We stepped up a winding path, lanterns flickering on either side, to a gateway which led to a garden behind the building.
There was a pergola arch, climbing plants and small white flowers entwined around the wooden trellis, the strong smell of lavender from overflowing pots on either side. The arch acted as the perfect frame, a table beyond laid for two people, wine glasses glinting in the soft light, candles flickering on the table and more lanterns scattered on the ground. Luke was standing next to the table, dressed in a shirt I didn’t recognise, a woollen brown dogtooth three-piece suit, a pink handkerchief peeking out of the pocket of the waistcoat, his face breaking into a smile as he stepped forward.
‘Lottie, you look incredible,’ he said, unable to hold back from laughing as he stepped around me. ‘Like a Forties movie star. Your hair is brilliant.’
I felt myself grow hot with the scrutiny. ‘Thanks,’ I mumbled, feeling suddenly shy as he bent to kiss me.
He pulled out a chair for me and it was only as I took a seat that I realised I could hear music playing, the scratchy quality that could only come from an LP, the notes wafting round us at the table.
‘This is lovely,’ I said, taking in the polished silver, tealight and single rose in a thin vase in the centre of the table.
Suddenly Geoffrey appeared through the arch dressed in full black tie: crisp ironed shirt, neat bow tie, cufflinks sparkling, his two remaining strands of hair combed backwards.
A hand flew to my mouth as a giggle escaped. He had flung a fresh white tea towel over his arm and dipped into a sort of bow when he reached our table.
‘Sir, madam, welcome.’
Luke had sat down and was laughing at my expression.
‘Can I take your wine order please? Would you like a refreshing New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc or a Rioja from South America?’
‘Oh,’ I said, shifting in my chair, ‘I would like the refreshing Sauvignon Blanc please.’
‘An excellent choice, madam.’
‘Two,’ Luke said, holding up two fingers, ‘and step on it.’
Geoffrey did bow that time and backed away from our table. I looked over at Luke incredulously.
He shrugged. ‘It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.’
Geoffrey returned to pour the drinks, I realised the music had stopped and then, after some distant whispers and shuffling, he was joined by Arjun and Grandad, also in black tie, bar the tea towels. Howard had changed too and appeared in the archway straightening his bow tie as they all formed a semi-circle around our table.
I frowned. ‘What is goi—’
Luke gave them a nod and Geoffrey started to conduct.
Then, in a hesitant a cappella, they began to sing. A barbershop quartet of a familiar-sounding song which had my mouth opening in amazed surprise. It was a wobbly rendition and I found myself clutching my sides as I focused on each face, screwed up in concentration, carefully watching Geoffrey’s hand movements. The whole garden seemed filled with the sound and I wiped at my eyes, feeling an enormous warmth for this rabble of men all dressed up and singing for us.
I looked across at Luke and realised he was equally moved. I often forgot that he didn’t have his own extended family, a group I had taken for granted, parents on the end of the phone, grandparents who had always been around. I felt incredibly grateful to Grandad and his friends for adopting him into their tribe. It was clear from their delighted expressions as we clapped and cheered their last note that they had done it for him, clapping him on the back as they all made a discreet exit, leaving Geoffrey to quietly produce a starter of mouth-watering pâté and toasted ciabatta.
I didn’t feel like eating, still wanting just to soak up the evening, the touches Luke had clearly planned and, as I stared around me, realising yet again how lucky I was to be with someone so thoughtful.
Luke reached a hand across the table and I took it, feeling a frisson as he stroked my thumb with his own.
Forcing myself to concentrate on the food in front of me, the pâté replaced with mouth-watering duck breasts and potatoes, I tried to stay calm, to ignore the pounding in my chest and simply enjoy the evening. Then, as the main plates were cleared, Luke took my hand once more.
He began to speak. ‘Lottie, you must be wondering why I . . . ’
Grandad and friends appeared eagerly in the archway and I glanced across at them, distracted for a moment. Luke did a double-take, an uncharacteristic blush flooding his face. ‘You’re a bit early,’ Luke whispered at them. Grandad’s eyes widened and he could be seen ushering the others backwards with frantic hand gestures.
I frowned. What was going on?
I could hear Howard grumbling in the background, Arjun or Geoffrey sshing him furiously and then a squeak.
‘You stood on my foot.’
‘Ssh.’
‘Does Luke mean soon or should we wait a while?’
The trouble with people hard of hearing is they tend to talk loudly, and I glanced at Luke who was grimacing in the flickering candlelight, clearly hoping I couldn’t hear their mutterings.
‘Er . . . all OK?’
‘I think they’re just confused about dessert timing,’ Luke said, loudly enough that the voices dimmed.
‘Dessert?’
‘What dessert?’
‘Does he mean now?’
Luke cringed again and I could feel bubbles of laughter in my stomach, wondering just what was happening. It was clear they were messing up some master plan.
Luke coughed, stuttering as he reached for my hand once more. ‘Lottie,’ he began again, ‘you must be wondering why I’ve brought you here.’
I felt the evening close in around me, just the feel of Luke’s hand, his gaze on me.
‘Lottie, you know we have been together now for seven years—’
‘Almost eight years,’ I corrected. Our anniversary was one month away.
‘Stop being a barrister,’ he said, the soft tone he was using not changing, which made me smile.
‘Sorry.’
‘That’s OK,’ he said in his new, I’m-a-zen-like-masseur voice.
‘You quickly became my best friend. You were funny and intelligent and properly hot.’
I snorted inelegantly but Luke’s face didn’t change.
‘You have always been supportive. When I wanted to change jobs, when I persuaded you to move in with me.’
I felt my toes squirm at the compliments.
‘You were there.’ He slowed down a little now, took a breath. ‘You were there when my mother died and helped me through that time. I don’t know what I would have done without you then. You just knew what to do and how to handle me . . . ’
I felt tears build in my throat as he spoke, the whispers in the background fading as I strained to hear every word he was saying. He was giving me too much credit. Who wouldn’t have behaved like that after someone you loved had lost their mother? Their last remaining parent. I squeezed his hand.
‘Don’t be silly, Luke, of course . . . ’
‘Hey,’ he said softly, ‘I still haven’t finished.’
I pressed my lips together.
He swallowed and looked down. ‘You’ve always been the only girl who has made me want to be better, who has challenged me, made me snort-laugh, made me want to throw stuff, and you know, as I said, you’re hhhhhot.’ He coughed, his smile quickly fading. ‘I know recently things haven’t been easy for you, and I hope I’ve been there for you. Like you were there for me when life wasn’t as, as easy’ – he took a breath – ‘as it might have been.’