“Hello, cara Bethy,” said Giorgio. “You look even more beautiful every time I see you.”
I kissed him. “I doubt it. I’m wearing my gardening clothes. Sorry, guys.”
Rosie kissed me on the cheek. “Just so long as you’re warm. Is it me, or does it get colder each year we do this?”
“It’s just you,” I said, gazing up at the Christmas tree, taking in the strands of silver lights stretching from top to bottom and the crowning star. Every year, the tree looked magical. Hopeful. Maybe this coming year, some of that magic and hope would spread in my direction.
“So beautiful.” I sighed.
Rosie linked her arm in mine, resting her head on my shoulder to gaze at the tree with me. “Isn’t it?”
Giorgio smiled, patiently waiting for us to complete our vigil. But he was stamping his feet to keep warm, his gloved hands thrust into his coat pockets. He was used to the milder temperatures of winter in Rome, so eventually we took pity on him and got moving.
We were about halfway along Regent Street, admiring the dazzling angels, when I saw a tall man with light-blond hair approaching me. Tom. And not just Tom but Tom carrying a large gift-wrapped box.
Hell. How had he managed to find me? I shouldn’t have let it slip where I was going this evening.
“Beth! I found you.”
“Tom,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to give you your present, of course. Here.”
When he thrust the box in my direction, my arms moved reflexively to take it. It was heavy. As I struggled to hold it, something clicked into place inside my mind—something that absolved me. Enough of the guilt. I hadn’t really treated Tom that badly. I’d decided we weren’t right for each other, that was all, and I had a right to do that. It was time to put an end to this once and for all.
“I’ll just be a minute or two,” I told Rosie, and she nodded.
“We’ll be over here if you need us.”
“Okay.”
“Look, Tom,” I said, after she and Giorgio had moved off to stand beneath the next set of Christmas lights. “I can’t accept this.”
“It’s heavy, isn’t it? I’ll carry it for you if you like. I’m not doing anything this evening. I can tag along with you and help you home with it.”
“Tom, you’re not listening to me. I can’t accept this gift from you because we’re not together anymore. If I take it, you’ll start hoping we’ll get back together. And we won’t. Look, you’re a good man. I’m sure you’ll meet someone right for you soon. But that person just isn’t me. I’m really sorry, but I think it’s best if you don’t phone me or try to see me again.”
Suddenly I realised Tom wasn’t listening to me. Wasn’t even looking at me. He was looking over at Giorgio and Rosie instead.
“Your friend’s just gone down on one knee,” he said. “I think he’s proposing.”
I looked over and saw he wasn’t making it up. Giorgio was indeed down on one knee, holding something out to Rosie. Rosie had her hand up to her mouth. She was nodding. Oh my God! I wanted to scream and jump up and down.
But then Tom spoke, drawing my attention back to him. “How romantic.”
“Please take the gift back.”
But he just shook his head mulishly, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. So I put the box down on the pavement in front of him. “Goodbye, Tom. Please don’t try to contact me again.”
When I started to walk away towards my friends, Tom called after me: “Why did you even join a dating site in the first place?”
It was a fair question. I glanced back briefly, the rejection on his face reminding me of the way I’d felt last Christmas, when Mark had so obviously regretted his kiss.
“I shouldn’t have,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Are you all right?” Rosie asked when I reached her.
I nodded vigorously, determined not to cry. “Yes, of course. Did I just see what I thought I saw?”
Rosie flashed her engagement ring at me, a smile splitting her face in two.
Giorgio’s smile was a carbon copy. “She say yes!” he said, lifting his arms up to the sky like one of the sparkling angels strung above him.
“Well, of course she did. Oh, congratulations, both of you. I’m so thrilled. Your mum will be over the moon, Rosie.”
I kissed and hugged them both, and then we carried on up Regent Street, admiring the lights, though to be honest, I think Rosie and Giorgio shone brighter than they did. And when we reached Oxford Street and Rosie began talking about which cocktail bar we should go to, I held back.
“I’m going to call it a night. It’s been a long day. And besides, you two need to celebrate together.”
“I am sorry, Bethy,” said Giorgio. “I did not mean to take over your evening. I just ask the question before my courage run away from me.”
“It’s fine,” I told him. “More than fine. It’s totally fantastic.”
We hugged, but before she drew away, Rosie asked, “Will you be in on Saturday morning? It’s not one of your Precious mornings, is it?”
“No, term’s finished for Bembe’s class.”
“Good. Okay if I pop round then?”
“Of course.”
“Great. See you then.”
They headed off hand in hand, completely wrapped up in each other, as they should have been. I hadn’t been able to tell Rosie my big news after all, but that didn’t matter. I’d tell her on Saturday.
One way or another, next year was going to be an exciting year for both of us. I couldn’t wait.
32
Rosie hadn’t said what time she’d be coming round on Saturday morning, but I was back from popping out to the shop for milk and biscuits by nine. Then I settled down to a spot of cleaning—not because Rosie was coming over but because I’d totally neglected the flat lately, what with work and looking after Precious.
I had my rubber gloves on and was in the middle of scrubbing out the kitchen bin when the knock on the front door came. I went to the door like that, intending to finish off the job before I made Rosie a cup of coffee.
Only it wasn’t Rosie. It was Mark.
“Oh,” I said. “Hello.”
“Hi,” he said, smiling at me. “Sorry to surprise you like this. Nice gloves, by the way.”
I peeled them off. In the old days, I might have made a quip about them being Stella McCartney or something, but not now.
When I didn’t say anything, Mark pressed on. “So anyway, I’m on my way to the Museum of the Home. They’ve got a special Christmas exhibition on.”
“It’s on every year.” I’d been several times. Enjoyed it every time.
“Yes. Well, do you want to come with me?”
I’d barely seen Mark since Sylvia’s lunch party, and while a part of my mind registered that he was looking better—a lot better—than he had then, I was still glad to have a ready excuse not to spend time with him now.
“Sorry, I can’t. Rosie’s coming round this morning. I’m expecting her any minute, actually.”
Mark’s face fell. Despite everything, I had a sudden, almost overwhelming impulse to phone Rosie to put her off. To make myself available to Mark so he wouldn’t be disappointed.