by Della Galton
Eric and Brenda did, in fact, finally leave the room around midnight.
‘I’d like to stay longer, but my bride’s getting impatient,’ he announced from the stage to a cacophony of wolf whistles and rude remarks.
Olivia’s last impression of Eric and Brenda was of joyous laughter. Not a yawn in sight.
She and Phil left soon after them.
‘Maybe we should see if we can hire the Zimmy shimmy couple to do a turn at our wedding,’ Olivia said to Phil.
‘I’m not sure about that, but I do like this band. They’re superb. And we definitely need to invite Eric and Brenda.’
‘Top of the guest list,’ Olivia replied, as they went out into the moonlit car park.
Phil’s eyes were sparkling and he seemed hyped up. As he drove them back, he told her why. ‘Did you see that dark-haired guy I was talking to in the white suit?’
‘Yes, I think so. He laughed a lot.’
‘That’s the one. It turned out he’s Simon Caine’s agent and he’s interested in taking me on. He’s sure he can get me some work. In fact, he had a role in mind. He wants to sign me up.’
‘Wow. That’s brilliant.’
‘I’m not going to get my hopes up. People say lots of things, don’t they? But it can’t hurt to go and see him in his office, can it?’
Olivia squeezed his hand.
The last thought she had, as she dropped off to sleep that night, was that she and Phil could both end up doing their dream job full time. It was such a precarious profession that they rarely talked about their hopes and dreams – they didn’t want to tempt fate – and being a successful actor wasn’t something that happened overnight. You were only as good as your last role. But they were definitely both going in the right direction.
That night, she dreamed that they were dining at Harper’s. Phil had just dropped on to one knee to propose when Mr B suddenly leapt out from behind a pillar clutching an enormous bag of confetti, which he started to throw up in the air in handfuls. As it poured down on their heads, it turned out not to be confetti at all, but peanuts. A storm of endless peanuts like hailstones that bounced off the tables and chairs and everyone else in the vicinity, until soon it felt as though it was raining peanuts. And Olivia could hear Mr B’s voice rising in glee as he continued to hurl handfuls of nuts in the air, ‘Peanut-gate. It will never be beaten. Never, never, never…’
She woke up with her heart pounding and the taste of salt on her lips, which she thought she was imagining, until she remembered that one of the wedding buffet snacks last night had been the most delicious anchovy canapés, which she and Phil had both indulged in. She’d cleaned her teeth since then. Maybe it was just the memory of salt. But the dream reminded her that she was really quite nervous about going to Harper’s in a posh dress, knowing that Phil was going to propose.
32
At least she had chosen the right posh dress for Harper’s, Olivia thought, as she admired herself in the bedroom mirror and added the finishing touches to her make-up. She’d abandoned the idea of the Vivienne Westwood and had gone for Ruby’s slinky black and white number instead.
‘You can keep that dress if you like,’ her sister had offered. ‘I am never going to fit into it again. It was too tight in the first place.’
‘Are you really sure?’
‘Of course I am. You’ll blow Phil’s mind in that. You look amazing.’
Olivia hoped she was right, as she came out of the bedroom to meet Phil. She had splashed out on a new jacket, a soft maroon one that picked out the flecks in the dress, and some strappy gold heels that did wonders for her calves. Not that you could see her calves. The dress was floor length. Casual glamour personified. A spray of her favourite scent and her favourite bag and she was ready.
‘Wow,’ Phil said, giving a soft wolf whistle. ‘You look stunning. I forget sometimes how beautiful you are.’
She felt herself blushing, warmed by the admiration in his eyes.
He looked pretty hot himself. He was wearing an expensive-looking pale blue shirt and dark trousers and he carried a jacket. Phil looked amazing in old jeans and a vest top, but he was one of those guys who scrubbed up well too. He had the kind of presence that drew the looks of both men and women alike. And the best thing about it was that he was totally unconscious of it.
He patted his pocket. ‘What? Why are you staring at me?’
‘I was just thinking how gorgeous you are.’
‘Stop it.’ He palmed his chin and frowned and changed the subject. ‘I think I’ve cut myself. Is there blood?’
She leaned in. ‘Can’t see any.’
He took the opportunity to kiss her. ‘You all set?’
Olivia nodded. She had no idea what he was planning. But knowing Phil there would be theatrics. And he had a suppressed excitement about him that he was having difficulty hiding.
They were getting a taxi to Harper’s. ‘Just in case we need champagne,’ he quipped, slanting her a glance. ‘I’m not taking anything for granted. You may have changed your mind now we’ve been living in sin for a month.’
They had fallen into the routine of living at her’s because the studio where he was doing the audiobook recording was closer to Weymouth than Swanage, and because it had been harder than ever to tear themselves away from each other, lately.
There was a queue in the foyer of Harper’s when they arrived. Men in suits, women in posh dresses. Expensive cologne mingled with the scent of the lilies in a vase on a table by the door.
‘They’re waiting for cancellations,’ Phil told her as they headed to the front of the queue. ‘You can sometimes get lucky if you call in on spec.’
Olivia gulped. ‘Good job Mr B came up trumps then,’ she said, as a solemn-faced maître d’, who looked like he had a curtain pole stuffed up the back of his jacket, showed them to a table.
Moments later, he was back with a wine list and two leather-bound menus, none of which had prices on.
‘This is going to cost a fortune, isn’t it?’ Olivia said when he was out of earshot again.
‘This is the version I’m going to be telling our children about,’ Phil said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tight. ‘And for your information, I’m not totally broke!’
‘Aren’t you? That’s good news.’ She flashed him a grin.
‘I’ve been investing in bitcoin for years,’ Phil told her, eyeing her over the top of the leather menu. ‘I’ve done quite well.’ He rubbed his nose a bit self-consciously. ‘I always thought I might need a backup plan – if my acting career didn’t take off. Or…’ He winked. ‘If I ever needed to bail myself out of prison, having finally snapped and murdered Mr B.’
She looked at him in amazement. She was simultaneously both surprised and not surprised about the bitcoin investment. Phil had always played his cards close to his chest. He was a strange mix of very private and very up front.
‘I thought I’d tell you that before I proposed,’ Phil said. ‘Just in case it makes a difference.’
‘I’d marry you if you were a pauper.’
‘I know that too.’
They ordered the soup of the day which was watercress. Both Mr B and the chef at Harper’s had learned the recipe in training together. It had the most delicate and delicious of flavours and came with a selection of warm home-made olive breads on a board.
‘This chef’s even better than Mr B,’ Phil said with satisfaction. ‘And he’s pretty damn good – even though he does say so himself.’ He leaned forward. ‘When I asked him if he could get us a table here, he made me promise not to try the watercress soup.’
‘Really? Why?’
‘Because he thinks he makes the best watercress soup in the UK. He said if we tried anyone else’s we’d just be disappointed.’
‘He didn’t say that?’ Olivia gasped. ‘Is he really that arrogant?’
‘Oh yes.’ But there was a world of affection in Phil’s voice.
For the main course, they had chateaubrian
d, carved at the table by the pompous maître d’, who wasn’t so pompous once they got chatting. The meat was accompanied by duchesse potatoes, tiny roasted mushrooms, stalks of braised broccoli and a divine pink peppercorn sauce.
‘This is very possibly the best meal I’ve ever had,’ Olivia told Phil.
‘Good. Make sure you tell Mr B when you see him next. Don’t forget the straws prank.’
She laughed. ‘I’ll tell him.’
After the maître d’ had cleared away their finished main course, a surprise arrived. It wasn’t dessert – they hadn’t ordered that yet – and it came hidden under a small cloche, so Olivia couldn’t see what it was.
The maître d’ stood in front of Phil, and Phil pushed back his chair, stood up and took it from him. At the exact same moment that he dropped to his knees by Olivia’s chair, all the lights in the restaurant dimmed.
Olivia half expected Mr B to jump out from behind a pillar, scattering handfuls of peanuts. To her relief, there was no sign of him. Her eyes adjusted to the light as Phil looked up at her. Then in a déjà vu encore of his first proposal – except this time he was dressed – Phil met Olivia’s eyes.
‘Olivia,’ he said, ‘would you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?’ He unveiled the cloche.
She’d expected to see the ring beneath it. But it wasn’t just the ring. It was an edible scroll – about the size of a coffee mug, it had a cream background and blue writing which said, ‘It’s taken me half my life to find you. Please marry me. Please say we can spend the rest of it together?’
‘Yes, and definitely YES,’ Olivia said, leaning forward so enthusiastically that her chair tilted and she very nearly fell on top of him. How embarrassing.
He caught her amidst the sound of a rousing cheer. She hadn’t realised there were so many other people in the restaurant, although several of the people cheering appeared to be staff. Then she realised that the group of people at the back of the restaurant weren’t just staff. They were Ruby, Aunt Dawn and Mike Turner… and was that her friend, Hannah?
They began to move towards the table and then Ruby spotted two more familiar figures. Oh my God – her parents – what on earth were they doing here?
For the next few minutes, there was a lot of excited chatter and backslapping and congratulations. Two waiters came and moved an adjacent table close to Phil and Olivia’s so everyone could sit together.
‘It’s a good job she said yes,’ Hannah quipped to Phil. ‘Or that could have been awkward.’
‘I had a slight advantage,’ Phil told her with an enigmatic smile and a wink at Olivia, who was relieved he didn’t elaborate and tell everyone about the first proposal.
‘You didn’t need to come back especially,’ Olivia said to her parents.
‘Of course we did.’ Her mother was all sparkly-eyed with excitement. ‘Once we knew what was going on. We wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’
‘Quite right, Bean.’ Her father was wearing one of his smartest lambswool jumpers. ‘Hey, this place is grand, isn’t it?’
Olivia smiled, feeling blown away that Phil had arranged all this – not least the number of seats they were now taking up – without her suspecting a thing. The entire party ordered dessert and coffees. Olivia noticed that Aunt Dawn and Mike were constantly touching each other – like a pair of teenagers who’d not long met. She didn’t think she’d seen her aunt so happy for years.
‘He’ll be good for her,’ Ruby said. ‘He’s nice.’
‘Any more news on Scott’s divorce proceedings?’ Olivia asked her quietly.
‘Not yet. But it’s in progress. I’ve worked out all my finances though and I have actually made quite a few decisions.’
‘What kind of decisions?’
‘Some about money – that was essential. But I’ve also decided on what I’m going to do for the first year or two of Mr Bump’s life.’
‘Oh?’ Olivia looked at her curiously. ‘What’s that?’
‘I’m going to be a mum. And I’m going to carry on painting. I’m going back to my roots, Liv. And I’m really excited about it. It feels right.’ She put her hand to her heart. ‘In here, I mean. I’ve done a bit already, as you know. Some of it’s really quite good – it has an energy I haven’t managed to get before. I think it’s all those pregnancy hormones swirling about.’
‘I’m so pleased, honey, and are you OK? Emotionally, I mean, with…?’
‘With being a single parent? Yes, sis, I really am.’ Her eyes were clear and bright. ‘I don’t think I want to get involved in any kind of relationship, apart from the one I have with Bump. Not for ages.’
The two sisters hugged impulsively and Olivia felt Phil’s eyes on her. He had a look of such tenderness on his face. He might not have thought he’d ever have a family, she realised, remembering his sadness when he told her about his father’s premature demise. But, one way or another, he was always going to be part of one now.
The rest of the evening disappeared in a blur of laughter and champagne, which had duly arrived so they could have a toast. In fact, they had several.
At the end of the evening, Dawn and Mike dropped them both back to Olivia’s, and Ruby took her parents and Hannah back to her’s, where they were all staying over. Just before they left the restaurant, Hannah gave Olivia a huge hug.
‘I’m so pleased for you,’ she said. ‘He’s lovely. Did I tell you that I’m moving back into the area? I decided it was finally time to cut the apron strings from Mum. It’s not as though she’ll be a million miles away – it’s only an hour.’
‘That’s fantastic news. So we’ll get to see more of each other.’
‘Indeed we will.’
By the time Olivia and Phil finally got to bed, it was almost midnight.
‘I think that tonight has been one of the happiest of my life,’ Olivia told Phil, glancing down at the ring on her finger. ‘Thank you so much.’
‘It was pretty cool, wasn’t it? Thank you for saying yes, second time around.’
‘I seem to remember I said yes, first time around,’ she teased.
‘So which version of our proposal are you planning to tell our children?’ he asked her.
‘I think it might have to be both,’ Olivia said and kissed him.
33
‘It’s official,’ Phil said, as he pulled up into a parking space on the road and switched off the headlights. ‘I must be stark raving bonkers.’
‘Is that because of what we’re doing or what time it is?’ Olivia asked.
‘Both, I think.’ He glanced at the clock on the dashboard of his car. ‘I didn’t even know three forty-five in the morning was an actual time.’
Olivia giggled. ‘This was your idea, though, Phil.’
‘I’d clearly drunk far too much when I suggested it.’
‘Not that much,’ she told him. ‘Anyway, come on or we’ll miss it.’
‘We’re not going to miss it. It’s pitch dark. We could have had another hour in bed.’
‘No, we could not. This is all part of the experience.’
Olivia opened the passenger door. It felt chillier right on the coast than it had when they’d left her house. Not that they were that far away. They were at Chesil Beach, more specifically at Chesil Cove. They’d just parked in Brandy Row, which was on the western side of Portland Bill, just as you crossed the causeway. Chesil Cove was the place she had recommended would be good for a shore dive. ‘That’s if you still fancy going diving,’ she’d challenged him a few nights earlier, ‘after what happened last time.’
‘If I’m going to go, I should probably make it soon,’ he’d replied. ‘So I don’t lose my nerve. They say that about riding horses, don’t they? If you have a fall, get back on straight away.’
‘Mmmm,’ Olivia had looked at him thoughtfully. ‘The only problem is that Chesil Cove can get quite busy. It’s really popular.’
‘Maybe we should go at sunrise,’ he’d said, flicking her a glance. ‘Th
at would be quite cool. Going scuba diving on Chesil beach at sunrise.’
‘I’m up for it if you are?’
So now they were here, and sunrise, according to the website she had looked on, was due to happen in about an hour and a half. Not that there had been any sign of light as they’d driven over Portland causeway. The sky was pitch black and dotted with stars.
They began to get the heavy kit out of the back of Phil’s car – bottles, regulators, weight belts, fins and drysuits. ‘At least we can guarantee that I won’t get stuck in any shipwrecks this morning,’ Phil said.
‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’ She smirked ‘This road is named Brandy Row after a shipwreck.’
He slanted her a glance. ‘Go on?’
‘In 1872, a boat called the Royal Adelaide got smashed to pieces on the beach. Just up there.’ She pointed into the darkness in the direction of the sea. ‘It was carrying a cargo of brandy, and barrels and barrels of the stuff got washed up. Most of the crew survived the shipwreck, but then several locals who’d rocked up to help salvage the cargo started drinking the brandy and a few of them got so drunk that they fell asleep on the beach and died from exposure.’
‘Unbelievable,’ Phil said, giving a little shudder. ‘Is the wreck still out there?’
‘I think it pretty much broke up on the beach.’ She grinned at him. ‘Don’t worry. I have it on good authority that the most dangerous piece of metal out there is a disused sewerage pipe – it’s definitely disused. If we see anything that looks remotely like a shipwreck, we’ll fin very fast in the other direction.’
‘At least if there are any eels we won’t see them,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘It’ll be too dark.’
‘You’d be surprised what you can see in the dark,’ she replied. ‘We have powerful torches and fish are more active at night. Except for eels. I’ve heard they’re heavy sleepers.’
Phil laughed. ‘Excellent. I’ll take the bottles. You bring the lighter stuff.’
‘That’s what I like about you. You’re such a gentleman.’
