by Della Galton
‘Maybe we do have a chance then,’ Phil said with a spark of amusement in his eyes. He looked around them too. ‘At least that bloody traffic warden isn’t about.’
‘Nope. I think even he has Sunday evenings off.’ She was wearing flat shoes which made her about three inches shorter than him. She stood on her tiptoes. ‘Shall we go the whole hog? Do you fancy a public snog as well?’
He kissed her and she felt her insides melt. It never changed – that honeymoon feeling. In fact, if anything, it grew newer, not older. How was that possible?
After a few more moments, she broke the kiss. ‘Public car parks are all very well, but maybe we should go inside now. If you’re planning to stop, are you?’
‘I’m planning to stop for as long as you’ll have me.’
Above their heads, the sky was beginning to streak with pink as the sun sank lower. It was almost eight thirty, Olivia realised, and she hadn’t eaten properly all day. Her stomach rumbled. Tantalising smells wafted from the Indian takeaway. A guy had just emerged, swinging a white plastic carrier bag.
Phil glanced at him. ‘Have you eaten, honey, because I’m flaming starving? Shall I get us some curry? Then we can continue this conversation over dinner.’
‘That sounds like the best idea you’ve had all day.’
A little while later in Olivia’s kitchen, now fragrant with prawn madras, pilau rice and peshwari nan, they talked some more. Now they’d started, it seemed that neither of them could stop.
At the moment, Phil was talking about his parents. ‘Dad was a computer genius and Mum was a dinner lady. They’d probably never have met in the usual scheme of things – they were way outside of each other’s social circles. But Mum was on holiday in Swanage and she and her friends were in a karaoke bar one night and Dad’s mates had persuaded him to go along too. He used to joke that it was the first and only time he ever went clubbing – he hated clubs – but when he walked in, Mum was up on stage singing “Take A Chance On Me” and he was smitten. Mum’s always had a good singing voice.’
‘So, he plucked up the courage to ask her out?’ Olivia asked, loving the romance of it all.
‘Did he hell! No. Despite the fact that she was obviously interested in him – she was never slow in coming forward – he didn’t do a single thing. In the end, she just marched across, grabbed his arm and said, “Mine’s a gin and tonic if you’re buying?” And that was that!’
‘Wow, your mum wasn’t shy then.’
‘No, she was quite loud in those days apparently. Dad was the opposite. A total introvert and a bit antisocial, and Mum was a full-on, gregarious, social butterfly. I’m not sure who I take after. I guess I have elements of both. I’m massively shy and like spending time alone, like my father did. But I also have thespian tendencies – one of my aunts is in am-dram too. She’s really good. Aunt Betty.’
‘I’d like to meet your Aunt Betty. I’d like to meet your mum too.’
He touched her cheek. ‘I’d love to introduce you to them. They’d love you. The only reason I’ve never suggested it is because I…’ He paused. ‘Well, it’s because I thought that one day, we’d have the “do you want children?” conversation and then you might decide you don’t want to be with me, after all.’ He sighed. ‘I do get it, Olivia. I totally get it if you want to break it off. You wouldn’t be the first. I think that’s why your ex got to me so much this morning. It was the kids thing. I thought maybe he had managed to tempt you back because he’d told you he’d changed his mind about kids. And I would never be able to compete with that.’
She looked at him and even though he was trying to disguise his pain, she could see it, glinting just below the surface. And she knew suddenly, with a total certainty, that this was how he coped. He gave off this moody, slightly brooding, untouchable persona, but when he was on stage, he threw all that emotion into his characters. Because that was the only way he could risk letting it out. No wonder he was such a good actor.
‘I don’t want to break it off. When I said I love you, I meant it. I meant it totally. I want us to be together – whether we can have kids or not.’ She realised with a small shock that she really meant this. She put her hand to her heart. ‘At the risk of sounding totally OTT and repeating myself, I’m going to say it again. You’re stuck with me. I love you, Phil Grimshaw.’ She paused. ‘How come your dad had a northern name anyway? Grimshaw is a northern name, isn’t it?’
‘It’s a Lancashire name yes. My ancestors originated from Blackburn. But my great-granddad moved south to get work. So, both my grandfather and father were born in Dorset. I think that was one of the things Dad liked about Mum and she about him – when they dug around a little, they found they had the same roots, amazingly. Mum’s always been proud to have been born in Blackburn.’
‘Family lines,’ Olivia said softly. ‘They’re important.’
He blinked a couple of times.
‘It doesn’t have to be about blood,’ she said quietly. ‘We can adopt children – if you’d like to, I mean? I’d be happy to do that. If you would?’
He leaned across the empty tinfoil containers and took hold of both of her hands. ‘It’s not impossible for me to have children, Olivia. Just unlikely. I have looked into it. They put my chances of producing a baby at somewhere between six and ten per cent. That’s not an absolute no-no. It does give us something to work with.’
Something was flickering in the back of her mind. A connection. And then it came back to her. ‘Do you remember what Stephen said to us on the boat? About the percentage of divers who can get themselves out of trouble underwater. That was six per cent too.’ She met his dark eyes, seeing understanding dawning as he nodded slowly. ‘We’ve already beaten those exact same odds once, haven’t we, Phil? I don’t see why we shouldn’t do it again.’
30
Phil stayed over at number five for the night. Even though they both knew they had to get up at the crack of dawn – Olivia to make cakes and he to head off to his house and then on to the Bluebell Cliff for work. They did it often enough that they both had the routine off pat. But there were still things that went backwards and forwards with them. Things that couldn’t get left at each other’s houses. Things like phone chargers and house keys, things they didn’t want to forget. A gathering up and a separating until the next time they came together again.
It was odd, but since their chat tonight when they had smashed through so many barriers, everything had felt different. Even their lovemaking – or maybe especially their lovemaking, Olivia thought as they undressed in the warm shadowy darkness of her bedroom.
She felt closer to him than she had ever felt before. Closer than she had ever felt to any living being. His eyes, usually so dark and unreadable, were totally unguarded. Phil had always safeguarded his heart and now she knew why. She had done the same thing. Letting him in about ninety per cent, but fiercely guarding the last ten per cent of her self. For a very long time, they had both danced around each other, not quite daring to risk total vulnerability. But tonight, that changed.
Things had always been great between them in the bedroom department, but tonight it transcended ‘pretty damn hot’ and went into ‘stratospheric’ and she knew that this was because love had come into the mix. The kind of totally unconditional love that only happened when both parties are fully committed – no matter what happens – no matter what the future brings.
Even the afterglow felt different. As they lay face to face in her bed, each lying on their sides, propped on their elbows, Olivia felt as though they were seeing each other for the first time. Seeing into the very heart of each other – without being restrained, without being afraid. Without pretence. It was the weirdest sensation.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asked him.
‘That I’ve never been so happy,’ he replied with a smile.
‘Even though we’re only going to get about six hours sleep?’ she teased.
‘Sleep is overrated.’ He stroked her cheek with
the side of his index finger. ‘I’d stay up all night just to watch you breathe. Isn’t there a song with words like that?’
‘I think there is. And I feel like that too. It’s a pity we have to work tomorrow.’
‘It’s a pity we don’t live in the same house,’ he said. ‘Maybe we should think about that. Maybe…’ He hesitated. ‘Maybe we should think about getting married.’
‘Is that a proposal, Phil Grimshaw? Because if it is, it’s not very romantic!’ She sat up in bed, laughing.
‘It’s not, is it?’ He sat up too. Then he flung off the duvet, swung his legs out of bed and jumped out. He was stark naked. He knelt on the bedroom carpet in front of her and he twisted off the gold sovereign ring he always wore on his middle finger. ‘This was my dad’s – I’ve worn it since the day he died. Mum insisted I have it and it’s my most precious possession.’
She watched him, kneeling before her, holding out the ring in the palm of his hand and despite the craziness of it all, it still felt absolutely perfect.
‘Will you wear it in lieu of a proper engagement ring, Olivia? Will you wear it until I get you the real thing? Will you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?’ His voice was steady, but there was the faintest of trembles in his hands and the ring wobbled on his palm.
‘Oh yes,’ she said, offering her finger for Phil to slide the ring on, feeling the emotion rise up in her throat and almost close it. ‘Nothing would make me happier.’ She gave him an elated kiss and drew back. ‘And… Phil?’
‘Yes.’ He leaned forward, still kneeling, put his elbows on the side of the bed and rested his chin on his hands so they were face to face.
‘One day, I will be telling our children about this moment.’
His eyes misted with tears. And she could feel them in her own eyes too. It was so mad – this moment, she and her man, talking about the future, talking about the children, which, however things panned out, were going to be at the end of a long and difficult road. One that they could only travel down because of love. Because right now that was all she could feel. Love was all around them in the room. Wrapping them together, giving them hope.
One of her first calls on Monday morning was from Aunt Dawn.
‘Good morning, darling. Sorry to phone so early, but I wanted to talk to you about something. Have you got a moment?’
‘I’ve always got a moment for you,’ Olivia said. ‘Did you by any chance want to talk about a certain vet that we both know who – er – goes by the name of Mike?’
Her aunt laughed. ‘Not much gets past you.’
‘I’m sorry I gatecrashed your evening.’
‘You didn’t. It was the perfect time for you two to meet and I’m really glad you did.’ She cleared her throat. ‘So, did you – er, like him?’
‘He was OK. Did you have another chicken emergency – what with him being there on a Sunday afternoon and all?’
‘Er, not exactly…’
‘So, he was just checking in to make sure Emmeline, Clementine and Greta were fully recovered then. How lovely of him.’
‘Um yes, but…’
Olivia couldn’t carry on teasing. ‘I thought he was absolutely lovely,’ she said and she heard the sigh of relief in Aunt Dawn’s voice.
‘I’m so pleased. I think he’s absolutely lovely too.’
‘So how long has that been going on, you sly old thing? Does my mother know?’
‘Oi. Less of the old – and no she doesn’t. No one knows – except you. And nothing is really going on. We’ve just been talking and slowly getting to know each other. Mike’s widowed too. We were both widowed at the same age. He’s not been serious with anyone since his wife died either. Like me, he never wanted to meet anyone for a long time and then when he did feel ready, he didn’t feel strongly enough to actively pursue it. I mean, he didn’t go looking to join a dating agency or anything. Between you and me, I think he had a couple of offers through friends of friends, but he wasn’t interested. He was happy alone.’
‘Well, I for one, am thrilled to bits for you,’ Olivia said. ‘I really am. It’s about time you had some fun.’
‘I have lots of fun, darling.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Anyway, you sound happy. I thought you looked a bit stressed yesterday when you first came round – were you? Had you come to speak to me about something?’
‘Nothing gets past you either. And yes, actually. I’d had a bit of a stressful morning.’ Olivia gave her a very brief summary of what had happened on the dive and her aunt gasped.
‘Oh, my darling, why didn’t you say something? That sounds terribly traumatic. Are you OK? Is Phil OK?’
‘We’re both fine. We’re both more than fine. Although there is a bit more I haven’t told you.’ She explained how Tom had turned up, both before the dive and after it, and how she and Ruby had worked out that he’d actually been stalking her. And how angry she’d felt to be manipulated. ‘He was so cocky,’ she said. ‘He’s always been like that, hasn’t he? I just never saw it. I took it as confidence. I didn’t see it for the arrogance and selfishness it actually was.’
‘We live and learn. I think I’ve got that on a fridge magnet too, somewhere.’
Olivia laughed. She felt high on adrenaline. She and Phil had had even less than six hours sleep in the end, but she felt as though they had moved forward a massive step; as though their relationship had just graduated overnight from kindergarten to high school. ‘At least it made me realise exactly what I wanted. And it wasn’t Tom.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Phil asked me to marry him last night. And I said yes. And you’re the first person I’ve told too.’
‘Oh my darling, that’s fantastic. I couldn’t be any more delighted. That is the best news. It really is.’
‘Don’t tell anyone. We haven’t even got a ring yet. We’re going to go and choose one the next time we’ve both actually got a half-hour free.’
‘Well, I think you should make it a priority. Neither of you have much time off, do you? You should have a proper holiday. Let me know if I can help out. I can make cakes.’
‘You’ve got a shop to run,’ Olivia reminded her. ‘And talking of cakes, I’ve got one to make now. So I’d better get off the phone.’
Olivia disconnected, still smiling.
It was Wednesday before they got the chance to go and buy a ring. Olivia chose a sapphire and diamond one in a pretty wavy gold setting that reminded her of the sea and she handed back Phil’s precious sovereign. After they’d bought the ring, he slipped the box into his pocket and said, ‘You can’t have it yet. We’re doing this thing properly.’
‘What does “properly” look like?’
‘I’ll book Harper’s for a Saturday night.’
Harper’s was Weymouth’s answer to Gordon Ramsay’s Union Street Café in London.
‘You’ll never get in,’ Olivia said. ‘Last time Ruby went there she had to book it three months in advance just to get a Thursday night and she’s got a “privileged customer” card.’
‘Yes, but I have friends in high places.’ Phil tapped his nose. ‘Watch this space!’
He clearly wasn’t joking. Two days later, he sent her a booking confirmation text that said they had a table reservation for the last Saturday in June, which was just three weeks later.
Olivia phoned him immediately.
‘How?’ she gasped.
‘Mr B trained with their chef. They’re quite good friends, handily. Maybe the man does have his uses after all.’ He snorted.
The booking threw Olivia into a spin of both excitement and panic and she phoned Ruby, who whooped with excitement when she told her about the engagement and sighed in exasperation when Olivia mentioned her concerns.
‘I have absolutely nothing to wear to a place like Harper’s,’ she yelped.
‘It’s just a restaurant.’ Ruby sounded completely unfazed. ‘Wear what you’d normally wear to a restaurant.’
‘I’d normally
wear skinny jeans and a top that didn’t matter too much if I spilled something down it. You know what I’m like when I get nervous. But then I’d normally be going to a pub or an Italian.’
‘Well, if you haven’t got time to go shopping, then you’re welcome to raid my wardrobe.’
‘Thanks. I might take you up on that. I’m seeing a client not a million miles from you this afternoon. Can I come after?’
‘Of course you can. I’ll be here.’
When Olivia arrived, Ruby answered the door to her wearing a daisy-print blue smock, which hid most of her bump, over leggings. Her fair hair was clipped up and her cheeks were rosy. She looked like an advertisement for a happy mum-to-be. To Olivia’s surprise, she was also brandishing a paintbrush. But not the decorating kind.
‘I’ve been dabbling with art again,’ she told Olivia a little shyly. ‘I’m up in the studio. Do you want to see?’
‘I’d love to.’ Olivia followed her sister up the second flight of stairs.
The loft which covered the entire top floor was a fabulous place to work. The three big Velux windows in the roof flooded the room with sunlight. There was an easel beneath one of them. On it was a piece of paper that was daubed with a wash of colour, lemon graduating into palest blue. On the long tables that lined the walls, several other paintings were spread out in various stages of drying. There were two palettes of paint, various-sized brushes on newspaper, and jars of murky liquid; the air smelled of turps and paint.
‘I’m working on sunrises,’ Ruby said. ‘It’s really hard to get the exact colour of the light at dawn. I’m trying different washes. But I’m having such fun, Liv. It’s ages since I painted – just for the joy of it. Without having to think that anyone would ever see them. Apart from the people I love, I mean.’
