‘We were both devastated, but what could we do? We had lied and covered up the truth, and we just had to carry on with it.’
‘I’ve asked myself many times whether the pair of you sleep well at night.’
‘I do not.’
Georgia sank her head into her hands and tried to rein in the emotions that were desperate to get out.
‘We can’t change the past, Georgia. I wish we could. I wish we could bring my brother back. I wish you’d had the chance to grow old with him.’
Her eyes were closed to hold back the tears, but she heard footsteps coming towards her and she felt him put something on the arm of the sofa.
‘I don’t expect you to ever forgive us, but I think you deserve to know the truth. Your friend Amy was right about that.’
‘What’s this?’ asked Georgia, looking at the set of keys he had placed next to her.
‘I think he would have wanted you to have this,’ he said, then turned and walked out of the flat.
She held the keys in the palm of her hand until the cold metal turned warm. Then she got her coat, pulled it on and took the stairs slowly, one at a time, until she was out on the street. Christopher was gone, but at the kerb sat a cherry-red Aston Martin that she instantly recognised.
Her breathing felt shallow and her hands trembled.
She walked over and touched the paintwork, and for a second she was back on Putney Bridge in her dripping wet dress. She kicked off her shoes and bent down slowly, carefully to pick them up, every joint and muscle in her body reminding her that this was now the twenty-first century, not 1958. Although it was a cold winter’s day, the roof of the convertible was down. As she put the shoes on the passenger seat, she noticed a parcel propped up in the back. Frowning, she touched the brown paper and traced her finger around the edges of the large rectangle.
She had no idea if she was meant to open it, but it was too tempting to leave it there.
She pushed one finger into the paper, then used both hands to strip the packaging away. Inside was a painting, and it took her a moment to realise that it was one of her mother’s Ribbons series. At the time it had been seen as a difficult composition, but looking at it now, it was like a decent Jackson Pollock rip-off. Her mother was quite the visionary.
It took a minute for the significance of the painting to sink in. The series of pictures had been bought by a rich collector, and the money had not only kept them off the breadline for several months, but had allowed Georgia to have her dance. They had never known the identity of the collector. Once the money had been banked, it hadn’t mattered. Now, as she realised what Edward had done for her, the tears finally began to flow.
She went round to the driver’s seat, climbed in and gripped the wheel. When she closed her eyes, she could almost feel him.
She started to smile. She would be back with him soon, and she knew he would be waiting. Wiping her eyes, she pushed the key into the ignition and started the engine. It gave a quiet, satisfied growl, as if it was happy for her to be behind the wheel. Oh, she had loved him. She had loved him with all her heart. And he had loved her too. Suddenly she wanted to tell someone about it, and looking at her watch, she realised that Sally and Gianni’s lunch would not yet be over. And as she motored down the street, the wind whipping in her hair, she was suddenly young again, and he was by her side. And at that moment, she was happy.
Before I sat down to write this book I took a four-day trip to Manhattan, just like Amy and Georgia. I’d been to New York many times before, but never in the run-up to Christmas and, to my delight, it was everything I hoped it would be – the cold hint of snow in the air, the streets bustling with excited shoppers and, as ever in New York, there was movie-set glamour on every street corner.
Here is a guide to an assortment of the places we visited, some of which made it into the The Proposal, others which I know and love from previous trips to this dazzling city . . .
I love this Alice in Wonderland-style café so much that I have its menu pinned up on my kitchen wall at home. But it always seems that everybody else in New York wants to drop in for their famous Frozen Hot Chocolate too, so book ahead for lunch even if you just want to try the dessert. Get in the mood by watching the lovely Kate Beckinsale and John Cusack film, Serendipity.
225 East 60th Street, NY
This tiny Israeli take-away is a West Village local’s favourite and you might even see famous fans like Gwyneth Paltrow there too. It’s a scrum to get served but the ginger and mint lemonade and amazing falafel with melt-in-your-mouth hummus make it well worth it.
222 Waverly Place, NY
New York’s most famous railway hub. Surround yourself with the buzzing commuter crowd, marvel at the beautiful Beaux-Arts building and soak up the real Manhattan. The Grand Central Oyster bar is great too for station food but not as we know it (be sure to try the cheesecake).
87 East 42nd Street, NY
A brilliant toy shop near Central Park South that featured in the recent Smurfs movie. A must for the young or young at heart.
767 5th Avenue (at 58th Street), NY
I was tipped off about this shabby-chic Lower East favourite by a cool American friend who said the Saturday morning brunch queues are worth the wait. My Dutch pancakes were sweet, thick and delicious. Even better is the Bloody Mary menu – I went for the Virgin Green Lake (with a wasabi and beef jerky swizzle stick) but there’s another dozen to choose from.
54 East 1st Street, NY
I wanted Georgia and Amy to stay somewhere in New York that represents pure old-school glamour, and this Upper East Side institution fitted the bill perfectly. Quiet, discreet and elegant (it was Princess Diana’s preferred New York hotel, and still attracts the stars), its location on a quiet side street that’s a stone’s throw away from everything is just perfect.