Paul stepped off the bus.....

Giggling was what he heard. Feminine, wickedly lovely, giggles. She bopped up from her hidden possie and threw another snowball at the bus but it was now disappearing 'round the corner.

"Bollocks, as Sara would say" Nat grumbled to herself. All the fun was over. Pelting the white stuff at a bench was lovely for a moment or two but when those people looked out the bus window of that shiny sided bus which momentarily settled at the kerb it was like the dartboard at the pub. Bullseye after bullseye of fun.

A fast-moving object slapped into her tummy. The slap of snow striking mid torso surprised her, the hit making her groan out an 'oomph'

"Bullseye!!" Paul called from across the street, he must be somewhere behind that bench she had used for target practice. Nat had no idea he was even there and jumped a good foot in the air at his sparkling voice ringing out through the crisp night air.

"Where are you!?!"

"Wouldn't you like to know!" Another snowball sailed past her, she ducked back down quickly and dragged more snow up toward her to shape.

"Aha! The bench. Chicken!" She threw her freezing cold blob back, bits and pieces lost along the way. The bench saved Paul from the flakes that remained of her soft ball.

"Aussies aren't very good at making snowballs! Here try this!" Paul flogged his newest snowball over in the Nat's general direction.

"Ouch!" Nat yelped and laughed and jumped up and down at the freezing cold snow that was now beginning to permeant the coat she wore. She wasn't freezing just yet but the heat of her body melted the snow as it made its way through the material.

"See, they should do that on impact" Paul taunted and laughed and gathered the fixings of another ten balls.

"This is fabulous!" Nat yelled as she scored a direct hit from a high lob that dropped the ball on Pauls head. His hat tilted and snow dampened his scalp. Bloody cold it was.

Another dozen or so snowballs blazed through the chilly night air. Each participant ignored the call of a fireplace and warm drink. They were adults being kids. Even though they didn't know each other from a bar of soap, they were doing something wild and fun, being in the moment. No grouchy sticks in the mud frowning at them as they behaved like idiots. They carried on and on; laughing, smiling, yelping and even spruiking!

Nat squeezed her fingers back and forth. They were like icicles, her gloves were soaked, her fingers were sore. She had ignored and ignored the warning signs because tonight was such fun.

And the railing was just a railing. She stood contemplating the fact for a good ten minutes, muttering to herself about being an idiot for venturing so far. Venturing to see a piece of metal and bits of wood. A millisecond of her time was spent with eyes closed and she imagined. Imagine those men leaning over and smirking happily down at her. Can't even recall one of their names and their faces are all a muddle. Lou would say I told you so when she got back to uncle Kevin's, the words burned her ears already.

"Truce" the man called out when he hadn't heard any snowball splatter in the long silence. It was late anyway and bed was beckoning, a good hot shower and a glass of scotch too.

He stood at the same time as she emerged from behind the red phone box across the street.

"Truce?" Nat called back timidly, not really knowing if this was a naughty boys' ploy to get the foe out in the open. Her fingers hurt like buggery now, flex, flex, rub, rub. Nat blew in the fist of her hands she had pressed together. She did it all as she stood uncertain in a deserted street, in a deserted Brough of London, across the snowy street from a stranger.

Then it started.

The snow.

Fluttery flakes of wonderful. They would always be wonderful, even with wet clothes and frozen hands and feet that felt like clogs.

Wonderful flakes of joy.

Paul moved across the street as Nat craned her neck to catch every single flake of snow on her tongue. Her hands, her freezing hands stretched outwards to catch more. His boots scrunched as he approached but she just couldn't prise herself away from the glorious wonderment of the act of snowfall. Nat grinned at the glory of it all. She closed her eyes and felt the flutters of flakes hit her eyelashes, cheeks, lips, tongue.

Paul paused a few yards away. The streetlamp shone down upon her. Dark hair now damp, chin tilted to the heavens, smile radiating warmth and unfettered happiness. Snowflakes settled on the tiny freckles that etched cutely across her nose and she wiggled and wrinkled that cold nose of hers because of the tickly feelings it made, and joyous laughter sprang sweetly from her frosty lips.

The English put up with it. Bloody snow. A menace it was... trudge, shovel, slip on black ice, freeze your dick off temperatures. And they forgot didn't they. Forgot it was beauty and wonderment and Christmas. Pretty flakes, roaring fires, cuddles and snowball fights. Homemade toboggans in the park, screams of laughter as you flew down a slope.

Another step and he would be able to reach out and touch her elbow, one more and he would see her open her eyes. See all the wonder of a fresh outlook on an old way of life.

"Are you a robber" Nat questioned as her tongue stuck out once more to catch another fluttering flake. Her insides were cooling quickly too now, she ruefully noted.

"Nothing as glamourous as that" Paul teased quietly back. Would she have a pink fit when she opened her eyes? Would she see the boy that played snowballs, or the one that stood smiling like a jack-ass on stage every night?

His eyes ran over her body. She was trembling. The hands outreached tinged blue. "Geez girl"

Nothing said, he launched into action. Grasping her hands, tugging her close. Wrapping his coat around her.

And she yelped and pushed and jumped for release until the warmth hit her. The heat of him seeping like hot chocolate into her fingers that she now lay flat across the width of his back. He smelt delicious and wonderful like a man should and warm, oh so warm, like a furnace. A cigarette box poked out of his top pocket, the tobacco scent lingering.

"Your hands are blue luv"

"And hello to you too" Nat giggled and leaned back to take stock of her snowball rival, her chilly finger saviour. He didn't just smell wonderful he looked it too. Even with his hair a little matted and wet, the shadow of the street lamp across half his face, showed off he was damn fine. His hat rammed haphazardly on his head. She closed her eyes in case it was all a frozen icy dream.

Paul sweep snowflakes from her eyelashes and rubbed her cheeks as her eyes slowly opened and stared up at him. It was like a bloody romantic movie this was. Moody lighting, the girl, cuddles and snow. She blinked in a trance, letting his cool fingers warm as they stroked over her cheeks. She was unique and wonderful. Plonked in the middle of his night, in the middle of the street like an angel sent from heaven to remind him to just be. Just enjoy and not worry about recording and tours and press and buses and mobs and policemen and cars being flattened under the weight of fans.

Just be, right now.

Be a boy holding a girl, offering warmth in the middle of the London street.

It wasn't a dream. His warmth helped but her feet still stung something shocking. "Much as my fingers are loving your heated torso, my feet might be getting frost bite" Nat grinned ruefully up at her saviour. He felt so good, could she let him go to find a cold cab to take her home? He looked sort of familiar Nat decided. But there's no one she knows in this town that look like him. His big hazel eyes just bore into her soul, like he knows all her naughty, and not so, secrets. All her dreams. His grin disarmingly cute.

"Oh right. You live far away luv?"

"Oh, about from here to Westminster and then the other side of the Thames I think"

"You think"

"It all seemed like such a good idea when Lou and I left this morning"

"Lou?"

"Cousin"

"Oh. And she's...?"

"Highly sought after in the medical profession so she said ta-rah and ditched me"

"Nasty"

"It's ok, I played darts with a belching old bloke at the pub earlier"

"Wonderful. I have no hope of impressing you then"

"I think this, right now, is mighty impressive"

"Do you now"

"Ahuh, I think I might have to take it all the way home and keep it til the furnace heats to a million degrees to melt me off you"

"Sounds grand"

"Is there a cab rank about that you know of?"

"Need to book them at this time of night luv" Paul bit his lip and contemplated the fingers sliding over his back and the feet below her knees. "Listen. I yeah... Umm, my place is round the corner. What do you say we warm you up first, before we hail a cab?"

"Murderer?"

"Nope"

Rapist?"

"Nope"

"Jack the Ripper?"

"Nope"

"Sounds fine by me"

"Well miss, without further ado, let's get you into my flat"

"Not flat though"

"Not unless you want to. Entirely up to you, of course"

"You have no say in this then. Whatsoever?"

"We may make it a mutually agreeable decision upon further investigation"

"Well then, lead the way, old chap"

"Enough with the old, eh"

"Righteo old boy"

"This mutually agreeable decision is getting harder by the second....." Paul jokingly retorted.

Nat pressed into his side like she lived there. His arm lay over her shoulder like it was meant to stay. Her fingers inside his coat swirled and if she teased him with her words so be it, cause her fingers were making a call.. and he planned to answer it.