I've Got Your Number
“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.
Magnus is right, I tell myself. I’ve been overreacting. I’ve let them get to me. They probably can’t wait to welcome me into the family.
After all, I beat them all at Scrabble, didn’t I?
“Just think.” I clutch Magnus’s arm. “Not long now!”
“Hello?” Magnus answers his phone, which must be on vibrate. “Oh, hi, Neil.”