by Sue Margolis
I wanted to find Tara and Charlotte to gloat some more, but they seemed to have disappeared. I spent ten minutes or so wandering around. Finally I caught sight of Tara. She and her husband were at the refreshment stall. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but judging by all the gesticulating, they were having one hell of a fight. Charlotte was hovering in the background with her kids and Tara’s.
“Hell hath no fury like a man cuckolded.” Imogen was standing beside me. She’d clearly tired of the wet sponge stall, although I suspected not of Greg Myers. She was holding two glasses of Pimm’s. She handed me one. “Between you and me, I think somebody might be wishing she’d signed a prenup.” Imogen started to cackle. “Bottoms up,” she said.
• • •
The school hall had been cleared of donkey dung, although it had to be said, and indeed a number of people were saying it, that a certain aroma still lingered. It didn’t help that the children were accusing the old people who, along with their wheelchairs, walking frames and nurses, had packed out the hall.
The performance kicked off with “My Favorite Things,” followed by “Singin’ in the Rain” and “Sunrise, Sunset.” The old folks clapped and sang along and passed around boiled sweets and Tums. Finally it was Ella’s turn to perform her solo. Grinning all over her face, she marched to the front. The piano struck up.
Ella took a deep breath. “The sun’ll come out tomorrow… .” She was bellowing more than singing, but it was still the most beautiful sound in the world. Tears poured down my face.
“She wanted to sing that for me?”
“Especially for you,” Hugh said. “She chose it and her teacher said yes.”
The rest of the kids joined in the final chorus. Dan, who was singing with particular gusto—even though he would probably have given anything to be outside playing football—spotted me and gave me a tiny wave as if to say, “This is from me, too.”
“If I think back to how they were after their dad died. Now look at them—two happy, confident kids. They made it through.”
“They wouldn’t have done it if they hadn’t had such a great mum. If I were you, I’d be really proud of them.”
“I am. You have no idea.”
“So when are we going to tell them our news?”
We agreed to postpone the romantic dinner we’d planned for the night and take the kids to Puccini’s instead. We would tell them over pizza. Afterwards we’d all pop round to my parents’ to give them the news. Then I would call Rosie and the aunties. I couldn’t wait to see how the aunties changed their tune about Hugh once I told them that he was about to become a Hollywood actor. Hugh made the point that, bearing in mind Roxanne’s Hollywood experiences, they might not be that easy to convince, but I said I’d work on them. “Deep down, they adore you. They’ll come around. Just you see.”
“I hope so… . Oh, and tomorrow I should call my parents. Or better still we should go and see them, so that I can introduce you.”
“God, how’s your mother going to feel about you marrying a cabdriver’s daughter with two kids?”
“Are you kidding? Valentina just told you she got a call from Buckingham Palace. You are about to become purveyors of lingerie to the Queen. My mother is going to adore you.”
“You sure?”
“I’m certain.”
• • •
A few hours later, as we finished our Napoletanas and Pepperonis, Hugh turned to Dan and Ella and said there was something important he needed to ask them.
“What?” Dan pincered a black olive off a slice of pizza and dropped it onto his sister’s plate.
For once she didn’t notice, so for the moment ructions had been averted.
“Well, I’m sure you’ve both realized by now,” Hugh said, “that I’m very much in love with your mum, and I’m delighted to say that she loves me, too. So I was wondering if you would consider giving me your permission to marry her.”
Even if it was a tad Baron Von Trapp, I thought it was a lovely gesture to involve Dan and Ella and make them feel they had an important part to play in our decision.
“Really?” Dan said. “You’re going to get married?”
“Only if you agree,” I told him.
“That is so cool. I hated being the only kid in the class without an alive dad. Permission granted.”
“Me, too,” Ella joined in. “And I want to be a bridesmaid with a pink fairy dress, with wings and sparkly shoes and a crown and glitter all over… .”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Hugh said, grinning.
“So, do we get hugs?” I said, arms open.
The kids leaped off their chairs and launched themselves at us.
“I’m not going to call Hugh ‘Daddy’ yet,” Ella announced, climbing onto my lap. “Maybe first I’ll practice on my own, just to see what it feels like.”
“You do anything you like,” Hugh said. “It’s fine with me.”
“And Mummy has to have a white dress, with all diamonds and sequins and a train and shoes and flowers and a Cinderella coach, and Hugh and Dan have to wear suits, with a flower… .”
Hugh winked at Dan. “Football on Saturday?”
“You bet.”
Photo © Jonathan Margolis
Sue Margolis was a radio reporter for fifteen years before turning to novel writing. She lives in England with her husband.
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