it’s
exactly
what I’d thought when I first met James). And lastly . . . lastly I don’t
simper
!
I poured all this out to James when I got to the pub, between viciously necking glasses of wine. I was so furious. I’d had such a great day, and before Gavin arrived like the ghost at the feast, I’d been having a great time in the pub. I paused to draw breath, and was about to have another huge gulp of pub Chardonnay. Suddenly, James put his hand on my wrist.
‘Toni, I’m going to ask you three questions, and you have to promise you’ll answer them completely honestly.’
‘What is this, like Truth or Dare?’
‘I’m serious. Completely honestly.’
‘Okay.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
‘Question One. What is your dream?’
‘Just one?’
‘As many as you like.’
‘To write. To travel. To make a difference. God, I sound like a Miss-World contestant. I don’t know. I’m only twenty-two. I want a life that’s extraordinary, and I want to share it with someone who feels the same.’ Bear in mind I was quite spectacularly drunk by then. There was probably quite a lot of wild hair and arm-waving that went with that little speech.
‘Question Two. Is that someone Gavin?’
‘Yes. No. It was once. Probably not any more. No. It’s definitely not.’ That was quite a scary thought, and for a moment, I thought I might cry. I put my glass down. ‘Excuse me,’ I said unsteadily, and went to the toilet. I washed my face, combed my hair and put some lipstick on. I don’t know many crises that aren’t made better by combing your hair and putting some lipstick on. So I didn’t love Gavin any more. After three years together, that was huge. Gavin was my most serious, well, to be honest, my
only
serious relationship. What would happen if we broke up?
I didn’t want to think about the implications of that. It was just too scary. So I did what any right-thinking girl would do. I went back out into the pub, bought two flaming sambucas, drank one, gave one to James and asked him to take me home with him.
When we woke up the next morning, I expected to feelterrible . . . awkward with James, ashamed of myself, awful about cheating on Gavin. But to my surprise, I felt quietly happy. James seemed pretty happy too . . . in fact he was happy twice more that morning. Later, as we sat eating toast in his kitchen, I remembered.
‘You never asked me Question Three.’
‘No, I never did.’
‘What was it?’
‘I’m not saying.’
‘Come on!’
‘No . . . It would have been okay in the pub when we were both pissed. But now it’ll just sound cheesy.’
‘I don’t mind cheesy. In fact I love cheesy. I’ve got cheese on my toast. See?’
That made him laugh, but then his face went serious again. ‘I’m not going to ask you now. But I will ask you Question Three one day. I promise.’
Two years later, on my twenty-fourth birthday, he handed me a beautiful dark blue box that he’d designed and made himself, with the words ‘Question Three’ printed on the lid. Inside was an antique sapphire ring. When I’d stopped crying and said yes, I said to him, ‘You were never going to ask me that in the pub all that time ago. You hardly knew me.’
‘I know. It was mad. You would have thought I was a psycho or it was a line. But I kind of knew, even then, that this was forever.’
Soppy, I know. But that’s James. And I think I’m bloody lucky to have him.
* * *
We woke up late on the Saturday morning, made love, went back to sleep, and then woke up and went for brunch at our favourite Italian coffee shop. I put all the thoughts about my doctor’s appointment to the back of my mind, and concentrated on enjoying a romantic morning with my lovely husband. James bought the papers and we split them between us, reading slowly, sipping our coffees and nibbling on almond croissants.
Two tables away, there was a couple with a baby and a little boy of about three. The baby was sitting in a high-chair
exactly
what I’d thought when I first met James). And lastly . . . lastly I don’t
simper
!
I poured all this out to James when I got to the pub, between viciously necking glasses of wine. I was so furious. I’d had such a great day, and before Gavin arrived like the ghost at the feast, I’d been having a great time in the pub. I paused to draw breath, and was about to have another huge gulp of pub Chardonnay. Suddenly, James put his hand on my wrist.
‘Toni, I’m going to ask you three questions, and you have to promise you’ll answer them completely honestly.’
‘What is this, like Truth or Dare?’
‘I’m serious. Completely honestly.’
‘Okay.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
‘Question One. What is your dream?’
‘Just one?’
‘As many as you like.’
‘To write. To travel. To make a difference. God, I sound like a Miss-World contestant. I don’t know. I’m only twenty-two. I want a life that’s extraordinary, and I want to share it with someone who feels the same.’ Bear in mind I was quite spectacularly drunk by then. There was probably quite a lot of wild hair and arm-waving that went with that little speech.
‘Question Two. Is that someone Gavin?’
‘Yes. No. It was once. Probably not any more. No. It’s definitely not.’ That was quite a scary thought, and for a moment, I thought I might cry. I put my glass down. ‘Excuse me,’ I said unsteadily, and went to the toilet. I washed my face, combed my hair and put some lipstick on. I don’t know many crises that aren’t made better by combing your hair and putting some lipstick on. So I didn’t love Gavin any more. After three years together, that was huge. Gavin was my most serious, well, to be honest, my
only
serious relationship. What would happen if we broke up?
I didn’t want to think about the implications of that. It was just too scary. So I did what any right-thinking girl would do. I went back out into the pub, bought two flaming sambucas, drank one, gave one to James and asked him to take me home with him.
When we woke up the next morning, I expected to feelterrible . . . awkward with James, ashamed of myself, awful about cheating on Gavin. But to my surprise, I felt quietly happy. James seemed pretty happy too . . . in fact he was happy twice more that morning. Later, as we sat eating toast in his kitchen, I remembered.
‘You never asked me Question Three.’
‘No, I never did.’
‘What was it?’
‘I’m not saying.’
‘Come on!’
‘No . . . It would have been okay in the pub when we were both pissed. But now it’ll just sound cheesy.’
‘I don’t mind cheesy. In fact I love cheesy. I’ve got cheese on my toast. See?’
That made him laugh, but then his face went serious again. ‘I’m not going to ask you now. But I will ask you Question Three one day. I promise.’
Two years later, on my twenty-fourth birthday, he handed me a beautiful dark blue box that he’d designed and made himself, with the words ‘Question Three’ printed on the lid. Inside was an antique sapphire ring. When I’d stopped crying and said yes, I said to him, ‘You were never going to ask me that in the pub all that time ago. You hardly knew me.’
‘I know. It was mad. You would have thought I was a psycho or it was a line. But I kind of knew, even then, that this was forever.’
Soppy, I know. But that’s James. And I think I’m bloody lucky to have him.
* * *
We woke up late on the Saturday morning, made love, went back to sleep, and then woke up and went for brunch at our favourite Italian coffee shop. I put all the thoughts about my doctor’s appointment to the back of my mind, and concentrated on enjoying a romantic morning with my lovely husband. James bought the papers and we split them between us, reading slowly, sipping our coffees and nibbling on almond croissants.
Two tables away, there was a couple with a baby and a little boy of about three. The baby was sitting in a high-chair
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