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“I don’t want a raging mother-in-law, thanks very much!”
“She’ll be raging either way,” A
worse: pregnant daughter-in-law or flaky daughter-in-law who lost the priceless heirloom ring?
I’d say go with pregnant.”
“Stop it! I’m not saying I’m pregnant!” I look at the ring again and rub the fake emerald.
“I think it’ll be fine,” I say, as much to convince myself as anything. “It’ll be fine.”
“Is that Magnus?” says Ruby suddenly. “Across the street?”
I follow her gaze. There he is, holding an umbrella against the rain, waiting for the traffic
lights to change.
“Shit.” I leap to my feet and clasp my right hand casually over my left. No. Too
u
awkward angle.
“Bad.” Ruby is watching. “Really bad.”
“What shall I dooo?” I wail.
“Hand cream.” She reaches for a tube. “Come on. I’m giving you a manicure. Then you
can leave a bit of the cream on. Accidentally on purpose.”
“Genius.” I glance over at A
doing?”
In the thirty seconds since Ruby spotted Magnus, A
layer of lip gloss and sprayed scent on, and is now pulling a few sexy strands of hair out of her
ballerina’s bun.
“Nothing!” she says defiantly, as Ruby starts rubbing cream into my hands.
I only have time to dart her a suspicious look before the door opens and Magnus appears,
shaking water from his umbrella.
“Hello, girls!” He beams around as though we’re an appreciative audience waiting for his
entrance. Which I suppose we are.
“Magnus! Let me take your coat.” A
having your manicure. I’ll do it. And maybe a cup of tea?”
Ooh. Typical. I watch as she slides Magnus’s linen jacket from his shoulders. Isn’t she
doing that a bit slowly and lingeringly? Why does he need to take his jacket off, anyway? We’re
about to go.
“We’re nearly finished.” I glance at Ruby. “Aren’t we?”
“No hurry,” says Magnus. “Plenty of time.” He looks around the reception and breathes
in, as though appreciating some beautiful vista. “Mmmm. I remember coming here the first time
as though it were yesterday. You remember, Pops? God, that was amazing, wasn’t it?” He meets
my eye with a suggestive glint and I hastily telegraph back, Shut up, you idiot. He is going to get
me in so much trouble.
“How’s your wrist, Magnus?” A
machine. “Did Poppy ever give you a three-month follow-up appointment?”
“No.” He looks taken aback. “Should she have done?”
“Your wrist’s fine,” I say firmly.
“Shall I take a look?” A
you therapy now, you know. Conflict of interests.” She takes his wrist. “Where was the pain
exactly? Here?” She unbuttons his cuff, moving up his arm. “Here?” Her voice deepens slightly
and she bats her eyelashes at him. “What about … here?”
OK. This is the limit.
“Thanks, A
the meeting about our wedding,” I add pointedly.
“About that.” Magnus frowns briefly. “Poppy, can we have a quick chat? Maybe go into
your room a moment?”
“Oh.” I feel a flicker of foreboding. “OK.”
Even A
“Cuppa, A
As I usher Magnus in, my mind is skittering in panic. He knows about the ring. The
Scrabble. Everything. He’s having cold feet. He wants a wife he can talk to about Proust.
“Can you lock the door?” He fiddles with the catch and after a moment has secured it.
“There. Excellent!” As he turns, there’s an unmistakable light in his eyes. “God, Poppy, you look
hot.”
It takes about five seconds for the pe
“What? No. Magnus, you have to be joking.”
He’s heading toward me with an intent, familiar expression. No way. I mean, no way.
“Stop!” I bat him away as he reaches for the top button of my uniform. “I’m at work!”
“I know.” He closes his eyes briefly as though in some paroxysm of bliss. “I don’t know
what it is about this place. Your uniform, maybe. All that white.”
“Well, too bad.”
“You know you want to.” He nibbles one of my earlobes. “Come on … ”
Damn him for knowing about my earlobes. For a moment—only a moment—I slightly
lose my focus. But then, as he makes another salvo on my uniform buttons, I snap back into
reality. Ruby and A
happen.
“No! Magnus, I thought you wanted to talk about something serious! The wedding or
something!”
“Why would I want to do that?” He’s pressing the button which reclines the couch all the
way down. “Mmm. I remember this bed.”
“It’s not a bed, it’s a professional couch!”
“Is that massage oil?” He’s reached for a nearby bottle.
“Shhh!” I hiss. “Ruby’s right outside! I’ve already had one disciplinary hearing—”
“What’s this thing? Ultrasound?” He’s grabbed the ultrasound wand. “I bet we could
have some fun with this. Does it heat up?” His eyes suddenly glint. “Does it vibrate?”
This is like having a toddler to control.
“We can’t! I’m sorry.” I step away, putting the couch between him and me. “We can’t.
We just can’t.” I smooth down my uniform.
For a moment Magnus looks so sulky I think he might shout at me.
I’m sorry,” I say again. “But it’s like asking you to have sex with a student. You’d get
fired. Your career would be over!”
Magnus seems about to contradict me—then thinks better of whatever he was about to
say.
“Well, great.” He gives a grumpy shrug. “Really great. What are we supposed to do
instead?”
“We could do loads of things!” I say brightly. “Have a chat? Go through wedding stuff?
Only eight more days to go!”
Magnus doesn’t reply. He doesn’t need to. His lack of enthusiasm is emanating from him
like some kind of psychic force.
“Or have a drink?” I suggest at last. “We’ve got time to go to the pub before the
meeting.”
“All right,” he says heavily at last. “Let’s go to the pub.”
“We’ll come back here,” I say coaxingly. “Another day. Maybe at a weekend.”
What the hell am I promising? Oh God. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
As we head out of the room, Ruby and A
obviously haven’t been reading.
“Everything OK?” says Ruby.
“Yes, great!” I smooth my skirt. “Just … wedding chitchat. Veils, almonds, that kind of
thing… . Anyway, we’d better be off.”
I’ve glimpsed my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are bright scarlet and I’m talking
nonsense. Total giveaway.
“Hope it goes well.” Ruby glances meaningfully at the ring, then at me.
“Thanks.”
“Text us!” chips in A