‘Maybe she had to date him, to find her way to Padraig?’
‘Too heavy a price. And I like Padraig.’
Laurie put her hand in Jamie’s free one and pulled him to a stop.
‘Do you know. I’ve had the maddest, craziest idea, and you’ll say LOL NO but hear me out on it seeming hasty. Particularly as I’d like your parents to be there. Do you fancy getting married?’
‘LOL NO!’ Jamie said. ‘Uhm. Kidding. But shouldn’t I propose?’
‘Not necessarily in this day and age.’
‘You’re seriously proposing to me? We’ve only been a proper couple for a weekend!’
‘I’m less respectful of what you’re supposed to do, these days, if you get me. If we discover we’re horrendously ill-suited after two years of bickering about overspending on the food shop and picking up wet towels, think of the fun we’ll have had before we realise? If this is a mistake, think how much fun we’ll have making it?’
‘The speech is writing itself!’
‘And you know, if it’s a no, I will cope fine. It struck me as a thing I’d really enjoy doing.’ She grinned up at him. He had the same look on his face as he did at the final chords of ‘Purple Rain’. There, they had the first dance sorted already. ‘I appreciate I’m asking you to go from someone who despised marriage, to someone charging into one. But that’s me, now. I ask for a lot.’
Jamie reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Laurie felt loved, and, more than that, she’d remembered how to love herself. She wanted his answer to be yes, but a no wouldn’t change either of those things.
‘Yes. My answer is yes. I will marry you. Can I ask you back? Feels proper. Laurie Watkinson, will you marry me?’
‘Yes!’
They stopped, embraced and kissed, the Christmas Eve crowds flowing around them, Jamie’s bag at their feet, while they stayed a fixed point, a moment in time. An irritable commuter tutted, in a broad Manc drawl. ‘Get a fuckin’ room.’ And they laughed and carried on kissing.
Many ages of Lauries had walked through Piccadilly, since she was a little girl in fact. She liked this one best. Whatever happened in the future, Laurie would never forget the lessons of these months. She was a survivor of some difficult things, and she was happy.
They walked down the hill, hand in hand.
‘My best friend Emily can give me away.’
‘And Hattie can be my best man.’
‘I like making up our own rules. Let’s keep doing that.’
Minutes later, over engagement champagnes in Refuge, under tiles that declared THE GLAMOUR OF MANCHESTER, Laurie managed to make a phone ring in a province of Indonesia.
‘Emily. You know how we said we had to define what happiness looks like, for ourselves? Without fear of judgement? Now there’s been no egg nog, but. Please remain as calm as possible.’