The Proposal

‘Let me guess, it’s someone “appropriate”, right?’

‘Amy, don’t . . .’

‘No, seriously, Daniel,’ she said. ‘I bet she’s not a waitress at the Forge Bar and Grill. I bet she’s not a showgirl in some tacky West End production no one has ever heard of.’

‘Amy, stop it. Listen to yourself.’

‘Who. Is. She?’ said Amy.

Daniel could see he was cornered.

‘She’s a friend from university – well, a couple of years younger. She’s an analyst at Goldman’s now. We just bumped into each other, I really didn’t mean for anything to happen.’

‘Well, I’m sure you’ve got lots in common,’ she said tartly.

‘Seriously, Amy, nothing happened until we split up.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘Oh what does it matter anyway?’ said Daniel, suddenly angry. ‘You’re right, we do have things in common, she does fit into my world. What’s so bloody wrong with that?’

‘What’s wrong with that?’ snapped Amy. ‘Me, that’s what’s wrong. Your girlfriend, remember? The one you screwed last night, the one you wanted to show off at new year.’

‘Amy, you are beautiful, and fun and . . .’ He trailed off. ‘But this is different. Harriet can get a transfer to the Washington office, our lives are compatible.’

‘Yes, Harriet does sound suitable.’

‘Don’t be like that.’

‘But I am like this, Daniel,’ she said. ‘This is who I am. And it seems that’s not good enough.’

She pushed roughly past him and down the stairs, grabbing her still-wet jeans and coat and pulling them back on.

‘I’ll leave my toothbrush in the bathroom,’ she said as Daniel followed her down. ‘Perhaps Harriet might like to use that too.’

He stopped her just

as she was opening the front door. The rain was still pounding down, sending up little flowers of spray from the surface of the road. He put his arm across the door frame, blocking her exit.

‘Amy, don’t go off like this, please. I do care about you . . .’

She turned to face him.

‘The last few days have been an education for me, Daniel. I know which knives and forks to use, I know which wine glasses to drink from. I even know how to eat a goddam artichoke properly. But none of that matters any more. Because the one thing I know, the one thing I’ve always known, is that I am too good for you. I really am.’

And she pushed his arm away and walked out into the rain.

Amy stared out of the window of the moving car, her eyes focused on the darkness. Now and then she would see a farmhouse, its lights glowing, or an isolated home, the Christmas tree still illuminated in a window, but otherwise Will’s silver Jeep seemed to be floating alone in the blackness, headlights on full beam as they twisted and turned along the narrow country lanes.

‘Are you sure you know where you’re going?’ said Amy. ‘I think we left the main road about twenty minutes ago. I keep expecting to see werewolves.’

Will smiled, his teeth white in the gloom.

‘Country houses,’ he said. ‘The clue’s in the name – they tend to be in the middle of nowhere. But don’t worry, I’ve been coming to Stapleford since I was a kid. I think I could find it blindfolded.’

‘I’d prefer you kept your eyes on the road.’

They fell back into silence. Amy had to admit she wasn’t exactly sparkling company tonight – but then who would be when you’d been dumped twice in the space of a couple of weeks? She was still struggling to come to terms with it; that moment when she had found the cardigan was etched into her mind. How could she have been so stupid? How?