The Accidental Proposal

by Dunn, Matt

  ‘Steady on, Wendy,’ says Dan, ‘you’ll be burning your bra next. Oh, hang on. You don’t need to wear one in the first place.’

  Wendy glares at him, no doubt storing up her revenge for a later date. ‘Besides, Edward, by the sound of it, it’s more to do with branding.’

  Dan laughs. ‘What – like they do to cows?’

  I sigh loudly. ‘The annoying thing is, I suppose I can see her point. I mean, why should I expect Sam to give up her name and take mine just because it’s what everyone else does?’

  Dan gestures towards me with his beer bottle. ‘I think you’ve answered your own question there, mate.’

  ‘Dan, please.’

  ‘Sorry. But I suppose you’re right. She’s agreed to marry you. Why should she make any more sacrifices?’

  As Wendy heads off to serve some other customers, struggling to hide a smile as she goes, something more sinister occurs to me. Maybe the reason Sam doesn’t want to change her name is to do with the affair she might be having, or rather, because she’s planning to carry on her affair after the wedding. Perhaps she hasn’t even told him she’s getting married, and what’s the best way to keep up the pretence? Act as if nothing’s changed. But when I repeat my theory to Dan, he shakes his head.

  ‘Doubtful.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’re questioning the opinion of someone who’s had the number of affairs I’ve had? Read my lips: Sam’s. Not. Cheating. On. You.’

  ‘Sorry, Dan. Silly of me to argue with the master. But I just can’t seem to get past these suspicions of mine.’

  Dan puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘Do you want me to find out for you?’

  ‘And how would you do that, exactly?’

  ‘I could ask Sam. Subtly, of course.’

  The thought of Dan doing anything subtly makes me laugh. ‘And how would you do that, exactly?’

  ‘Good point.’ Dan’s face creases up in concentration for a moment or two. ‘Or, I could follow her. See where she’s going. Tail her in the car. Making sure she didn’t see me, of course.’

  ‘You drive a bright orange Porsche convertible. Don’t you think she might see you?’

  Dan looks at me as if I’m stupid. ‘I’d have the roof up, obviously.’

  ‘Obviously.’ I shake my head resignedly. ‘No, Dan. If she’s managed to hide this from me for ages, then I don’t think you’ll be able to find out. Besides, it’s something I need to do for myself.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  ‘I thought I could double-check the signs, for example.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘You know. All those hushed phone calls she’s been having. Her sneaking out to do “wedding stuff” all the time, but not telling me what “wedding stuff”. Her hiding things from me on her computer because they’re to do with “the wedding”. You’ve got to admit, it doesn’t look good.’

  ‘It doesn’t,’ agrees Dan. ‘Until you factor in the fact that the two of you are, actually, getting married. It could be all about that.’

  ‘Yes, but how much stuff can there be to sort out? It’s only a little affair, after all.’

  ‘How do you know? It might be something serious.’

  ‘No, I mean the wedding’s only a small affair. And thanks. Unless, of course, she is up to something else entirely . . .’

  Dan stares at me for a second or two. ‘No, you’re right,’ he says. ‘It does sound a bit suspicious. I’d definitely check it out if I were you.’

  I’m a little surprised. ‘Oh, you think so now, do you? What about all that “Sam’s not cheating on you” stuff you just said?’

  ‘Yeah, well, you’ve got to be sure, haven’t you, and this sounds like the only way to put your mind to rest. I mean, you don’t want a little thing like Sam being unfaithful to ruin your big day, do you? Unless you just want to let bygones be bygones.’

  ‘Dan, how can I possibly go through with it if I know she’s been seeing someone else?’

  He shrugs. ‘Maybe you should see someone else too. Even up the score. Maybe even with Candy or Bambi. That way . . .’

  ‘Don’t even go there.’

  He shrugs again. ‘Sorry. But if she is having one final fling, have you considered the possibility you might just be being a little selfish?’

  I almost fall off my stool. ‘Selfish? How?’

  Dan takes a sip of his lager. ‘You’re marrying her, right? Which means that, unless you get fat and fuck it up again, you’ll get her for what, the next fifty or so years?’

  ‘Hopefully.’

  ‘So if she is having an affair, maybe she’s just getting it out of her system. You know, so she can settle down and be Mrs Middleton.’ He clears his throat. ‘Or, er, not. I mean, look at when you gave up smoking. You didn’t just stop, did you? Instead, you went out, bought a last packet, smoked them slowly, tenderly, savouring every suck . . .’

  ‘Thanks for the imagery!’

  ‘Sorry, but you know what I mean. So maybe this is just Sam’s last cigarette.’

  I stare at him, unable – or maybe, unwilling – to believe what he’s suggesting. Because while I know this kind of ‘logic’ makes perfect sense to him, the rest of us don’t think like that at all. And while I have to take some comfort in the fact that if she was having an affair, Sam wouldn’t just choose some quick fling; she’s just not like that – equally, I can’t believe she’s been seeing someone else for all this time, because surely I’d have known. But then again, I didn’t know when Jane did it to me, until she ‘accidentally’ copied me in on an email to the guy she’d snogged. And suddenly, the realization that because it’s happened to me once without me knowing, it might well be happening again, hits me full in the stomach.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dan. I just can’t accept that. We’re engaged. And there are rules.’

  He laughs. ‘What. Rules of engagement? I’m not sure that’s quite what the phrase means.’

  ‘Besides, to keep your metaphor going, Sam doesn’t smoke. In fact, she’s never smoked. Hates the thought of it.’

  ‘You’re sure about that, are you?’ says Dan. ‘Lots of people do without anyone knowing. You know, do it in the bathroom with the window open, a quick spray of air freshener afterwards, no one’s any the wiser . . .’

  I try and stop another awful image forming in my mind. ‘But . . .Why would she?’

  Dan shrugs. ‘Maybe just to see what it’s like. Or more likely, just to be sure she’s making the right decision.’

  ‘Marrying me, you mean.’

  He nods. ‘Or even, just getting married. Most people only get married because they’ve lost the will to keep dating. And Sam’s not got the longest of dating histories.’

  ‘Well, not compared to you, she hasn’t. In fact, no one I know has. And that’s even if you add them all together. And include Natasha.’

  Dan basks in the glow of what he can’t see any other way but as a compliment. ‘So you should feel flattered that she thinks seriously enough about marrying you that she’s prepared to do this.’

  ‘Flattered is the one thing I don’t feel. In fact, quite the opposite. Because she should know, shouldn’t she? After all, I do. And anyway, she asked me. Why would she have done that if she wasn’t sure?’

  Dan frowns. ‘I dunno. I suppose because it’s not final until the two of you actually say “I do”, is it? And you know how it is – you make an offer on a house, go through with the survey and everything, but it’s not until you exchange contracts – or in this case rings – that it’s legal. A lot of people still look at other houses in the meantime, not because they want to buy them, but because they just want to be sure they’ve put their offer in on the right one. Some even keep looking at the property pages long after they’ve bought their house just to make sure they’ve done the right thing.’

  ‘Yes, but they don’t, you know, go and spend the night in them.’

  ‘Well, maybe they should. If it helps them make their minds up.’r />
  I can’t quite believe what I’m hearing. ‘So you’re saying it’s okay?’

  ‘No – all I’m saying is, don’t jump to conclusions. One – you don’t know if Sam’s up to anything, so don’t start trying to work out why it is she’s doing what you don’t even know she’s doing, and two . . .’ Dan stops talking, and scratches his head. ‘What was the first one again?’

  As he sits there, struggling to remember what he’s talking about, I realize I’ve got a choice. Trust Sam, and let her get on with whatever it is she’s doing, or confront her about it, and risk causing damage to our relationship that we might never recover from. And like I keep telling myself, marriage is all about trust. Isn’t it?

  ‘But I can’t worry about this for the rest of my life.’

  ‘Which is going to be even longer, seeing as you’ve given up smoking and all that crap food you used to shovel down your throat like it was going out of fashion.’

  I stare thoughtfully into my beer. ‘But she might just be marrying me because the old clock is ticking. You know, she just wants babies. Which is another reason not to change her name. So the kids will be . . .’ I swallow hard. ‘Hers.’

  ‘Do you really think if she wanted to have a baby she’d have it with you? If she wasn’t in love with you, I mean.’

  ‘I suppose not,’ I say, not quite knowing what Dan’s trying to imply.

  ‘And anyway, she’s not particularly maternal, is she?’

  ‘Not really,’ I say. I’ve never really seen her around babies. ‘Although she’s fond enough of Wendy’s little one.’

  Dan opens his mouth to make a joke, then thinks better of it. ‘But she’s never offered to babysit, or anything?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And for the last time, you’re sure she’s not pregnant?’

  I nod, and then stop nodding abruptly. ‘Pretty sure.’

  ‘Because that is another reason for getting married. If you’ve got her, you know . . .’

  ‘Yes, but she’d have told me, wouldn’t she?’

  ‘Would she?’ Dan nudges me. ‘Her dad doesn’t have a shotgun, does he?’

  I shudder. He does. He’s even made a point of showing it to me. ‘Christ, Dan, you’re supposed to be making me feel better. Not worse.’

  ‘Ed, just stop worrying, will you? You’re getting married. To Sam. Who quite frankly is a girl who knocks spots off all – sorry, both – of your previous girlfriends. Even that one at college with the really bad acne.’ He raises both eyebrows repeatedly in a Did-you-see-what-I-did-there? kind of way. ‘So whatever the reason Sam’s agreed to marry you, forget all this registry-office rubbish, won’t-change-her-name bollocks, is-she-cheating-on-me? crap, and, instead, grab on to her with both hands and don’t let her go. Ever.’

  As I let what he’s just said sink in, I realize that for once, Dan’s advice makes perfect sense to me. But sadly, hearing it and taking it are two completely different things.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dan. You’re right. But this is what happens when women leave you. It dents your confidence. I know it’s hard for you to imagine, but it took me a long time to get over Jane. Maybe I still haven’t. And so every time Sam and I have a wobble, or anything out of the ordinary happens, it’s bound to make me feel a little . . . well . . . insecure.’

  ‘Surely you know how she feels about you?’ He grabs my shoulder, and gives it a manly shake. ‘Especially after that sick-making speech of hers the other night?’

  ‘But that’s the thing. When you’ve been dumped and cheated on, you never want to take that kind of thing for granted again. So I won’t know for sure until she actually turns up on the day and says “I do”.’

  Dan taps his watch. ‘Well, thank Christ you’ve only got ten days’ – he looks across at me nervously, and I nod in agreement – ‘to go, then – and therefore I’ve only got ten days of having to listen to you bleating on. Sam’s made her decision, so don’t worry; it’s usually only us blokes who get cold feet. But if you suspect Sam has, then make sure she’s got some thermal socks.’ He grins, and takes another mouthful of beer. ‘Not actual thermal socks, of course.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, flatly. ‘I was about to head off to M&S.’

  ‘But remember, women are like sharks. They can sense fear. So whatever you do, don’t let her get a whiff of the fact that you think you’re not worthy.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because if you believe that, then there’s a danger she might start to believe it too.’

  ‘I’m not sure, Dan. I mean, this is commitment we’re talking about. And no disrespect, but it’s hardly your specialist subject.’ I sigh loudly. ‘Maybe I need a woman’s perspective.’

  ‘Where are you going to get one of those?’ huffs Dan.

  ‘I could ask Wendy.’

  He smirks. ‘I thought you said you needed a woman’s perspective?’

  Wendy clears her throat, then looks up from where she’s been loading the dishwasher not quite three feet away. ‘I can hear you, you know.’

  ‘Fuck,’ whispers Dan. ‘How long has she been there?’

  ‘About two minutes.’

  ‘Why didn’t you warn me?’

  ‘I didn’t know you were going to say something rude about her.’

  ‘Ed, I always say something rude about her.’

  ‘What’re you two being so secretive about?’ says Wendy, standing up and leaning against the other side of the bar.

  ‘Nothing,’ says Dan, guiltily.

  ‘I, I mean, we, just wanted a woman’s perspective on something. Didn’t we, Dan?’

  ‘Yeah. That’s right,’ he says, jumping off his stool and heading towards the toilets. ‘So if you know one we can ask . . .’

  Wendy picks up a damp beer towel and expertly throws it at him, catching him just behind one ear. He scowls at her, then reaches up to touch the back of his head gingerly, although he seems more worried it might have messed up his hairstyle than actually hurt him.

  ‘Fire away,’ she says, turning back to me.

  ‘It’s just . . . well, this whole marriage thing. Business. Whatever you want to call it. I was just wondering whether maybe, you know, Sam and I had jumped the gun a bit.’

  Wendy frowns. ‘Not getting cold feet, are you?’

  ‘Me? No. Not at all. I just meant that – I’m not sure what I meant, really. But I was wondering how soon was, you know, too soon?’

  Wendy shrugs. ‘When she asked you to marry her, what was your initial reaction?’

  ‘Er . . .’ I think for a second. ‘I was thrilled. Flattered. Excited. Happy. Ecstatic, even.’

  Wendy smiles. ‘Then it wasn’t too soon, was it?’

  ‘Yes, but . . .’ I struggle to find the right way to explain it. ‘I was wondering why Sam asked me. In the first place.’

  She shakes her head ‘Possibly because she loves you, and wants to spend the rest of her life with you?’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Call it a wild stab in the dark.’

  ‘Who’s getting stabbed in the dark?’ says Dan nervously, sitting back down at the bar.

  Wendy ignores him. ‘Edward, a woman doesn’t ask anyone that question unless she’s absolutely sure she wants to get married. So don’t worry.’

  ‘Yes, but how do I know that Sam’s serious about marrying me?’

  Wendy smiles, then pats me on the back of the hand. ‘I’m really fond of you, you know, but sometimes you can be a little . . .’

  ‘Thick?’ suggests Dan.

  ‘Look who’s talking,’ I snap back.

  ‘Insecure,’ says Wendy. ‘Because not only did she ask you in the first place, but she’s set a date. And if she wasn’t absolutely one hundred and ten per cent sure she wanted to marry you, that’s the last thing she’d have done.’

  ‘Right,’ I say. ‘Thanks,’ trying to ignore the fact that it wasn’t Sam who set the date, but me. Besides, setti
ng a date doesn’t actually mean anything if you’re not planning to turn up.

  Friday, 17 April

  6.15 p.m.

  In spite of all that, I do feel a bit better, particularly because, from what I can tell, for the next couple of days, Sam doesn’t seem to have any hushed phone calls, secretive emails, or – since the only thing my sneaky investigative lunchtime walks past Muffin To Declare have revealed is that they have a new double-white-chocolate muffin, and it’s delicious – mysterious meetings. I’ve apologized to her about my behaviour the other night too because I’ve decided not to get too hung up on the name issue – after all, I wouldn’t change anything else about her, so I might as well extend that to her surname. Besides, I’ve decided to keep my eye on the prize, and not worry about any of the so-called minor traditions.

  I’m also feeling quite chuffed because I’ve managed to get Billy a place in the Shelter hostel and, although it took a bit of persuading – persuading Billy, I mean, rather than the hostel staff – he seems to be keen to give it a go. Or rather, he hasn’t told me where to go. Which I suppose is as much as I can hope for.

  When I get home, by the sounds of things, Sam’s in the shower. There’s a football match on this evening which I’m quite keen to watch, and as far as I know, it doesn’t clash with any of her girlie programmes, so I should be okay, particularly since she’ll probably fall asleep on me on the sofa anyway. Even so, I’m looking forward to spending the evening with her, but when she finally emerges from the bathroom, kisses me hello, then announces she’s going out, I can’t help but feel I’m suddenly back to square one.

  ‘Out?’ I say, struggling to keep myself from adding the word ‘again’ to the end of that sentence.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ says Sam, stuffing her notebook into her bag. ‘A couple of hours at most. Back in time for you to have watched your game and made me dinner.’

  ‘Going anywhere nice?’ I say, really only interested in the part of her answer that doesn’t involve the ‘going’, ‘any’ and ‘nice’ parts of my question.

  ‘Just out for a chat,’ she says. ‘Last few bits of wedding stuff to sort out.’