‘I’ll text Ed and tell him to meet us at the bandstand,’ I call.
‘Already done,’ Rich shouts back. ‘See you up there.’
Their footsteps recede.
‘How is his book going?’ I ask while Izzy forcefully repacks her Anya Hindmarch ‘mummy’ handbag.
‘Fine.’
‘Are you okay?’ I ask. ‘You’re a bit quiet. I’m sorry I derailed your run.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ She stuffs another packet of wet wipes into the bag. ‘I’m just knackered. I know everyone thinks I’ve got nothing to do now that Tilly’s at nursery four days a week but I’ve actually got a lot on. Rich is working all hours and if he’s not, he’s holed up in his study trying to “write”.’ Izzy swipes her hands through the air to make inverted commas.
‘Is his novel any good?’
‘How should I know? He won’t let me read it. And that’s not the point.’ Izzy sounds harassed. ‘I’ve got a lot to manage. I’m trying to get Christmas sorted and Tilly’s picked now of all times to have some sort of sleep regression. I could do without a big family lunch this weekend.’
I know she resents the time Rich’s writing takes up but I can’t help thinking that if she gave him a bit more freedom to pursue it, he’d be a lot happier. Not that I would ever dare say that. ‘Can you postpone?’
‘Don’t be silly. You know I love seeing Rich’s parents and they’re so excited to have Henry back in town. This is the first time all their boys will be together since he got that job in Geneva.’
‘Jenny will be in her element.’ Rich’s mum once told me that he and his brothers, Henry and Charlie, were named after kings of England, which is appropriate given that she treats them like royalty. As someone who’s lost their own mother, it’s touching to watch. ‘Do you know, when they were little, she used to—’
‘Anyway, hark at us.’ Izzy changes the subject, oblivious to my attempted anecdote. ‘Boozing on Clapham Common in the early hours of a Saturday morning. It’s almost like nothing’s changed in the last fifteen years.’
‘Our terrible taste in blokes?’ I play along.
‘Speak for yourself. My taste has always been impeccable. Yours on the other hand…’
She’s joking. But out of nowhere, the memory of a white rose, as bright as a fresh sheet of paper, and Rich’s hand brushing my face tumbles into my mind. If things had been different that night… I steady my breath. I haven’t let myself think about that moment in almost two decades. I will not start now.
‘We can’t all meet Prince Charming when we’re sixteen,’ I say lightly as Izzy switches off the kitchen light and holds out her elbow so we can link arms. ‘Some of us have to wait a while.’
Two
9.30 a.m.
‘So tell me how he did it. Did he whisk you out for a swanky dinner or get down on one knee in front of the Christmas tree? I want to hear every last detail. Even the naughty ones.’
We’re at the traffic lights at the end of their road. Clapham Common’s at the top of the hill, a swathe of green stretching the length of the road all the way down to the station. Normally it’s packed with joggers and dog walkers but today the cold is keeping all but the most dedicated away.
‘It was a total surprise.’ I smile both at the memory and at the idea of being organized enough to have a Christmas tree already. ‘Though I probably should have clocked something was up when he was home before me.’
‘Don’t tell me he missed Friday night drinks. Sacre bleu.’
Before she had Tilly, Izzy used to work at the same risk management firm as Ed. That’s how I met him. Of course, at the beginning, I assumed he was interested in her. With legs up to her armpits, blonde hair and perfect features, most guys usually are. Thankfully I was wrong. This time.
‘Exactly. Anyway I thought it was a bit weird when I saw his bike chained up in the front garden but he made some excuse about drinks not being on because it’s December and everyone’s so busy.’ I breathe in, remembering the smell of cinnamon in the air. ‘But he’d lit candles. And he was making curry as well. That was when I thought something might be up.’
‘Candles and curry. Basic male seduction 101.’
‘We can’t all have Mr Romance.’
Rich has always surprised Izzy with gifts and treats. I remember the collective envy of our entire sixth form common room when he bought her a locket from H Samuel for their one-month anniversary. She’s honed his taste in jewellery since then. He proposed with a family heirloom on a cliff in Cornwall. He’d got up at the crack of dawn and abseiled down to spell out ‘Will you marry me?’ in stones on the beach below. As grand gestures go, it’s pretty hard to beat.
‘Carry on,’ Izzy urges.
The lights change and we start walking across the road. A car beeps, either at our leisurely pace or, more likely, Izzy in tight Lycra.
‘Okay. So I was thinking maybe he’d got a pay rise or that he finally wanted to talk about moving house. I didn’t think he was going to propose. I had my coat on! I was hanging it on the bottom of the stairs when he suddenly dropped to one knee in front of me. I thought he’d tripped on a loose floorboard at first.’ I shake my head. ‘I was so busy trying to help him up I didn’t even see the ring box in his hand.’
‘Only you would try and give a proposing man some assistance.’ Izzy laughs. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t fetch his toolkit and make him a cup of tea while you were at it.’
‘It has been said I do make a good cup of tea.’
‘Must be all that practice you get at work,’ Izzy quips. I laugh, but the comment stings a little.
She sees my face. ‘Too close to the bone?’
I shrug. I’ve been the features assistant at the magazine where I work for the past four years and some days it does feel like all I do is make tea. That doesn’t mean I want to be reminded of it.
‘So anyway, I stopped trying to help him up.’ I try to restore momentum. ‘In fact I pretty much stopped breathing altogether. Then he looked at me and said, “I’ve known from the minute I met you I always wanted you in my life. Would you do me the very great honour of marrying me?”’
I wait for Izzy to point out that if he knew from the moment he met me, it shouldn’t have taken him three years to ask. Uncharacteristically, she lets the comment go.
‘That’s so sweet, hon. These men pretend to be so macho but they’re jelly when it comes to this. I remember Rich was so choked up he could barely get the words out.’
‘Ed didn’t cry,’ I admit. ‘But his voice did go a bit scratchy.’
‘So romantic.’ Izzy looks up at the shops we’re about to pass. ‘I’m dying for a coffee and we’re going right past Grind. Shall we pop in?’
‘I thought you were off caffeine.’ Izzy switched coffee for green tea about six months ago. She claims it’s for health reasons but I suspect it’s because she’s thinking about getting pregnant again.
‘I need something to keep my eyes open.’ Izzy steers me into a café with a gunmetal grey awning and thumping bass. ‘Last night was like something out of The Night of the Living Dead, I can’t tell you. In the end, it got so bad I made Rich go and lie on her bed with her until she fell asleep. I better grab him one too.’