“Nothing!” she says defiantly, as Ruby starts rubbing cream into my hands.
I only have time to dart her a suspicious look before the door opens and Magnus appears, shaking water from his umbrella.
“Hello, girls!” He beams around as though we’re an appreciative audience waiting for his entrance. Which I suppose we are.
“Magnus! Let me take your coat.” Annalise has rushed forward. “It’s OK, Poppy. You’re having your manicure. I’ll do it. And maybe a cup of tea?”
Ooh. Typical. I watch as she slides Magnus’s linen jacket from his shoulders. Isn’t she doing that a bit slowly and lingeringly? Why does he need to take his jacket off, anyway? We’re about to go.
“We’re nearly finished.” I glance at Ruby. “Aren’t we?”
“No hurry,” says Magnus. “Plenty of time.” He looks around the reception and breathes in, as though appreciating some beautiful vista. “Mmmm. I remember coming here the first time as though it were yesterday. You remember, Pops? God, that was amazing, wasn’t it?” He meets my eye with a suggestive glint and I hastily telegraph back, Shut up, you idiot. He is going to get me in so much trouble.
“How’s your wrist, Magnus?” Annalise is approaching him with a cup of tea from the machine. “Did Poppy ever give you a three-month follow-up appointment?”
“No.” He looks taken aback. “Should she have done?”
“Your wrist’s fine,” I say firmly.
“Shall I take a look?” Annalise is ignoring me completely. “Poppy shouldn’t be giving you therapy now, you know. Conflict of interest.” She takes his wrist. “Where was the pain exactly? Here?” She unbuttons his cuff, moving up his arm. “Here?” Her voice deepens slightly and she bats her eyelashes at him. “What about … here?”
OK. This is the limit.
“Thanks, Annalise!” I beam brightly at her. “But we’d better be going to the church. For the meeting about our wedding,” I add pointedly.
“About that.” Magnus frowns briefly. “Poppy, can we have a quick chat? Maybe go into your room a moment?”
“Oh.” I feel a flicker of foreboding. “OK.”
Even Annalise looks taken aback, and Ruby raises her eyebrows.
“Cuppa, Annalise?” she says. “We’ll just be out here. No rush.”
As I usher Magnus in, my mind is skittering in panic. He knows about the ring. The Scrabble. Everything. He’s having cold feet. He wants a wife he can talk to about Proust.
“Can you lock the door?” He fiddles with the catch and after a moment has secured it. “There. Excellent!” As he turns, there’s an unmistakable light in his eyes. “God, Poppy, you look hot.”
It takes about five seconds for the penny to drop.
“What? No. Magnus, you have to be joking.”
He’s heading toward me with an intent, familiar expression. No way. I mean, no way.
“Stop!” I bat him away as he reaches for the top button of my uniform. “I’m at work!”
“I know.” He closes his eyes briefly as though in some paroxysm of bliss. “I don’t know what it is about this place. Your uniform, maybe. All that white.”
“Well, too bad.”
“You know you want to.” He nibbles one of my earlobes. “Come on …”
Damn him for knowing about my earlobes. For a moment—only a moment—I slightly lose my focus. But then, as he makes another salvo on my uniform buttons, I snap back into reality. Ruby and Annalise are three feet away on the other side of the door.61 This cannot happen.
“No! Magnus, I thought you wanted to talk about something serious! The wedding or something!”
“Why would I want to do that?” He’s pressing the button which reclines the couch all the way down. “Mmm. I remember this bed.”
“It’s not a bed, it’s a professional couch!”
“Is that massage oil?” He’s reached for a nearby bottle.
“Shhh!” I hiss. “Ruby’s right outside! I’ve already had one disciplinary hearing—”
“What’s this thing? Ultrasound?” He’s grabbed the ultrasound wand. “I bet we could have some fun with this. Does it heat up?” His eyes suddenly glint. “Does it vibrate?”
This is like having a toddler to control.
“We can’t! I’m sorry.” I step away, putting the couch between him and me. “We can’t. We just can’t.” I smooth down my uniform.
For a moment Magnus looks so sulky I think he might shout at me.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “But it’s like asking you to have sex with a student. You’d get fired. Your career would be over!”
Magnus seems about to contradict me—then thinks better of whatever he was about to say.
“Well, great.” He gives a grumpy shrug. “Really great. What are we supposed to do instead?”
“We could do loads of things!” I say brightly. “Have a chat? Go through wedding stuff? Only eight more days to go!”
Magnus doesn’t reply. He doesn’t need to. His lack of enthusiasm is emanating from him like some kind of psychic force.
“Or have a drink?” I suggest at last. “We’ve got time to go to the pub before the meeting.”
“All right,” he says heavily at last. “Let’s go to the pub.”
“We’ll come back here,” I say coaxingly. “Another day. Maybe at a weekend.”
What the hell am I promising? Oh God. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
As we head out of the room, Ruby and Annalise look up artificially from magazines they obviously haven’t been reading.
“Everything OK?” says Ruby.
“Yes, great!” I smooth my skirt. “Just … wedding chitchat. Veils, almonds, that kind of thing … Anyway, we’d better be off.”
I’ve glimpsed my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are bright scarlet and I’m talking nonsense. Total giveaway.
“Hope it goes well.” Ruby glances meaningfully at the ring, then at me.
“Thanks.”
“Text us!” chips in Annalise. “Whatever happens. We’ll be dying to know!”
The thing to remember is, the ring fooled Magnus. And if it fooled him, surely it’ll fool his parents? As we arrive at St. Edmund’s Parish Church, I feel more optimistic than I have for ages. St. Edmund’s is a big, grand church in Marylebone. In fact, we chose it because it’s so beautiful. As we head inside, someone’s practicing a flashy piece on the organ. There are pink and white flowers for another wedding decorating all the pews, and a general air of expectancy.
I suddenly feel a tingle of excitement. In eight days, that’ll be us! A week from tomorrow, the place will be festooned with white silk and posies. All my friends and family will be waiting excitedly. The trumpeter will be in the organ loft and I’ll be in my dress and Magnus will be standing at the altar in his designer waistcoat.62 It’s really, really happening!
I can already see Wanda inside the church, peering at some old statue. As she turns, I force myself to wave confidently, as though everything’s great and we’re the best of friends and they don’t intimidate me at all.