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Text message from M: So it’s happening. 90 days until we get married. There’s no getting rid of me now :)
Me: Ditto. You’re stuck with me, too.
We are cornballs.
***
“OH, IT’S GORGEOUSSSS!” Bushra squeals upon seeing my sparkly new ring. “How did he propose? Tell me everything.”
She’s gathered around my desk with Emma and Amy, who has made a rare appearance in the office. There have been whispers that she’s been skiving since coming back from mat leave. It looks like she’s trying to put those rumours to bed by having a full, productive day with us.
I choose to begin my tale with the most western-appropriate element of the engagement, the actual proposal that he surprised me with on Millennium Bridge. I don’t even need to exaggerate my surprise. The fact that I wasn’t going to say no, as our engagement was planned well in advance with a date agreed upon by our parents with the conduit of uncle Tariq, is just a minor detail that can be left out. It’ll only muddy the water.
“That’s so romantic! Now I get why you didn’t bother booking a hotel for your stay, you dirty girl,” Emma winks.
They all laugh and I giggle along with them. Me and my double life.
Do I mention the actual engagement party? Before I have a chance to gather my thoughts as to how I’ll explain pulling off such an elaborate event (at a top restaurant in Rusholme that needs to be booked weeks in advance) with a few days notice, I’m already pulling up the pictures on my desktop. Yes, I insisted on getting the photos from the camera phones of everybody that attended, then saved them into a folder on my work laptop so I could share at this very moment. I don’t care who judges. This is my moment, my engagement. I will milk this.
As I browse the various versions of myself sat with different members of mine and M’s family for the photos, Amy has a question.
“Why are you looking down in the photos?” Her voice is careful and measured, like she’s scared of offending.
“Oh... I was trying to be demure. You know, play the part. I think I overdid it.”
“Ah, okay. So sorry, I hope you don’t think I was ignorant for asking. I just wasn’t sure. It looks like you’ve been shouted at.” She bites her lip, realising that her comment was indeed slightly ignorant.
Bushra interjects: “I see what you’re doing. Playing the innocent coy bride. Ha ha. Only we know different.”
Do they though?
Emma would also like to poke holes in my fantasy. “Are there any pictures of you and your boy?”
“Yeah... Oh, actually... I don’t even think I’ve got them saved here.”
I realise the only photos anyone managed to get of M are of him stuffing his face with cake and being presented with his brand spanking new watch by my big brother-in-law. I am obviously nowhere to be seen in the photos. I decide to end the slideshow to avoid further questions.
“You look amazing though,” says Amy. “Absolutely stunning. And it’s great that you managed to get something organised at such short notice. When I booked my engagement party I couldn’t find anywhere decent. I had to wait four months to book the upstairs of Wetherspoons on the weekend.”
I say nothing.
I’m hoping word of my engagement filters up to Bernadette. If not, I’ll have to drop that bombshell at my next one-to-one. It’ll be a bit of a triple whammy. I’m engaged, getting married in three months and I’m moving to London. Oh, and if there is space for me to pull up a pew at the head office and do my northern role from there, well... that would be just grand.
***
“SO, WHAT’S FOR LUNCH today?” M asks during our regular call.
“Salad on this front. The carb-y kind, with lots of potato and pasta,” I reply between mouthfuls.
“Is that the hospital discount one?”
He knows me too well. “Yeah. The perks of having our office next to one of our biggest hospital sites. Honestly, I might miss the 70% staff discount more than my own family when I leave.”
“You never know, you might get it here if you manage to get a transfer. What do you think the chances are?”
“I’m not sure really. On one hand, Bernadette loves me. Not bragging, just facts. Then, on the other hand, expecting to do a northern role from head office might be a stretch. Nobody else has done it. I figure that I can only ask as I’ve got nothing to lose. In the worst case she’ll say no and I’ll start job-hunting.”
“Don’t worry about that, though. There is no major rush,” says M.
“But I’ve never been out of work since I graduated! I’m not expecting to be a kept woman.” I’m sounding more defensive than I intended.
“I know. I just don’t want you to feel pressured to work. Get used to the place first. It’s gonna be a big change for you so don’t add any more to your load.”
The subject of working, or not working, isn’t the easiest for me to tackle. Thankfully, I spy my two cronies heading towards me through the sea of hospital visitors in the canteen.
“Well, it’s something we can discuss anyway but, I’m going to change the subject in a minute as Bushra and Emma are coming over. I’ve not told them I’m going to request a transfer.”
They both head over to the sofa area I saved for us. Bushra has a salad that mirrors mine, though I’ve got more beetroot. Emma is obviously feeling flush as she eschewed the heavily discounted salad for a hot dinner of roast beef, which comes with a measly 20% discount for staff. Still, it’s payday and all.
“I’ll leave you to it but, just quickly, I’m coming up again this weekend,” he says.
“Oh, you can’t keep away. At least your mum won’t be so suspect now as to why you’re making such frequent visits.”
“Yeah, that cat’s pretty much out of the bag now. Anyway, are you free?”
Of course I am, I think to myself. “I... should be. Meet up?”
“Yeah, sure. The other thing is, my watch is a bit loose. So I’m just thinking, while I’m up, shall we get it adjusted together at the jewellers?”
Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck-ity fuck.
I can’t think. Why can’t my brain process quickly? How is it that I can bash out a reactive statement for a major crisis in 30 minutes yet I can’t even concoct a simple lie (or perhaps preserve a secret, that sounds much more PR-friendly)?
“Yeah, maybe. I’ll let you know what I’m doing. Speak later?” That response might save me a couple of hours.
“Cool. I’ll catch you after work.”
Bless M, my easy-going, unassuming fiancé.
***
I WAIT UNTIL EMMA AND Amy bugger off to the kitchen to do a tea run. They always seem to do that in twos around here. Not that making tea is that hard. It’s hardly a big order either, what with just five of us in the office, including finance officer James, who we ask out of politeness.
“So you know that watch that I got... the Armani one?” I remind Bushra.
“The one I helped you save a packet on? Did he like it? Can I get a finder’s fee?”
“He loved it. Though that’s not the point. He wants to get it adjusted!”
“So...”
“So? So I’m buggered! He thinks I bought it from Goldman’s. A proper shop. Bloody hell! I knew I should’ve got a leather strap watch.”
“Hey, Watches Galore is a proper shop. that’s where I bought this from.” Bushra shoves her wrist in my face, which is dressed with a rose gold Michael Kors watch. At least I think it’s Michael Kors.
“Why don’t you just tell him where you got it from? He’ll be impressed with your savvy money-saving ways.”
“Stingy penny-pinching ways more like. It doesn’t bode well, considering he’s just got me a half-carat diamond ring.”
“I thought you said it was a third of a carat.”
“Oh, whatever. It’s just easier to say half a carat,” I tell her. Plus it sounds better, I tell myself. “Why did you show me that stupid website? You know how much I’m a sucker for a bargain.”
“Yes, I’ve spent enough lunch breaks with you covertly scanning the reduced aisle in Morrison’s. Don’t forget, though, that stupid website saved you over 100 quid. So... You’re welcome.”
Bushra returns to her work. I say returns but it would be more accurate to say starting for the first time at 11.30am.
Clearly she’s going to be no help in getting me out of this hole she helped me dig. I bet she’s even enjoying seeing me squirm. I thought I detected a hint of jealousy when she saw my ring.
I need to get out for some air. And I really, really need to speak to someone about this. A problem shared and all that. Sophia is no help these days and Julia is busy being a legal eagle. I need the counsel of my sisters.
“Oh, I don’t know lady.” I can almost hear big sis shaking her head in disapproval through the phone. “It’s just that you’re starting your marriage out on a lie.”
“That’s a bit dramatic! It’s not like I’ve had an affair or anything.”
Perhaps she wasn’t the best person to call.
“No, but you have told a little porky when you didn’t need to. Was it really worth it to save £100?”
This coming from the woman who will haggle until she is red-faced and hyperventilating to shave £10 off the asking price of a £300 saree.
She’s not done. “It’s just that, well, you only get engaged once. And if he’s bought you a diamond ring, not to mention all the other gifts, you should have just splashed out. I mean, is the watch even genuine. Or is it a knock-off?”
“It’s not a knock-off! That much I know. It had a proper guarantee book and everything. The girl at my work buys from there all the time.”
“Well, then you should’ve told him from the beginning that you bought it from so and so. Actually, that would’ve made you sound stingy. Oh, I don’t know. I just don’t know. Like I say, you’ll only get engaged once. Or at least you hope that will be the case.”
She cannot be serious. “Oh, you are the worst! Right, I’m hanging up okay, bye.”
Could this watch cost me my marriage before I’m even married? Maybe middle sis will offer a more reasonable voice.
“What a tosspot! Palming it off to you and putting you on the spot like that. Isn’t it enough that you’ve bought him a watch? Now it’s up to you to fix it, too? Why can’t he do it himself in London? It’s not like it’s going to cost him that much, is it?” middle sis huffs.
“It’s not the cost. I think he’s probably just assuming it will be a nice thing to do together and asking quite innocently.” I’m already on defensive wife-bear mode.
“Nice thing to do together. Yeah right?”
Hormones are making my sister slightly aggressive. And a little scary.
“I just think I made a mistake to save a few pounds. I should’ve got it from the bloody proper jewellers.”
“No, don’t feel guilty. You’ve made a massive saving. It shows that you’re sensible and you’re not gonna spend loads of his money in the future. If he has a problem with that then he’s a bloody mug!”
Are my two sisters even related to each other? They couldn’t be more different in their reaction. Sadly, neither is helpful right now.