Authors: Isabel Wolff
‘—Do it in one!’
‘—Someone stand by with a fire-blanket!’
‘—Oh good man!’ We all clapped.
‘—Speech!’
‘—
Speeeeeech!
’
‘Come on, Nigel. Give us a few words.’
Nigel heaved a tipsy sigh, then ran his left hand through his hair.
‘Well…’ he began. Even in the semi-dark you could see that his face was quite red. ‘What c’n I say? What c’n I
say
? ’Cept that I’m ’slutely ’ver
whelmed
.’
‘And over the limit!’ Jon called out.
‘Yes,’ Nigel giggled. He adjusted his glasses which were slightly awry. ‘Prob’ly am. But then it’s been…
quite
an evening. And…well,’ he was blinking slowly, in the way people do when they’ve overdone it. ‘I’d just like…t’thank… Alan
’n’ Jon ’n’ D’sy…f’ranging t’all. Quite ’mazing. And I’d like t’thank all ’f
you
…f’r’elping me cel’brate. I had no
’dea
…be spending the evening like this,’ he went on. ‘No
’dea ‘t’all
. I thought…’s going to a concert wi’ D’sy f’lowed by…
dinner
. ’N to be honest…’ He seemed to hesitate. His eyes raked the crowd. ‘To be honest,
I’d
planned… L’il s’prise for
her
. D’sy—where
are
you?’ He peered at us all now, as though he was having trouble focussing.
‘She’s over there, you moron!’ said Jon.
‘Oh. Y’s. Thanks.
There
y’are.’ He looked at Daisy, standing next to me, then heaved another drunken sigh. ‘I wanted t’give you something, you see. Here.’ He jabbed his left hand into his pocket, missing it twice; but at the third try he pulled out a small red box. ‘I just wondered, D’sy, whether…’ Nigel was swaying slightly now. ‘Whether…y’d do me…honour…ver’
great
honour…’coming…
wife
?’
‘
What
?’ she whispered.
Nigel took a couple of steps towards her, then opened the box. He did it slightly too forcefully, and suddenly something gold and sparkling flew into the air, then fell to the ground with a quiet ‘chink’.
‘Oh buggeration.’
Nigel dropped to one knee, groped for it with his left hand, then held it up to Daisy between thumb and forefinger, like a dainty titbit. It was a large sapphire, flanked by two baguette diamonds. Daisy gazed at it as though transfixed.
‘…’d you do me…honour…
wife
?’ Nigel mumbled again.
‘You want me to
marry
you?’ she said softly, as though she had never entertained the idea. She looked genuinely amazed—and at the same time, slightly appalled. I saw her glance at the assembled guests. We were all motionless. Then she looked at Nigel again.
‘Y’s,’ Nigel replied. ‘I
do
.’
‘Oh,
God
,’ said Daisy quietly. Nigel grabbed her hand—more to steady himself than anything else, it seemed to me—and pushed the ring onto her finger. Then someone started clapping, and someone else joined in, and now, suddenly, we were all applauding.
‘He’s
done
it!’ Alan exclaimed, as Nigel got clumsily to his feet and brushed the dust off his knees. ‘He’s actually, finally done it! Let’s raise our glasses, everyone—not just to Nigel’s fortieth—but to his engagement to Daisy! I give you Nigel and Daisy.’
‘Nigel and Daisy!’
I looked at her face. It was streaming with tears.
CHAPTER 11
‘I guess it was the shock,’ I said to Daisy when she phoned me the next morning.
‘Yes,’ she croaked. ‘It was the shock.’
‘You didn’t expect it, did you?’
‘You can say
that
again! The weird thing is that I’d decided to wait a bit longer before confronting him about it—I told you. I was somehow…less bothered than I had been before.’
‘But that’s
why
it happened. When we want something very intensely, then we often don’t get it, and it’s only when we let up that we
do
.’
‘How
ironic
,’ she said quietly.
‘Sorry?’
‘The timing.’
‘What do you mean?’
There was a funny little silence. ‘I mean…the moment I become more relaxed about it, he finally
proposes
.’ She sounded slightly exasperated, irritated almost.
‘But it’s
wonderful
,’ I said. There was another odd silence. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ she said faintly. ‘I guess.’
‘You do feel happy? Don’t you?’ I heard her inhale.
‘I think so. Or rather, yes, of
course
I do. I mean—Christ—
I’ve finally got what I
want
; or what I … But…at the same time…’ Her voice trailed away. ‘I don’t…
know
. I don’t know
what
I feel,’ she added dismally.
‘That’s because your emotions are very mixed up. It’s not surprising—getting engaged is a major thing.’
‘No, it’s not just that.’
‘Then it must be the anti-climax.’
‘It’s not.’
‘Then what’s the problem? You should be delirious with joy.’
‘I
know
I should be.’
‘But why aren’t you?’
I heard her draw in her breath. ‘Because…’ she began. ‘Because…’ There was a pregnant pause which seemed to hum and throb. ‘Because…’
‘Of the way he did it?’ I suggested. There was a tiny pause. ‘Is that the reason?’
‘
Ye-es
,’ she replied.
‘Because he was drunk?’
‘That’s…right. Because he was drunk.
That’s
why I’m feeling like this. Because it was so…disappointing. He proposed to me, drunk as a lord, in front of all those
people
. It should have been a private, intimate thing.’
‘Well, the fact that he had the ring with him suggests that he was going to do it in the restaurant, which
would
have been private and intimate, but that events overtook him.’
‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘That’s what he said.’
‘That’s probably
why
he got drunk,’ I went on. ‘The stress of it all.’
‘No doubt. He threw up twice on the way home. So if I sound a bit flat it’s because…my proposal wasn’t quite as romantic as I’d hoped.’
‘Well, at least he’s done it, Daisy. And that’s the main thing, because Nigel’s the one you want.’
‘I guess so,’ she said flatly. ‘I mean…yes. Yes… Of course he is.’
‘And the ring’s
lovely
.’
‘It is.’
‘And you’ll be able to wear the dress.’
This seemed to buoy her momentarily. ‘Yes. I’ll be able to wear the dress. Although… Nigel’s talking about a December wedding. Before he went into the office this morning he looked in his diary and suggested the twentieth of December.’
‘Never mind, you can wear a wrap, or a gold pashmina, or have a matching jacket made.’
‘That’s not what I mean.’
‘Then what’s the problem, Daisy? I don’t understand.’
‘Well, don’t you think December’s a little bit…soon?’
‘It’s nerves,’ I said to David later that day, as we did a postmortem on the party. We’d gone to my local vegetarian restaurant, Manna, for lunch. ‘For the past three years Daisy’s been gagging for Nigel to propose—as though her whole happiness depended on it—and now he’s finally done it, she seems upset. It’s the size of the commitment,’ I said as I speared the last of my pumpkin gnocchi. ‘It’s suddenly hit her. She’ll be absolutely
fine
in a few days.’
‘But didn’t you notice, Miranda?’
‘Notice what?’
‘What she said when Nigel asked her?’
‘What she said when Nigel asked her?’ I echoed. ‘Well, I don’t remember her saying anything.’
He put down his fork. ‘
Precisely
.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What I mean
is
—she didn’t actually say “yes”.’
I looked at him. ‘Didn’t she?’
He shook his head. ‘Nope.’
I cast my mind back. ‘
Oh
. You’re
right
… I guess that was shock. Plus, it must have been hard for her to observe the usual formalities in that situation.’
David shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
‘
Plus
she was embarrassed because he was drunk. I’ve never ever
seen
Nigel drunk before.’
‘So what are they doing today?’ he asked, as the waiter cleared our plates.
‘Daisy’s gone microlighting.’
‘With Nigel?’
‘You must be joking. He’d never do anything like that. He’s gone into the office.’
‘That’s a pretty strange way for a newly engaged couple to spend Sunday.’
‘I know—but it’s normal for them. Their interests have always…diverged.’
‘I’ve e-mailed you the photos for you to send Daisy, by the way. There are some good ones there.’
‘Thanks. She’ll be pleased.’
‘It was
funny
seeing Lily, wasn’t it?’ David went on with a grin, as I called for the bill. He shook his head. ‘I can’t get over that. I kept thinking about it last night, when I got home. So
that’s
why you were so odd with me when we first met. Because you’d wanted to meet me all along…’
I’ve wanted to meet you for sixteen years
.
‘Yes,’ I said carefully. ‘That’s right. If I’d known how lovely you are, David, I’d have wanted to meet you even more. It was just that I…really liked that photo of yours in the
Guardian
. So, I suggested you to Lily.’
‘I’m very glad that you did. Otherwise we wouldn’t be
sitting here now, would we?’ I felt his bare foot caress my ankle.
‘I don’t suppose we would.’
‘And we wouldn’t be going away next weekend.’
‘That’s true.’
‘It’ll be wonderful,’ he said as we pushed back our chairs. ‘One of my nicer commissions.’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ I said, as he took my hand. I was also dreading it. Because David would learn the truth at last. I knew this couldn’t go on any longer. My heart began to race. By this time next week, he’d know…
‘I’d better go,’ he said as we stepped outside into the sunshine.
‘What time’s your Eurostar?’
‘Three thirty. I’ve got forty-five minutes to get to Waterloo and check in.’ He kissed me, and a cloud of butterflies took flight in my stomach. ‘I’ll call you when I arrive. See you, Miss Behaviour.’ He set off towards the tube, then turned and waved.
‘See you,’ I said.
As I walked up Regents Park Road I saw Natalie sitting outside the café next to the Mews, talking on her mobile. So she wasn’t with Marcus this afternoon. For some reason, this made me feel glad. Not that Marcus’s love life was any of my concern, but she was
such
a drip. She probably didn’t even kiss him in case she got germs.
‘And he brought me some
strawberries
, Mummy,’ I heard her say in her soft, but somehow penetrating voice. ‘Yes…
terrible
rash. I know. Absolutely
clueless
… Tonight. He wanted to pick me up at eight, but I
insisted
on seven… I told him that I
have
to be in bed by ten otherwise I just don’t
function
well. Yes, I think it
could
be M.E.’ I mentally renamed her Gnatalie
because she whined so much. Poor Marcus, I thought, as I turned into the Mews.
When I got back into the house I downloaded David’s photos and printed them off to give to Daisy. The first two were the ones she’d taken of David and me. I was struck by how happy we looked. We looked like a proper couple. If I kept quiet, we could probably become one. No one was
making
me tell him the truth.
‘It’s so tempting
not
to,’ I confided in Herman. He turned his worried little face to me, eyebrows twitching. ‘But I couldn’t live with myself.’ Herman climbed onto his beanbag with an air of tragic resignation.
As I waited for the photos to print, I opened the main section of the
Sunday Telegraph
. In the diary section on the back was a photo of Alexander, captioned
Hollywood Ahoy!
I skimmed through it, my stomach churning.
Before the credits had even rolled on the first episode of
Land Ahoy!,
Alexander Darke had caught the attention of Tinseltown’s top casting agents. Next month he flies to Los Angeles for screen tests… Reese Witherspoon is said to be keen to work with him on her new film… Darke says he’s more than happy to be swapping Archway for Beverly Hills
.
‘Good luck to him,’ Daisy said later. She’d turned up at six, unexpectedly, explaining that her microlighting friend lived locally and had dropped her off at Chalk Farm. ‘I just thought it would be nice to pop in for a few minutes,’ she explained with a rather tense smile, which I put down to post-engagement stress. ‘As I was so near.’ She glanced at the paper again, then tossed it to one side. ‘Good luck to Alexander,’ she repeated disdainfully. ‘Hollywood can keep him. Anyway, you don’t care.’
‘No, I don’t. Or at least—not much. I don’t suppose I’ll
ever see him again. That’s weird, isn’t it?’ I went on. ‘You can be engaged one day, and strangers the next… Anyway, how was the microlighting?’ A look of rapture, combined, oddly, with a kind of regret, passed across Daisy’s face.
‘Oh, it was…wonderful,’ she said, almost sadly. ‘It’s one of the best things I’ve
ever
done. It gives you such a
high
, Miranda—no irony intended. A feeling of euphoria. There you are, a thousand feet up, with the fields and hills curving away beneath you, chatting away to your co-pilot. It’s
so
exciting, and it’s also quite…intimate, in a funny sort of way.’
‘What do you talk about?’
‘Ooh, all
sorts
of things,’ she replied. ‘Life. Love. The Universe. Abseiling. Rock-climbing,’ she went on dreamily. ‘Hang-gliding. Sky-diving. Paragliding,’ she sighed. ‘Scuba-diving…’ She seemed suddenly to collect herself. ‘All…sorts of things.’
‘And who is it you do this with?’
‘Oh…’ A red flush had stained her throat. ‘This, erm…chap. His name’s… Mar-
tin
. And he’s just bought a half share in a microlight, and his girlfriend’s not interested, so…he asked me if I’d like to go again as it’s more fun with two. And as Nigel was working all day,
again
, I said yes.’ I suddenly noticed her left hand.