Sophie had been twenty years old when she’d met Theo Pargeter in line at the local post office.
Ah, the glamour.
It was a very long line. Everyone else in it was in their sixties and seventies, collecting their pensions, renewing vehicle registrations, or pedantically counting out small coins in order to buy stamps and post letters off to twenty different countries. The staggering slowness of all involved had Sophie in silent hysterics, and Theo, directly in front of her, soon joined in. By the time she eventually emerged from the post office, he was waiting for her outside. They went for a coffee. Then another. Followed by a walk in the park. And pizza and wine. It turned out to be a long, unpremeditated, and entirely unplanned first date.
“From now on,” Theo told her at the end of the evening, “I’m never going to complain about post offices. Their lines are the best.”
Weeks went by and Sophie was happy. Theo was great. They complemented each other so well and everyone remarked upon how perfect they were together. Unlike her last boyfriend, whose hobbies had been football and going out drinking and talking about football with his mates, Theo was charming, kind, thoughtful, and empathetic. He was also good company. Things were definitely looking up. Sophie even adored his mum, Betsy, which was just as well, since Theo still lived at home and he and Betsy were a close-knit unit of two. Not weirdly close; just in a good way. It was actually heartwarming to see how well they got on.
The months passed and Sophie’s relationship with Theo went from strength to strength. Their friends started to tease them, asking when the wedding was going to happen. Which was crazy, because they were far too young to be thinking of anything like that.
But another year later, completely out of the blue, Betsy suffered a major heart attack, and life as they knew it changed forever. Theo spent most of his time at her bedside in the coronary care unit, and Sophie visited whenever she could. Betsy, her face whiter than the sheets she lay on, clutched her son’s hands and told him how much she loved him. Then she started saying the same to Sophie. One afternoon, her voice croaky and weak, she whispered, “All I want is to know my boy’s going to be happy. He means everything in the world to me.”
“I know.” Sophie stroked her thin arm.
“And you love him too, don’t you?”
Sophie nodded and said, “Yes.” Because she did.
“I just want to be sure everything’s going to be okay. You’re meant to be together. You are going to get married, aren’t you?”
Sophie swallowed; Theo had only left the ward to buy a coffee from the machine in the corridor outside. “I don’t know.”
“But you must.” Betsy was shaking her head from side to side in an attempt to convey the urgency in her frail voice. “You must! Promise me you will!”
At that moment a nurse came bustling over to take Betsy’s blood pressure, and Sophie was saved from the awkwardness of having to reply. But Betsy wasn’t letting it drop; evidently she’d gone on to discuss the situation with her son. Three days later, taking a break from the hospital visiting routine, Theo took Sophie out for an early dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant and uncharacteristically ordered a bottle of champagne. Well, sparkling wine with a champagne-shaped cork.
Sophie knew at once what it meant; she guessed what was about to happen. Oh God, surely not, please no…
“I love you,” Theo said simply, his hands reaching across the table for hers. “I never want us to be apart. Sophie, will you marry me?”
“Oh, but aren’t we too young?” Even as the words were spilling out, she could see the hurt in his eyes. It wasn’t the done thing to hesitate, come up with reasons why it shouldn’t happen. She was spoiling the moment.
“No.” Theo shook his head vehemently. “We’re not too young. It’s fine.”
She could hear her own breathing, felt like Darth Vader. “But…are you doing this because your mum told you to?”
His jaw jutted. “She didn’t tell me to.”
“Asked, then. Because it’s what she wants more than anything. She told me,” Sophie whispered. “The other day.”
“Okay, I know, but that’s not why I’m doing it. I want us to get married. I thought you would too.”
Oh God, this was awful. Because the thing was, he was right: at any other time she might have been overjoyed. She did love him. And she knew he loved her. But a powerful sense of déjà vu was bringing a memory hurtling back from childhood.
Sophie had been standing in the garden at home, listening to their neighbors arguing. She’d been eight years old. Rob next door was very nearly ten. She’d liked him and he’d always been friendly in return. It had been mortifying, therefore, to hear him wailing, “But Dad, I don’t want Sophie at my party.” Followed by his father’s brusque reply: “I know, Rob, but she’s our neighbor. You have to invite her.”
An hour later, the mortification had expanded like Styrofoam in her throat when Rob had rung their doorbell and recited without enthusiasm, “Hello, Sophie, it’s my birthday on Saturday; I hope you’ll come to my party.”
Before she could answer, her mum had come out of the kitchen and exclaimed, “How wonderful! That’s so kind of you! She’d love to come!”
Afterward, when she’d tried to explain that she didn’t want to go, her mother had laughed and said, “Oh, darling, don’t be so silly! They’re our neighbors; of course you have to go!”
Sophie shuddered at the memory and looked up to meet Theo’s gaze. “It’s just the…timing.”
“I know. And if everything was okay, we’d leave it for maybe another year. But everything isn’t okay.” His Adam’s apple bobbed a bit as he said this. “Mum’s… She doesn’t have another year. I’d do anything to make her happy. Yes, she wants to see us get married, but is that really so terrible? If it makes her happy?”
When he put it like that, it did seem churlish to object. Sophie immediately felt bad. And the middle-aged couple at the next table had definitely heard them; they’d abandoned their conversation in order to eavesdrop.
She did love Theo. It wasn’t as if she didn’t.
Plus, although there was no way she would say this out loud, maybe they could just vaguely plan on getting married; the chances were that Betsy wasn’t going to live as long as it took to arrange a wedding, after all.
Sophie smiled and gave his fingers a squeeze. “Okay then, yes. Let’s do it.”
His eyes brightened. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“I love you.” He moved the candle out of the way before leaning across the table for a kiss. The strain of the last couple weeks melted from his face as she kissed him back.
“Congratulations,” said the wife at the next table.
“Thank you,” said Theo.
The woman raised her glass at them and winked at Sophie. “You’ll be able to choose an engagement ring! That’s something to look forward to!”
“Oh, I don’t need an—”
“No,” Theo cut in. “We won’t be buying one of those.”
Which had come as a relief at the time. Except she’d wildly underestimated the degree of planning that had gone into this evening’s proposal.
Leaving the restaurant at eight o’clock, they headed over to the hospital before visiting time ended. Now she knew why they’d eaten dinner at six. As they entered the ward, Betsy turned her head, the unspoken question radiating from her yellow-tinged eyes.
Sophie saw Theo nod at his mother, and Betsy visibly relaxed, breaking into a smile. The next moment Sophie found herself being maneuvered around to face him. And there and then, in the middle of the ward, in front of everyone, Theo dropped to one knee. Grasping her left hand, he cleared his throat.
“Sophie…” His voice was deliberately louder than usual, like an actor onstage, so that all the nurses, patients, and other visitors could hear. “I love you so much. You mean everything to me. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife?”
She knew why he was doing it like this; it was so his mum could see him proposing, could be a part of it. Which was obviously a lovely, thoughtful thing to do, if pretty embarrassing for her. The back of her neck had gone all prickly and hot.
But what could she do, other than go along with it? The rest of the ward had fallen silent; everyone was waiting. And the smirking teenage boys who were here to visit their gran in the next bed were clearly longing for her to say no…
“Yes.” Sophie smiled down at Theo and nodded. “Of course I will.”
And then everyone was clapping and going aah and the smirking teenagers were pulling disappointed faces at each other and Sophie watched in disbelief as Theo took something small from his jacket pocket and began putting it on her finger.
Oh, good grief, he had bought her a ring…
Then her stomach did a weird little squeeze of dismay as she realized her mistake. No, he hadn’t bought her a ring; this one belonged to his mother.
It was small and delicate, in the style of a flower, with a central diamond and garnets for petals. She already knew that Betsy’s parents had given it to her on her twenty-first birthday and that Betsy had worn it ever since. Okay, maybe this was just for show, for the benefit of their audience. As it slipped into place on her third finger, Sophie said, “It’s your mum’s ring…”
“Not anymore.” Theo rose to his feet and put his arms around her. “She wants you to wear it. It’s yours now.”
He kissed her briefly on the mouth—it wasn’t the place for anything more full-on—then led her over to Betsy’s bed. There were tears of joy in Betsy’s eyes.
“You have no idea how happy you’ve made me,” she said as they hugged. “I know it sounds silly when I’m stuck here in this bed, but this is one of the best days of my life.”
And who knew how many days she had left? As Betsy took her hand, Sophie said, “I can’t wear your ring. You must keep it.”
But Betsy was already shaking her head. “No, no, bless you; I want you to have it. Nothing would make me happier. Look how lovely it is…it’s just beautiful on you!”
Oh dear. Sophie knew at that moment that there was no wriggling out of it. The ring was pretty, but it was the kind of style she would never have chosen for herself in a million years. Her own taste in jewelry was sleek, chunky, and modern. This was like asking Lady Gaga to wear a beige knitted cardigan for the rest of her life.
But what else could she do, when it was pretty much Betsy’s dying wish?