Neither of us knew where we were; we were taking the sat nav at face value and hoping Google Maps would get us home. But it didn’t matter how long it all took. We had that horrible lovesickness that radiates off happy couples – and it was bloody brilliant. After the day we’d had, there was no way we could be anything but disgustingly pleased with ourselves. I could already imagine the fake groans of the girls when I told them about the day and the sites and—
Rowan reached over and squeezed my hand. I took a glance at his profile. It was dimly lit by oncoming headlights, and I could still see a smile teasing at his cheeks. He pulled over as soon as we found a pub.
‘This’ll do, right?’ He steered onto the car park and straight into a space, where he hurried to yank the handbrake on. ‘Edi Parcell …’
‘Yes, Rowan Ness?’
He smiled and let out a huff of air. ‘We’re engaged.’
We chased each other along the car park and through the door of the pub. Our laughter grabbed everyone’s attention, but we refused to apologise. I could only think, I’m engaged! on a loop, as though that were a response to everything in the world now.
Rowan leaned on the bar and waited for the woman behind it to migrate our way.
‘You kids eating?’ she asked.
Rowan glanced at me and I shook my head. Of all the pubs on all the country roads, we’d managed to stumble into the ‘They’re not from round here …’ sort. There were awkward glances flickering in our direction long after our happy laughter had died away. And I wasn’t convinced I could keep my glee in check for an entire meal without alarming or outraging someone – assuming we hadn’t done that already. I caught the eye of an elderly farmer who I flashed a wide smile to, only to have the expression met with a steel glare.
‘Just drinks,’ Rowan answered. ‘A lemonade for me and …’
‘You’re not even having a sneaky one?’ I asked.
‘Heck no, I’m driving important stuff around with you in the car, Parcell.’
I turned to the barwoman. ‘I’ll have a lemonade, too, please.’
‘Edi, you don’t have—’
‘We can have a proper drink when we tell everyone.’
Rowan shrugged and turned back. ‘Two lemonades then, please, and whatever you’re …’ His offer died out as the woman turned away from him. ‘Okay, never mind,’ he faced me. ‘I’ll tell her when she’s back.’ He held his hand palm up and out towards me and I placed my hand into it. He laughed. ‘I want your phone.’
I dug around in my pocket. ‘Why?’
‘To turn it off.’ He powered down his handset and rested it on the bar. By then the woman was back, setting two half pints of pop in front of us. ‘Thank you. Take one for yourself, too?’ Rowan handed her a twenty-pound note and she smiled.
‘You’re celebrating?’ she asked when she gave the change back.
Rowan nodded to me to break the news and I felt myself bounce. ‘We’re engaged!’ I made the announcement with such enthusiasm that even the miserable sods around us murmured a congratulations. ‘Yes, we’re engaged,’ I said again, but a little quieter.
‘Congratulations,’ she replied.
We waited until she was out of earshot to pick up where we’d left off.
‘Why are we turning our phones off?’ I asked, powering mine down, too.
Rowan eased it free of my hand and rested it on the bar with his. ‘Because from tomorrow things are going to be mental and we’ll hardly have a minute to ourselves for bloody ages.’ He pulled me towards him. ‘And I’d like a minute or two with my future wife, to myself. Is that okay?’
Future wife. I felt the phrase echo in my head. ‘Christ. Wife.’
He laughed. ‘That usually comes after the engagement?’
‘I hadn’t thought about it that way.’ I quickly tried to change the tone. ‘So people know?’
‘Nope.’
‘You didn’t tell anyone?’
‘Not true, actually, sorry. Your parents know because I asked them.’
‘You asked both of them?’
He smiled. ‘I asked both of them whether they thought you’d say yes. I didn’t ask their permission, because you are your own woman, and no man or woman owns you. But I wanted your mum involved because, well, why wouldn’t she be?’
I kissed him. ‘Bloody love you.’
‘Bloody love you. So, they know. And the lads know but the girls don’t.’
‘And Mum and Dad don’t know you planned it for today?’
He shook his head. ‘Not a clue. But I know the temptation will be great to get on the phone to Betty and Molly and, and, and … So, before that temptation kicks in, let’s just be us for a bit?’
‘Deal.’ I sipped my drink.
‘Did I hear that right?’
We both craned to find the source of the question. There was an older man perched on a barstool behind Rowan. He was wearing a thick jacket and a flat cap, as though he were ready to up and leave the pub at any second, and his cheeks had that rosy blush that comes from endless hours of outdoor work. The question was slurred, though; the words sounded lazy as they left him.
‘You two are engaged?’
It was Rowan’s turn to bounce on his heels. ‘You heard that right, sir.’
‘Jesus.’ From his tone it was clear he didn’t exactly share our delight. ‘You can’t have known each other five minutes.’
‘Actually,’ Rowan started, ‘we’ve known each other since we were fresh out of school. Not secondary school either but …’ This was one of his favourite stories to tell, even though the older we got, the more tweaks he made to it. ‘… And then I saved her from the playground bully, essentially.’ I shook my head and he noticed. ‘Even though you would have definitely hit Owen on your own one day.’
‘Even though you definitely didn’t hit him, you mean.’ I stretched up to kiss his forehead. ‘Nothing cool about violence, babe, not even made-up violence.’
‘So you’ve been together since you were knee-high?’ The words knocked into each other in the same way as before. The man leaned forward slightly and then in a jerked motion he snapped back. I recognised the gesture from the boys I’d avoided at university; he was a drink away from tipping off his seat. ‘Like, since you were wee?’ he added.
‘You heard right.’ Rowan tried to sound breezy, but I knew he was forcing it. He’d always had a terrible poker face. ‘Couldn’t let this one get away.’
‘No.’ The man didn’t sound convinced. He narrowed his eyes like he was physically inspecting something. That, or trying to work out the maths of an especially tricky equation. He laughed and the noise was a horrible one: outdoor work mixed with too much alcohol mixed with … Does he smell like smoke even from here? ‘I can’t get my head around kids so young trying to be so grown up.’
‘Well,’ I took over, ‘when you know you know.’ I physically turned Rowan back to face me and positioned myself so I didn’t knock eyes with the man still sitting behind. ‘Leave it?’
‘He’s being friendly.’
‘No, Rowan, I don’t think he is.’
He shook his head. ‘Okay. So, future wife—’
‘Edi is fine.’ I play-punched him. ‘But you can have future wife for tonight.’
‘How do you want to tell people? Update our social media and call it a day?’ He took a sip of his drink and it felt timed for dramatic effect. ‘Or we tell our families privately and then invite friends out one evening for drinks and tell them all in a massive group.’
‘Fewer messages involved.’
‘Get all the responses at once.’
‘Don’t accidentally forget to WhatsApp someone who you should have remembered.’ I was certainly leaning towards the second option. ‘Okay, this weekend? I can text the group chat and suggest …’ I reached for my phone and Rowan pushed my hand away. ‘Tomorrow, I can text the group chat tomorrow and suggest drinks for this weekend. Friday?’
‘Perfect.’
‘I’m sorry …’ The intrusion erupted from behind Rowan again and from the brash tone of it I guessed the man wasn’t really all that sorry at all. ‘But you’re engaged, like, to be wed?’
‘Smithy,’ the barwoman cautioned, and I was glad of it. She spoke with the curt tone of a woman who handled drunk men all too often. ‘Leave it alone.’
‘Come on …’ He’s not leaving it, I thought as I pulled in a big breath. ‘They’re engaged,’ he reminded her before he turned back to us. ‘You’re mid-twenties at a push, like, and you’re engaged to be married already in your lives. By Christ.’ He paused to wet his lips with beer. ‘Are the pair of you sure you’re thinking straight?’
‘Smithy,’ Rowan answered, using a tone surprisingly like the barwoman’s, ‘I’ve never thought straighter about anything in my life.’ He turned around and kissed me square on the mouth. It wasn’t exactly the stuff of Notting Hill, but it’d do …