different when she surveyed herself this way compared to how it did when she checked herself in the full-length mirror before leaving the flat each morning. ‘I’m wearing a dress but with flats!’ She didn’t give Beth a chance to respond. ‘And Tiffany’s is not far from the Ritz. Oh my God, Beth, I’ve got to go …’ The line went dead.
Beth groaned. She truly hoped that this time Carly had got the right end of the stick and that she wasn’t winding herself up into a frenzy of happiness only to have it peed all over.
Beth sat at the table in the B&B and studied the various quotes she’d received. It was not looking good. Number one priority was the electrics so she had no choice but to confirm the work for that, which was a sizeable chunk of money. Basically, everything needed something doing to it and it was going to cost more money than she had. Having walked out on a well-paid city job she only had a small amount of savings to rely on until she sold Willow Cottage and hopefully turned a profit. Beth was feeling at a loose end as Leo was watching some cartoons on the small television and Jean was dusting around them both.
‘Why don’t you go to the pub tonight? It’s quiz night,’ she suggested. Beth struggled to think of anything worse. Bingo, actually, bingo would have been worse.
‘They do bingo first, so if you go early you’ll catch that too.’
Beth openly sighed. ‘I think I’ll give it a miss, thanks.’
‘They are friendly, you know, folk round here. If you’re going to be here for a while it would do you well to make some friends. Just a bit of motherly advice,’ she chuckled as she whisked the plates into the kitchen. Beth didn’t want to make friends. This was a temporary thing; she didn’t need new friends. She had Carly and … she realized nobody else from her old life had been in touch but that was because nobody else had her new mobile number. She’d been too worried about it making its way into Nick’s hands.
Something else she could lay firmly at Nick’s door, not only had she left behind the life she’d built for herself in London, her job, her parents and pretty much everything she knew, she had also had to cut herself off from her friends. But if she thought about it she knew this hadn’t happened overnight. Hindsight was a wonderful thing. When she looked back she realized things with Nick were changing long before that fateful day. Nick’s apparent easy-going manner had been replaced over time by a persuasive argumentative one that manipulated Beth into doing what Nick wanted. The seemingly throwaway comments about the people Beth socialized with were all intended to drip-feed his messages of control and it had worked. Slowly Beth saw less and less of her friends until it was just Carly on a Wednesday night. Carly and Fergus were pretty much her only friends now but if she had them then that was all she needed.
It was the middle of the afternoon and, despite her mercy dash home to swap her shoes and redo her make-up and hair, Carly had been fifteen minutes early arriving at Eros’s statue. She hadn’t enough time to do a proper job but a quick go with the straighteners had spruced it up a treat. She got out her clear lip-gloss and applied another coat to make sure. She wanted to look and feel perfect when he proposed. Carly checked her watch again – only five minutes to go. Her stomach was doing all sorts of things; it felt like it was full of hungry caterpillars instead of butterflies.
Carly searched the busy streets for Fergus. He was tall, quite lanky really, so often was easy to spot in a crowd but there was no sign of him yet. The minutes ticked by as she watched the busy hum of London life around her: the Big Issue seller on one side and the young person with a large sign directing people to a new shoe shop on the other; it interested her that the Big Issue seller was a lot more enthusiastic than the sign holder.
Carly checked her watch again. Now Fergus was late. She had to keep moving out of the way for tourists to take photos of Eros, and photos of them pulling silly faces and kissing each other in front of the statue. It was starting to get annoying. She watched couples hand in hand heading into the Criterion restaurant looking all loved up and happy. People kissing each other good-bye as they piled out of taxis. Others sat on the steps of the statue watching the world go by.
Fergus was fifteen minutes late. Carly’s feet were starting to hurt. These heels looked fabulous but they weren’t designed for standing about in or walking any distance. She thought about texting him but he rarely felt the vibration of the phone so that was probably pointless, and right now she didn’t trust herself to text something that may spoil the mood of the ever-so-romantic proposal she was sure was about to materialize.
Carly spotted a mop of unruly black hair bobbing her way and instantly relaxed. It was Fergus, he was late but he was here. As the crowd parted she saw his grinning face. He looked particularly pleased with himself, which was a good sign. He was dressed which was definitely another plus but he was wearing jeans and a Star Wars T-shirt – not her first choice for the beautiful memory of his proposal but now was not the time to get picky, she thought.
Fergus kissed her. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘The blog chat ran over,’ he explained but Carly wasn’t really paying attention – that didn’t matter now.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
‘Wait and see.’ He took her hand and led her into the tube station. Immediately her spirits plummeted. She was wrong about the Ritz and Tiffany’s and she tried hard to erase the pictures of the stunning rings she’d seen in magazines. Her feet didn’t take kindly to the tube station steps but she was trying to stay positive.
A few sweaty minutes later they emerged at St Paul’s and Carly tried to think of nearby places that were ideal for a proposal. She was struggling to think of any; all that was nearby was the London Stock Exchange and St Paul’s Cathedral, its dramatic white dome visible above the grey office buildings. Fergus gave her a reassuring smile. Perhaps he could sense her anticipation, but did he realize how important this moment was to her?
Carly had been dreaming of the perfect proposal and perfect wedding ever since she was a girl and watched Monica and Chandler on Friends. He led her through the streets, past the front of St Paul’s and then into the magnificent cathedral by the sightseeing entrance. Carly had been here as a child but remembered little of its vastness and awe-inspiring interior; it did take your breath away.
Fergus pulled her close and hugged her. She held her breath. ‘This way.’
The steps at the Underground were nothing to the ones she was facing now. The sign told her it was 528 steps to the Golden Gallery. She gulped hard, pointed at the sign and then at her shoes.
‘It’s okay, we’re not going all the way to the top,’ Fergus told her with a cheeky smile.
At about the 150-step mark it got better because the burning feeling in her toes was replaced by a numb sensation, which was still painful but didn’t make her wince with every step. Fergus gave her reassuring glances every so often as he almost jogged up the steps in his well-worn trainers. Carly forced a grimace onto her face. Dear God, this had better be worth it, she thought.
She was about to admit defeat and resign herself to a life of spinsterhood when Fergus beckoned her up the last few steps and into the first gallery. They stood by the balustrade. The views in all directions were breath-taking and the ornate dome above them was resplendent in symmetrical perfection. Carly did her best to ignore the smug-looking faces peering down on her of those that had climbed all the way to the upper gallery. She was certain they would not have done it in heels like hers. She tried hard to ignore the throbbing in her feet and blanked out the thought of the descent that was yet to come.
Fergus
