Chapter 12

The pneumonia was a tough bastard, and recovery was incredibly slow. The doctor had been right to give me a full week's worth of sick leave. By the end of it I still didn't feel like a hundred percent, but my blood tests were good and the doctor let me go back to work, provided I didn't take on any extra shifts, and tried to take it easy. James had been checking up on me, and had dropped by in the afternoon a few times when he wasn't busy outside of London. I kept arguing he didn't have to, as I was only getting better. But despite myself I liked it, and spent most of my days that week at home hoping I'd hear a knock on the door.

             With me going back to work, and James being busy either filming down in Guildford or doing interviews and meetings, we didn't have the time to see each other for over two weeks, leading up to the Christmas party. It was being in a big, fancy hotel where they'd rented the entire bar, lounge and dining area. Thankfully ball gowns weren't required, but it was a "frocks and suits" kind of event, which had resulted in me having to go buy a proper dress. And high heels. The party was for everyone who worked with Top Gear, from researchers and scriptwriters to production crew, along with all kinds of people associated with the show - reps from car companies, people from the stunt and special effects industry, expert mechanics. In short, it would be a big party with a wonderful assortment of different people. I hadn't been at a party, or had to dress up for one, for what felt like years - I felt most comfortable in a nurse's uniform.

            After my colleague Cathy had spoken to James on the phone she had been very curious as to who this soft-spoken man who had been taking care of me was. So I told her about who he was, how we met, and that he'd become a good friend. Not much about James revealed that he was a major celebrity in England, apart from a nice house and some very extravagant cars in his garage. When we spent time together it was mostly just the two of us, and when we had been out and about in public, I hadn't noticed much fuss around him, apart from a few people wanting to say hi or get an autograph. Which was absurd for me every time. But even so, I had kept my friendship with James quiet, not wanting people from work or school to know that I knew him quite well. I had no experience in being the friend of someone "famous" and had no idea what to expect, or how to deal with it. But now Cathy knew. She'd been surprised, and pretended to be offended that I hadn't told her. Personally she wasn't interested in cars, or in any of the presenters, she was happily married and found much amusement in teasing me for being mates with a man "who could be your dad". I had also told her about being invited to the Christmas party, which left her the only person I could drag along for dress-shopping. She didn't come willingly, and after hours of me rejecting dress after dress, mumbling constant criticisms of my body and of dresses in general, she broke out laughing.

"Why is this such a big thing for you?" She looked amused and exasperated. "I've never seen you be this ambivalent about anything, apart from which cupcake to choose in the cafeteria. You're falling apart!"
"This is a big thing, Cathy!" I shouted, getting into dress number twenty-three of the day. "This place is going to be crowded with like... rich people and business people and their snooty little wives. And the press might be there, and I have never been to a thing like this. It's terrifying!"

"Okay, when you put it like that...," she said, having turned serious. Eventually I settled on a dress, a blue silky one with an a-line, pleated, knee-length skirt. Underneath it was a strapless, but it had a see-through lace bodice and three-quarter sleeves, and a big silky bow tied at the waist. The bow made it cute, but the lace and the skirt length weighed up for that, making it sexier. When I mentioned shoes, Cathy nearly cried. Luckily it didn't take long to find a pair of high-heeled blue pumps to go with it.

Typically, I got held up at work the day of the Christmas party. Going into work that day was a bad idea on the whole, I probably would've been better off staying home, relaxing. To make matters worse a patient, a young woman with cancer I'd known since I started working in London, suddenly took a turn for the worse, chemotherapy was getting the better of her. She was terrified, alone and sick, I knew she trusted me and I didn't have the heart to leave her. I sat on a high-backed chair by her bedside, just keeping her company as she tried to work her way through pain and nausea. Surreptitiously I glanced at my watch, but nothing got past her, even in her state she was eerily observant.

"Didn't your shift end like an hour ago?"

"Hm? Oh yeah, it did, but don't worry about that."
"You keep checking your watch. You're supposed to be somewhere." It wasn't a statement, just an indisputable observation.

"Mm, yeah.." I admitted. "At a big, fancy Christmas party. At a poncy hotel."

"With tuxes and dresses and champagne?" She smiled weakly.

"The whole shebang," I returned the smile.

"What does your dress look like?"

"Want to see a photo?" She nodded, and I fished my phone out of my pocket to find photos of it. She started at it for a long time, longingly, with a sad smile.

"It's pretty, you will look gorgeous in that. I want you to go to the party," she said determinedly. "Go and look gorgeous, have champagne and dance with handsome men in tuxes. As long as you promise to live a bit for me, as well." I tried to protest, but she wouldn't hear it. "It's bad enough I'm stuck in here, it's a waste having you stuck in here as well. Just promise to take photos and tell me everything."

"I'll tell you what I can remember," I winked and patted her arm. Cancer patients would never stop amazing me, their strength and wisdom, and how they could change your perspective on things.

James had offered to get me a ride to the party, but I had said no, insisting I'd get a taxi. Now that I was running late I was glad I had. I noted that I was nearly an hour late when I got into the taxi and gave the driver the address. My heart was beating wildly, I felt hot and flustered and the drive to the hotel was over too soon. I didn't feel ready. As gracefully as I could in a short dress and high heels I got out of the taxi, having paid the driver. The pavement outside the hotel was crowded with security people, limo drivers having cigarettes outside their cars, chatting to each other, and of course a small pack of photographers. The photographers all peered at me, but quickly lost interest when they realised I was a nobody. The security men took an interest as well, but lazily waved me along when I held up my invitation.. Nervously I ascended the wide, stone stairs to the hotel. Apart from a long hotel clerk the lobby was empty. I came to a halt in the middle of it, looking around, feeling intimidated and lost.

"Can I help you?"

"Um, yeah maybe. I'm supposed to be at this Christmas party, I'm late, and..."

"Ah!" The hotel clerk lit up, and immediately showed me the way. More stern-looking security men looked at me sourly as I approached a huge, heavy wooden double-door. I could hear muffled music, chatting and laughter seeping through it. Shakily I held up my invitation again and he opened the door without even looking at me. I entered another, smaller lobby where two women in what looked like uniforms greeted me from behind a desk with stiff smiles.
"Can we take your coat, madam?" They asked politely, probably as a response to my confused expression.
"Yes, thank you," I said and slipped out of my black trenchcoat, handing it to one of the women, and I recieved a stub with a number on in return. On the other end of the lobby was another double-door, and taking pity on me one of the women nodded encouraginly at me and then in the direction of the door. I drew a deep breath, straightened myself up and walked through the door. The room beyond was darker, and big, and full of people. They were milling around, holding different glasses according to what they drank, standing or sitting on little sofa-groups chatting. A wide doorway lead onto an even bigger room with more tables, sofas and chairs, and what looked like a dancefloor at the far end. Each room had a big bar. I looked around, scanning the crowd for faces I knew, but I didn't recognise anyone and I felt alone, stupid and anxious. The bar was calling me enticingly, promising how it could soothe my nerves. At least a glass in my hands would give me something to fiddle with. I walked over and asked one of the bartenders for a glass of wine. Suddenly I heard a familiar voice beside me.
"A pint and a cuba libre, thanks mate." I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Richard!" I exclaimed. He looked quickly at me, then did a double take.
"Good lord! Emily?"
"Hello!" I smiled, never been happier to have seen a familiar face.
"Welcome! Wow, you look great, I didn't recognise you!" He smiled and gave me a quick hug. Our drinks arrived, and I seized my glass of red wine and had a swig. "Come on, you have to meet the missus!" He said happily and nearly dragged me through the crowd. A short, blonde slightly bushy-haired woman stood on her own, looking as lonely as I had felt a minute ago. "Mindy! Meet Emily!" Richard said, handing the drink over to her. We shook hands, and Richard quickly recounted the story of how we'd met down in Syria.
"So how did you end up here in England?" Mindy asked.
"I'm taking a class in Tropical Nursing at London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine. It's part-time so I'm working at  University College Hospital most of the time."
"Tropical nursing?" She raised an eyebrow at me.
"Yeah, most humanitarian organisations require that medical staff has that course if they're going to work in third world countries. I've been to Kenya and Uganda, many years ago, and would love to go back someday to work, if just for a little while. Going to Syria didn't change that, I'd still like to do aid work."
"That's really... admirable," Mindy began.
"She went to do aid work and ended up patching together a British tosspot," Richard laughed.
"Who are you calling tosspot?" Jeremy came stomping out from nowhere, having only heard the last sentence of the conversation.
"Not you, for once!" Richard said, even a little surprised himself. Then he pointed at me. "Look, it's Emily!" Jeremy eyed me up and down a few times.
"Wow. You clean up pretty good." He smiled sincerely, and I recognised the comment for what it truly was, even if it didn't seem like it; a nice compliment.
"Thank you, Jeremy. You don't look half-bad yourself," I winked, and he chuckled.
"Have any of you seen the last oaf?" Jeremy scanned the crowd quickly. We all shook our heads. Jeremy's wife Francie joined us and we were introduced. Mindy quickly told her the story from Syria, and before long we were all chatting about work, hobbies and all the normal things people small-talk about. Jeremy got me another glass of wine when the first one was empty. I smiled, laughed, answered questions and was polite, but I was scanning the crowds around me constantly on the look-out for James.

"Hammond, we better mingle a bit," Jeremy said in a business-like tone, and Hammond murmured his agreement. Francie announced she better come with them, to keep them in line and behaving. "You two be all right on your own?" Jeremy asked.

"Yeah I think we'll survive," Mindy said carelessly and we waved them off. She had another sip of her drink and then looked at me curiously. "So, what about you then?"

"Bwuh?"

"Well, now you met us all, the husbands and wives. What's your story, then? Have any significant other? A boyfriend?"

"What? I.. No, I.." I stammered, flustered. How hard could it be to just answer "no"? It was a simple question, and it had a simple answer.

"What about James, then?" She asked innocently, raising one eyebrow. She's a witch. What is it with these people and direct questions?

"I, um... no, no boyfriend. James and I, we're.. He's a good mate," I stuttered. "Besides, James is dating someone, isn't he." It wasn't a question, more of a general observation.

"Is he? Maybe, I don't know," she said with a shrug. "I know he was, for a little bit, that that was over quickly. The only one I've heard him talk about lately is you."  I had one of those heart-stopping, stomach-swooping moments. My first instinct was to grab her by the shoulders and shake her vigorously, begging her to recount anything and everything he might've said about me. She looked at me pointedly, and I struggled with how to reply.

"Oh?" I tried to act calm and somewhat surprised, but I was sure she looked right through me. I was thinking frantically, trying to think of a response, but just as I opened my mouth to speak Mindy straightened up, seemingly having spotted something in the distance.

"Speaking of..." she smirked. I looked in the same general direction and her and after a seconds my stomach did another major lurch. On the other side of the room, in the distance, was James. He was wearing a crisp white shirt, black suit and a black bow-tie, with those staggering blue eyes and that floppy, grey-streaked haired I loved so much. He didn't seem to see us, and Mindy waved frantically at him, he noticed it and veered towards us. Unaware of it I had sidled backwards in an unconscious effort to hide behind Mindy. "Oh relax, you look great," she said in the corner of her mouth and nudged me. I felt a slight blush creeping up my neck and inwardly I cursed her and her blunt straightforwardness. As he walked towards us, his eyes were locked on to me, the stare burning me, and I shifted uneasily. Quickly he said hi to Mindy, they had obviously met earlier in the evening, then he turned his attention to me. He leaned in, slipped an arm around the small of my back and pulled me in for a quick hug.

"Hello, beautiful," he said in my ear, so quietly no one but me could hear it. I felt his warm, shaven cheek against mine, his breath in my ear, the smell of him and his hair as it brushed against my neck. My knees went weak, and for a moment I lost what little composure I had and blushed furiously, averting my eyes. But I had to look at him, I couldn't stop myself. I smiled and fidgeted with the lapels on his suit jacket instead.

"Hey, you..." For a moment we just stood there, fumbling.

"Right," Mindy said loudly, breaking the tension. "I'm off to find my husband, make sure he isn't completely plastered already. See you later, Emily. James," she nodded, and disappeared.

"Where is everyone?" James asked, his hand still resting on the small of my back.

"Richard and Jeremy went to err... mingle," I said with a frown.

"Oh god.." James said ominously.
"Francie went with them to keep them civilised..."

"Good," James nodded slowly.

"And then there's us."

"Want another glass of wine?" he asked, gesturing to my empty glass. I looked at it and sighed heavily.

"Red wine really isn't doing it for me. I know this isn't very ladylike, but could I please have a pint?" I begged and James chuckled.

"That's my girl."

"And can we sit down somewhere? I'm used to stomping around in orthopaedic sandals, my feet are already killing me."

"All right, go sit over there, I'll get some beers." He pointed to an empty sofa and I headed there. A few minutes later James sat down next to me and handed me a pint. "How long have you been here?"
"I don't know, forty-five minutes maybe?" I said, accepting my pint, then looking at him apologetically. "I'm sorry I was so late... I got caught up at the hospital. There's this cancer patient... she was having a really bad day and I just couldn't get myself to leave her." He looked as if he had half a mind to be annoyed with me, but couldn't quite find the motivation for it.

"Do you know how hard it is to be cross with someone so good-hearted?"

"Very?" I smiled hopefully. "I haven't seen you around before now, though. Where were you?"

"I was out back...  Trying to get hold of you, actually. I wondered where you were, if something had happened. So I was out there calling you. And texting you, " he admitted. I found my phone in my tiny handbag, the display showed 8 unanswered calls and one text.

"Were you worrying about me again?"

".. . no," he mumbled unconvincingly, studying the mysteries in the depths of his pint.

"I'm sorry, I should've sent you a text, letting you know I'd be this late. I was just stressed out and the thought didn't even cross my mind. But really, James. You don't have to worry about me. There's a 99% chance that I'm perfectly fine.. Just stressed and late."

"... which leaves that 1% chance of you lying at home half-dead from pneumonia, refusing to follow doctor's orders and let yourself be admitted to hospital," he observed dryly. I screwed up my face in a grimace.

"I should've seen that one coming," I said unhappily.

"I know it's ridiculous to be worrying about you. You're a big girl. Well, not physically," he said, measuring about four feet off the floor with his hand, ".. but the heels help a bit, I guess." I nudged him in the ribs and then we broke out laughing.

                                         

I was sitting by the bar, fiddling with an empty glass. My last one for the night, I had decided. It had been a long day, and a long night, and it was inevitably drawing to a close. The DJ had been gradually calming things down, having moved over to slow-ish cheek-to-cheek ballads. Definitely a sign that it's time to go. As the familiar keyboard chords of "Us & Them" by Pink Floyd faded in, a hand closed around mine and I felt myself being pulled into the crowd and towards the dance floor. The hand belonged to James, and he was determinedly weaving his way through the people. One on the floor he pulled me close and wrapped his free arm around the small of my back.

"It's my turn now," he said simply.

"Your turn?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"I've seen you. Dancing with Hammond. And Jezza. And even Andy," he said in mock affronted tones.

"Have you been spying on me?"

"... a bit," he mumbled with a shrug, looking down. I slipped my arm around his shoulder and rested my hand on the back of his neck, and this prompted him to look at me again. Naturally, like we'd been doing it for years, we started dancing. "How's your feet?"

"I haven't had any communications with them for the past hour. Either I'm drunk or I have permanent nerve damage." We both laughed, a liberating laughter that made me relax.

"So, have you had a good night?"

"I have, it's been great, met lots of people and had fun." This is my favourite part, though."How has your night been?"

"It became a good one, in the end," he answered mysteriously. "When were you going home for the holidays?"

"In exactly a week, on the 22nd."
"How long are you gone for?"

"Don't know yet, haven't booked a return flight. I have like three entire weeks off, I had to because I've worked too much this year."

"Are you staying in Norway that long?"

"I doubt it. What are you doing for the holidays?" I loved being this close, being able to just stare into those sparkling blue eyes as much as I wanted.

"Seeing family, mostly. Might get a few quiet nights to fix bikes. Probably going down to Hammond's for his New Years bash."

"Oh, right. He invited me to that tonight, actually."

"Oh really? Are you coming?"

"Haven't decided yet. Depends on how quickly I go crazy back home," I smirked.

"I have to drop by and give you your Christmas present before you leave," he said.

"You got me a present?"

"Yes. Possibly. If you got me one as well," he said, looking at me inquisitorially.

"Of course I have!"
"In that case - yes." I smiled at him, and he pulled me a little closer. In a moment of daft courage, needing to be closer, I wrapped my arm tighter around him and leaned my forehead against his cheek. For a while we said nothing, just revolved slowly on the spot in silence, heads close, probably looking like two soppy teenagers. James broke the silence by talking quietly, but not moving his face further from mine. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are tonight?" Again I blushed furiously, and was glad I didn't have to look into James' eyes.

"Hmm, no, not really... " I answered honestly, eyes closed.

"I mean it, you look gorgeous," he said with feeling, even more quietly.

"Stop it, or I'm going to tear up," I said with a nervous little laugh, having to swallow hard.

"No, please don't. You're always crying around me," he mumbled, I could hear in his voice that he was smiling a little.

"You know, you look pretty handsome yourself," I said sincerely and gently patted his back. "Thank you, James. For saying things like that.. And for worrying about me."

"I thought you didn't like that?" I didn't answer, just kept my eyes closed and enjoyed these last moments, knowing the song was drawing to a close. When the song faded over into a new one, as if on cue, Richard stomped out from nowhere, harassed and panic-stricken

"Jezza may or may not have fallen over and hurt himself pretty badly. We require a nurse! I think!" He shouted and looked urgently at me, swaying slightly on the spot, glassy-eyed. James and I had let go of each other when we'd heard his voice, and now I looked up at him with an exasperated and regretful smile, which he returned.

"Come on. Seems I have to patch up your mate," I said.

"He's not my mate right now," I heard James mumble behind me.

We followed Richard's lead and found Jezza sitting in a small, closed-off room, one probably used for small, private events normally. He had a bloody scrape on his forehead, but it was his hand, resting on a table, that caught my attention. Francie was there, and quickly recounted how he'd been out back having a cigarette and somehow stumbled over his own feet. The fall wouldn't have been so bad if he'd had the sense to drop his glass before landing. But he had instinctively refused to let go of his precious drink, causing him to smash the glass under his hand. He was bleeding, but not profusely. Jeremy looked at me sheepishly.

"I fell over a bit..." Was all he managed. He sounded mortified.

"I can see that," I said, giving him a little smile, sensing how I morphed back into my nurse role. "Ok, someone go to the hotel kitchen or find a staff member, they're required by law to have huge first-aid kits around for health and safety." At the mention of H & S, Jeremy grumbled. "Bring the biggest kit you can find." Francie nodded and strode out of the room, on the hunt for medical equipment. I pulled up a chair and examined his hand. "God, you're a bloody mess.  Hmm... you have at least three big shards stuck in there. I don't know how deep they go... You really should go to the A&E for this."

"What? God no, it'll be all over the news, Clarkson the drunken idiot. Not happening, I'm not going." He gave me his most stubborn expression. I sighed and started to explain.

"The problem is.. These shards. You're not bleeding so much now, but that might be because the shards are closing off the bleeds. If I start pulling them out, it can start bleeding pretty badly."

"Okay, if it starts gushing, then I'll go to the A&E," he persisted.

"And possibly bleed out on the way," Richard slurred, looking somewhat excited at the prospect.

"Hammond has a point, even if he has drunk his own body weight in beer. All right, fine, on your own head be it," I sighed as Jeremy still looked at me with stubborn refusal. Francie returned with a huge, red suitcase with a red cross, and put it on the table. "Okay, before I start poking around in that... How's your head?" I looked at the abrasion in his forehead, which looked like a painful scuff mark but nothing else. Gently I examined his nose, in case he'd broken it, but he didn't flinch. Drunk people could do that, break things without even knowing it.

"Head hurts, but nothing major. I think my hand got the worst of it," he mumbled. I opened the suitcase it and found gloves, bandages and to my amazement, a few wound care kits that would have all I needed; tiny plastic forceps, saline, cotton balls and more gauze. Quickly I opened it, opened a little container of saline and poured it over the cotton balls, then snapped on my gloves. "Right. Man up, Clarkson." I picked up a pair of forceps and gently nudged the smallest looking shard of glass, then pulled it out of his hand. I held my breath, expecting a rush of blood but it didn't happen. The other two came out just as easily, they weren't lodged as deep as I had feared. Examining the rest of his cuts on his hand I couldn't see any more bits of glass, and proceeded to rinse it with saline. Jeremy bit his lip and drew a sharp intake of breath as the saline stung. "I said, man up," I smirked and covered his wounds with gauze pads before bandaging it up. I ordered him to move his fingers and curl up his hand into a fist, and he did. The scuffmark on his forehead got a quick rinse and a band-aid. "If there's any change in movement or loss of sensation, go to the doctor. If that hand goes red, or swollen, or warm - go to the doctor. Okay? " I shot Jeremy my most authoritarian, militant nurse-look, and amazingly he seemed to cower slightly under  it.

"Yeah, all right, I will, I swear."

"I doubt that even can get infected," Francie mused. "He has so much alcohol in his blood that wound is basically sterile."

"Get him home, yeah?" I said to Francie as I snapped off my gloves, gathered up the debris of bandage wrappings and bloody gauze and threw it in a bin, and she nodded her agreement. While I'd been sorting Jeremy out James had been standing behind me, watching with morbid fascination. Richard had gone quiet, he was sitting in a chair with heavy eyelids, obviously crashing. "Seems like you're about ready to find a bed too, Hamster," I said and patted his shoulder. He just sighed and mumbled something unintelligible. "James, keep him awake will you? I'll go find Mindy." I said good night to Jeremy and Francie, who was trying to usher her husband out while calling for their driver. I returned the suitcase to the kitchen, and headed off to find Mindy. She was sitting in a sofa in the middle of the first room, looking sour.

"Have you seen my idiot husband?" She snapped.

"Yeah, come on, I know where he is." On our way back to the closed-off room I hastily told her what had happened to Jeremy, and this seemed to lift her mood. It evaporated again when she saw her dishevelled husband half-asleep on a chair, however.

"Thank god we have a room here at the hotel, imagine trying to get that home!" She pointed at her husband.

"I'm so glad I don't have a drunken dinnum to carry home," I sighed with relief. Mindy said goodnight and somehow managed to get Richard on his feet and marched him out of the room. I couldn't resist laughing as I watched them go, and rubbed my face tiredly. "Oh my god, what a bunch."

"You try working with them...!" He pointed out. I found my phone in my handbag and looked at the time, it was 2am and the party was almost over.
"Now that my job here is done, I guess I can go home," I smirked.

"I'm staying here, at the hotel..." James said. "I knew it would be late and I'd be on the piss."

"Probably a smart move," I smirked. "If I could've afforded it I probably would have too." He followed me to the lobby where I retrieved my jacket, and then through to the hotel foyer. There were taxis waiting outside, the hotel had probably ordered up a bunch as people were going home. James just looked at me, not saying a word, but I thought I knew what he was about to say. "Yes, I'll text you when I'm home. Don't worry."

"I will anyway," he said and pulled me in, hugged me close while he rested his chin on the top of my head.

"Thanks for a really good night," I mumbled against his shirt, still being hugged.

"Sorry about my stupid mates. Thank you for coming, it made my evening a lot better." It felt like something inside me exploded when I suddenly felt his lips kissing my forehead gently. Then his lips, and his arms, vanished. We looked at each other, awkwardly, I wanted him to kiss me so badly, internally I was screaming for it. Unable to bear the tension I averted my eyes, and when I looked back up again he'd taken a step back. My heart sank to the floor in a sad, wet puddle.

"Good night, James."
"Night, Emily. See you soon, Christmas gift swap," he winked. I smiled, albeit a little sadly, and walked out the door into the cold December air and hailed a taxi home.