by Rosa Temple
My bottom lip had yet to make contact with the top one. In fact my whole mouth went dry. I looked from one hesitant face to the next and at each happy set of eyes as my family eagerly awaited my response. I grabbed my wine glass again, held up a forefinger to Anthony so he could wait a second and took another gulp. And then another. He crinkled his brow, his eyes darting nervously around the table and then back at me.
‘Magenta?’
I slid my chair out from under me, acting as sober as I could. I wobbled and then steadied myself before I knelt down in front of Anthony.
‘What the hell, Anthony? No, I won’t marry you.’
It was Anthony whose mouth dropped open then; from a hesitant yet confident smile I could see his face darken.
‘No?’ he said, incredulous.
‘Yes, no,’ I repeated and managed to stand without toppling over. Anthony stood too. ‘You can’t ask me to marry you just because everyone else is getting engaged and you thought I was jealous of them.’
‘No, that’s not what I meant.’
‘Magenta, darling,’ Mother put in, but Father placed a hand on hers.
‘No, Mother. That’s not the way it’s done.’ I turned back to Anthony. The ring had vanished back into his back pocket. ‘Look, Anthony. We haven’t talked about getting married, having another baby, or anything in fact. We just haven’t talked. We don’t talk and we promised each other we would.’ My head had started to go into orbit and I knew then that I’d really overdone it with the drinking. I’d begun the evening with a couple of cocktails with Ebony when she first came in. Maybe three. Tallulah must have distracted me from the actual consumption level or something.
I looked at Anthony, at his knotted brow, and tried not to slur.
‘I’m not shaying I’m against marriage per shay. I mean, per se.’ Since when did I ever use the words per se? ‘But it’s not romantic or off the cuff, is it?’ I glared at Anya who I assumed had put Anthony up to this spontaneous proposal. ‘I can’t marry you, Anthony. I’m just not there. I’m just not…’
I was backing my way out of the dining room and straight into a member of the catering team who was carrying a tray of liqueurs. Each tiny glass filled to the top with a clear fluid went flying up off the silver tray, did a sideways flip and landed on the parquet floor with a tinkling crash. I watched the drinks spill and the glasses shatter into pieces, shards of crystal hopping and skipping their way across the floor. Milosz began to cry. Tallulah followed suit.
‘Jesus, I’m sorry,’ I blurted out and ran for the front door. ‘I’m sorry, Anthony.’
Imagine a woman in high heels, a split in the side of her skirt, running across a gravel drive in the dark. Imagine that it’s cold and she forgot her coat, that she’s drunk, completely, and doesn’t remember that the way out is at the front of the house and not around the side. You’ll see me, drunk and crying, leaning against the tall hedges at the side of the house and wondering how I’ll make my way home with a morsel of dignity and where on earth they put the front gate.
What was he thinking springing a proposal on me like that?
‘Magenta! Magenta! Come back, you’ll catch your death.’ Anthony ran up to me. I wasn’t hard to spot in the night in a silver dress, crying like a big baby as I stood shivering by the conifers.
‘Go back in, Anthony. I’ll come back when I’m ready.’
‘I didn’t think you’d want to go back in,’ he said. ‘I brought your stuff. I didn’t want you to be cold.’ He draped my coat around my shoulders and put on his thick jacket. ‘Here.’ Anthony handed me my clutch bag. I did up my buttons and tried to calm myself.
‘Shall we?’ he said, offering me the crook of his arm. It was amazing how sobering a run around a front garden could be. I felt my senses coming back to me. Hooking Anthony’s arm I allowed him to escort me off the premises. I looked over my shoulder to see Mother and Anya standing on the front step, shaking their heads as if they’d been in cahoots the whole time. I said nothing to them but waited as Anthony pulled open the bolt and unlocked the side gate beside the tall iron gates at the front of the house.
‘I think if we get to the main road we should be able to hail a taxi,’ Anthony said in a gentle voice.
‘Why are you being so nice to me?’ I sniffed. ‘I’ve just been a total bitch. Didn’t I embarrass you?’
‘Don’t worry. I think I managed that myself,’ he said. ‘You’re right. We needed to have talked about this. We needed to have talked about a lot of things and we haven’t. I guess we’ve just both been too busy to get into the real stuff, the stuff that matters. It’s just been work, work, work since we got back from your parents’ wedding.’
‘And we still haven’t stopped.’
‘I know.’
We were at the main road and Anthony spotted a black cab after a few minutes of standing and freezing outside an off-licence called Brahms and Liszt – very appropriate.
‘Byron’s Close, near the King’s Road. I’ll direct you from there,’ Anthony told the cab driver. He nodded and off we sped.
‘But we can stop now,’ Anthony said. ‘I don’t mean this second. Things are running smoothly for both of us so it’s about time we set aside a moment to talk about our future. I broke the promise just as much as you and I don’t blame you for turning me down. We said complete honesty back in the spring, talk about everything, and that’s what we’ll do.’ He looked at me for acknowledgement. I nodded my head and stared out of the window for the rest of the journey home.
Chapter 21
It had to have been one of the weirdest weekends of my life. It was my birthday and I woke up with the hangover from hell. No, that wasn’t the weird bit. For most of my twenties, waking up with a hangover was a fact of life. Hair of the dog was my motto back then. Now I was on the other side of thirty and I’d obviously become a lightweight when it came to heavy drinking.
I woke with a dry mouth and as I blinked my eyes open I realised why. My mouth was wide open, I’d been dribbling and there was lipstick smeared on the pillow case. Very in keeping with a Magenta in her twenties. But once I started going to bed next to a man who woke up looking more attractive and fresh in the morning than an advert for Gillette razors, I’d got into the habit of removing my make-up, using toner and moisturising at night just so I could look like something next to this Adonis I was living with.
He seriously rose from the bed in the morning in slow motion, action and adventure music playing in the background, an invisible wind machine blowing his hair off his face, his upper body tanned, shiny and rippling with muscle. Or at least that’s what it seemed like.
I had to admit it, Anthony made me feel like a failure at times. He’d already told me I was spoiled. True. That I complained if people didn’t act the way I wanted them to. True. That I had too many clothes. Ridiculous.
But I had turned down Anthony’s very public proposal the night before and he wasn’t even angry with me. In fact he took the blame. How had I landed such a good man? I really didn’t deserve him.
I rolled over to see Anthony’s naked torso, smooth and toned. His chest, as he lay on his back, was expanding with his deep breaths and his face looked peaceful and totally gorgeous. I got up from the bed as gently as I could so as not to wake him. My first impulse was to do that thing women do in romantic comedies: go to the bathroom, wash my face, brush my teeth, fix my hair and come back to bed as if I woke up like that every day. But we’d lived together long enough for Anthony to know that on most mornings my eyes were gooey, my hair looked like a bird’s nest in which all the birds had just had a major brawl and flown away, and that, like most people, I had morning breath… sometimes.
Instead I tiptoed across to the chair over which he had slung his jeans from the night before. From the back pocket I pulled out the engagement ring. Anthony stirred, didn’t wake but turned in my direction. I tiptoed out with the ring into the bathroom and quietly closed the door behind me. I checked my reflection in the cabine
t mirror above the sink. I looked as if I’d gone a few rounds with Rocky Balboa and I should really do something to make myself look like Adrian, Rocky’s girlfriend, rather than Butkus, Rocky’s dog.
I slipped the ring onto my finger and held it up. It fitted perfectly. I really don’t know when Anthony had time to do this. Find such a lovely ring and have it sized to perfection. I suspected Anya was behind the choice of ring. I once told her I wanted a diamond engagement ring but that was a long time ago. If I were to decide today I’d probably not bother with a ring at all. I’d want to skip the engagement and head straight up the aisle, whereupon I’d opt for a platinum band. Plain and simple.
As I went to pull the ring back off I heard the bathroom door creak. I jumped and turned around. The ring bounced out of my hand and into the air. It slipped through my fingers, clinked against the sink and landed out of sight.
‘Morning,’ Anthony said from the doorway. ‘How’s your head?’
‘As you’d expect.’ As subtly as I could I tried to look to see where the ring had gone. It wasn’t in my line of vision, it had to be somewhere near my feet. I stood rooted to the spot, one hand resting on the sink, the other on my hip. As Anthony smiled and walked towards me I tried to tap my foot around and see if I could feel for the ring. Anthony held my face in his hands and kissed me on the lips.
‘Happy birthday, darling.’ He looked down at my feet. ‘What are you doing?’
‘N… nothing,’ I said. ‘I just really need the loo.’
‘Oh, right.’ Anthony reached behind me and turned on the tap. He bent over the sink, about to splash his face with water as he normally did. He paused to look at me. ‘Don’t let me stop you.’
‘Do you mind?’ I said, grinning like an idiot. ‘I’m thirty-one today and I thought I was old enough to use the bathroom on my own. Don’t worry – I won’t fall in.’
He splashed his face just the once and turned off the tap. I smiled at him as he backed out of the bathroom with a crease in his brow. He shook his head and I slammed the door behind him. Dropping to my knees I scouted for the engagement ring. There was a pulled-up piece of flooring and a crack in the skirting just under the sink. We hadn’t yet decorated the upstairs and the damned ring must have fallen beneath the floorboards. I slapped my hand on the floor.
Damn it. This was one of those honesty moments Anthony and I had talked about. I had to come clean about the ring. I went back to the bedroom to find Anthony lying on his back, one knee bent, hands behind his head. He looked at me and smiled.
‘Did you find it?’ he asked.
‘What?’
‘The ring?’
‘Damn it, Anthony. I’m sorry. I’m just such an idiot at times.’ I sat beside him on the bed. ‘Why didn’t you just tell me you knew I’d taken it and put me out of my misery?’
‘Sorry. Anyway, don’t worry about it. It’s not as if you were going to wear it. You didn’t like it, did you?’
I put my head down.
‘It’s all right, you can tell me,’ he said.
‘To be honest, I’m not really into engagement rings. Maybe I was, once upon a time. I’ll pull up the floor and look for it later.’
‘I’ll do it. And I’ll take it back to the shop. But let’s not talk about that.’ He sat up, waved his hands in front of his face. ‘Let’s forget last night happened and move on. What should we do? It’s your birthday. I saw it going a bit differently so I didn’t plan anything further than the…’
‘Proposal of marriage?’
He nodded.
‘Let’s do what we always do on a Saturday,’ I said. ‘Rhythm ‘N’ Brews?’
It was a no-brainer really.
Our go-to Saturday venue was just as vibrant as ever. We ordered brunch and lots of their strongest coffee. In about half an hour, and three coffees later, I could sense activity behind me. The restaurant fell silent and everyone began to sing ‘Happy Birthday’. I turned to see Jaime and Zac carrying an enormous cake covered in long candles. Behind them were Anya and Henry, baby Milosz and a few friends I hadn’t seen in a while because I’d been so busy with work.
I turned back to look at Anthony who was sitting back in his chair, grinning at me as I got up, hand over my open mouth, thrilled by the surprise.
‘Make a wish,’ Zac said. I blew out all thirty-one candles in about three puffs and felt lightheaded by the effort and overcome by the occasion. I’d closed my eyes and wished very hard for something. Everyone in the place clapped and cheered.
‘Hope you remembered to make a wish,’ said Zac. He immediately put up a hand and closed his eyes. ‘Don’t say what it is or it won’t come true.’ He opened his eyes when I told him of course I wouldn’t tell, but it was a wish that had to be made, even though Hugo would have told me I’d wasted it. ‘Now let’s see your present from Anthony,’ Zac exclaimed.
I turned to Anthony who was trying to signal something behind my back to everyone. Everyone except Anya and Henry looked at him, puzzled, probably wondering whether he’d forgotten to buy me a present.
‘Actually, Zac,’ I said. ‘It was gorgeous piece of jewellery, a surprise, something I’ve wanted for a while. Such a delicate piece, silly me managed to drop it in the bathroom. We have to pull up the floorboards to find it so you can see it another time.’
‘How devastating,’ Zac said, holding his chest.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll find it,’ I tried to reassure him.
‘No, I mean, I was so looking forward to seeing what you got.’
‘Come on, Zac,’ Jaime said. ‘We put a "Back in five minutes" sign on the shop door so we’d better go.’
‘No,’ I insisted. ‘You must stay. Have some cake. Brunch is on me. Everyone…’ I particularly looked at Anya when I said this. ‘It’s so lovely to see you all. Let’s get some menus.’ I beckoned to the waitress, asking her to take the cake back and slice it up and to hand out some menus.
A lot of activity followed. The diners watched my party of guests exchanging kisses, handing over presents, and the poor waiting staff trying to move tables around in order to seat ten extra people alongside me and Anthony. When we were settled Anya came to me and handed me a gift wrapped in gold paper. She pulled me to one side.
‘Madge, don’t be angry vith me. I thought Anthony needed a kick up the backside and it vould help vith you two dragging your feet about the whole commitment thing.’
‘Anya, thanks for the present but we neither of us need a kick up the backside.’
‘So you’ve talked about your future then?’ A spark of excitement showed in her eyes.
‘Not really, not like you and Henry. But we’re not like you and Henry. We’re both slow off the mark. But we’ll get there.’ I threw my arms around Anya. ‘I’m not angry. Now, let’s get you something to eat.’ I took her hand and pulled her back to our seats.
‘Are you crazy, Madge? I don’t eat on a Saturday. I’ve got a shoot in three days and I can’t turn up looking like a cow, can I?’
During the festivities I couldn’t help stealing a glance at Anthony every now and again. I was pretty sure we would make a plan for our future some time or other but I wasn’t into talking about it quite yet. We’d get there, I knew we would. But as the waiting staff brought out a colourful array of food, all named after jazz and R&B artists, I knew in my heart that someone else needed me to be there for them. I was sure Anthony would understand… when I finally told him.
Chapter 22
The one thing about being a spy they never tell you is that you need patience. Hugo texted to tell me he was back from Cumbria. I was hoping to go over and see him but when I suggested it he texted back immediately to say not to come.
Please, Magenta, I need to spend some time alone to chill and reflect.
There was something in that statement that didn’t compute with me. I was pretty sure that had I been told I only had a few months to live I’d want to do more than chill and reflect. I’d want to surround myself with people,
party all night, write my memoirs, not use toner and see what happened to my skin. You know? Normal things.
Hugo telling me he wanted to be alone sounded more suicidal than any statement I’d ever heard and I wanted to rush straight round there to take action. What I thought I could do I had no idea but I was determined to do something. I got his texts the evening of my birthday. I was still on a high from the celebrations but had come down to earth with a bang when Anthony and I got home, bloated and well-fed after having spent hours consuming caffeine and cake.
Upstairs, under the rotting floorboards, was my engagement ring, probably covered in creepy-crawlies, and as we lay crashed out on the sofa, not mentioning the proposal or anything else, an uncomfortable silence rose between us. After a while Anthony patted my thigh and said he would carry on trying to finish painting the Anya and Milosz portrait.
‘Oh yes, fine, you do that.’
For the rest of the day, through to the evening and into the Sunday morning, the miles between us grew in our little house. Anthony had been painting in earnest and I’d never stopped thinking about what Hugo was doing since I got his text. With my birthday over I had no reason to stick around while Anthony stayed holed up in his studio.
‘Just popping out for a bit,’ I called, knowing full well all Anthony would do was grunt over his shoulder at me and not be fully aware of what was going on because he was painting.
I took myself to Oxford Gardens by way of slow Sunday public transport, made even slower because there were delays. I hadn’t planned what I’d say to Hugo, but what exactly do you say to a dying man contemplating suicide? When I got to his street, though, I saw Stella trotting down the steps leading to his basement flat and I stopped in my tracks. Shit. She wasn’t part of my mission to stop Hugo doing something he might later regret.
Knowing he’d planned to ‘chill and reflect’ alone, I decided to hang around for a while just to see if he booted her out.
