Is there really such a thing as a perfect proposal?

‘Over the next hundred days I intend to find out. I will find one hundred ways to propose to our Chief Proposer Suzie McKenzie and post the results here for your enjoyment. One thing’s for sure, not one of my proposals will be on top of the Eiffel Tower with a dozen red roses.’

Best friends Suzie and Harry are partners in romance. That is, they run the.PerfectProposal.com, coming to the aid of would-be grooms to create the ultimate marriage proposal.

But when Harry decides to catapult the business into the big leagues with a PR stunt all Suzie can see is a hundred days of heartbreak stretching ahead of her. But however exotic the location, or breath-takingly romantic the setting, Suzie has to keep remembering that ‘Marry Me?’ is the one question she can’t say yes to.

This business proposal should come with one hundred broken heart warnings... One hundred proposals, one hundred chances to say yes.

Also by Holly Martin

The Guestbook

HOLLY MARTIN

I live in sunny Bedfordshire in a house with round windows. I studied media at university, which led to a very glitzy career as a hotel receptionist, followed by an even more glamorous two years working in a bank. The moment that one of my colleagues received the much-coveted carriage clock for fifteen years’ service was the moment when I knew I had to escape. I quit my job and returned to university to train to be a teacher. Three years later, I emerged wide-eyed and terrified that I now had responsibility for the development of thirty young minds. I taught for four years before History Off The Page came to my school to do a Tudor day. I now drive round the country in my little white van, dressing up as a Viking one day and an Egyptian High Priestess the next.

I love to write. The characters do exactly what I want them to do, most of the time. Sometimes they do seem to go off and do their own thing without my permission. It is complete escapism into a world where I have full control.

I’ve been writing for four years now – every spare second I have, I’m scribbling ideas in a notebook or typing a scene on my laptop. I have written three romantic fiction books. Changing Casanova and The Chainsaw Masquerade were shortlisted for the Festival of Romance New Talent Award in 2012

My short story won the Belinda Jones Travel Club short story competition and was published in the Sunlounger anthology, alongside some of my favourite authors – Belinda Jones, Miranda Dickinson and Rosie Blake.

I won the Carina Valentine’s Competition at the Festival of Romance in 2013 and my first novel The Guestbook was published on Valentine’s Day.

You can follow me at http://hollymartinwriter.wordpress.com and on Twitter @hollymartin00

Huge thanks to my lovely friend Belinda Jones and my agent Madeleine Milburn who encouraged me to write this story, it quite simply wouldn’t have existed if it wasn’t for you. You both have been my rock through all of this and I feel very fortunate to have you both fighting my corner.

To Kirsty Maclennan and Verity Forbes who read the first half of the book when I was losing faith in it and demanded that I finish it.

For my mom, my biggest fan, who reads every word I have written a hundred times over and loves it every single time.

To my family, my dad, my brother Lee and my sister-in-law Julie, for your support, love, encouragement and endless excitement for my stories.

To Victoria Stone, who read the finished piece first, for falling in love with it and then screaming very loudly across Twitter and Facebook how much she loved it.

To my best friends Gareth and Mandie, for your endless support, patience and enthusiasm.

The other half of the Gosling Girls, Megan Wood and Laura Lovelock. I love my Gosling Girls so much and I couldn’t do it without you all. For the endless promotion, tweets, the blog tour, the videos, the excitement, the gushing and the love. You are amazing.

For my twinnie, the gorgeous Aven Ellis for just being my wonderful friend, for your support, for cheering me on and for keeping me entertained with wonderful stories and pictures of hot men. Thank you for lending me the beautiful Harrison Flynn for my Ice Hockey game in Toronto.

For Sharon Sant for listening to me moan and stress and panic with endless patience and for all your support and friendship.

And some other gorgeous people who have encouraged, supported, promoted, got excited or just listened; Erin McEwan, Lisa Dickenson, Jaimie Admans, Jack Croxall, Dan Thompson, Sharon Wilden, Kelly Rufus, Pernille Hughes, Rosie Blake, Simona Elena, Katey Beeden, Maryline, Jo Hurst, Dawn Crooks, Jenny Marston, Kim Nash, Laura Delve, Janet Emson, Pat Elliott, Agi, Becca, Alba, Ana, Jess Bickerton, Kate Gordon, Kiri Mills, Louise Wykes, Stacey Hargreaves, Maggie Woodward, Trish H, Jac and Mark Rumsey, Jodie and James Brown, Arron Davenport and Keith Barrow (for your brilliant proposal video).

To all those involved in the blog tour and cover reveal. To anyone who has read my book and taken the time to tell me you’ve enjoyed it or wrote a review, thank you so much.

To the wonderful supportive HQ Digital authors, you guys are the very best.

And finally to all at HQ Digital who have helped to bring this book to publication, my wonderful editor Lucy Gilmour, for making the book so much better, the digital team, Anna and the design team for this incredible cover and anyone else there who has helped to make this book a reality.

Thank you, I love you all.

For my Mom

For the gorgeous Gosling Girls

One Hundred Proposals

Holly Martin

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2014

Copyright © Holly Martin 2014

Holly Martin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2014 ISBN: 9781472097927

Version date: 2018-09-17

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Title Page

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Extract

Endpages

About the Publisher

Prologue

‘Ok, you can open your eyes now,’ Harry said.

I blinked in the gloom of the cave. Moonlight tumbled through the opening above us, reflecting off the waterfall as it cascaded into the pool below. We had been in Australia for just a few days but I knew it would never cease to amaze me. Dancing in the pockets of the cave walls were hundreds of fireflies, sparkling like fairy lights.

Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

The fireflies started to gather together and slowly a shape was formed. I frowned in confusion and then within seconds the words, ‘Suzie, Marry Me,’ stood proud against the cave walls, written by the fireflies.

I whirled round to face Harry in shock. ‘How did you do that?’ I looked back at the fireflies, not wanting to miss anything. Would they perhaps move to form the lyrics of my favourite song? Were they super trained fireflies and in a minute they’d all whip out their mini cheerleader pom-poms and start some kind of dance where they would balance precariously on each other’s backs?

‘It’s some kind of fruit juice, they love it.’

I fumbled in my bag for my camera. ‘We have to get a picture for the website.’

I fired off a couple of shots and I could see a few other tourists had entered the cave and were clearly waiting for my answer. They’d be waiting for a long time.

‘So what do you think?’ Harry said. ‘Is this the perfect proposal?’

‘It’s definitely one of your best, very romantic.’ I focused my attention on the photos I was taking. They were going to look fantastic with the waterfall in soft focus in the background and the fireflies in sharp detail set against the inky blue light of the moon.

‘But still not the perfect proposal?’

‘Not for me, but someone else would love it.’ I watched the faces of the other tourists fall at my callous response. ‘We’re not together, we just work with each other.’ One couple looked at me dubiously, so I pressed on. ‘Our company creates the perfect proposal, this kind of thing is our bread and butter.’

I resisted the sudden urge to rush over to them and start handing out business cards. As if reading my mind, Harry slung an arm round my shoulder, restraining me with his hand.

I looked up at him innocently but he didn’t seem convinced.

The tourists moved further down the cave, leaving us alone.

‘You always do that,’ Harry said.

‘What, promote our business? I know, I can’t help it. I’m just so proud of what we’ve achieved that I want to tell anyone that listens and anyone that doesn’t.’

‘No, not that. You always say our company, our business. It’s yours, you started it. I’m just the tech guy.’

It was just me to start with. I created the.PerfectProposal.com over two years ago when my boyfriend at the time proposed drunkenly to me over a greasy kebab. It struck me that maybe the menfolk of this world might need a little helping hand to create a proposal their girlfriends would remember forever. Although the greasy kebab is not one I’m likely to forget.

Harry was my web designer. When the business first started he would come by my office, the back bedroom in my home, every day to help update the website with my new ideas, photos and special offers. In the end it made sense to make him a permanent feature. Our website looked fantastic and as an online company this was integral to our success.

But Harry wasn’t just the geeky IT guy, far from it. He was the biggest man I had ever seen in my life, with large thighs and big feet. He had stubbly, dark hair and chocolate eyes. But he also had a vivid imagination – where I was organising the logistics for a champagne helicopter trip, he would be the one that would come up with something completely unique like using fireflies.

‘And you always put yourself down. We’re equal partners now, you helped to make the company a success too,’ I said.

He shrugged, never keen to accept that he played such an important part in it. He gestured to the fireflies that were starting to break formation now. ‘Is it too sickly?’

I let my camera hang round my neck and leaned into him, I loved the way I fitted against him. ‘I love it, I really do, it’s… magical. But there’s still something missing.’

Was there really such a thing as a perfect proposal? Three months ago, just before Valentine’s Day, Harry had made it his mission to provide me with one. But deep down I knew what I wanted and I doubted Harry would be able to deliver it. I should have told him that when he first started this wild goose chase. It would have saved me a lot of heartache.

Chapter One

Three Months Before

I put the phone down on another excited client and sighed. It was February 11th and we’d had a surge of customers all desperately wanting to propose on top of the Eiffel Tower on Valentine’s Day. I felt like screaming. It was only by careful planning that I’d arranged that my customers weren’t going to be there at the same time. That’s just what a girl wants to feel special, to see other girls being proposed to at the same place and time that she was. Was there no originality anymore? Harry was brilliant at coming up with unique proposals, but no matter how many times I had tried to sell Harry’s ideas to them, they wanted the traditional and that was that.

‘Another Eiffel Tower?’ asked Harry as he absentmindedly uploaded photos to our rolling gallery.

‘He wants a dozen red roses delivered to the observation deck at eight.’ I rubbed my head in defeat. ‘What about something different, going to the ballet or proposing over a bag of chips at the end of Brighton Pier?’

He swivelled in his chair. ‘What would be your perfect proposal?’

I looked at him and had a sudden flash of him holding me in his arms and asking me to marry him.

‘I don’t know, the perfect guy would definitely be a bonus.’

‘Ok so you have your perfect guy and it’s not greasy kebab boy –’

‘Let’s be clear, it was the kebab that was greasy not the man.’

He waved away the details. ‘So Orlando Bloom or some other non-greasy hunk is asking you to marry him, how would he do it?’

I took a sip of tea whilst I pondered this. If one of my customers phoned up at a loss for inspiration I had a hundred ideas. But for me, my mind was blank.

‘I have an idea.’ Harry’s eyes were suddenly bright with excitement. He whirled round on his chair and started tapping away furiously on his computer. I peered over his shoulder at our website.

Proposer’s Blog

How Do You Propose to a Proposer?

Over the next hundred days I intend to find out. I will find one hundred ways to propose to our Chief Proposer Suzie McKenzie, and post the results here for your enjoyment. One thing’s for sure, not one of my proposals will be on top of the Eiffel Tower with a dozen red roses.

‘You can’t put that, we’ve had fifteen customers who want to propose like that over the last week,’ I said, ignoring the sudden thundering of my heart that Harry was going to propose to me.

‘Then maybe they’ll have a rethink.’ Harry was already uploading a picture of a diamond ring onto the blog.

‘Or ask for their money back.’

But Harry was still writing.

Day 1: The Traditional Proposal. Location: Our office.

He stood up and got down on one knee – yanking the snake ring off his thumb, he held it aloft to my shocked face.

‘Suzie McKenzie, you are my best friend and I cannot imagine finding anyone I would rather spend the rest of my life with. Marry me.’

The world stopped. My mouth was dry. How unfair was it that the one thing I wanted most in the world was happening right in front of me and it was as real as a pair of breasts on Sunset Boulevard.

I wanted to snatch the ring off him, stuff it on my finger and march him down to the nearest registry office. But I didn’t.

I cleared my throat of the huge lump. ‘Too clichéd, wrong location, wrong ring.’

He grinned as he appraised his ring and stood up, clearly not fussed by this rejection. He started typing.

Crashed and Burned. Apparently a snake ring with evil red eyes and the beige walls of our cramped office isn’t good enough for her. I’ll try again tomorrow.

Surely not. A hundred days of this torment? I didn’t think I could bear it.

He looked at his watch. ‘Oh, I’ve got to go, hot date with Sexy Samantha again tonight.’

Samantha was his first girlfriend in nearly a year. When I first met him he seemed to go through a different girl each week, so I wasn’t sure why he’d gone through the sudden dry patch. But Samantha was definitely the type to tempt him out of it.

I’d had the pleasure of meeting Sexy Samantha the night before. Suspicious of Harry’s relationship with his best friend, she’d barrelled into my home and demanded that Harry introduce me. I came downstairs in leggings and an oversized black hoodie – I knew I was hardly dressed to impress. And impress her I didn’t. The look of relief when Samantha saw me was palpable. She, on the other hand, was a vision of heavenly loveliness. She was almost as tall as Harry, with long blonde hair and curves everywhere. My eyes were immediately drawn to a big pair of breasts, squeezed between an overly tight top. Harry was definitely a breast man. All of his girlfriends were very well-endowed in the breast department. Some of the breasts, I suspected, weren’t even real – though Harry didn’t seem to mind. I was more in the straight up, straight down department, definitely no curves and not really any breasts to speak of.

I watched Harry log off his computer with haste and obvious excitement about what Sexy Samantha had in store for him that night.

‘I have a hot date too,’ I blurted out, watching for any flicker of jealousy. Of course there was none.

‘That’s great Suze.’ He looked genuinely pleased. ‘You haven’t seen anyone since Jack…’ He trailed off. My life was defined into two segments. Before Jack and After Jack. I wondered if Jules felt the same. He grabbed his jacket, averting his eyes from me, perhaps knowing that he had said something he shouldn’t. ‘It’s about time you got back on the horse again. We can swap notes tomorrow.’

‘Or not.’ I couldn’t bear thinking about that conversation. The literal ins and outs of Harry’s date would be something I really didn’t want to hear. I’d changed the subject twice that morning already when he started giving me explicit details that would be right at home on the pages of an erotic fiction novel. Sexy Samantha was far kinkier than those baby blue eyes might suggest. Besides, what did I have to contribute to that conversation? My hot date consisted of a tub of Ben and Jerry’s and a night in with the beautiful Brad Pitt. I logged off my own computer, keen to show him I also had something exciting to run off to.

‘Where did you meet him?’

I racked my brain as I fluffed out my hair in the reflection of a photo showing me and Harry covered in snow and grinning ear to ear after sledging at the indoor Snow Zone. Before Jack.

‘Skiing,’ I said, then wished I hadn’t.

He stopped in his hasty exit. ‘Skiing? When have you been skiing?’

‘I go every Sunday, skiing lessons, he’s my ski instructor.’ I was making it worse.

‘You hate skiing.’

I had said that hadn’t I. Because this photo was taken when we had our first and last skiing lesson a year before. I had spent forty minutes falling on my bum – as kids as young as five glided effortlessly past me – and the last twenty minutes of the lesson, after Harry had been upgraded to the adult slopes, trying to get up and rolling around on the floor with my skis in the air, looking like an oversized beetle stranded on its back. Harry had felt sorry for me that I had failed so spectacularly and had taken me sledging instead. Much more up my street. There was no skill at all involved in sliding down a slope in a red plastic sledge.

‘I like it now. I’m very proficient. Obviously just needed the right instructor.’

‘Well that’s great, maybe we can go together sometime.’

I fixed a smile onto my face. ‘Maybe.’

‘What’s his name?’

I cast around for a suitable name and a suitable adjective to describe him, something comparable to Sexy Samantha. I had nothing, no names in my head at all. The only name in my head was Harry and that would be too weird. He was staring at me, waiting for me to come up with a name, the silence stretched on. I had to say something.

‘Tim.’ I almost shouted out with relief. ‘Tiny Tim.’

Great. Just great.

Harry’s face fell. ‘Tiny Tim?’

‘Yes.’

‘As in…’ he waggled his little finger at me.

‘No, no, of course not, he’s very big in that department. Big all over in fact. Huge. It’s kind of an ironic name.’

‘Big like me?’

‘Well I have no idea how big you are in that department.’ My eyes cast down to the sizeable bulge in his jeans and I felt my cheeks burn as he clearly saw me checking him out.

‘I meant in height,’ Harry said. I’m sure I saw his mouth twitch as he suppressed a smile.

‘Oh yes, he’s very tall.’

‘Good. That’s good. I have a friend who’s a ski instructor at the Snow Zone, he might know your Tim. What’s his surname?’

‘Timmings.’

I was a terrible liar.

‘Tim Timmings?’

‘That’s right.’

A horn tooted outside and Harry peeled back the net curtain to wave at Sexy Samantha as she leaned on the bonnet of her sexy red convertible. I didn’t think I’d ever be so relieved to see her again.

‘Well have fun.’ Harry threw me a cursory wave as he thundered down the stairs. A second later I heard the front door slam.

I peered out the window, hoping not to be noticed as Harry swept Sexy Samantha into his arms and swung her round as if he hadn’t seen her in months. As he deposited her on the floor she waved up at me and I was forced to wave politely back.

With a wheel spin and the stereo blaring out something young and hip, the red convertible roared up the road, taking my heart with it.

I’d been in love with Harry for two long, painful years and we were further away today from getting together than we had been when we first met. We were now firmly in the friend zone and there was never any coming back from that.

Two years was way too long for unrequited love. It was time I moved on with someone else. I would just fall out of love with him, simple as that.

I sighed as I walked into my bedroom and got changed into my cow print onesie. I flicked through some songs on my iPod until I found something suitably rousing and as Gloria Gaynor started belting out ‘I am what I am’, I turned up the volume, leapt up onto the bed and danced and wiggled my bum in time with the lyrics. I was highly skilled in the playing of air drums and as Gloria reached a crescendo so did my frenetic drum playing. As the instrumental kicked in I leapt off the bed, doing the splits mid-air. I pulled a muscle in my groin and as I flicked my hair theatrically out of my face I saw Harry’s eyes widen in horror as I landed on top of him, one leg somehow hooked over his shoulder as my other foot kicked him square in his crotch.

He screamed in pain. I screamed with embarrassment as he staggered back and landed hard on his bum, my leg still wrapped round his neck.

Gloria was still singing loudly in the background as we stared at each other. Finally I managed to speak.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Currently, wondering if I’ll ever be able to have sex again. Can you please get off my lap?’

I quickly climbed off him, kneeing him in the face as I tried to stand up. He slowly staggered to his feet, doubled over in obvious pain.

‘I forgot my wallet,’ he said, by way of explanation.

I swallowed. ‘You saw me dance?’

He lifted his head and this time there was no mistaking the grin. ‘From the very beginning to the dramatic finale.’

I groaned.

‘I better go, Samantha will be wondering where I am. Nice onesie by the way. Does Tiny Tim have one too? A horse or a pig perhaps?’

I stared down at myself, at the pink udders hanging limply from my stomach, and wanted the ground to swallow me up. ‘He’s not coming round till later.’

‘Of course not. And I imagine he thinks you look quite cute in it.’

Cute? Puppies were cute. Is that how he thought of me, as a cute little puppy?

He moved to the top of the stairs and I followed him.

‘Do you think I look cute in it?’

He turned and walked back up a few stairs, kneeling on the stair below me so we were eye to eye. ‘Yes.’

My heart dropped. I was so far in the friend zone I was now categorised as cute. He’d be patting me on the back next and telling me he saw me like a sister.

‘Sexy cute?’

‘No.’

My heart sank into my feet.

‘I bet Samantha would look sexy in it?’

‘I doubt it. I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to look sexy in it.’

I felt slightly better at this.

‘And don’t underestimate the value of cute, it’s a great quality to have.’ He leaned forward and kissed me on the nose. ‘And don’t stay up too late, I have a big day planned for you tomorrow.’

He ran down the stairs and was gone a second later.

I touched my nose, still feeling the softness of his lips. He thought I was cute. I smiled as I fell in love with him all over again.

Chapter Two

I woke the next day with a start, being quite simply torn from a dream about Jack – a memory of playing with him on the beach as he tried to put wet seaweed down my back. As I became more conscious, the loss of losing him hit me all over again.

I knew immediately that someone was in the room with me. I was face down on my pillow and I leaned up and swept my curtain of tangled brown hair off my face. Harry was sitting next to me on the bed, sipping his coffee and reading my very dog-eared copy of The Hobbit.

I scowled at him. I wasn’t a morning person.

‘Do you not knock?’

Harry’s attention didn’t even waver from the page he was reading. ‘You gave me a key.’

‘I could have been naked.’

He put his book down and looked at me. ‘All the more reason for me not to knock.’

I blushed and climbed off the bed.

Most mornings I woke to this. I must admit, it was a lovely way to wake up. One night, after these early morning visits had become more regular, I went to bed in my sexiest lingerie in the hope that the following morning he would come in and be so turned on that he might immediately ravish me. But not only did he not even bat an eyelid when he saw me in my black, satin nightie, he was more excited about his McDonalds breakfast and the free hash brown he had been given by the girl flirting with him behind the counter than what I had to offer. To add insult to injury, as I tried to arrange myself subtly into a sexy pose on the bed next to him as he chomped through his Bacon and Egg McMuffin, I had simply slithered off the bed into a crumpled heap on the floor. Nowadays it seemed much easier and more comfortable to sleep in my regular pyjamas.

Harry handed me a coffee fresh from the café round the corner. I took a sip – it was made exactly how I liked it, with three sugars and a dash of hazelnut syrup. As I went to take another sip, I realised that a small heart had been drawn in the froth on the top. I smiled and hovered near his side, peering round him to the brown paper bag I could see tucked by his hip.

He was busy reading so I coughed loudly to gain his attention. When he glanced up, I looked deliberately at the bag.

‘How do you know this is for you?’

‘Because you always bring me nice things from the café. What is it this morning, an apricot Danish, ooh a walnut plait or…’

He whisked it out the bag and showed it to me, and the words dried in my throat. Iced into the top of my favourite cinnamon swirl were the words ‘Marry Me.’

I had almost forgotten about this silly hundred proposals thing. I’d hoped he’d forgotten as well. But now it looked like he really did mean to torture me. One hundred days. One hundred different ways to break my heart.

I looked at him and he was watching me hopefully.

‘It’s certainly unique.’ I took the bun from him, and picked a currant out of it, averting my gaze from his. I forced my voice to sound normal before I spoke again. ‘If I bite into this am I at risk of swallowing a diamond ring?’

He shook his head. ‘No ring. You said a ring was clichéd. Besides, why propose with diamonds when you can propose with cinnamon and coffee?’

‘You should take a picture of it before I eat it. Put it on the blog.’ I had a huge lump in my throat.

‘Good idea.’ He whipped out his phone, pressed a few buttons and pointed it in my direction. I held it out for him to get a good angle and realised my hands were shaking. Harry realised it too. To my shame, tears swam in my eyes.

Harry was off the bed in a second. ‘What’s wrong, what’s happened?’

‘Nothing, I’m fine. Just tired.’ I stepped away from him but he pulled me back, holding me tight and squashing the bun between us. I breathed him in, his wonderful earthy smell as he started to stroke my back.

‘Did something happen with Tiny Tim?’

I couldn’t keep up with the lie any longer and it had achieved nothing anyway.

‘We broke up,’ I said into his chest, hoping that would explain why I was soaking his shirt with my tears.

‘Oh honey, I’m sorry.’ His hand moved to my hair and my breath caught in my throat. ‘Had you been seeing him long?’

Oh what a tangled web we weave.

‘A few weeks. It wasn’t serious, but I really liked him. But obviously I liked him more than he liked me.’

‘Well then the man’s an idiot. Who wouldn’t love a girl in a cow print onesie?’

I giggled.

He tilted my face up to look at him.

‘Right, enough tears. Any man who makes you cry is not worth it.’

If only he knew.

‘Anyway, I have a day out planned for you today, so stop moping around and get yourself showered and dressed.’

He released me and we both looked at the squashed bun. Although it looked a bit worse for wear, the words ‘Marry Me’ were still very obvious on the top. Harry took a photo and I quickly ate it so I wouldn’t have to stare at the empty words any longer. It tasted good, despite the fact that with every mouthful my heart broke a little bit more.

‘So, as proposals go, is this what you imagined for yourself?’ Harry asked, when it was gone.

‘Undoubtedly. The perfect proposal. So you don’t have to bother with the other ninety-eight different ways now. Write on the blog that you bought me a cinnamon swirl and I caved. I’m a cheap date, easily pleased.’

Harry pulled a face. ‘It was a bit cheap and naff, wasn’t it? Ok, for my next one it will be something huge.’

‘Really, the cinnamon swirl was cute… and don’t underestimate the value of cute.’

But Harry was already walking away into the office, scrolling through his phone as he went.

‘Harry, are you listening? Nothing says ‘I love you’ like a personalised cinnamon swirl.’

‘Get in the shower, woman, I need to make some calls.’

I sighed. I had to sway him from this path. Ninety-eight heart-breaking days stretched ahead of me like an endless desert, with no respite from the sun.

I got in the shower and stuck my head under the stream.

No, I could do this. Proposals were my entire waking life. My dreams were plagued by them too. Something like this could only be good for business. I just had to become immune to the words. They were empty and meaningless. And now I knew that I was to expect it every day, I could prepare myself for it, pretend in my head the words meant something else.

I got dressed quickly and walked into the office.

‘Hey.’ Harry was busy typing. ‘Our blog has nineteen followers already.’

‘Our Proposer’s Blog? This hundred proposals malarkey?’

‘Malarkey? I’m offended.’ He smiled up at me briefly before returning his attention to the screen. ‘Yes, I guess they want to see what I come up with next.’

I leaned over him to see what he had written and caught a whiff of his wonderful clean earthy smell. There was the close-up picture of my squashed bun, and another picture I hadn’t realised he had taken – of me eating it, my hair a full bird’s nest, my face red and blotchy from the tears, dressed in my rather unflattering cow print onesie. Great!

Under the picture was Harry’s blog.

Proposer’s Blog

Day 2: The Cinnamon Swirl Proposal. Location: Suzie’s bedroom (I assure you, nothing saucy going on here).

Is the way to a woman’s heart through her stomach?

Our Suzie McKenzie has a very sweet tooth and so I thought to charm her with a sweet proposal of her own. Nadia’s Bakery, St Patrick’s Road makes the best Cinnamon Swirls in the world and it’s one of Suzie’s all-time favourite things to eat for breakfast. So when I explained the situation to the lovely Nadia this morning she was more than happy to provide me with a personalised one along with a heart-topped latte.

So what was Suzie’s reaction? She seemed a bit blasé about it actually. Wolfed it down and barely registered the words.

That wasn’t true of course, but it was better he wrote that than writing that I burst into tears.

I always thought those proposers that pop the question with a ring at the bottom of the champagne glass were silly – who wants to fish the diamond ring out of the toilet a few days later? Though now Suzie’s eaten my proposal, there’s nothing left of it apart from the icing on her lips.

I immediately checked my lips and I saw Harry smirk out of the corner of my eye.

Next time, I will do something grand. Something she can’t possibly miss. Plus, who would really say yes over a 59p Cinnamon Swirl?

‘That makes me sound shallow,’ I said, squeezing past him to log on to my own computer.

‘Not shallow, just greedy. And don’t bother logging on, we’re going out.’

‘I can’t, it’s our busiest time of the year, you know that. Three days before Valentine’s Day, all those last minute Larrys will be phoning us up for support.’

‘I’ve already diverted the calls to your mobile and you can still pick up your emails, besides today is completely work orientated – we’re sourcing new locations, so stop making excuses and get your boots on.’

When I hesitated, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out the office.

I laughed. ‘Where are we going?’

‘First stop, we’re going to buy you some decent pyjamas, so the next boyfriend won’t be scared off by seeing you in that onesie.’

I stopped dead and when he turned to look at me, his eyes were kind.

‘Jack bought it for me,’ I said, quietly.

‘I know.’

‘I’m not getting rid of it.’

‘I’m not saying throw it out. But I know Jack, he had a wicked sense of humour and you know as well as I do that he bought it for you as a joke because you used to take the piss out of onesies and people that wore them. You know that he never intended for you to wear it at all let alone every day since his death. If you want to keep it, keep it. All I’m talking about is options. Something else you could wear that would show off that fabulous figure of yours.’

I opened my mouth to protest as the last words he said slammed into my brain. Fabulous figure?

He moved his hands to my shoulders and when he spoke his voice was soft.

‘I know you’re trying to keep your brother alive, keep him close, but he would be cringing if he could see you wearing that thing and you know that. Keep him close with your memories of him, not by compromising who you are.’

I blinked. That was very profound for half nine on a Thursday morning.

‘I’m just saying, the Suzie McKenzie I know and love wouldn’t be caught dead in something like that.’

‘I think it’s funny.’ I knew I sounded like a petulant child.

‘Yes, for about five minutes after you opened your present – it’s not quite so funny eight months later.’

He had a point. I’d washed it so many times that the white patches were now grey and the udders were looking decidedly limp.

‘And while we’re on the subject. You can stop wearing black as well. We’re not in the Victorian times anymore.’

He pulled me into the bedroom and I followed, still in shock over his brutal honesty. He opened my wardrobe and pulled out my favourite scarlet jumper dress. ‘You can wear this today with those purple leggings.’

They would clash horribly. I smiled

‘And you can wear them with those Barbie pink boots you love so much and…’ He rooted around in one of my drawers, finally found what he had been looking for, pulled it out and thrust it into my face. ‘This. You’ll wear this.’

‘But –’

‘No buts. Get changed. You have five minutes.’

I stared after his retreating back and then down at the black shirt and black trousers I had put on out of habit. In the months after Jack’s death my taste in bright and garish clothes had seemed disrespectful somehow. Was one month too soon to return back to my colourful spots, stripes and swirls? Was two months? But now it had been eight months and I had seemingly been wearing black ever since. My bright clothes even seemed to have a thin layer of dust on them as they hung forgotten in my wardrobe. Harry had a point. Again.

I came downstairs a few minutes later, dressed in my purple leggings, scarlet jumper, pink boots and my red and gold spotted sequinned beret that I adored and Jack hated because he said I looked like a toadstool. I felt lighter already.

Harry grinned when he saw me. ‘You look beautiful.’ He offered me his arm. ‘Now let’s go.’

I leaned into him and walked out into the early morning sunshine.

*

‘No way. I’m not doing that,’ I said, staring at the scene before me in horror. ‘There’s nothing romantic about that.’

‘Who says proposals have to be romantic?’ Harry said as he bent down to forcefully remove my boots.

‘It’s the rules. Flowers, fireworks, chocolates. A stuffed teddy with the words emblazoned across a red heart. Not this. Never this.’

‘I disagree.’

‘You would,’ I said as Harry pushed me gently but forcibly forwards in the queue.

‘I think proposals can be weird, funny or in the case of this little adventure, adrenaline filled.’

I was next.

‘If I die –’

‘I’ll wear a cow print onesie to your funeral. Now get up there.’

My phone rang in my pocket.

‘Oh I have to get that, shame I’ll miss my turn.’

But to my annoyance, Harry had already wrestled my phone from my pocket and had answered it. He was more than capable of dealing with our customers and he knew I knew that.

‘Are you going or what, love?’ asked a big gruff man whose face looked like it had been punched several times. His nose was bent in two places and he had a huge scar across his forehead. Had he sustained these injuries doing this? I shrunk back but Harry pushed me forward.

‘Yes she is, and send her as high as you can.’

The man nodded, somewhat evilly I thought.

I climbed the steps to my doom and they attached thin rubber cables to my harness. I kept my eyes on Harry as the man bounced behind me for a few seconds, causing me to bounce as well. A moment later I was propelled some ten feet into the air, a scream tearing from my throat. I fell back to the earth but no sooner had I touched the ground than I was sent back into the air again, this time even higher than the last.

We had been walking along the Thames when the sounds of screams had attracted us. As we rounded the corner, we saw the bungee trampolines and watched with amusement as we saw people screaming, being bounced higher and higher in the air. My amusement had quickly turned to horror when I realised Harry had paid for me to have a go, and that we had come here deliberately for this reason.

I screamed again as I flailed in the air, kicking my legs helplessly in the hope that it would slow my descent. Each time I thought I was going to crash into the ground, I came to a slow stop, bounced gracefully off the trampoline and was propelled back into the air again. As I was thrust into the air for the fifth time, a bubble of laughter escaped my throat. It was a rush – a terrifying, brilliant rush. The man bounced with me, sending me higher, and I roared with joy.

All too soon the experience was over, and the man slowed me down and stopped me. He unhooked me and I quickly clambered down the steps and ran straight into Harry’s arms, still laughing uncontrollably.

Finally my laughter subsided.

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re very welcome,’ he said, into my forehead. ‘You see, at this point, while your heart is still pounding furiously and with the grin plastered on your face, I would propose.’

‘And I would say yes.’

I felt him smile into my hair.

‘So one we can definitely add to our repertoire?’

‘Yes, I take it all back. I love it.’

‘They’re not here all the time, but the guy is going to give me his card as they go all round the UK. We can phone them up if need be and find out where they are.’

‘Excellent, it’s great to get contacts like this.’

‘Are you ready for the next part of our day?’

I pulled back, intrigued. ‘There’s more?’

‘Yes.’ He chivalrously picked up the bag containing the pyjamas he had bought me earlier. Very simple, very elegant satin pyjamas. I’d liked the black but Harry put his foot down and we’d eventually agreed on a dusty rose.

‘Was the phone call anything good?’

‘I’ve emailed over to him our basic package.’

I sighed. ‘That’s the fourth today.’

‘Hey, the basic package is a good little money earner. You know – on average – half the customers that buy the twenty pound package from us, come back and spend ten times that on a big extravagant proposal.’

‘I know, but at this time of year I kind of expect to get more big proposals rather than so many basic packages.’

Harry was right, we earned quite a bit from our basic package. For twenty pounds, we sent our customers a brochure of our top fifty proposals. Ideas ranging from the romantic to the ridiculous, top class restaurants to tiny little tucked away cafés strewn with fairy lights. We included days out, fun experiences and romantic getaways. We also included vouchers for discounts and special offers at these hotels and restaurants and if our customers went there, we also got ten percent of their final bill from the companies for introducing our customers to them in the first place. It also gave brief details of more elaborate proposals, something only we could organise, with the promise of a refund of the twenty pounds if they were to book one of the grander proposals with us.

‘Romance isn’t always about big gestures though,’ Harry said. ‘Sometimes it’s the words the man finds or the effort that he has gone to. It doesn’t have to be something expensive.’

‘I know that, the smaller gestures are sometimes the best, a message written in the sand on a favourite beach or a personalised cinnamon swirl.’ I nudged him as we walked along the road and he smiled. ‘But from a business point of view I’m not sure people paying us twenty pounds to send them to propose elsewhere is the best idea. They could spend a hundred pounds or more at these posh places. That’s a hundred pounds they could have spent with us.’

Harry switched sides with me and I wondered why as he put himself between me and two men who were arguing, placing his hand on the small of my back as he nudged me round them. I felt embarrassed by the goose bumps that suddenly exploded over my body at his touch.

Harry continued on as if he hadn’t noticed my heart leap out of my chest. ‘Most people have in their mind what kind of proposal they want to do before they contact us. For most of them it would involve some kind of romantic meal, so they’re not likely to spend their money with us anyway. By providing them with a list of romantic places to eat, not only do we get the twenty pounds but also any kickbacks from the restaurants too. We’ve probably earned more money from the basic package than we have from the big proposals – so I wouldn’t knock the smaller gestures if I were you. Come on, through here.’

Harry ducked into a tiny alleyway that wound round the corner out of sight. He knew London like the back of his hand and very rarely went on the underground. There was always so much more to see when on foot. I followed him, his hulking frame almost filling the alley wall to wall. The walls were covered in graffiti and chewing gum, but some of the pictures sprayed on the bricks were very skilful. As we came to an old boarded-up window, he stopped and as I drew near he pulled me to his side, with his hand at my waist, sending delicious shivers down my spine.

‘There’s a place called Bubblegum Alley in California, and a Chewing Gum Wall in Seattle, where millions of pieces of gum have been stuck on the walls. It’s so bright and colourful that what started as something gross has now been declared an official tourist attraction. People travel from miles around to see it and to add their own gum to it. Some have even created little works of art amongst the thousands of globules.’

He stood back a bit and pointed to the wall. There in a heart made from pink chewing gum were the words ‘Annie, marry me,’ also made from chewing gum.

‘Love can be found in the most unlikely of places, you just have to look for it.’

He stared down at me and for a moment I wasn’t sure if he was talking about him, or about me and him.

‘It doesn’t need to be about romance, just little heartfelt gestures.’

I smiled. ‘I wonder if she said yes.’

Harry pointed to the green letters written in globules of chewing gum underneath the heart. In big proud letters, the word ‘Yes’, stood out.

‘I like it.’ I grabbed my phone from my pocket and took a few shots. I had to put this on the website.

‘I knew you would.’

‘You see, I don’t need big gestures, so whatever you have planned for our next proposal, it doesn’t need to be a big yacht or a trip to the moon.’

He walked away, heading towards the sunlight that was piercing our gloom.

‘I’ll cancel the space rocket then.’

‘Harry, I’m serious. Don’t waste your money on me.’

He ignored me as we stepped out into the sunlight. He was incredibly generous with his money and he had a lot of it. He didn’t get a very good salary from me but he didn’t really need it. Years before, whilst travelling around America, he’d had the foresight to invest in a tiny little up-and-coming online social media site called Connected. He’d given a thousand dollars at the time, money he had won at a casino, and years later, when Connected had been the biggest social media site in America and probably the world, he had sold his shares for a huge sum. He’d never told me how much he got from that little endeavour. But it was enough that he could afford the huge house on the other side of the green from me, bought when the property prices had plummeted. And he always seemed to have enough money for little gifts and meals out.

‘Spending money on you is never a waste. And we’re running late now so we’re going to have to run.’

He grabbed my hand and started jogging through the streets, winding his way expertly through the other people.

‘We could catch the tube,’ I whined, as I tried to keep up with his long-legged pace.

‘Running’s much more fun,’ Harry said, without breaking his stride.

*

The Glade at Sketch was like nothing I’d ever seen before. With its white bricked front, Sketch looked like a simple townhouse – and we’d actually walked past the place before we’d realised it was there. But down the darkened staircase and to the left, a tranquil wooded glade had been transported from some fairy tale forest to this seemingly unassuming restaurant in central London. Trees covered every wall and surface, the leaves of which were painted in every shade of green and gold imaginable. A huge chandelier dominated the ceiling, casting delicate lights over every surface from its tangle of branches. Tiny gold fireflies danced around the walls and floor. Mirrored panels near the roof moved slowly, catching the light from the huge sun roof above us and sending its rays across the room as if the sun was moving through the trees. Wicker chairs, tables and sofas with huge green embroidered cushions were placed casually throughout the room as if they were garden furniture and we were all just simply sitting out in the garden somewhere, enjoying the sun.

‘Harry Forbes, we have a reservation for afternoon tea.’ Harry said to the beautiful waitress who looked like a woodland nymph with the plaits and twists in her hair, and her floaty dress.

The waitress showed us to our table and we quickly placed an order for tea. Breakfast tea for me, something that sounded like a rare tropical disease for Harry.

‘Harry, this place is beautiful.’ I couldn’t stop looking around, until my eyes met with his and I realised he’d been watching me. ‘Thank you for today.’

‘My pleasure. I just wanted you to have some fun. You’ve been so down lately.’ He paused, awkwardly, while he rearranged the cups on the table. ‘The food here is amazing.’

I reached across and squeezed his hand. ‘Thank you.’

The afternoon tea arrived just as Harry was poised to say something else. I reluctantly let him go so there was room for our cake stand on the table.

Harry was right, the food looked and tasted amazing. The sandwiches were all topped with extras like quail eggs and caviar, bringing a simple egg mayonnaise sandwich alive with an assault of different flavours.

There was an array of cakes, all tiny, mouth-watering bites of pure pleasure, some kind of trifle and of course delicious fresh fruit scones.

‘So tell me,’ Harry said around a mouthful of something chocolaty, ‘Tiny Tim, did you and he…?’

Oh God, Tiny Tim was going to come back and haunt me forever.

I picked up some kind of pink meringue that literally dissolved as soon as it touched my tongue. I licked my lips as I played for time.

‘Did we what?’ I smirked as Harry shifted uncomfortably, waving his hands around in what I presumed was some kind of representation of the act. The man had no problem discussing his sordid sex life but he was still awkward when discussing mine. I wanted to play him at his own game.

‘He liked to dress up,’ I said as I popped some kind of fruit tart in my mouth. The fruit was crystalized and was like an explosion on my tongue.

Harry’s eyes widened. ‘Like air hostess, police woman, cheerleader, that kind of thing?’

I shook my head. ‘Lots of different things really. One of my favourites was dressing up as a unicorn and he was a lion. He liked to take me from behind and he would roar when he came.’

Harry stared at me, his face unblinking. I picked up a tiny coffee éclair and caught the eye of a tiny little old lady sitting at the next table, her fruit tart poised halfway to her mouth. I blushed, realising she had heard every word.

Still, there was no going back now.

‘He liked to dress up as one of the flower pot men, Bill normally, I’m not sure why. I was always the flower, Weed. Then Bill would come at me with his big hose.’

The old lady leaned over to me. ‘Dear, do you have the name of the shop where you bought these costumes?’

‘I don’t I’m afraid, Tim always brought them with him. I will miss his big hose.’

Harry was still staring at me. ‘I didn’t realise you were into all that weird stuff.’

I licked the icing off the top of the éclair and popped it in my mouth, trying desperately to suppress my laughter but it was to no avail. I snorted so hard that a bubble of snot burst from my nose and I quickly had to wipe it away on my beautiful cotton serviette.

‘You’re joking?’ Harry looked almost relieved.

‘Of course I am.’

‘So you guys… didn’t…’

‘It’s none of your business. Just because you like to talk about all your sexploits, doesn’t mean the rest of us do.’

‘That’s a ‘no’ if ever I heard one.’ He smiled smugly. I wasn’t going to let him get away with that.

‘It’s a ‘yes’ actually, but it was just regular sex.’ I wanted to expand on that, regular sex sounded so boring. ‘Well as regular as three hour sex marathons can be. He had the stamina of a horse. We’d do it all over the flat. On the dining table, up against a wall, in the shower, in the kitchen, on top of the washing machine, backwards, forwards, sideways, doggy style.’

The old lady choked on her fruit scone.

‘Sideways?’ asked Harry.

‘Yes. You should try it, it’s great fun. Can you pass the sugar?’

I stared down at my tea. Sideways, how exactly would that work?

‘Tell me about your plans for the summer. You said you were thinking about going to New Zealand.’

Harry recovered himself well. ‘The land of the hobbits. I would love to. Maybe hire a camper van and drive from North to South. There’s so many things I want to do, but it’s more fun doing them with someone else.’

‘Sexy Samantha not keen?’

‘She’s definitely not the camper van sort. She’s more of the ‘five star hotel with daily spa treatments’ kind of girl. We should go.’

‘I would love that, I want to see the world, every tiny little pocket of it, but no girlfriend of yours is going to be happy about you taking another woman off on holiday. Sleeping together in the back of the camper van.’ I blushed as Harry’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I meant actually sleeping – not having sex.’

The old lady leaned in closer again, ready to catch the next instalment in my sex life.

‘I should hope not,’ Harry said, his tongue licking seductively up the side of his éclair. ‘I don’t have a lion costume.’

*

I sat back and watched the gold fireflies chase each other up the walls. I was so uncomfortably full, but everything was so hard to resist, that I’d had to eat it all.

We’d had a lovely time, chatting all afternoon, but one of the main topics of conversation from the other guests was the toilets and how funny they were. I had to check them out myself.

I excused myself from the table and, following the directions of the woodland nymph waitress, I walked through another restaurant to a very white room on the other side.

The stairs leading up to the toilets were a brilliant opulent white – looking like they led to somewhere much grander than just some toilets. I walked upstairs to a brightly lit room, the ceiling decorated with beautiful rainbow tiles, but as I reached the top I stopped in my tracks. Several pods sat in a white chamber at the top of the stairs, looking like white cocoons from an alien spaceship. They were about seven foot tall and tapered off like eggs at the top.

I looked around for the toilets but there was nothing else up here. On the other side of the room were several more pods. These pods were clearly the toilets and were obviously the reason for such amusement from the other guests.

I opened the door on one of them, expecting to hear some kind of space age whoosh and was slightly disappointed when I didn’t.

Inside was the weirdest toilet I had ever seen. There was no seat at all. I walked in and closed the door behind me. It was obviously some foreign kind of toilet where you stand. A long ceramic oval hung from the wall jutting out at the bottom to catch the waste. I stared at it – how on earth was I supposed to pee in that? Backwards seemed the only safe option. With a bit of negotiating I pointed my bum in the right direction and leaned forward into a sort of half squat. I quickly finished and after redressing I left the pod, dying to tell Harry about the very weird toilets. He was standing right outside and looked shocked to see me coming out of one of the pods.

‘What?’ I said

‘These are the boys’ toilets.’

I laughed. ‘No they’re not, the waitress pointed me up these stairs.’

‘Yes, the girls’ pods are over there.’ He pointed to the other side of the stairs where several pods were bathed in pink lights in comparison to the pods where I was that were bathed in blue.

Harry peered over my shoulder and burst out laughing. ‘Did the urinals not give you a clue?’

I looked back and gasped in horror. I had just peed in a urinal. Now he had pointed it out to me it was obvious. It wasn’t some weird foreign type toilet at all, just a bog standard urinal. I felt my cheeks glow crimson.

‘I’m intrigued. How exactly did you manage to pee in there?’

I quickly hurried to the sinks and washed my hands. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

I heard Harry go into one of the pods, his laughter so loud I could hear him from the outside.

Chapter Three

I was shaken gently awake the next day. It was pitch black but the hand continued to shake me.

‘Harry?’ I croaked, though I knew it was him, I could smell his glorious scent.

‘Yeah, it’s me.’

I leaned over and snapped on the lamp on the bedside table, shielding my eyes from the sudden glare.

‘Here, I made you a coffee. The café isn’t open yet. It won’t be as good as theirs, you don’t have any hazelnut syrup for a start, but it might help to wake you up.’

I took the coffee numbly and stared at him in confusion.

‘You look good by the way, nice pyjamas.’

I peered over at the alarm clock, blearily. It was four a.m. I put the coffee down and picked up the clock to look at it more closely.

‘It’s four o’clock!’ I said, incredulous. I wasn’t even aware that there was two four o’clocks in one day.

‘Yes it is.’

‘In the morning!’

‘How very perceptive of you.’

‘Did we discuss this last night?’ I racked my brains for any conversation that would have alerted me to the fact that Harry would be disturbing me at this ungodly hour.

After leaving The Glade the day before, we had walked along the Thames as the sun set and the moon danced over the water. It had been incredibly romantic, apart from at the end of our wonderful date, when Harry had rushed off to meet another woman. But I did get a goodnight kiss. On the cheek, but still, a kiss was a kiss.

But as we had chatted, there had been no mention of this ridiculously early intrusion. I would have protested if I’d known.

‘No, that’s part of the surprise,’ he said, pulling the duvet off me. I pulled it back, not ready to face the chill of the morning yet.

‘A proposal?’ My heart leapt a little. Despite my reticence about being proposed to, I was actually looking forward to seeing what Harry would do next.

‘Of course. This one’s a good one.’

‘Let me tell you, any proposal that starts at four o’clock in the morning is not going to be a good one.’

‘You’ll love it.’

I threw myself back down on the bed, covering myself with the duvet.

‘No, you can’t make me get up.’

‘Suzie, you have two choices, you can either get dressed now and come with me or...’

‘I’ll take the ‘or’ whatever it is, definitely the ‘or’.’

‘Ok, if you insist.’

‘I do.’

There was silence beyond the duvet, and a shifting of weight indicated that Harry had got off the bed. Had I hurt his feelings? Had he gone?

Suddenly the duvet was ripped off me and Harry grabbed my arms, pulled me up into a sitting position and then threw me over his shoulder. He turned and ran for the door.

‘What are you doing?’ I squealed.

‘The ‘or’ was going in your pyjamas.’

Harry ran down the stairs, opened the flat door and ran outside with me still over his shoulder. The street outside was deserted.

‘No, no, please, I’ll be good, I’ll get dressed I promise, just don’t kidnap me in my pyjamas.’

Harry lowered me to the ground carefully. ‘You promise, you’ll go straight back in there and get dressed right away?’

I put my hand up in a Girl Guide salute. ‘I promise.’

‘Very well, you have five minutes.’

I nodded at him and went back up the stairs, but if I thought I could sneak back into bed that thought was quickly quelled as Harry followed close behind.

*

Harry pulled his car into an empty car park and I looked around blearily. I had dozed in the car, unable to keep my eyes open as Harry’s old Beetle, Betty, bumped along the roads. The heating had two settings, scorching hot or off. In the cold winter morning, scorching hot was the only answer but it had made me even sleepier. Harry had tried to placate my frown with a full English breakfast at some greasy spoon road café. It had woken me up a bit.

Harry leaned over to me and zipped up my fleece I was wearing. I was told to bring warm clothes, but that was the only clue as to what I was doing today.

‘Now listen, I had to pull in a big favour for this, and had to tell a whopping lie to get it at the last minute. You need to humour me in this, otherwise Frank will be disappointed.’

‘Frank?’ I racked my brain for a Frank but came up with nothing.

‘I told him we were a couple, that was the only way I could arrange it so quickly. It takes months to wait for this kind of thing, and Frank was so delighted, after all the business we’ve put his way, he was happy to help.’

I was stumped, my brain still not firing on all cylinders. Harry got out and held the door open for me, not because he was chivalrous, although he had wonderful manners, but because Betty’s door could only be opened from the outside. With Harry’s wealth, I often wondered why he didn’t buy something better, but he loved Betty with a loyalty that I adored.

He grabbed a cool box from the boot and then took my hand as we walked round some bushes into a field. I had to marvel at how my hand fitted perfectly in his.

The field was lit with barely muted greys. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but it was that time of the morning when the light came with a promise of what was to come. The grass was wet with dew and our breath formed misty shapes in front of us as we walked.

‘So we’re together, a loving couple?’ I nodded, my brain finally waking up as the seed of this idea started to grow.

He grinned as he nodded.

‘So as far as Frank is concerned, this is a real proposal?’

‘Yes.’

I bit my lip as a delicious thrill ran through me. ‘So he’ll be expecting a real reaction.’

‘Yes. You can tell me what you think about this later, give me a true reaction. It’s probably too clichéd for you, but in front of Frank you need to be delighted.’

I could do delighted. I’d seen a few proposals in my time as chief proposal planner, they all ended with kisses. I smiled, I could do that. My heart jolted with sudden fear and excitement. I was going to kiss Harry. It had taken two years but now, finally, I was going to get to kiss him. All thought and reason went out of my head and I had to physically restrain myself from doing one of those little sideways kicks where you click your heels together.

There was a noise up ahead, a roaring, rushing sound, and an orangey glow painted the trees like autumn had come early.

We rounded a corner and I saw it. I couldn’t help the grin from splitting my face. In front of me, slowly filling with air, were two hot air balloons.

I shrieked and threw myself at Harry, who managed to catch my flailing arms and legs as I completely took him by surprise.

‘I love you, I love you, I love you,’ I squealed.

‘Wow, that’s quite the reaction,’ he said, as he tried to gently extricate himself from my embrace. ‘I haven’t even popped the question yet.’

‘It’s a yes, it’s absolutely a yes. Oh God Harry, how did you know? I’ve always wanted to do this.’

‘You always get so excited about hot air balloon proposals, more so than anything else. I figured it was something that you would want to do yourself.’ He pushed me away diplomatically, clearly embarrassed by my reaction. ‘Come on, let’s go and meet Frank. You must have spoken to the man a hundred times over the years.’ He gestured over to the support cars, emblazoned on the side with the name, ‘Carlton Balloons.’ Frank. Frank Carlton, of course. He was always the first person we contacted for hot air balloon proposals and he almost always fitted us in.

Frank was one of the oldest men I had ever met, his skin looked like the bark of tree. He had three teeth, one on the top and two on the bottom, and the biggest smile I’d ever seen. He was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, despite the chill of the morning.

‘I’m so glad to help you.’ Frank said, hugging Harry and then me, greeting us like we were long lost friends, which I suppose in a way we were. ‘I was delighted when Harry called. You’ve made so many people happy over the years, and now you two are together. Finding love amongst everyone else’s happiness. I can’t tell you how pleased I am. I want you to meet my boys, the ground crew.’

The boys, as it turned out, were three strapping sons in their forties and two other men who worked for him. Frank ran round getting everything ready for our departure, clearly as fit as the men half his age judging by the way he dealt with the preparations with speed, strength and agility. And slowly the hot air balloons started to fill and rise, tugging on their restraints, desperate to be free.

‘What bloody time of the day is this?’ muttered a voice from behind us.

I turned round to see Badger, Harry’s best friend and my cousin, scowling at us. His ginger beard was hidden inside the top of his coat, his eyes peeping out from underneath his blue and white Chelsea pom-pom hat. ‘It’s bloody freezing.’

I adored Badger. He was one of those solid dependable types that would do anything for anybody. Jack, Badger and I had been quite close growing up, but in recent years we had become even closer after Badger had moved to London too. Jack and Badger went everywhere together, before Jack died. And he was the reason Harry had come into my life, something else to be grateful to Badger for.

I hugged him and he immediately took his hands out of his pockets and hugged me back. Harry hugged him too. Despite the manly size of them both, they always greeted each other with a big hug.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Cashing in all of Harry’s favours in one day.’ He returned to scowling again. ‘I was in a wonderful sleep this morning when the alarm went off at some ungodly hour.’

‘I needed some help for this one,’ Harry admitted. ‘And there was only one man for the job.’

There was only one man who would get up this early and drive fifty miles to the countryside to help his friend out. Despite Badger’s scowl, I could tell he was pleased about the compliment. Although him being here did put a slight dampener on our nice romantic proposal.

Frank came over to tell us the balloons were ready.

We put the cool box into the basket and Harry helped me in, then held me close like a true boyfriend would do. Though it seemed Badger was to go in the other balloon.

As the cables and ropes were released, our balloons slowly drifted upwards, floating almost aimlessly up into the clouds. It was an incredible experience and I couldn’t take my eyes off the receding landscape below us. We were far out of London now, Harry had driven for over an hour, and as far as the eye could see there were just hills and fields in every direction, all growing smaller by the second. Badger’s balloon bobbed gently after us, the wind blowing us in the same direction.

We levelled out, obviously reaching the optimum height, and Frank turned the burners off. We hovered there in silence, as if we were hanging from the clouds. We didn’t speak, we didn’t need to. The world at our feet said it all.

Suddenly a slice of pure gold shot straight from the horizon, lighting up the landscape below us, banishing the remains of the fading night sky and filling the world with a rosy haze. I watched with sheer joy as the sun appeared and for a few moments it wasn’t the burning ball of heat in the sky that you can never look directly at, but an orb of muted oranges and pinks, like a light bulb that had just been switched on and was yet to reach its full power.

‘It’s beautiful,’ I gasped, realising that Harry’s arm had been around me the whole time and I leaned back into him. I could see Frank watching us out the corner of my eye, a huge grin on his face.

Harry released me and rooted around in the cool box as I returned my attention back to the landscape below, bathed in great swathes of scarlet and gold.

Harry offered Frank a champagne glass but he declined.

‘Frank do you ever get tired of this view, you must see it on an almost daily basis,’ I asked, as Harry filled two glasses with champagne.

‘Nah, I could watch that view every day, ten times a day and I would never get bored of it. Being up here is the most incredible feeling in the world. If I died now, I would die a very happy man.’

I frowned as he unconsciously rubbed his chest. The inappropriate mention of death coupled with this gesture suddenly had me very alert. ‘Are you ok?’

Frank realised what I had been referring to and laughed. ‘I’m fine love, just a bit of indigestion. There’s plenty of life left in this old dog yet, I want to see my great grandchildren before I die, and none of my grandchildren are even married off yet. No, there’s nothing wrong with me apart from my gut complaining about the extra sausage I had for breakfast this morning.’

I smiled, though I was still concerned. Jack’s death had given me a bit of paranoia about it all.

Frank switched on the burners and the roar breaking the silence put an end to any further questions.

Harry passed me my glass of champagne and clinked his glass against mine.

‘To us,’ he said, his dark eyes glinting with mischief.

‘To the best kind of friendship.’

As we both took a sip, he didn’t take his eyes off me and I wished, not for the first time, I could read what was going on in his head.

I remembered again about the forthcoming proposal and the importance of my real reaction.

My heart slammed against my chest. Just to get one kiss in, albeit briefly, would be an amazing end to this wonderful proposal.

We drifted through the sky, the dampness of the clouds clinging to our faces and clothes like cobwebs. Little beads of water clung to Harry’s long eyelashes and I wanted to reach up and wipe them away. But I had to save myself, any inappropriate gestures now could forestall the big kiss I had planned. Would he kiss me back? Oh God I hoped so. What if he didn’t? What if he was repulsed by it? If it was to be a genuine reaction, he had to kiss me back. I wondered how long I could drag it on, how long would be appropriate. What if I was a rubbish kisser? Tongue or no tongue? Maybe I shouldn’t do it at all. No I had to do it, this was my only chance. My heart was hammering so fast against my chest, I felt sure he could feel it, as he wrapped his arms around me, holding me from behind.

Frank was pulling levers and cords behind us and we started to drop gracefully towards the fields. As we drew closer, I could see the bright colourful cars of the chase crew as they attempted to follow our progress. They were still so tiny at this stage, like toy cars in a miniature village.

Harry nudged me gently and pointed me in the direction of Badger’s balloon.

A long banner unfurled from the basket, easily twenty or thirty feet long, and in beautiful hand painted letters – surrounded by flowers, hearts and stars – were the words, ‘Marry Me.’ Upside down.

‘Shit!’ Harry said with vehemence, dropping his hands from me like I was a hot potato.

‘It doesn’t matter.’ I said. ‘It’s lovely, you must have gone to so much trouble for this.’

I quickly grabbed my phone from my pocket and took a few photos.

‘No Suzie, fuck!’

I looked around to see Frank on the floor of the basket, clutching his chest, sweat beading on his forehead, his skin turning a very sickly shade of grey.

I knelt at Harry’s side as he clutched Frank’s hand.

Frank was clearly struggling to speak.

‘Phone an ambulance,’ Harry muttered, and I fumbled with my phone – hoping desperately that we would get a signal this high off the ground. Thankfully it rang straight through to the emergency services.

I explained the problem and Harry quickly rattled off where we were – though how he knew that, I didn’t know. As we were seemingly in the middle of nowhere, I was told an air ambulance would be despatched.

As I finished the call and shoved the phone in my pocket, my ears popped – and Harry’s clearly did as well, as with sickening clarity we both suddenly stared at each other. We were dropping, and way too quickly for it to be safe.

We leapt up and to our horror saw the ground coming up towards us at a terrifying speed.

Harry grabbed the valve for the burners, turning them as we’d seen Frank do mere minutes before. The burners kicked into life and with a roar, flames erupted into the balloon.

But was it too late, the speed of the dropping balloon had already picked up too much momentum.

Frank desperately tried to say something to us and Harry knelt next to him again, listening to his whispered instructions.

Harry leapt up and masterfully started turning levers and looking like he knew exactly what he was doing.

‘Can I help?’

He shook his head and, trusting he was going to do something to save us, I returned my attention to Frank. He was still breathing but with great difficulty. He was obviously in a lot of pain.

I was panicking wildly, and not just about our impending doom. I racked my brains for any first aid knowledge that could help Frank. Should I put him in the recovery position, perform CPR, lie him down with his legs in the air, his knees up to his chest, should I get hot water and towels?

Would the air ambulance get here in time to save Frank? Would they end up shipping all three of us to the hospital after our crash to the ground?

‘Shit Suzie, we’re coming in to land. This is it. Hold on – it’s going to be rough.’

I grabbed a rope on the side, crouching over Frank to try to protect him. To my surprise, Harry’s body was suddenly round mine – protecting me and Frank in a solid cage.

The basket hit the ground hard, jolting my head back into Harry’s… and everything went black.

Chapter Four

My eyes snapped open and I blinked against the glare of the blue sky. Frank.

I tried to sit up but a strong hand pushed me back. ‘Stay still, you banged your head pretty hard.’

I looked up into Harry’s face, silhouetted against the bright morning sky. ‘What about Frank?’

He pointed over to the far side of the field where the paramedics were helping Frank onto the air ambulance.

‘He actually seems fine. I don’t know whether it was the shock of landing so hard or whether it wasn’t even a heart attack to start with, but after we landed the pain just seemed to go away. He even had enough strength to shout at his boys to make sure the balloon didn’t get caught up with the burners. He didn’t even want to go to the hospital, said it was a whole lot of fuss for no reason, but they’re taking him anyway just to be on the safe side. I’m more concerned about you.’

‘I’m fine.’ I sat up and Harry helped me. As I looked at him, I realised he had two clumps of bloodied tissues stuck up each nostril. I reached out to touch his cheek. ‘Are you ok, did I do that?’

‘Yes, well more specifically the crash did it. It’s ok, just wouldn’t stop bleeding.’

One of the paramedics came running over, having safely instilled Frank in the helicopter.

‘You’re awake.’ He knelt down next to me and shone a light in my eyes. ‘Any dizziness or pain?’

I shook my head. I felt a bit sore but I’d had worse headaches than this before.

‘Well, there doesn’t appear to be any concussion but just keep an eye on her for the next few hours. If she starts feeling dizzy or blacks out again – take her to the A&E straight away.’

Harry nodded solemnly, though I couldn’t take him seriously with his bloodied tissues sticking from his nose.

The paramedic returned to the helicopter and as soon as Frank’s sons climbed on board, the helicopter took off, flying over us and then disappearing into the hills.

The two other men that worked for the company were just loading the already packed up balloon into their car and the trailer.

‘Where’s Badger?’ I asked.

‘His balloon apparently landed in another field. They’re just going to get him now. So as proposals go…?’ Harry trailed off, embarrassed.

‘Well a near death experience is definitely adrenaline filled. My heart was pounding, there was close, physical contact. It’s not a proposal I’m likely to forget.’

Harry laughed.

‘In all seriousness, the banner was beautiful, it must have taken you ages.’

‘I didn’t actually see it before Frank keeled over. Did you take some photos?’

‘Here.’ I yanked my phone from my pocket and showed him the photos. His face fell.

‘It’s upside down. Oh I’ll kill him.’

‘It’s an easy mistake to make.’

‘I don’t care, I’m going to kill him. So apart from the near death experience and that your proposal was upside down, would it have been the perfect proposal?’

‘I loved it – the scenery, the views, the champagne, the banner, that anyone would go to that much trouble to propose to me would be amazing. If you wanted a real reaction, I think you would have got one.’

Harry scowled and then stood up and helped me to my feet. ‘Come on, let’s go home.’

Proposer’s Blog

Day 3: The Hot Air Balloon Proposal. Location: Over the fields of Hertfordshire.

I know the consensus will be split down the middle here, with half of you thinking ‘Awww, a hot air balloon proposal, how romantic,’ and the other half thinking ‘how clichéd, he might as well do it on top of the Eiffel Tower if he’s going to trot out these old fashioned proposals.’ I’m not sure where Suzie stands on this issue. I knew she had always wanted to go in a hot air balloon, and I want to make her dreams come true, but ultimately I know she’s looking for something unique. So I tried to balance this out with my proposal written on a hand painted banner as we floated majestically above the sun-kissed fields. It was perfect. Well, at least in my head.

Things started well, better than well actually. When Suzie realised she was going hot air ballooning, she threw herself into my arms, shouting for the entire world to hear how much she loved me. Now for all you would-be proposers out there, I imagine hearing the words ‘I love you’ are quite pivotal when you’re about to propose. Who would have thought it – Suzie Mackenzie, champion of the extraordinary proposal, was won with a simple hot air balloon proposal. She really is an old romantic at heart.

But never in my wildest dreams did I imagine it going in the direction it went next. For one, my beautiful proposal was upside down thanks to the uselessness of my ex-friend Badger. For personal reasons, I can’t tell you how badly it went wrong after that – matters beyond anyone’s control.

But Suzie did seem very impressed by the amount of effort involved in this one. I don’t think a proposal has to be expensive, but the amount of effort involved is clearly, in the eyes of the woman anyway, directly proportional to how much the man loves them. Obviously this is the way I’m going to have to go from now on.

I finished reading the blog. Harry had rewritten it three times. There was so much we couldn’t put in. We couldn’t possibly damage the reputation of Carlton Balloons for something that was quite clearly not their fault. How many people would want to book balloon flights with them if they knew there was the possibility of crashing? Frank had been flying balloons for around sixty years. He had a spotless record, and many customers commented on how gentle the landings were in comparison to other balloon pilots. There was no way we could tell the truth.

We had heard back from Frank’s family a few hours before and he was fine. The doctors were keeping him in overnight to do more tests, much to Frank’s annoyance, but his son said they were confident that he’d be allowed to go home tomorrow.

‘Is it ok?’ Harry asked, after returning with two teas from the kitchen.

‘It’s fine, but I don’t know about the extra effort thing. As we said yesterday, the small proposals are sometimes the best.’

‘I thought you would like it, it might encourage our customers to go with some of our more extravagant proposals.’

I smiled. After my moaning the day before about how many basic packages we had sold, Harry was trying to rectify it.

‘Oh, so this hundred proposals is all tactical then, it’s not about finding me the perfect proposal at all, it’s just a business stunt?’

Harry completely missed the tone of my voice. I was joking, but his face fell and the look of hurt on his face was like a punch to the gut.

‘Is that what you think?’

‘I was joking, I’m sorry – I didn’t mean it.’

‘This wasn’t about the business at all, I thought you knew that.’

‘I honestly don’t know why you’re doing all this. No one has ever gone to this much effort for me before and I don’t understand why you are?’

He stared at me and it was clear that he didn’t want to say why. I waited, watching him.

‘I wanted to cheer you up. You’ve been so down since Jack died, I wanted you to have something to look forward to every day.’

I felt like I’d just been hit by a bus. My lip wobbled, an actual wobble, and I looked away as tears filled my eyes. Harry quickly moved to hold me. Again. It was not actually possible to love this man more than I loved him right now.

‘Oh God, Harry,’ I whispered into his shirt, as he held me tight against him.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.’

‘They’re happy tears, I promise.’ I pushed him gently away and he stepped back to look at me with concern. ‘I’m just lucky to have you.’

He smiled, with relief, then moved to look at his computer, clearly embarrassed.

‘Sixty-one followers on our blog so far. That’s amazing.’

I smiled at the change of subject.

‘That’s fantastic.’

‘Yes. And after mentioning Nadia’s Bakery in yesterday’s blog, I’ve had emails from quite a few places begging us to use them in my next proposal.’

I moved closer as he scrolled through his emails.

‘Anything interesting?’

He quickly minimised his email screen. ‘Nosy aren’t you. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.’

He logged off his computer and any hints at what was to come vanished into a screen of blue. He checked his watch and pulled on his jacket.

‘Hot date with Sexy Samantha tonight?’

‘No, I’m meeting Badger for drinks and a few games of pool. Any hot plans for you?’

‘Dinner with my lovely sister-in-law.’

‘Excellent, have fun.’ He planted a quick kiss on my cheek and left. If this goodbye kiss was going to become a regular feature, I could get used to it.

*

A splat of something green and foul-smelling hit the side of my cheek.

Bella giggled and laughed as the green mush slid down her face too.

‘Is your niece causing a mess again?’ shouted Jules from the kitchen.

I scooped Bella up out of the chair and plonked her on my lap, hoping to minimise the splatter damage if I was behind her. ‘No she’s just perfect, aren’t you, pumpkin.’

Bella chuckled and wiggled her legs as I wiped her face and firmly took the spoon from her sticky grasp. I leaned into her soft, warm head as I spooned up some more of what Jules had told me was pureed broccoli and cauliflower. She smelt amazing, like milk, talcum powder and baby lotion. Her hair was dark just like Jack’s, the same nose, the same eyes, the same chin – there was no getting away from the fact that she was his daughter.

Jules walked in carrying two glasses of wine and passed one to me. She was wearing a bright yellow top today, one that I hadn’t seen on her before. Her hair was freshly dyed with warm honey coloured highlights and she was actually smiling. It had been a long time since I’d seen her smile. Maybe she’d been given a proverbial kick up the bum as well as me. I liked it, life was for living.

‘You look good.’

‘I feel good. Bella’s sleeping properly at night now and she is such a delight during the day. And I know I shouldn’t be glad of this, but Jack’s insurance money has meant that I haven’t had to rush back to work. I get to spend all day with her and I love just being a mum. Jack didn’t want me to work again after she was born anyway, so he’d be happy that I’m taking care of her.’

‘You’re doing a wonderful job, she’s such a happy child.’

Jules smiled fondly at Bella, smoothing out her wayward locks. Her eyes moved to mine.

‘You look happy too. How’s Harry?’

I failed to see how the two were connected. ‘He’s good, gave me a good talking to yesterday about not clinging to the past, hence I’m back to my colourful clothes again.’

‘I’ve always loved your sense of style, or lack of it.’ She smirked mischievously. ‘And I hear he proposed.’

Back to Harry again. ‘Not properly.’ I laughed at the thought. ‘Just, you know, business.’

She peeled a banana and passed it to Bella’s eager hands. ‘I like Harry.’

‘I like him too.’ I jiggled Bella on my lap, deliberately trying to avoid Jules’s eyes.

‘And you two have never…’

‘No not at all, never. We’re friends. He doesn’t see me like that. Plus his reputation with women is hardly squeaky clean. He used to be with a different woman every week. The man’s a complete tart.’

‘Maybe he’s just looking for the right woman. Jack was the same, you know that. Famously sleeping with two different women on the same night.’

‘Whoa, I knew he had lots of girlfriends, I didn’t realise he’d had a threesome.’

Jules spat out her wine and Bella giggled, blowing raspberries with her own lips.

‘Not a threesome. Just slept with one girl, she broke up with him and by the end of the night he was in another woman’s bed.’

‘How do you know this?’

‘I was the other woman.’

I felt my mouth fall open. ‘And didn’t it bother you that he’d been with someone else hours before?’

Jules shrugged as she mopped up the wine. ‘He wasn’t anything serious, not for me. And his ex-girlfriend at the time was a complete cow so I was just pleased to get one over on her. Then we started seeing each other, just the odd night here and there, and then those odd nights became every night. He didn’t look at anyone else after that.’

‘Weren’t you worried, that he would stray?’

Jules smiled hugely. ‘I don’t want to sound big-headed, because the feeling was entirely mutual, but I could see your brother was head over heels in love with me. That look never faded in all the eight years we were together.’

I smiled.

‘Harry’s probably the same. He’s looking for The One.’

‘I don’t think he is. He doesn’t actually believe in love or The One.’

‘Oh that’s rubbish. I know he was hurt badly when he was a kid, and he’s holding back from falling in love in case he gets hurt again, but when he finds the right woman, he’s never going to let her go.’

I felt myself go very still.

‘What do you mean, he was hurt as a kid?’

Jules went very pale. ‘I thought you knew.’

‘He told me he didn’t believe in love, not long after we first met. I thought he’d just come out of a painful break up. What do you know that I don’t?’

Jules turned away and started picking up Bella’s toys. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. You and Harry are so close, I thought you knew.’

‘He hasn’t really told me anything about his past. I know he doesn’t speak to his parents.’ I swallowed. ‘Did they hurt him?’

‘No, he wasn’t beaten or abused, it wasn’t like that. It’s not my place to say. I only know because Badger accidentally let it slip to me once. Just forget I said anything.’

As if I could. Although I didn’t feel I could push Jules into telling me. If Harry wanted me to know then he would have told me.

Jules threw the toys into a big chest and picked up her wine glass, swirling it around and studiously staring at the contents. ‘You know he was offered a job.’

My wine got stuck in my throat and I coughed to release it. She seemed very caught up on her gossip, especially Harry gossip.

‘Where, when?’

‘Last week. It would have paid very well. I don’t know what you’re paying him but I doubt it would come close to this. Company car, pension plan, private health care plus lucrative shares in the company.’

I gaped. ‘He doesn’t like big companies and office politics. He’s always said he’d never go back to working somewhere like that. Remember that job he turned down in America?’

‘His dream job?’

‘It wasn’t his dream job.’

‘He sure did talk about it for months, about how excited he was.’

It was true that when Harry first came into my life there was a big plan to move to New York and the great job he was going to be starting out there. But one day he’d told me he’d had second thoughts.

‘Apparently people weren’t happy with the merger that was taking place and the new CEO. He didn’t want to get involved in all of that. As I said, he doesn’t like office politics.’

‘Didn’t he cancel the contract around the same time that Jack died?’

Words dried in my mouth. No. He couldn’t possibly have cancelled the contract because of me, to be there for me. Not if it really had been his dream job.

‘I’m just saying, he keeps being offered these fabulous opportunities and he keeps turning them down. His Connected money isn’t going to last him forever, especially considering how generous he is with it. It would be hard to turn down that kind of salary.’

‘What kind of salary?’

She told me and I felt the blood drain from my face – it was nearly five times what he was on with me.

‘So the question is, why would he stay?’

‘He likes working for our company. It’s his now too, he’s built it up to what it is.’

‘Ok, I can see he would have some kind of loyalty towards you and the company, but I think there’s another reason.’

She stared at me, her pale blue eyes unblinking.

‘Well it’s not me is it?’

She stared at me. Thankfully, then the timer on the oven went off indicating our pizza was cooked.

Jules smiled as she got to her feet. ‘Just think about it.’

She went into the kitchen. As if I could do anything but think about it.

*

I sat on the tube, staring at my bag, feeling the envelope burning through the leather onto my lap. My mind had been filled with Harry all night, and why he would turn down such an opportunity and the job in America, but all thoughts of him had been wiped clean when Jules handed me this envelope at the end of the evening.

The train rattled to a stop at another underground station.

A letter from Jack. Jules had found it amongst his things. There had been one for her and one for Bella too. She hadn’t opened it, of course, she gave it to me to read at the end of the night. She obviously wanted me to read it then and there but I wanted to be alone for that. I promised to tell her what it said after I’d read it.

Now my hands were itching to tear it open, but not here, not with the late night Friday drunks and party goers. I just wanted to get back home as quick as I could to my little flat to be alone with Jack’s words.

What had he wanted to say to me all those months before? Why didn’t he say it in the last few days? Everything had happened so quickly. From the time he was diagnosed with leukaemia until the day he’d died had been just six months. But he had been fit, strong and laughing almost to the very end. He had never let it get him down. The last week had been awful, where he had deteriorated before our very eyes, but even then, even in the last few days he had still kept his humour. We had been with him at the end, all of us. Mum and Dad had flown over from New Zealand, me, Jules, Harry, Badger and a huge number of his friends had stayed with him as he just went to sleep and never woke up.

And now, here was a message from him.

My train arrived at my stop and I hurried up the steps and along the streets. It was quiet in this part of town, even though we were very central. The old Victorian style street lights lit the way ahead with sporadic puddles of light. The green was deserted but I habitually looked over to Harry’s house as I walked down the opposite side. The downstairs light was still on, but then he was always a night owl. I ran up the steps to my front door and then up the stairs to my top floor flat, whipping out the letter as I closed the door behind me.

I stared at the letter in my hand. I wanted to open it and devour the words inside that Jack had written eight months before. But I was scared as well. I started pacing the lounge. Suddenly I didn’t want to do this alone. I grabbed the phone and dialled Harry’s number. It was late but he was still clearly awake.

It rang several times before he answered. He sounded croaky.

‘Hey.’

‘Hi, are you busy?’

He paused for a moment before he spoke. ‘Are you ok?’

I was silent. It was pathetic really, needing Harry to hold my hand as I read the message from beyond the grave. But I knew that opening this letter would unleash a whole heap of emotions, and I didn’t want to be alone when that happened. But Harry had been there for me so many times over the last few months – at the funeral and afterwards – just holding me when I would suddenly burst into tears, and the lovely day out he took me on the day before just to cheer me up. I was suddenly hesitant about asking him again.

Though my silence spoke volumes.

‘I’ll be round in two minutes.’

I tried to protest but it was quite clear Harry was no longer there.

There was a muffled noise and Harry obviously hadn’t realised he hadn’t hung up properly.

‘Don’t look at me like that. I know you were warm and cosy but Suzie needs me,’ Harry said to someone, probably Sexy Samantha. I winced.

I didn’t know if she said something to him or was just giving him the evil eye but Harry carried on talking, clearly as he was getting dressed.

‘I know, I know! I’m sorry. You know you’re the most important woman in my life, heck the world. I know I need to get my priorities sorted, but Suzie is pretty damned important too.’

I smiled, hugely flattered, although that wasn’t going to go down well with Sexy Samantha.

‘Look, just make yourself comfortable and I’ll be back real soon.’

I heard him give her a quick kiss, then another muffled noise as he no doubt picked up his phone.

I heard his footsteps run down the stairs and his front door slam and the phone went dead.

Crap. The last thing I wanted was to come between him and his girlfriends. He would be pissed off when he got over here to find the only thing that he had left his hot girlfriend for was a stupid little letter.

I heard the key in the lock and then his footsteps as he ran up the stairs towards me. Crap, crap, crap.

He appeared in the lounge, took in my worried face and in a second was across the room and holding me in his arms.

‘Oh Harry, I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have called,’ my voice was muffled as my face was pressed into his wonderful hard chest.

‘Yes you should. You always should.’

‘I didn’t realise I was interrupting a night of passion.’

He pulled back a bit to look at me in confusion.

‘I heard you on the phone, talking to Samantha.’

He laughed. ‘I was talking to Jemima.’

For a second I wondered if he had moved on already from Samantha to a new woman – it wouldn’t be the first time – then I remembered his beloved cat.

‘I was asleep, she was lying on my chest. She wasn’t impressed about being moved.’

I laughed. ‘Well, please send her my sincerest apologies. And I’m sorry to you too, I didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about it.’ He shrugged.

‘It’s nothing though, nothing serious.’

He was going to hate me.

‘It’s obviously something or you wouldn’t be calling me.’

I sighed and pulled away completely. I picked up the letter and showed it to him. ‘It’s from Jack.’

Harry’s eyes widened. ‘Now that does sound like something serious.’

Oh God, I loved this man.

‘Have you read it?’

‘No, I wanted you to be with me when I did.’

He smiled. ‘I’m honoured you would think of me. Where did you get it?’

‘I had dinner with Jules tonight, she found it amongst his things.’

He pulled me down next to him on the sofa.

‘How’s your gorgeous niece?’

He was delaying, trying to distract me, and I let him as I curled up at his side, the letter in my hand.

‘Beautiful, getting more beautiful each day. God she looks like Jack. The same dark hair, the same eyes. Even the same feet. It breaks my heart that she’ll never know him. He would have made a wonderful father.’

‘He met her though. Got to hold her. And when’s she old enough you can tell her all about him. Play all the practical jokes on her that he played on you.’

‘I’d like that.’

He looked at the letter. ‘Do you want me to read it to you?’

‘No, I want to read it.’

I stared at it. He stared at it. It would have been so much easier if the letters were like the Howlers in Harry Potter, where the envelope would simply shout the contents at you, whether you wanted to open it or not.

‘Come on love.’ Harry put his arm round me. ‘It’s a big deal, I get that. But are you not dying to see what he says. I know I am.’

I quickly slid my thumb under the flap and ripped open the envelope. The letter inside was small, so no huge reams of big brotherly advice then.

I pulled it out and opened it. Harry respectfully waited for his turn to read it. As I started to read, Harry’s fingers stroked the back of my neck.

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