Part 29 (1/2)

'How ironic,' she said quietly.

'Sorry?'

'The timing.'

'What do you mean?'

There was a funny little silence. 'I mean...the moment I become more relaxed about it, he finally proposes.' She sounded slightly exasperated, irritated almost.

'But it's wonderful,' I said. There was another odd silence. 'Isn't it?'

'Yes,' she said faintly. 'I guess.'

'You do feel happy? Don't you?' I heard her inhale.

'I think so. Or rather, yes, of course I do. I mean-Christ-I've finally got what I want; or what I ... But...at the same time...' Her voice trailed away. 'I don't...know. I don't know what I feel,' she added dismally.

'That's because your emotions are very mixed up. It's not surprising-getting engaged is a major thing.'

'No, it's not just that.'

'Then it must be the anti-climax.'

'It's not.'

'Then what's the problem? You should be delirious with joy.'

'I know I should be.'

'But why aren't you?'

I heard her draw in her breath. 'Because...' she began. 'Because...' There was a pregnant pause which seemed to hum and throb. 'Because...'

'Of the way he did it?' I suggested. There was a tiny pause. 'Is that the reason?'

'Ye-es,' she replied.

'Because he was drunk?'

'That's...right. Because he was drunk. That's why I'm feeling like this. Because it was so...disappointing. He proposed to me, drunk as a lord, in front of all those people. It should have been a private, intimate thing.'

'Well, the fact that he had the ring with him suggests that he was going to do it in the restaurant, which would have been private and intimate, but that events overtook him.'

'Yes,' she sighed. 'That's what he said.'

'That's probably why he got drunk,' I went on. 'The stress of it all.'

'No doubt. He threw up twice on the way home. So if I sound a bit flat it's because...my proposal wasn't quite as romantic as I'd hoped.'

'Well, at least he's done it, Daisy. And that's the main thing, because Nigel's the one you want.'

'I guess so,' she said flatly. 'I mean...yes. Yes... Of course he is.'

'And the ring's lovely.'

'It is.'

'And you'll be able to wear the dress.'

This seemed to buoy her momentarily. 'Yes. I'll be able to wear the dress. Although... Nigel's talking about a December wedding. Before he went into the office this morning he looked in his diary and suggested the twentieth of December.'

'Never mind, you can wear a wrap, or a gold pashmina, or have a matching jacket made.'

'That's not what I mean.'

'Then what's the problem, Daisy? I don't understand.'

'Well, don't you think December's a little bit...soon?'

'It's nerves,' I said to David later that day, as we did a postmortem on the party. We'd gone to my local vegetarian restaurant, Manna, for lunch. 'For the past three years Daisy's been gagging for Nigel to propose-as though her whole happiness depended on it-and now he's finally done it, she seems upset. It's the size of the commitment,' I said as I speared the last of my pumpkin gnocchi. 'It's suddenly hit her. She'll be absolutely fine in a few days.'

'But didn't you notice, Miranda?'

'Notice what?'

'What she said when Nigel asked her?'

'What she said when Nigel asked her?' I echoed. 'Well, I don't remember her saying anything.'

He put down his fork. 'Precisely.'

'What do you mean?'

'What I mean is-she didn't actually say ”yes”.'

I looked at him. 'Didn't she?'

He shook his head. 'Nope.'

I cast my mind back. 'Oh. You're right... I guess that was shock. Plus, it must have been hard for her to observe the usual formalities in that situation.'

David shrugged. 'Maybe.'

'Plus she was embarra.s.sed because he was drunk. I've never ever seen Nigel drunk before.'

'So what are they doing today?' he asked, as the waiter cleared our plates.

'Daisy's gone microlighting.'

'With Nigel?'