The Proposal

by Tasmina Perry

  Mrs Carrell served two puddings – a home-made pumpkin pie the colour of autumn leaves and a plum pudding complete with thick cream. When every last spoonful had been scraped from their bowls and the detritus had been taken to the kitchen, Amy and Georgia were shooed through to the sitting room. ‘You’re the guests today,’ said Connie. ‘Everyone else can help with the dishes.’

  Amy flopped into an armchair.

  ‘Overload,’ she groaned, patting her flat stomach. ‘I need to go and lie down.’

  ‘Sounds like a good idea,’ said Georgia. ‘In fact, I think that’s my cue to leave.’

  ‘Don’t go,’ said Amy, sitting up. ‘You’re welcome to stay. In fact Mom and Dad will be offended if you leave.’

  ‘I should go,’ she said with such finality that Amy didn’t challenge her further.

  ‘I got you a present,’ said Amy, looking around for the bag of gifts she had brought with her. ‘It’s not as extravagant as that amazing dress and shoes you got me, but I think you’ll like it.’

  She rooted around in the bag until she found Georgia’s present.

  ‘Open it now,’ she said.

  ‘But it’s not Christmas yet,’ smiled Georgia.

  ‘Please,’ said Amy.

  Georgia’s thin fingers unwrapped the paper. Inside was a snow globe of New York.

  ‘Shake it and all the snowflakes – fake, of course – will sprinkle over the city. I know how much you wanted it to snow, and I can’t fix the weather, but when I saw this, I knew you’d love it.’

  She looked up and saw that Georgia was crying. Just two single tears slipping down her cheeks, but still her reaction surprised her.

  ‘Don’t you like it?’

  ‘I love it,’ whispered Georgia. ‘Someone gave me something similar once. A snow globe of Paris. It’s one of my treasures.’

  ‘Now you have two,’ grinned Amy.

  Georgia held the globe in both hands and looked at her.

  ‘Do you know what really constitutes being a lady?’ she said softly. ‘Kindness. Kindness is at the heart of it all, and you have that quality in spades, Amy Carrell.’

  She cleared her throat and straightened her back, the more aloof Georgia returning.

  ‘I think Alfonse has just arrived,’ she said, seeing two beams of light outside. ‘I should go. Have fun tomorrow with your family.’

  ‘Thank you so much, Georgia. Thanks for making this happen,’ Amy said, leaning forward and hugging her. She was surprised how slight and fragile the older woman felt in her arms. Georgia seemed to flinch at her gesture, but then gave her a small squeeze.

  ‘No rush to get back to the hotel. Have a very merry Christmas, Amy.’

  The whole family stood on the stoop and waved her off. Amy watched the tail lights disappear around the corner, until her dad put his arm around her shoulders and led her back into the kitchen, which was already clean and tidy.

  ‘It’s good to have you back, honey,’ he said, switching on the coffee machine. ‘Are you okay? You’re okay for money?’

  ‘Dad, everything is fine.’

  He gave her that cocked-head quizzical look he’d given her as a kid when she’d been keeping something from him, that ‘Dad knows everything’ look. He’d always trusted her to do the right thing then, and he didn’t say anything now.

  ‘I can’t believe you asked Georgia how much her apartment was worth,’ said Amy, sitting down at the kitchen table and giving him an embarrassed half-smile.

  ‘I did not.’

  ‘You did.’

  ‘So I’m interested.’

  ‘It’s not the done thing. It’s rude.’

  ‘What’s rude?’

  ‘To ask personal questions. Questions about money and how much you earn.’

  ‘Says who? The Queen of England?’

  He handed her a cup of coffee and sat opposite her.

  ‘She’s a nice lady,’ he said, taking a sip.

  ‘You sound surprised.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Didn’t know what to expect. Y’gotta admit, it’s kinda a strange set-up. I mean, why’s she not with her own family at Christmas?’

  ‘Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have kept bringing her family up, either. She doesn’t seem to like talking about them.’

  ‘I thought there might be a story there. You know, something we could have helped with?’

  Amy fixed her hands around her coffee cup.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s just a bit odd. Why isn’t she with her family? Or friends? Why does she have to come to New York with a stranger? It doesn’t make sense. Not a nice fancy lady like that with money.’

  Amy shrugged.

  ‘I met her cousin’s son in London, but I could tell there was some history going on.’

  ‘See? You should ask her. Might do her some good to talk about it.’

  ‘Georgia’s not like that. The English aren’t like that. It’s rude to ask.’

  ‘What is it with this rude thing? Maybe the lady’s got a problem. Maybe she wants to talk about it to someone.’

  He snorted again, shook his head.

  ‘Each to their own, I guess. Anyway, how’s London treating you? You still working at the bar?’

  Amy sipped her coffee.

  ‘You sound disappointed.’

  ‘In you? You kidding me? Never.’

  ‘Seriously? I haven’t exactly got my name in lights.’

  ‘Amy, nobody worked harder than you to get outta Queens and make something of themselves. You’ve been all over the world doing what you love – you know how rare that is? Sure, I’d rather you were closer, but that’s just a dad being selfish. Truth? Every time any of the guys at Dempsey’s asks after my little girl, I feel ten feet tall.’

  Amy wasn’t sure she was going to get away without crying.

  ‘You just say the word and you can come home. I can paint your old room, you can stay there until you find someplace new. We can help you with money. Your old dad hasn’t done too bad. Just say the word.’

  Amy looked at him, sorely tempted. After all, what was there for her in London? Daniel was gone, she’d had one audition in six months and she was barely managing to eat on her wages from the Forge. But she couldn’t let her family down. She remembered them waving her off at Newark – even Uncle Chuck had been crying, but they had all told her a dozen times that it was worth it if she could build a better life for herself outside of Queens. They’d had such faith in her, such cast-iron belief that she was going to dance her way to stardom and find herself a handsome British prince at the same time – her mom had seriously suggested she get a job in the Buckingham Palace gift shop, so convinced was she that Prince Harry would fall in love with her if only their paths would cross – that she couldn’t come crawling back now, no job, no boyfriend, nothing to show for her two years in exotic Europe. What would her dad say to the guys in Dempsey’s then? What would Candice tell her friends at Miss Josephine’s?

  ‘I miss you guys like crazy. But I have a life in London. I like it. I’ve got friends and I can’t come running home just because I’m not dancing,’ she said, determined not to let the cracks show.

  ‘It’s Daniel, isn’t it?’ He smiled. ‘Home is where the heart is, I guess.’ A look of such pride settled on his face that she knew it was not the right time to tell him her relationship had ended. Not on Christmas Eve.

  Billy walked in rubbing his hands.

  ‘Fenies is open. What say we all go down and toast Santa?’

  Amy shook her head.

  ‘I’ve had enough to drink and I’ve got a long flight on Wednesday.’

  ‘Which is two whole days away,’ he said, throwing over her coat. ‘Come on. All the old gang will be down there.’

  Fenies was an Irish pub, but it was a world away from the ones you could find in Finsbury Park. There were none of the grand Victorian mouldings and high ceilings of the British tradition, just a long low room with a wooden bar at one side a
nd beer served in bottles. Even so, it was heaving. Christmas Eve, I guess, thought Amy, glad she had changed into a pair of her mom’s trainers; she had been wearing her new shoes and it would have been heartbreaking to have them ruined by spilt Miller and trampling toes.

  ‘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 lyi
ng.’ 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.