There’s a flash of surprise in Joe’s face—then, as he surveys me, his eyes crinkle.
“Oh, Effie,” he says. “My love. Do you have to ask?”
My throat thickens at the word love, but I persevere. I can’t let his tender expression sway me.
“Yes, I do.” I stare back at him resolutely. “If life has taught me anything, it’s don’t ever assume. Nail it down. Get things clear. Because otherwise…” I scrabble for the right words, and suddenly, madly, recall that stupid yoga sculpture. “Otherwise you might think assembly is included. Whereas they say assembly isn’t included. And that leads to…you know. Misery.”
“Misery.” Joe opens his eyes wider.
“Yes.” I lift my chin. “Misery. So I do have to ask. And I’d like you to be, you know. Honest.” My voice gives a treacherous wobble. “Be honest.”
I force myself to keep my gaze steady. Joe gazes back at me, his face grave, then finally draws breath.
“Assembly is included,” he says. “As far as I’m concerned. Assembly is included. If you’d be interested in that option?”
Something inside my body seems to let go. I think it’s a muscle that’s been miserably tensed for the past four years, finally relaxing.
“Great.” I rub my nose, trying to hide my feelings. “Yes. I would like that option.”
“The option I’d really like,” he says matter-of-factly, “is to build a life with you. A strong, put-together kind of life. I know you’re pretty good at assembly yourself, probably better than I am, in fact. So maybe it could be…a joint project?”
“I’m handy with a wrench.” I try to laugh, but it doesn’t quite work.
“I would go so far…” Joe hesitates, his eyes even more intense. “I would go so far as to say I can’t seem to build the life I want without you. Nothing fits.”
“Lives are tricky,” I say. “Maybe you should have tried a set of shelves first.”
Joe gives a short bark of laughter, then pulls me into his arms, and as he kisses me, it’s with a new, strong determination.
“We’re us,” he murmurs in my ear. “We’re us again.”
I nod happily against his chest, one hand still clenched round my dolls, one arm clinging on to Joe. I’ll never let either go again.
It feels like several hours later that we draw apart. As Joe watches, smiling, I separate my dolls into their individual familiar selves, checking them over, lining them up on the lawn from large to small. They beam back at me, their expressions fixed and happy, as if they were never lost. Never gone. Nothing was ever wrong.
As I reach the tiniest doll, I look up at Joe, turning the wooden figure round in my fingers.
“There’s always been a Joe I could never get at,” I say. “Hidden under all the layers. Right at the center of you.”
“I know.” Joe exhales. “I know. I clam up. I shut the world out. I don’t help myself.”
I gaze for a few moments at my dear, familiar, tiniest doll, then up at Joe.
“Let me in, Joe,” I say quietly. “Let me in. I want to be right in the heart of you.”
Joe nods, his eyes grave. “I’ll try. I want that too. And I want to be in the heart of you.”
“You already are,” I whisper, my fingers unpicking the Blu Tack at the base of the tiniest doll. As I release it, there’s a flash from the hollowed-out place in the wood. A trickle of silver chain. The glint of the Smallest Diamond in the World.
“No.” Joe seems almost ashen with shock. “No.”
“It was burning all the time,” I say, holding the tiny candle. Joe surveys it silently, then takes it and, after a questioning look, fastens it around my neck. It feels warm, as though it’s only been off me for five minutes.
“Effie…” Joe’s eyes are suddenly anguished, but I forestall whatever he’s about to say by shaking my head.
“Not backward,” I say. “Forward. Only forward.”
“Your dolls!” Bean flops down beside me and reaches to pick one up. “You found them!”
“Joe did,” I explain. “He knew where they were, all the time.”
“Of course he did.” Bean rolls her eyes humorously. “Trust Joe. You should have just asked him straightaway.”
“No!” I say with animation. “It’s exactly the opposite. I shouldn’t have asked Joe straightaway.” And I’m about to explain how if I’d done that, none of us would be sitting here right now—when I notice Dad, over Joe’s shoulder. He’s quietly moved away from the main gathering to the side of the mound. Now he’s just sitting there, alone, staring over the garden of Greenoaks. His body is motionless, and his face is as sad as I’ve ever seen it.