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your other fiancées. You never told me you’d proposed to Lucinda. I thought that ring was
special. Your mum’s got it, by the way.”
“I have proposed to other girls,” he says slowly. “But now I can’t think why.”
“Because you loved them?”
“No,” he says with a sudden fierceness. “I didn’t. I was nuts. Poppy, you and I—we’re
different. We could make it. I know we could. We just have to get through the wedding—”
“Get through it?”
“That’s not what I mean.” He breathes out impatiently. “Look, come on, Poppy. The
wedding’s all set up. It’s all arranged. It’s not about what happened with Lucinda, it’s about you
and me. We can do it. I want to do it. I really want to do this.” He’s speaking with such fervor, I
stare at him in surprise.
“Magnus—”
“Will this change your mind?” To my astonishment, he sinks down on one knee beside
the sofa and reaches in his pocket. I stare speechlessly as he opens a little jewelry box. Inside is a
ring made of twisted golden strands, with a tiny diamond perched at the side.
“Where … where did that come from?” I can hardly find my voice.
“I bought it for you in Bruges.” He clears his throat, as though embarrassed to admit it. “I
was walking along the street one day. Saw it in a window, thought of you.”
I can’t believe it. Magnus bought a ring for me. Specially for me. I can hear Wanda’s
voice in my head: When he really wants to commit to someone, he’ll find a ring for himself.
He’ll choose something carefully. Give it some thought.
But I can’t relax.
“Why did you choose this ring?” I probe. “Why did it make you think of me?”
“The strands of gold.” He gives an abashed smile. “They reminded me of your hair. Not
the color, obviously,” he amends quickly. “The shine.”
That was a good answer. Quite romantic. I raise my eyes and he gives me a hopeful,
lopsided smile.
Oh God. When Magnus is sweet and puppy-dog like, he’s almost irrestistible.
Thoughts are still spi
Am I going to throw away everything for that? Am I so perfect myself? Let’s face it, twenty-four
hours ago my arms were wrapped around another man in a wood.
I feel a tiny pang in my chest at the thought of Sam and give myself a mental shakedown.
Stop. Don’t go there. I got carried away by the situation, that’s all. Maybe Magnus did too.
“What do you think?” Magnus is watching me eagerly.
“I love it,” I whisper. “It’s amazing.”
“I know.” He nods. “It’s exquisite. Like you. And I want you to wear it. So, Poppy … “
He puts his warm hand on mine. “Sweetest Poppy … will you?”
“Oh God, Magnus,” I say helplessly. “I don’t know … ” My new iPhone is flashing with
messages and I pick it up to buy myself some time. There’s a brand-new email from
[email protected] /* */
My heart skips a beat. I sent Sam my new number this afternoon, just so that he had it.
And at the last minute I added, Sorry about this afternoon, with a couple of kisses. Simply to
clear the air. Now he’s answering me. At midnight. What does he want to say? With trembling
fingers, my thoughts veering onto wild possibilities, I click on the message.
“Poppy?” Magnus sounds a little affronted. “Sweets? Could we focus?”
Sam is delighted to have received your email. He’ll get back to you as soon as he possibly can.
Meanwhile, thanks for your interest. I feel a sting of humiliation as I read the words. The
brush-off email. He got his PA to send me the brush-off email.
I suddenly remember him, that time in the restaurant: You must have a brush-off email.
They come in pretty useful for fending off unwanted advances too. Well, he couldn’t be any
clearer than that, could he?
And now there’s more than a tiny pang in my chest—there’s a real wrenching pain. I was
so stupid. What did I think? At least Magnus didn’t delude himself that he and Lucinda were
anything more than a casual fling. In some ways he stayed more faithful than I did. I mean, if
Magnus even knew the half of what’s been going on these last few days …
“Poppy?” Magnus is peering at me. “Bad news?”
“No.” I toss the phone onto the sofa and somehow find a dazzling smile. “You’re right.
We all make stupid mistakes. We all get carried away. We all get distracted by things which
aren’t … which aren’t real. But the point is … ” I’m ru
“Yes?” prompts Magnus gently.
“The point is … you bought me a ring. Yourself.”
As I say the words, my thoughts seem to come together and consolidate into something
firm. All my deluded dreams fall away. This is reality, right here in front of me. I know what I
want now. I take the ring out of the box and examine it for a moment, the blood beating hard in
my head. “You chose it for me yourself. And I love it. And, Magnus … yes.”
I meet Magnus’s gaze head-on, suddenly not caring about Sam, wanting to take my life
forward, away from here, to somewhere new.
“Yes?” He peers at me as though not sure what he’s hearing.
“Yes.” I nod.
In silence, Magnus takes the ring from me. He lifts up my left hand and slides it onto my
ring finger.
I can’t quite believe it. I’m getting married.
95 Artistic license.
96 Even the fact that its name reminds of the very person I want to forget doesn’t put me
off.
97 I might as well stick to the regimen.
98 Which rules out most of my DVDs, it turns out.
99 Weepfest.
100 Total weepfest.
101 What kind of movie starts with a mother fish and all her little glowy eggs being eaten
by a shark, FFS? It’s supposed to be for children.
102 NB: Shouldn’t it be irrelevant anyway what I look like?
103 Because I’ve eaten them all.
16
Magnus doesn’t believe in superstitions. He’s just like his father. So even though it’s our
wedding day today—even though everyone knows it’s bad luck—he stayed at my place last
night. When I told him he should go to his parents’ house, he got all sulky and said I couldn’t be
so ridiculous and why would he pack up all his stuff for one night? Then he added, “Surely the
only people who believe in that kind of stuff are people with—”
At which point he stopped himself. But I know he was going to say “weak minds.” It’s a
good thing he didn’t continue, or there would have been a major bust-up. As it is, I’m still
feeling quite stroppy with him. Which isn’t exactly ideal on your wedding day. I should be
feeling all starry-eyed. I shouldn’t be leaning out of the kitchen every five minutes, saying, “And
another thing you always do … ”
I now know exactly why they started the tradition of being apart the night before your
wedding. It’s nothing about romance, or sex, or being chaste, or whatever. It’s so you don’t have
a row and stomp up the aisle seething at your bridegroom, pla
going to tell him as soon as you get this wedding bit out of the way.
I was going to make him sleep in the sitting room, but Toby and Tom were in there in
sleeping bags.104 At least I’ve made him promise to leave the house before I get into my