Page 105 of Midnight in Paris

‘Of course!’ she’d said, slightly riled.

‘Good. Good. Well, maybe it’s to do with some unfinished business with Tom. Maybe it’s a chance to say goodbye to him.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Or maybe he’s going to haunt the hell out of you and Will and try to break you up?’ Libby had said, her tone slightly lighter, teasing.

‘Libby!’

‘Sorry. But seriously, Sophie, just… try not to worry, OK? I know that’s hard for you.’

‘I’ll try.’

‘Atta girl. Oh, and Soph?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Say hi to him for me.’

56

TWO WEEKS AGO

She thought about Will again as she began to organise her clothes for the following day. Laying out her skirt and jacket, they seemed almost to belong to someone else. It would be odd going back to work – although it had only been a short absence, so much had happened within her.

Will’s proposal – the event that she was sure had triggered the hallucinations – had been so different from Tom’s. Unexpected. Welcome. Right on time. She hadn’t doubted herself for a moment when she’d slipped the ring on her finger that night in their kitchen when he’d got down on one knee.

The only time she’d had a doubt had been two weeks ago when Will had arrived home from work, excited.

‘OK, so close your eyes,’ he said, having asked her to sit down on the sofa.

She sat, arms outstretched as instructed, and he handed her what felt like a box.

‘Ta-da!’ he said as she opened her eyes.

‘It’s a present!’ she said unnecessarily.

‘Well, yes.’

She looked at him. ‘It’s wrapped.’

‘Yup!’

‘So why the eye-closing?’

He laughed. ‘Just for the drama. Now open it!’

She did, and was treated to a bottle of red wine, a teddy with a beret, a book about cheeses, a silk scarf in red, white and blue. ‘What’s…’

‘Madame,’ Will said in a thick French accent. ‘I would be delighted if you would accept a luxurious trip to La Belle France.’ He looked at her expectantly.

‘No,’ she found herself saying.

‘No?’ he said, slipping quickly out of his accent in surprise. ‘You don’t want to?’

She shook her head. ‘Oh, Will. I’m sorry. It’s just it was… well, it was my place with Tom.’

‘Oh, not to Paris!’ he said hastily. ‘The South. Nice, Cannes.’

---