The Proposal (27 page)

‘It’s busy,’ she said, as Billy elbowed his way towards the bar, a twenty held up between three fingers like a shark’s fin.

‘Two Bud,’ said her brother and handed one to Amy. Behind the bar there were hundreds of photos from parties held here over the years. She scanned them, wondering if she was in any of them. Fenies was like a youth club to her high-school year; no one was ever carded here.

As she sipped her cold beer, listening to the good-natured rabble around her, she felt a pang of affection for her home town. The little part of Queens she had grown up in – just a mile from the Atlantic seaboard – was not really the New York you saw in the movies. It lacked the glamour of Manhattan, the beatnik cool of certain pockets of Brooklyn, and for a place with such a stately name, it was pretty unremarkable. But this was where people lived, real people: the local high street was still full of delis and bagel shops, funeral parlours and hardware stores, all the things you really needed.

‘No way! Amy goddam Carrell!’

Amy turned, her mouth open.

‘Suzie?’ she gasped. ‘It
is
you!’

She threw her arms around her friend and squeezed.

‘I don’t believe it! I haven’t seen you in – what is it? Two years?’

‘Well, a lot’s changed since then,’ said Suzie, holding up her hand to show off a diamond ring.

‘You’re engaged?’

Suzie darted into the crowd and grabbed a burly man with dark close-cropped hair.

‘Brian, meet Amy Carrell,’ she said, planting a kiss on his neck. ‘Amy is my oldest, best friend from kindergarten. She’s a dancer in London.’

Amy saw the same pride in Suzie’s face as had been in her dad’s expression. Maybe she hadn’t been such a failure after all.

‘Good to meet ya, Amy,’ said Brian, grinning.

‘Yeah, put your tongue away, Romeo,’ said Suzie, slapping his arm. ‘Remember who you proposed to.’

Brian threw a possessive arm around her. ‘Yeah, like I’d ever forget that. So what you dancing in now, Amy?’

‘A new production about tango. In the West End in London. Rehearsals start in the new year,’ said Amy, stretching the truth a little.

‘London, huh? Maybe I’ll take Suze along if you ever make it to Broadway.’

‘Contemporary dance, honey,’ smiled Suzie. ‘Not your thing.’

‘Hey, I like modern dance,’ protested Brian. ‘Half-naked girls in hose.’

‘You like Hooters,’ said Suzie, pushing him back into the crowd. ‘That’s what you like. Now go get us two drinks so we can catch up, huh?’

Brian winked and disappeared into the throng.

‘He’s cute,’ said Amy.

‘He’s a firefighter over in Brooklyn. Looks very cute in his uniform. Even cuter without it.’

‘Same old Suze, huh?’

‘I know what I like, is all. Besides, we don’t all have your legs.’

Amy raised her eyebrows. She had always been jealous of Suzie’s curves and easy sex appeal. ‘I think you made out okay.’

‘So your mom told my mom that you got a rich boyfriend?’ She clinked her beer against Amy’s. ‘I’m so happy for you, Ames. It all worked out for you, didn’t it?’ she said wistfully.

‘You remember all those times when we were ten and you tried to persuade me to come to dance class? What was that teacher called? Miss Jo-Jo?’

Amy nodded.

‘There’s times I wish I’d kept it up like you, or at least held out for a job I loved, instead of dealing with sick pooches over at the Blue Cross.’

‘You always loved animals, Suze.’

‘Yeah, but the sort in tight pants.’

They giggled.

‘Well, it looks like you did okay too,’ said Amy.

‘Yeah, Brian’s a keeper. What about you? Mom said your boyfriend’s some British millionaire.’

She opened her mouth to tell Suzie that it was all over – she was desperate to tell someone – but Suzie was motioning towards the back of the bar.

‘Shame, ’cos your old high-school hottie is over there.’

‘Chris Carvey?’ Amy said, feeling suddenly nervous.

‘Go and say hi. In fact let’s both go and say hi. He always did brighten my day,’ Suzie said with a wink.’

‘Suze, no. It’s fine. I’m only staying for one drink.’

But she had already been marched out towards a covered backyard area. Since her last visit, someone with green thumbs had turned what had been the delivery yard into a beer garden, with trees and big shrubs in pots, and little seating areas. It was cold outside, but even Amy had to admit that the fairy lights added a bit of Christmas magic. She stopped in her tracks as a man turned to face her.

‘Chris,’ she said.

‘Hey, Amy,’ he replied casually, as if they’d just bumped into one another in the corridor at high school. The years seemed to melt away at the sound of his voice, and suddenly she was back in twelfth grade. Chris had been her first love, her high-school sweetheart, and everyone had expected them to get engaged on prom night, like Billy and Helen had done, and settle down in his grandmother’s house soon afterwards. But it hadn’t quite happened that way.

‘You look great,’ she said, and it was true. He’d always had that cute boy-next-door look about him, but now he seemed to have grown into it. A few laughter lines and a day’s worth of stubble had taken the prettiness from his features and made him a proper heartbreaker. Only it had been Amy who had done the heartbreaking, leaving the city in the autumn after graduation to go to dance school upstate.

‘So you’re back for the holidays?’

‘Sure am,’ she said. ‘Thought I might bump into some old friends.’

‘I had the same thought. I haven’t been here for years.’

‘You used to love Fenies,’ she grinned.

She was surprised by the instant crackle of chemistry between them. Perhaps that never went away between first loves, she thought, a little embarrassed that she had felt it.

‘I did, but I don’t live around here any more,’ replied Chris quickly. ‘I’m just back for Christmas, visiting the folks.’

She nodded to hide her surprise. She never thought Chris would ever leave Queens. It was one of the reasons why their relationship had ended. She’d wanted to be a dancer and travel the world. When Chris left high school, his destiny was to go and work at his dad’s tyre shop at the end of Carmichael Street, and one day to take it over.

‘We moved to Westchester a couple of years ago,’ he explained. ‘Schools are good up there.’

Schools? She looked at his ring finger, but it was bare.

‘You’re married?’ She cringed as she heard her voice squeak. She didn’t know why she was feeling so territorial; after all, their relationship had finished eight years ago.
She
had ended it.

‘Not yet. Still with Amber, though. We’ve been engaged for ever. We always said we’d get round to it when the kids were big enough. Jack’s five next summer, so I guess we’re running out of excuses.’

‘That’s great. I’m so happy for you,’ she said honestly.

‘Guess we’ve just been too busy. We’re got ten tyre shops now. Business is going great. Five in Queens, one in Staten Island, four in Westchester. Just say the word when you ever need a discount.’

‘Wow, that’s great. And so generous, Chris, it really is.’

‘What about you? Married? Engaged? Living happily in sin with some lucky Brit?’

She took a breath, ready to tell him how great life was with Daniel, but then stopped herself.

‘I won’t tell you that version of events,’ she said quietly.

‘What?’

‘You always did know when I was lying.’ She smiled, remembering who she was with and how well he knew her.

‘That little spot under your left eye, it always used to tic.’

He touched the top of her cheek, and for a moment she was back in high school, her whole life ahead of her and true love living at the end of the street in the two-storey house next to the tyre shop.

‘I was dating someone for a while in London, but it finished a couple of weeks ago. It’s fine, though.’ She smiled, taking a sip of her beer.

‘So tell me about Amber. I’m sure she’s terrific.’

Chris nodded.

‘She is. You know, you were always my yardstick and I never thought anyone would ever match you. But she’s up there. Amber’s a great girl.’

The space around them seemed to contract so that it was just them. Her heart was pounding and she had to look away from his dark brown eyes. She felt a wash of nostalgia so strong she sighed audibly.

‘Our timing was off, wasn’t it?’ she said finally. He always knew what she was thinking, so she figured she might as well say it out loud. They had never really discussed the end of the relationship beyond the argument that had finished it.

‘Is that what it was?’ he said in a tone that said he didn’t believe her.

‘It was always going to be hard when one of us went away to college,’ she said, looking back up at him.

‘Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you’d got into Juilliard?’ His voice had softened. It was more wistful now, rather than the hurt pride that had been evident before.

She closed her eyes and remembered that day. It had been no surprise she hadn’t got into New York’s most prestigious arts college. Her audition had been awful. She’d felt unwell and out of sorts and for years she had blamed her rejection on the bad luck of an off day. Now she realised that perhaps – probably – the competition had been too fierce. She was good, but not good enough. On the day the rejection letter had arrived, she had gone to Manhattan with Chris and they had sat on a bench in Battery Park watching the Staten Island ferries sail back and forth and just held each other. She remembered how she felt as though her world had fallen apart. The pain of not accomplishing her dream, the fear of leaving her boyfriend to go upstate to her second-choice college, which had offered her a full scholarship.

What would have happened if she’d got into Juilliard? she asked herself, seeing a sudden flash of an alternative life. She felt sure she would be dancing now, not waitressing. She would be in demand in all the repertories around the world. And perhaps she would still be with Chris, who had always been one of the good ones. Instead he had come up to Albany for the weekend a week before the end of the first semester at college and she had told him it just wasn’t working. It had been as simple as that.

Because it hadn’t felt as if it was working. Not when she had got sucked into college life and rehearsals.

‘I didn’t fight for you,’ he said quietly.

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she replied softly, not wanting to reopen old wounds.

‘Maybe I should have done what I came up to do that weekend.’

She looked at him and felt her head spin a little with all the beer.

‘Do what?’

He rubbed his chin awkwardly and didn’t look at her.

‘Do what, Chris?’ she asked, her interest piqued.

‘Hell, look . . .’ He hesitated, looking for his escape route out of the conversation. Realising he had none, he jumped straight in. ‘I came up to Albany that weekend to propose to you. I had the ring in my bag, a little cabin booked for the Saturday night . . .’

‘Propose to me?’ she said in disbelief.

‘I know we were only kids, but I guess it just felt right. For me, anyway. Back then,’ he added with a self-preservative disclaimer.

She felt frozen to the spot as she heard a holler from across the courtyard: ‘Hey, Amy. Want another beer? Bri’s buying.’

She shook her head and wiped her mouth.

‘I should go,’ she said, feeling too emotional to stay.

‘You don’t have to,’ said Chris, putting his hand on her forearm. ‘Have another drink. For old times’ sake.’

‘Happy Christmas, Chris,’ she said absently as she forced her way through the courtyard crowd.

By the time she reached the street, she wasn’t sure if any air was reaching her lungs. She puffed out her cheeks, and a spout of white air escaped into the night sky to confirm that she was still breathing.

She hadn’t been prepared for what had just gone on back there. Chris Carvey had wanted to propose to her. That weekend she had finished with him. She remembered he had come up on a snowy Friday night and left on the Saturday afternoon when a long walk through Tivoli Park had turned into an argument fraught with her frustrations of the semester. She remembered watching him walk away; the back of his beaten-up leather jacket, his favourite army rucksack thrown over his shoulder. A ring had been in that bag. A ring meant for her. A ring that meant he loved her, would love her, always and for ever.

Our timing was off. I didn’t fight for you
. Well,
it didn’t matter now, because he had moved on and had a family and another girl now.

I didn’t fight for you.

She kept hearing those words over and over again. She thought of Daniel and his feebleness in the face of his family’s expectations and desires. He hadn’t fought for her. Had she wanted him to?

Looking out on to the cold and lonely street, she knew with absolute certainty that she had. She could still feel the heart-racing excitement of seeing that Tiffany box in his sock drawer. So he’d behaved like a jackass, but she had loved him, from that first moment she had seen him on the nightclub dance floor. The most handsome man in the room, the smartest, most successful person she had ever met, who had singled her out and made her feel like his queen. Well, until his job offer in Washington and his ambition and his parents’ snobbery had forced him to make a choice. Love or career. And he had chosen his career.

I didn’t fight for you.

Well, she was a better person than he was.

Perhaps it was the egg nog and the punch and the Bud talking, but suddenly she wanted to talk to him. She wanted to fight for him. Pulling her mobile out of her pocket, she dialled his number.

Her heart was thumping as it rang.

Ring ring.

Pick up, pick up.

Ring ring.

No, don’t pick up.

Ring ring.

Where are you?

Ring ring.

Are you out with another girl?

Ring ring.

What the hell am I doing?

Ring – click.

There was a moment of relief as Daniel’s phone finally went to voice message. She snapped her own phone shut and closed her eyes tightly.