “You do?”

“Yeah, I like people who throw themselves into whatever they do. It’s very attractive.”

“It is?”

Ivy reaches out and closes my mouth for me. “That isn’t attractive, though. You look like you’re catching flies.”

I’m just about to continue this very interesting conversation when Freddy pulls up. He’s blaring Wham’s “Last Christmas” at top volume.

“Fellow party members,” he shouts after rolling down the window.

I grin. I like him already. He has an easygoing, effervescent air about him.

“What the hell, Fred?” Tom makes a covering-his-ears gesture.

“It’s Christmas, for god’s sake,” Freddy says, turning off the engine. “I’m allowed Christmas music.”

Georgina staggers out of the car. “Not all the way to Scotland,” she says faintly. “I’ll be dreaming about stepping into Christmas.”

Her boyfriend Theo joins her with a grin. “Make sure to wear flat shoes.”

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