The Proposal (31 page)

‘We were on our way to the airport, then I turned my phone off,’ she said, flushing at the lie.

‘For twenty-four hours?’ he replied, his black eyebrows knitting together to suggest his disapproval.

Her arm was aching and being in Will Hamilton’s presence was unsettling. She had known from the second she had met him that he was suspicious of her, and ignoring his text, his concern about his relative, had undoubtedly done little to make him trust her any more.

‘I’d better go,’ she said, nodding to the suit bag that contained Georgia’s dress. ‘Heavy.’

‘Santa suit?’ he said wryly.

‘A dress. One of Georgia’s actually; she lent it to me for a special night out. Hence the flowers.’

‘Result dress, was it?’

She wondered what a result dress was and then blushed at the thought of it lying in a heap in the Claridge’s bedroom and knew exactly what he was talking about.

‘Well, this isn’t just a dress, it’s a work of art. It deserves to be carefully looked after.’

Will smiled for the first time and his whole face lightened.

‘I can see that you’ve been spending too much time with Georgia; you’re starting to talk like her.’

‘No bad thing, surely?’

Will shrugged and looked down at his watch, indicating that their conversation was over.

‘Are you okay there, bag, flowers? Or do you need a hand?’

‘I don’t need a hand,’ she said as a thought occurred to her. ‘But I wouldn’t mind a word . . .’

He glanced down at his watch again as if her request was an inconvenience.

‘Please, Will, it’s about Georgia. I’ll only keep you five minutes. Girl scout’s honour,’ she said, raising three fingers.

‘You were a girl scout?’ he said, taking the dress bag out of her hand.

‘Buy me a coffee and I’ll tell you all about it,’ she said, leading him into the nearest coffee shop.

The café they had entered was bristling with boho shabby-chic trinkets – of course it was: this was Primrose Hill, where everything had to be elegantly distressed. Immediately she could see that it was Will’s local coffee place, because of the reaction of the girl behind the counter as he walked in.

‘Hello, Will,’ she smiled, batting her eyelids shyly behind her fringe.

Amy suppressed a smile: the girl was practically handing him her phone number. She gave Will a sideways glance as he ordered two lattes. She could certainly see why the pretty blonde barista would notice him. He was a good-looking guy with a crooked smile, clever eyes and the sort of aristocratic bone structure that came with generations of good breeding and which not even his messy dark hair could disguise. In his college-boy jeans and sweater he looked a lot like the handsome young men from the drama department at college, the particularly good-looking ones who always thought they were destined for movie stardom. In another life, her life pre-London, pre-Daniel, she might even had had a crush on him.

She took a seat by the window, put down the flowers, and allowed her gaze to drift out on to the street. She smiled as she thought back to the night before. The dinner, the sex, the promise that Daniel would skip his parents’ New Year’s Day lunch to spend the day with her.

‘Latte,’ said a voice as a lightly foaming mug was put in front of her and she returned to the present.

‘Thanks.’ She smiled back at Will, who pulled off his scarf and took a seat opposite her.

‘So I take it you’re a regular here,’ said Amy.

‘I spend more time and money here than I probably should, yes,’ said Will, blowing on his coffee. ‘In fact I could probably hang-glide in here.’

‘Hang-glide?’

‘See that shop across the road?’ he said, pointing through the window. ‘Above it – that’s my flat.’

‘The one with the socks hanging off the balcony?’

He nodded.

‘It’s not exactly drying weather, is it?’

‘I think they’ve been there since the summer.’

‘And I think you’ve just put me off my latte.’ She laughed, and the tension between them softened.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your text.’

‘I was probably being a little overprotective,’ he said, looking up at her from over his coffee cup.

‘I think Georgia is definitely capable of looking after herself.’ She smiled back. ‘But I’d have been suspicious too – the mystery American taking a member of your family on a Manhattan magical mystery tour.’

‘I wasn’t suspicious,’ said Will, looking at her directly.

‘Yes, you were,’ laughed Amy. ‘I could tell you were wondering if it was part of an elaborate plan to liberate Georgia from some of her money.’

‘Occupational hazard,’ he said, not denying it. ‘Overactive imagination.’

She took a sip of her own drink.

‘So what do you do? For a living, I mean.’

‘Is this the pressing thing you wanted to discuss?’

‘No, I’ve just realised I don’t know what kind of man would have his underwear out on display.’

‘Take a guess,’ he challenged her.

‘Lawyer? No, not neat enough.’

‘Cheers.’

‘That also puts accountant and banker out. Doctor, maybe? Not with all that hair. PR. Possible, but I always thought they had a sort of insincere charm.’

‘So I’m charmless. That’s what you’re saying.’

‘No, I didn’t say that . . .’

‘I’ll put you out of your misery. I’m a writer.’

‘As in books?’

‘Nothing so grand. Plays. The clichéd deluded artist starving in his garret, I’m afraid. You wanted to talk about Georgia?’

She watched his face, wondering how much to tell him. The last thing she wanted to do was betray the confidence of a friend, but it was precisely because she considered Georgia her friend that she had to speak to Will.

‘I don’t know Georgia very well. Not before New York, anyway.’

‘So why did you go with her?’

‘Because she asked me to. It was a job,’ she said, struggling to find the right words.

‘A job?’ he said with a note of surprise.

‘I was a companion. A professional companion. For her trip. She didn’t want to go alone, and anyone can understand that.’

He was looking at her intently, and she could tell he was trying to assess the nature of their friendship.

‘Look, I know it’s none of my business,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘But I don’t think it’s right that Georgia should be spending Christmas alone. Or at least with someone she doesn’t know very well. She has a family, doesn’t she? So why isn’t she spending this most important time of year with them?’

‘Our family is complicated,’ said Will. His tone was brisk, but it was slightly undermined by the little froth moustache sitting on his top lip.

‘Complicated,’ repeated Amy, remembering that Georgia had used the same word about an old boyfriend. ‘But what is it that’s so complicated, Will? It seems to be pretty straightforward to me. Your family has abandoned her at a time when she needs the most support.’

Will narrowed his eyes. His look was so intense that she had to glance away from him.

‘Why? What’s wrong with her?’

‘She’s old!’ said Amy, exasperated. ‘I mean, she can walk and talk and look after herself, but she shouldn’t be living on her own at the top of all those stairs with no one to support her, or advertising for strangers to come and accompany her on holiday.’

‘I try,’ said Will, his own frustrations becoming obvious. ‘I go round, I offer to help, I even bloody moved down the road so I could keep an eye on her, but seriously, Amy, she doesn’t want to know. She’s cut herself off from the family. Barely tolerates me, and that’s the way she wants it.’

‘But why? Why did the family fall out?’

Will put down his cup.

‘It’s not for me to discuss.’

‘Why not? It seems as if you’re the only one who cares about her. Please, Will. She’s been very kind to me and I want to help, but unless I know what she’s dealing with, I can’t do anything.’

Will glanced at her and hesitated.

‘It was something that happened when she was a girl, a teenager really. There was a party and . . . something happened, something bad. People took sides – you know how families can get. Let’s just say it didn’t end well.’

‘Come on, Will, you’ve got to give me more than that.’

‘Everything I know is hearsay – family gossip and whispers,’ he said, pushing a sheet of hair away from his face. ‘No one ever sat me down and said, “Okay, Will, this is why Georgia never comes for Christmas.” And I suspect that even if they had, it wouldn’t be the truth anyway. The only person who really knows what it’s about is Georgia.’

‘Maybe I’ll ask her, then.’

‘With respect, I doubt she’ll want to talk to you about it either.’

Amy had to admit that she agreed with him. After all, she barely knew Georgia, and this was the sort of conversation that would be difficult even for someone’s closest friend. For a moment Amy thought about her own family, all of them squashed around a tiny table. Would they ever ostracise her? Could something that happened when she was a girl have driven such a wedge into her family? She really didn’t think so. Her family was separated by distance, but the ties that held them together were strong – bound by blood and love and memories.

‘Jeez, what’s wrong with you Brits?’ she said, feeling suddenly angry. ‘Is it just this stiff upper lip, or is it emotional constipation?’

‘Nice image for first thing in the morning,’ said Will tartly as she threw her filthiest look back at him.

‘It’s not funny, Will.’

‘You’re right, it’s not funny,’ he said, pushing his coffee cup angrily to one side. ‘A family torn apart isn’t funny. But here’s the truth: Georgia hates us. She doesn’t want anything to do with us. And if you really were a good friend of hers, then you’d step back and respect that.’

Amy shook her head, disappointed and disgusted.

‘Well, I’d better go and return the dress – and check up on
your family
while I’m at it.’

‘So now
I’m
the bad guy,’ he said, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

‘That’s for your conscience to decide,’ she snapped back, reaching into her purse, taking out two pound coins and putting them on the table. ‘For the latte,’ she said as she picked up her things and stood up and brushed past him.

‘Amy, wait.’ He touched her arm and caught the bare strip of wrist. She flinched and felt her cheeks burn hot.

‘Happy new year, Will,’ she said, pulling away from him, and left the café without even looking back.

Something bad happened
, repeated Amy to herself as she walked towards Georgia’s building. Typical British understatement, she thought as she mulled over what Will Hamilton had said. Something that was difficult to discuss, so they made light of it, swept it under the carpet. And what happened then? A kind old lady ended up locked up in her flat with only gowns and memories for company. What kind of way was that to live out your life?
Something bad happened?
What on earth could it be? What could split a family for over fifty years?

She pressed the intercom and ran up the stairs. Georgia had left the apartment door ajar and she could hear the sound of the kettle boiling in the kitchen.

‘Oh, flowers, there was no need,’ said Georgia, appearing from the living room.

‘Yes there was, it was so kind of you to lend me such a beautiful gown.’

‘Well, they’re lovely,’ said Georgia, busying herself with a pair of secateurs, snipping the ends from the stems and arranging them in a cream enamel jug.

‘So how was it? How was Claridge’s?’

Amy blushed slightly as her mind leapt back to the moment they had stumbled into the hotel suite and the wonderful dress had finally come off.
You’re not with Nathan now
, she reminded herself. If she had been, Amy was sure she would have told her friend every detail – they had that sort of relationship – but Georgia was from a class and era that didn’t believe in sex before marriage. Amy was coming to believe that being a lady involved mastering the art of holding back.

‘Well, Daniel wants us to spend New Year together,’ she said finally.

‘That’s got to be a good sign if it happens,’ said Georgia.

If it happens?
thought Amy with mild irritation, even though she knew Georgia was only looking out for her.

‘How did the dress go down?’

‘It worked like magic,’ she grinned.

‘It’s not the dress, Amy. It’s you. You are a beautiful young woman and men can’t help falling in love with you. The dress just gave you the confidence to believe that you can be that woman.’

Georgia gave a wry smile.

‘Shall we have tea?’

Amy nodded dumbly as Georgia moved into the kitchen. She looked over at the garment bag, wondering if the older woman was right. The dress had certainly seemed to have some sort of special qualities.

‘I just saw Will,’ she said, remembering that she wasn’t just here to return the dress.

‘Ah, now there is someone we need to find a lovely girlfriend for,’ said Georgia. ‘He’s very serious. Too serious. I’ve read some of his work. He’s a very talented young man but he has a tendency to be a little ponderous. I think he needs to get out of that flat of his. Have fun.’

Amy paused for a moment, not sure if she should say any more.
Come on, don’t be a wuss
, she scolded herself.

‘I asked him why you don’t talk to your family,’ she said, and bit her lip, steeling herself.

Georgia was silent for a few moments, then stepped into the living room. Amy had expected her to be annoyed, but she was unprepared for the look of fury on Georgia’s face.

‘I would have thought you might try to respect my privacy a little more than that,’ she said evenly, cold anger in every word. For a moment Amy could see her for the powerful CEO she once was.

‘That’s what Will said,’ she replied quietly.

‘Then you should have listened to him.’

‘Look, I didn’t mean to upset you,’ said Amy, trying to catch her gaze. ‘But where I come from, friends and family care what happens to each other, and yet you spent Christmas alone. Well, with me, but I don’t count. I am worried about you.’

‘Amy, we have spent a sum total of four days together. That’s all. Really, you don’t know anything about me. Please do not get involved in my business.’