‘Oh! I just think… it would be better in person. With both of us. And there’s no rush…’
He’d slapped his forehead as if annoyed at himself. ‘Of course. I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think. And there’s me rushing tomyparents,’ he said. ‘We’ll go this weekend.’
And here they were, the journey passing more quickly than ever. ‘Will they mind, your parents?’ Tom had asked her. ‘I should really have asked your dad for your hand.’
‘I’m bloody glad you didn’t!’ Sophie had said. ‘I’m actually a fully grown person.’ She hated the traditional permission-asking, as if she were anyone’s possession to give away.
‘I know that. It’s just your dad might have liked it.’
It was true, he might have.
She’d managed to avoid answering the other question, afraid of the answer herself.
Still, they’d said all the right things when they’d taken them to the pub for dinner and made the announcement. Sophie had slipped on her ring, and they’d both exclaimed over how pretty it was – even Dad!
Mum had kissed her, Dad had shaken Tom’s hand forcefully and slapped him on the back. She’d felt, at the time, that she was in a TV drama – people doing all the clichéd things they’re meant to do when this kind of news is announced.
Had it been fake? Had they been acting? She tried to close her eyes, settle into sleep; knew that things would seem different in the morning. But her racing thoughts wouldn’t let her settle. Her parents had never said anything negative about Tom – they’d actually seemed to get on pretty well the few times they’d met. It was just the rush of it all; and perhaps they sensed her own reluctance.
She’d held back the other news. That Tom’s mum and dad seemed to have taken the baton and were already talking venues; that her idea of a long engagement had been pushed aside. ‘We’ll pay for it all, of course,’ his father had said. ‘Now, I know that traditionally it’s the bride’s family, but we never had a daughter and I know this one’ – he’d nodded at his wife – ‘has been longing to plan a wedding almost since Tom was born.’
Tom’s mum had laughed and lightly slapped her husband’s arm, but hadn’t contradicted him.
‘Oh,’ Sophie had responded at last. ‘Well, that’s very generous. We were actually thinking of a long engagement…’
‘Well, now you don’t need to!’ Tom’s father had responded, as if offering her the gift of a lifetime.
Tom’s dad, it seemed, was used to getting his own way. Not because he was forceful, but because for some reason, nobody seemed to challenge him. Perhaps nobody wanted to. So Sophie had pushed her own misgivings down and smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she’d said. ‘Honestly, that’s so kind.’
Now, in the darkness of her childhood bedroom, with its unfamiliar double bed and the surprise of finding a man at her side in this space, she lay awake, unable to settle.
Tom, seeming to sense her restlessness, turned on his side and wrapped her in both of his arms, pulling her into a spooning position. His body was warm against hers, his breathing regular. Her Tom. It would be OK. They would be OK.
She steadied herself, trying to match Tom’s calm – assured breaths until at last her eyelids felt heavy, she lost consciousness and finally fell into a deep sleep.
17
TWO WEEKS AGO
The day was simply going too fast. Sophie thought back to all the days she’d spent in school – the slow, mocking tick of a classroom clock; the fact that the hands never seemed to shift. And now here she was in Paris and time was slipping through her fingers like liquid.
She’d bought a baguette for dinner, filled with thick slices of freshly cut ham, and munched it on a bench with Tom at her side, the picture – that had turned out quite realistic and more expensive than she’d expected – next to her.
Then they’d stood and she’d brushed the crumbs from her front decisively. ‘Right,’ she said.
‘Want to go and take a look at Notre Dame – or what’s left of it?’ he offered.
They were both surprised when she shook her head. ‘Do you mind if we don’t?’ she asked. ‘I think maybe it would be better just to be somewhere we could talk.’
‘That sounds ominous.’
She laughed then. ‘Tom, I don’t think that after everything that happened, there can be any more bad news, do you?’ shesaid. ‘If what you said about luck being in a balance, you must have loads of great things to come.’
They were silent then, remembering.
‘Do you forget?’ she asked. ‘Sometimes?’
‘Forget that…?’ He indicated his body.