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“Sorry.” I take a deep breath and somehow muster a smile. “Sorry. I’m just a bit stressed.
With the wedding and everything. It’s fine. Look, thanks for lending me the phone. It was nice
knowing you, and I hope you’ll be very happy. With Willow or without.” I grab my bag, my
hands still shaky. “So, er … hope everything goes well with Sir Nicholas, and I’ll look out for
the news stories… . Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out… .” I can barely meet his eyes as I head to
the door.
Sam looks utterly baffled. “Poppy, don“t go like that. Please.”
“I’m not going like anything!” I say brightly. “Really. I’ve got things to do. I’ve got a
wedding to cancel, people to give minor heart attacks to—”
“Wait. Poppy.” Sam’s voice stops me, and I turn around. “I just want to say … thanks.”
His dark eyes meet mine, and for a moment my prickly, defensive shell is pierced.
“Same.” I nod, a lump in my throat. “Thanks.”
I lift a hand in final farewell and walk away down the corridor. Head high. Keep going.
Don’t look back.
By the time I reach the street, my face is lightly spattered with tears and I’m fizzing with
furious, agitated thoughts—although who I’m most furious at I’m not sure. Maybe myself.
But there’s one way I can make myself feel better. Within half an hour I’ve visited an
Orange shop, signed up for the most expensive, full-on contract going, and am in possession of a
slick, state-of-the-art iPhone. Ted said “any budget”—well, I’ve taken him at his word.
And now I’ve got to christen it. I head out of the shop to an open, paved area away from
the traffic. I dial Magnus’s number and give a satisfied nod when it goes straight to voice mail.
That’s what I wanted.
“OK, you little shit.” I imbue the word with as much venom as I can manage. “I’ve
spoken to Lucinda. I know it all. I know you slept with her, I know you proposed to her, I know
this ring has been round the houses, I know you’re a lying scumbag, and, just so you know—the
wedding’s off. Did you hear that? Off. So I hope you can find another good use for your
waistcoat. And your life. See you, Magnus. Not.”
There are moments in life that the white-chocolate Magnum ice cream was invented for,
and this is one of them.96
I can’t face the phone calls yet. I can’t face telling the vicar, or my brothers, or any of my
friends. I’m too battered. I need to restore my energies first. And so, by the time I’ve reached
home, I have a plan.
Tonight: watch comfort DVDs, eat Magnums, cry a lot. Hair mask.97
Tomorrow: break news to world that wedding is canceled, deal with fallout, watch
A
I’ve been texting my new mobile number to everyone I know, and a few friendly texts
have already come back—but I haven’t mentioned the wedding to anyone. It can all wait till
tomorrow.
I don’t want to watch anything with weddings in it, obviously,98 so in the end I plump
for cartoons, which turn out to be the biggest tearjerkers of the lot. I watch Toy Story 3,99
Up,100 and by midnight I’m on Finding Nemo. I’m curled up on the sofa in my ancient pajamas
and furry throw, with the white wine within easy reach, my hair all oily with conditioning mask
and the puffiest eyes in the universe. Finding Nemo always makes me cry anyway, but this time
I’m a sniveling wreck before Nemo’s even lost.101 I’m wondering if I should find something
else to watch which is less savage and brutal, when the buzzer sounds.
Which is weird. I’m not expecting anyone. Unless … are Toby and Tom a day early? It
would be just like them to arrive at midnight, straight off some cheapie coach. The Entryphone is
conveniently within reach from the sofa, so I pull the receiver down, pause Finding Nemo, and
tentatively say, “Hi.”
“It’s Magnus.”
Magnus?
I sit up straight on the sofa as though I’ve had an electric shock. Magnus. Here. On my
doorstep. Has he heard the message?
“Hi.” I swallow, trying to pull myself together. “I thought you were in Bruges.”
“I’m back.”
“Right. So why didn’t you use your key?”
“I thought you might have changed the locks.”
“Oh.” I brush a lock of hair out of my tearstained eyes. So he has heard the message.
“Well … I haven’t.”
“Can I come up, then?”
“I suppose.”
I put the receiver down and look around. Shit. It’s a pigsty in here. For one panicked
instant I feel an urge to jump up, dispose of the Magnum wrappers, wash off my hair mask,
plump up the cushions, shove on some eyeliner, and find some attractive matching loungewear.
That’s what A
And maybe that’s what stops me. Who cares if I’ve got puffy eyes and a hair mask? I’m
not marrying this man, so it’s irrelevant what I look like.102
I hear his key in the lock and defiantly put Finding Nemo back on. I’m not pausing my
life for him. I’ve done enough of that already. I turn the volume up slightly and fill my wineglass
higher. I’m not offering him any, so he needn’t expect it. Or a Magnum.103
The door makes a familiar squeaking sound and I know he’s in the room, but I keep my
gaze resolutely fixed on the screen.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” I shrug, as though to say “Whatever.”
In my peripheral vision I can see Magnus exhale. He looks a teeny bit nervous.
“So.”
“So.” I can play this game too.
“Poppy.”
“Poppy. I mean, Magnus.” I scowl. He caught me out. By mistake I lift my eyes to his,
and he immediately rushes over and grabs my hands, just like he did that first time we met.
“Stop it!” I practically snarl at him, pulling them away. “You don’t get to do that.”
“I’m sorry!” He lifts his hands as though I’ve scalded him.
“I don’t know who you are.” I gaze miserably at Nemo and Dory. “You lied about
everything. I can’t marry someone who’s a lying cheat. So you might as well go. I don’t even
know what you’re doing here.”
Magnus heaves another huge sigh.
“Poppy … OK. I made a mistake. Hands up. I’ll admit it.”
“A ‘mistake’?” I echo sarcastically.
“Yes, a mistake! I’m not perfect, OK?” He thrusts his fingers through his hair in a
frustrated gesture. “Is that what you expect out of a man? Perfection? You want a flawless man?
Because, believe me, that man doesn’t exist. And if that’s why you’re calling off this wedding,
because I made one simple error … ” He holds his hands out, his eyes reflecting the colored light
of the TV. “I’m human, Poppy. I’m a flawed, imperfect human being.”
“I don’t want a flawless man,” I snap. “I want a man who doesn’t sleep with my wedding
pla
“We don’t choose our flaws, unfortunately. And I’ve regretted my weakness over and
over again.”
How is he managing to sound all noble, like he’s the victim here?
“Well, poor old you.” I turn up the volume of Finding Nemo, but, to my surprise, Magnus
grabs the remote and switches it off. I blink at him in the sudden silence.
“Poppy, you can’t be serious. You can’t want to call everything off for one tiny—”
“It’s not only that.” I feel an old, burning hurt in my chest. “You never told me about all