Covent Garden in the Snow: The most gorgeous and heartwarming Christmas romance of the year!. Jules Wake

approached with extreme caution, taking my lead from him. He clearly didn’t want to talk.

      Without making eye contact, I busied myself with my kit and then got straight down to work without any further preamble, brushing his face with quick, nimble strokes, blending the foundation to create my blank canvas, working my way right into the roots of his hair. Next I brushed his hair, applying a light coat of wax before pinning it away from his face in readiness for the long wig.

      He grunted as I tugged it into place and then firmly pushed hairpins through the mesh to ensure that it didn’t slip.

      He closed his eyes and kept them closed as I started work, shading the lids and outlining them with eyeliner.

      When he opened them, my heart contracted in pity. Despair shadowed them.

      ‘Oh Pietro, are you OK?’ I asked unable to stop myself. I’d never seen him look so down.

      ‘No, my bastardo brother-in-law just asked for more money,’ he whispered. ‘And my agent says that he can’t get an injunction. I’m going to have to pay the little shit again.’

      Once Pietro strode onto stage, I joined Jeanie and Vince in the wings and let out a huge sigh, feeling the tension in my shoulders release. I’d got him there, although I wasn’t convinced I’d done him any favours. As the curtain rose, I caught Alison’s eye and she gave me an approving nod. It didn’t make me feel any better.

      I watched anxiously as Pietro took centre stage and began to sing.

      ‘God, that was awful,’ I muttered in Jeanie’s ear.

      ‘What was wrong with him?’ Her low voice was barely audible. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him quite like that before.’

      I just shook my head, unable to take my eyes from him. We watched as he moved about the stage. The voice was off, and his movements stiff. He missed a couple of cues that the audience would probably never know but a frisson of alarm ran around the wings.

      After ten minutes, Pietro’s consummate professionalism and innate talent rescued him.

      When we left the backstage area at the end of the performance to go to the canteen for a cup of tea, I was able to heave a sigh of relief.

      ‘Shit.’ Jeanie turned to me. ‘That was a bit hairy.’

      ‘He’s had some bad news,’ I hedged. ‘You know I told you about the porn film.’

      I filled her in on his latest fears.

      ‘Bastard. His own family,’ said Jeanie as we queued up. ‘But better to keep it out of the papers. Something like that would spread faster than wildfire on the internet.’

      ‘That’s what he’s worried about. Never getting the genie back in the bottle.’

      ‘You got him on.’ Jeanie clapped me on the back. ‘That’s the most important thing. All part of our job. You handled him well. Didn’t press him. I think if anyone else had, he would have detonated.’

      ‘Think you can tell Alison Kreufeld that?’

      ‘She saw it for herself.’

      ‘Yeah and she probably saw how crap he was for the first ten minutes and I’ll get the blame for that too.’

      ‘She’s not so bad you know. She rates you.’

      ‘Yeah right. So maybe you could have a word with her?’

      She didn’t even turn and look at me.

      ‘You don’t even know what I was going to ask?’ I wailed.

      ‘Tilly, you are doing the computer stuff and that’s the end of it.’ Darn it, I could have been asking anything. How the hell did she know that was what I was trying to wiggle out of?’

      ‘But it’s not my thing and it’s going to take ages and it’s going to be dead boring … I don’t want to do it.’

      She gave me the look. I winced. ‘The virus was a one off. I won’t do it again.’

      ‘No, you won’t because you’re getting some training and support from the IT lot.’

      ‘Why can’t Vince do it?’ I turned to him. ‘You’d quite enjoy it, wouldn’t you?’

      ‘Not really, I get by just fine as I do.’ Tight-lipped, he concentrated on the floor.

      ‘Hmph.’ I crossed my arms.

      ‘Come on the pair of you. We’ve got some tidying up to do.’

      ‘But it’s our early night,’ protested Vince. ‘Well … it’s …’ his voice dried up, withered no doubt by Jeanie’s arctic gaze. ‘I’ve … it’s …’

      Turning on her heel with a distinct majestic toss of the head, Jeanie marched off down the corridor ahead of us, her feet clipping the floor with military purpose.

      ‘Now you’ve done it,’ I whispered to Vince. Jeanie affronted was not conducive to a quick getaway.

      ‘Just because she hasn’t seen any action in fifty million years, doesn’t mean she should begrudge me some fun.’