by Lucy Coleman
Standing so close to him is making my pulse race and I force myself to concentrate and listen to what he’s saying. ‘I don’t ask for much because there’s nothing to ask for. Happiness is a state of mind and you make me exceedingly happy. I don’t care about the problems, but I did have an awkward phone call with Mel this afternoon. I think I’d better pour us both a glass of wine before I tell you all about it.’
Arran homes in for a kiss and we’re both loath to break the moment. Then the sound of his rumbling stomach makes me pull away, laughing.
‘Okay, I need food,’ he admits. ‘You pour the wine and I’ll get things underway.’
As I scuttle around getting glasses and opening the bottle, it gives me a little thrill to watch as he slips off his jacket and hangs it in the hallway cupboard. Then he rolls back the sleeves of his shirt to just below the elbow and walks over to the sink to wash his hands.
I slip up onto one of the bar stools in front of the island and begin pouring. It’s hard to take my eyes off him for even a second, as this is like living a scene from one of my favourite films. When he turns around we toast, and Arran says, ‘To a romantic dinner for two.’ His eyes are filled with a mix of happiness and desire when he looks back at me. Something at my core begins to glow, rather pleasantly.
‘Umm…’ I halt, looking around as if I’ve lost something.
‘What?’
‘You said romantic. Where are the flowers and the chocolates?’
‘Really? That’s a bit over the top, isn’t it? I did buy organic, free range, corn fed chicken. Nothing but the best as I wanted to impress you.’
Hmm. I’m not complaining but maybe I need to introduce Arran in person to a few of my favourite films. If he’s never seen Love Actually or Notting Hill, it might be quite enlightening and provide him with a few clues about romantic etiquette.
‘So, what happened with Mel?’
I stop daydreaming and focus.
‘Chopping board and knives?’ he enquiries, shrugging his shoulders.
‘Top drawer beneath the island and the knives are in the wooden block just inside the larder unit. Mel had a bit of a wobble. She thinks I’m going to up and leave for Italy again.’
Arran stops to fiddle with the oven settings then, after selecting a knife, walks back to the island. He peers across at me.
‘I can understand her concerns. Knowing we want to be together is one thing, but how on earth we’re going to sort everything out, I don’t know. My accountant is on the case now looking at the cost of taking a mortgage out on the villa. He said another option is to let it out for the peak holiday season every year to cover the cost of the repayments. Obviously, that’s a great idea but it means I wouldn’t be able to run the courses and I’d have to rent something myself if I didn’t have work here in the UK. Well, at least, that was my gut reaction. Then I remembered about you. Sorry, us. It changes everything.’
I swallow a sip of wine and replace my glass on the counter top. I’m torn over whether or not to tell him my little plan, but I’m pretty sure he’d try to talk me out of it. I have no idea how long it might take to find a buyer anyway, so I opt to say nothing.
‘Well, you’ll stay with me, of course. If that’s a workable solution and you don’t mind having strangers in the villa when you aren’t around.’
I can see by his face even the thought of it is painful. It means it would no longer be his permanent home. I think about that wonderful vinyl collection and the library. It’s not really a place set up to use as a rental property. He’s probably equally as anxious knowing Harriet is there now, pretending she’s the lady of the house.
‘Interesting. You’re doing the same thing I did. Being a couple will take some adjustment. Whatever we do has to work for both of us,’ Arran replies.
I watch as he chops up two shallots and then begins peeling a few cloves of garlic.
‘Oh, I see what you mean. Maybe we’ve both been on our own for too long.’ We exchange an awkward half grimace.
‘Well, I for one never thought I’d get married again,’ he adds.
My wine glass is about an inch away from my mouth and suddenly my hand is frozen.
‘Married?’ I gulp.
Arran shoots me a glance, his head tipping back in surprise.
‘I just assumed… I mean, we are on the same page, aren’t we?’ He stops chopping to stare unwaveringly at me, as I lower my glass back down with a slightly shaky hand.
Now, when you’ve written a shelf full of romantic novels, one of the highlights is the proposal scene. I don’t know whether to feel deliciously excited or cheated of a moment that should rate as one of the most memorable in a woman’s life.
Where were you when he proposed?
Oh, sitting opposite him in the kitchen watching him chopping garlic.
Did he get down on one knee?
No, but he did stop chopping for a moment.
I can see he’s a little worried by my silence. I swallow hard to disperse the knot of emotion that is now sitting in my chest and give him a heartfelt smile. The man I love wants to marry me and that’s all I need to know.
‘You bet. But how we’re going to accommodate your life in Italy, our work in the UK and managing two homes – it’s a lot to think about. And then although Dad is recovering well, it’s been a reminder neither of them are getting any younger.’
I casually leave out the fact that I have major concerns over whether I could simply slot into his world. Our backgrounds are so very different and my fear is that he’ll tire of me because I’m too provincial. My world has been quite insular in many ways, whereas he was brought up in a refined, academic environment full of culture and privilege.
Arran continues chopping again, seemingly satisfied with my answer. I’m still reeling a little if I’m honest and a tiny voice inside my head keeps repeating, Arran just asked you to marry him.
But then it turns out to be a night of surprises, as the meal demonstrates that Arran isn’t merely a cook, but a chef. Fried scallops and a salad drizzled with aged balsamic dressing, followed by chicken in red wine with roasted root vegetables, and ice cream with baked peaches. All beautifully presented and in small enough portions that I could happily enjoy every morsel. As delicious as it was though, nothing could top that moment when Arran uttered those words and took me totally by surprise. My heart squished up once it had sunk in, but my initial reaction was that it took my breath away and I was almost rendered speechless.
Was it any the less magical given that he spoke the words over a board covered in chopped shallots and garlic? Or that it was in my kitchen at home and not under some beautiful, starlit sky – like the terrace at the villa?
And do you know what? I decide it was perfect exactly as it panned out. Perfect because in the short time we’ve been together and despite his first, traumatic experience of married life, Arran wants to marry me. It hadn’t even entered my mind, I just assumed because of what he’d been through that he wouldn’t want to risk formalising a relationship again. So maybe it wasn’t the big rocket going off in the sky and exploding with a loud bang, attracting everyone’s attention. It was more like a sparkler; something that wasn’t for the benefit of the crowd but much more personal and without ceremony.
This Valentine’s Day baby, who has spent her entire life enchanted by the trappings of romantic gestures, learnt the biggest lesson of all tonight. When the person you love, loves you back in equal measure with no reservations, then you know it will all be fine because they have a good heart. You don’t need to dress up that kind of love; it’s a very beautiful thing. Maybe background and breeding don’t matter that much in the grand scheme of things. The point of life is opening one’s mind and expanding that horizon. We can teach each other and in doing so grow together.
But… but… I’ll never be that slim, privately educated social climber whose graceful elegance can command a room. I’m just me. What if it’s not enough and Paul was right to see through me? Unde
rneath it all I’m someone who is happier staying in than going out.
As Arran follows me upstairs, I stop halfway and turn around. If I let my insecurities eat away at me now, I’ll lose the only thing that I’ve ever truly wanted. He stifles a yawn but gazes up at me with a silly grin on his face.
‘Have I told you just how much I love you, Arran Jamieson? You grabbed my heart before I even knew what was happening. You turned out to be the biggest surprise ever.’
I gaze back at him and his silly little grin grows in size.
‘I’d much rather you showed me, than told me. But you’ll have to be fairly quick because I’m so tired after all that cooking.’
I burst out laughing.
‘I won’t hang around then. It would be a shame to spoil the most perfect evening of my life so far.’
‘Glad you said so far. Because I have plans.’
It turns out that he wasn’t quite as tired as he thought.
*
‘Arran, this is my mum, Wendy, and my dad, George.’
‘I’m delighted to meet you both.’ Arran’s smile is warm but behind that I can see how nervous he is; he steps forward to give Mum a hug and then steps back to shake Dad’s outstretched hand.
Dad still looks rather pale and as he half turns to lower himself back down into his chair, Arran hesitates and reaches out once more to offer Dad his arm.
‘Are you okay there, Sir?’
‘Please, call me George. Thanks, just a little unsteady from time to time. I have low blood pressure, which is a good thing but if I get up too quickly my head starts to swim. But as for the heart, I’m on the mend. So how long will you be in the UK, Arran?’
Mum and I are watching nervously, knowing that first impressions carry a lot of weight.
Arran takes the seat at the end of the sofa next to Dad’s chair and I sit next to him. Mum takes the chair opposite Dad. Obviously I’ve told them a bit about Arran and my trip, but with everything that’s happened, I’ve avoided the subject completely the last few weeks. I didn’t want to unsettle them in any way.
‘I have about six weeks of work but hope to extend my stay a little beyond that. Today was my second session in the studio doing a voice over for a series of tutorials about Ancient Greek civilisation. It’s for a small production company and it will probably be picked up by the Open University.’
‘It sounds like you’re going to be busy. Do you have family in the UK?’
I glance at Arran, but his face is turned in Dad’s direction and I can’t see his expression.
‘I do, but we aren’t close, I’m afraid. I am hoping to have some productive meetings about a couple of new projects coming up early next year.’
I feel myself cringing. This isn’t what Dad wants to hear as he won’t understand why Arran isn’t close to his family, or that it really isn’t his fault. Mum glances across at me anxiously, and I jump in to steer the conversation a little.
‘Arran was close to his grandparents. He inherited their lovely villa in Italy. You guys would love it.’
Arran takes my lead. ‘It was a little neglected when they bought it but my grandfather was a modernist and worked with an architect to turn it into something very special. I had the back wall of the kitchen and dining area taken out and glass doors installed, but aside from that nothing else has changed.’
‘Italy is your permanent home then, and you’d never consider moving back to the UK?’ Dad enquires and I look across at Mum, whose eyes are glued to Arran’s face.
Arran looks a little uncomfortable. ‘Well, I do spend quite a bit of time in the UK every year. I used to have a home here, too, but that ended up being sold as a part of the divorce settlement with my ex-wife.’
I jump in, horrified, because this isn’t going in the right direction at all. Arran’s honesty is a drawback at times; it’s a wonderful trait but there is a time and a place for everything and this isn’t it.
‘You remember Arran from the TV series, don’t you, Dad?’
There’s a small frown on Dad’s face and then suddenly it lifts.
‘Of course! A fascinating series. I wondered why it was never repeated. Very interesting, indeed.’
They settle into an easier conversation as Arran talks about what he does and how his career began. Mum and I escape to the kitchen.
‘What’s really going on, Brie? I’ve never seen you so on edge and judging by the look on your face every time you catch sight of Arran, there’s more to this than you are telling us. There’s nothing wrong, is there?’
Remembering Mel’s reaction acts as a warning but I can’t lie.
‘No, of course not, Mum; in fact it’s quite the reverse. The truth is that even before I flew back, we both knew that we wanted to be together. It just happened, out of the blue. But there are obstacles.’
‘He’s told you he has no intention of getting married again?’ Mum looks at me anxiously.
‘No, and that wouldn’t make a difference to me, anyway. But it’s a long story as he still owes his ex a share in the villa. It’s something that needs to be resolved before we can plan our future together. Arran doesn’t come from a loving family background and I know that you and Dad will find that hard to understand. But Arran is a very sincere person and he has a good heart; he wouldn’t lie to save his life and we both know this was meant to be. It’s only that it will take a bit of sorting out to make it all work.’
Mum lets out a little sigh, moving closer so we can hug.
‘I can see that you’re besotted with each other, Brie. I’m sure Dad isn’t missing the signals either and that’s why he’s edgy. He’s not comfortable with this and that’s understandable. How much of that is down to not really knowing Arran and the fact that he’s so protective of you, I don’t know. Or whether it’s because he’s still recuperating.’
‘And how do you feel about it?’
‘Well, it does sound complicated and let’s be honest, that’s not a helpful start to a new relationship. Obviously, first and foremost both Dad and I want you to be happy, so let’s focus on getting to know each other as a starting point. Now grab that tray and we’d better check that the guys are playing fair. Dad isn’t in the best of moods today and no one is ever going to be good enough in his eyes, so Arran has a bit of a task ahead of him.’
As we walk back into the sitting room Arran looks up at me and I can see he’s struggling. It sounds like Dad is grilling him.
‘… so none of the work that comes your way is guaranteed? It must be very difficult not having a regular source of income.’
Oh dear, now Dad thinks Arran doesn’t even have a proper job. As an academic, just one of the projects he takes on could be worth a year’s income in lots of other professions.
‘Next time we get together I’ll show you some of Arran’s textbooks and novels, Dad. He’s just written one about a young soldier who lost an arm in the Second World War. It looks like there’s going to be a bidding war between three publishers, imagine that!’
Arran is so outside his comfort zone that I instinctively look away, feeling dejected. At least Dad is now looking mildly impressed and he nods his head.
‘Well, that’s good news. You’ve done alright out of this writing lark, haven’t you, Brie?’
I smile good naturedly, hoping it doesn’t come out as a grimace.
‘Of course, she won’t let me read any of her books,’ he informs Arran.
Mum passes Arran a cup of tea and I catch her giving him a nervous, almost apologetic smile. In fairness, Dad doesn’t really know anything about Arran and Arran isn’t the sort to sing his own praises. Dad probably assumes he’s staying with me to save on the cost of a hotel. I’m going to have to sit Mum and Dad down and go through everything in detail with them, but for now we need to drink our tea and get out of here before any more damage can be done.
My phone starts ringing and as I go to turn it off, I see it’s Carrie.
‘Sorry, I’d better take this.’ I head
out of the sitting room and into the hallway.
‘Hi Carrie, there isn’t a problem with the manuscript, is there?’
‘No, but are you sitting down?’
My legs turn to jelly. I’m not sure my nerves can stand to hear bad news after such a disastrous evening. I turn towards the staircase and lower myself down onto one of the steps.
‘Yes, I’m sitting.’
‘Heidi Hoffman just phoned to ask whether I was aware of the article about you that went live two hours ago on Gossip Queen’s website. She sent me the link and I’m just forwarding it to you now. I don’t know what to say, Brie, other than I’ll do my best to get it taken down and I’m on it. Speak later.’
Article?
When the line falls silent I stare at my phone for a second, my mind whirling. Opening up the browser, I type in the website name. It’s generally known for starting rumours based on misleading information or dodgy photographs, and it’s not a site I visit. I can’t see anything on the home page, which is a list of the most popular articles. Even the titles are enough to make you doubt the content before you read it! I can’t see anything about me though, so I open the message from Carrie and click on the link.
Arran appears in the hallway.
‘I said we had to get back, Brie, I hope that’s… what’s wrong?’
My face has fallen, and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I hold up the screen to show Arran.
‘What the—’
It’s obviously taken from the balcony of Arran’s room, probably on a phone. We’re both naked, Arran is reclining on the bed and I’m on top of him. It’s a tiny bit blurred, thankfully, but still identifiable and it’s obvious what we’re doing. I bet whoever took it was annoyed that they didn’t have a steadier hand.
‘Are you two alright out here?’ Mum’s voice calls over Arran’s shoulder and as he spins around she clasps her hand over her mouth.
‘Oh, my word! Is that on the Internet?’
Oh. This is bad. This is very bad.
‘There,’ Arran says, quite calmly. ‘I told you that you looked beautiful and you do.’