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been living in the house with him while his parents have been away, as kind of babysitter, and I
moved in after we got engaged. Not that Felix needs a babysitter. He’s completely
self-contained, reads all the time, and you never even know he’s in the house. I once tried to give
him a friendly little “drugs chat.” He politely corrected me on every single fact, then said he’d
noticed I drank above the recommended guidelines of Red Bull and did I think I might have an
addiction? That was the last time I tried to act the older sister.
Anyway. That’s all come to an end, now that Antony and Wanda are returning from the
States. I’ve moved back to my flat and we’ve started looking for places to rent. Magnus was all
for staying here. He thought we could continue using the spare bedroom and bathroom on the top
floor, and wouldn’t it be convenient, as he could carry on using his father’s library?
Is he nuts? There is no way I am living under the same roof as the Tavishes.
I follow Felix into the kitchen, where Magnus is lounging on a kitchen chair, gesturing at
a page of typescript, and saying, “I think your argument goes wrong here. Second paragraph.”
However Magnus sits, whatever he does, he somehow manages to looks elegant. His
suede-brogued feet are up on a chair, he’s halfway through a cigarette,17 and his tawny hair is
thrown back off his brow like a waterfall.
The Tavishes all have the same coloring, like a family of foxes. Even Wanda he
hair. But Magnus is the best-looking of all, and I’m not just saying that because I’m marrying
him. His skin is freckled but tans easily too, and his red-brown hair is like something out of a
hair ad. That’s why he keeps it long.18 He’s actually quite vain about it.
Plus, although he’s an academic, he’s not some fusty guy who sits inside reading books
all day. He skis really well, and he’s going to teach me too. That’s how we met, in fact. He’d
sprained his wrist skiing and he came in for physio after his doctor recommended us. He was
supposed to be seeing A
coming to me instead. The next week he asked me out on a date, and after a month he proposed.
A month!19
Now Magnus looks up and his face brightens. “Sweetheart! How’s my beautiful girl?
Come here.” He beckons me over for a kiss, then frames my face in his hands, like he always
does.
“Hi!” I force a smile. “So, are your parents here? How was their flight? I can’t wait to see
them.”
I’m trying to sound as keen as I can, even though my legs are wanting to run away, out
the door and down the hill.
“Didn’t you get my text?” Magnus seems puzzled.
“What text? Oh.” I suddenly realize. “Of course. I lost my phone. I’ve got a new number.
I’ll give it to you.”
“You lost your phone?” Magnus stares at me. “What happened?”
“Nothing!” I say brightly. “Just … lost it and had to get a new one. No biggie. No
drama.”
I’ve decided on a general policy that the less I say to Magnus right now, the better. I
don’t want to get into any discussions as to why I might be clinging desperately to some random
phone I found in a bin.
“So, what did your text say?” I quickly add, trying to move the conversation on.
“My parents’ plane was diverted. They had to go to Manchester. Won’t be back till
tomorrow.”
Diverted?
Manchester?
Oh my God. I’m safe! I’m reprieved! My legs can stop wobbling! I want to sing the
“Hallelujah” chorus. Ma-an-chester! Ma-an-chester!
“God, how awful.” I’m trying hard to twist my face into a disappointed expression. “Poor
them. Manchester. That’s miles away! I was really looking forward to seeing them too. What a
pain.”
I think I sound pretty convincing. Felix shoots me an odd look, but Magnus has already
picked up the typescript again. He hasn’t commented on my gloves. Nor has Felix.
Maybe I can relax a notch.
“So … er … guys.” I survey the room. “What about the kitchen?”
Magnus and Felix said they were going to clear up this afternoon, but the place is a bomb
site. There are takeaway boxes on the kitchen table and a stack of books on top of the hob and
even one in a saucepan. “Your parents will be back tomorrow. Shouldn’t we do something?”
Magnus looks unmoved. “They won’t care.”
It’s all very well for him to say that. But I’m the daughter-in-law (nearly) who’s been
living here and will get the blame.
Magnus and Felix have begun talking about some footnote,20 so I head over to the hob
and start a quick tidy-up. I don’t dare remove my gloves, but the guys aren’t giving me the
slightest glance, thankfully. At least I know the rest of the house is OK. I went over the whole
place yesterday, replaced all the old manky bottles of bubble bath and got a new blind for the
bathroom. Best of all, I tracked down some anemones for Wanda’s study. Everyone knows she
loves anemones. She’s even written an article about “anemones in literature”. (Which is typical
of this family—you can’t just enjoy something, you have to become a top academic expert on it.)
Magnus and Felix are still engrossed as I finish. The house is tidy. No one’s asked me
about the ring. I’ll quit while I’m ahead.
“So, I’ll head home,” I say casually, and drop a kiss on Magnus’s head. “You stay here,
keep Felix company. Say welcome home to your parents from me.”
“Stay the night!” Magnus sweeps an arm round my waist and pulls me back. “They’ll
want to see you!”
“No, you welcome them. I’ll catch up tomorrow.” I smile brightly, to distract attention
from the fact that I’m edging toward the door, my hands behind my back. “Plenty of time.”
“I don’t blame you,” says Felix, looking up for the first time since I’ve arrived at the
house.
“Sorry?” I say, a bit puzzled. “Don’t blame me for what?”
“Not sticking around.” He shrugs. “I think you’re being remarkably sanguine, given their
reaction. I’ve been meaning to say so for weeks. You must be a very good person, Poppy.”
What’s he talking about?
“I don’t know—what do you mean?” I turn to Magnus for help.
“It’s nothing,” he says, too quickly. But Felix is staring at his older brother, a light
dawning in his eyes.
“Oh my God. Didn’t you tell her?”
“Felix, shut up.”
“You didn’t, did you? That’s not exactly fair, is it, Mag?”
“Tell me what?” I’m turning from face to face. “What?”
“It’s nothing.” Magnus sounds rattled. “Just … ” He finally meets my eyes. “OK. My
parents weren’t exactly wild to hear we’re engaged. That’s all.”
For a moment I don’t know how to react. I stare at him dumbly, trying to process what I
heard.
“But you said … ” I don’t quite trust my voice. “You said they were thrilled. You said
they were excited!”
“They will be thrilled,” he says crossly. “When they see sense.”
They will be?
My whole world is wobbling. It was bad enough when I thought Magnus’s parents were
intimidating geniuses. But all this time they’ve been against us getting married?
“You told me they said they couldn’t imagine a sweeter, more charming