LITMIR.BIZ

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watched Ed as he stacked dishes in the dishwasher. This was exactly what she liked so much about being with him. Domesticity. Her mind wandered before she could stop it towards her own childhood home. She had lived with her parents in the tied cottage on Gabriel’s family estate. The cottage went with her father’s job of groundsman. Anything to do with the upkeep of the manor house and its gardens and outhouses had been his responsibility. And to his credit, she thought, he did a good job for almost the entire time they were there. Until the end when his drinking had more charge of his life than he did himself.

      Dragged down with him was her mother, who developed her own drinking problem alongside him, almost in sympathy with him. The rows had become more and more frequent, verbal at first, then at times physical. By the time Lucy was sixteen her mother had left and she was running the house herself as well as managing her own schoolwork. She had kept everything perfectly as if she could somehow bring order to the rest of her life by making the house run smoothly.

      Watching Ed now in her tiny kitchen, helping her clear up after eating the meal she had cooked for them both, she felt a warmth deep inside her. She felt totally at ease, relaxed, secure. She wanted that feeling to last and to envelop every aspect of her life. She wanted to start thinking about having children now, a family of her own to look after. It was the logical next step for them, and getting married was the way she wanted to start that journey. She felt excited at the thought of it—a proper family at last.

      The following evening, Gabriel was late as usual. Only in his private life, though, Lucy thought fondly as she tidied up. He was always impeccably presented, perfectly prepared and absolutely on time when he was working. In fact he was the most professional person she knew, totally reliable and with absolute integrity when he had his lawyer hat on. A rising star in legal circles, he had attained partnership before the age of thirty and his career was going from strength to strength. Unfortunately it never seemed to wrap over to his personal life. He was always late and his beautiful house was always a pigsty.

      She let him in and he kissed her on the cheek. She caught a whiff of his aftershave, something woody that made her want to breathe in deeply. He marched straight through into her neat little kitchen, grabbed a couple of glasses and rummaged in the drawer for a bottle opener. She followed him in and leaned against the doorway, watching him with amused interest.

      ‘Make yourself at home,’ she said teasingly.

      He grinned without looking up. ‘You’re such a creature of habit, Lu. After living with you for six months I could probably find any given kitchen utensil or crockery item in this room without even looking.’

      ‘Steak knife?’

      He opened the drawer below the hob and pulled the knife out with a flourish. She liked all sharp items to be close to hob and chopping board.

      ‘Luck!’ she protested. ‘Olive oil?’

      He pointed at the high cupboard on the left. ‘In the ingredients and condiments cupboard, of course.’

      She didn’t have to open the cupboard to know he was right. Everything in her kitchen had order to it. She liked it that way. ‘Salad spinner?’

      ‘What the hell is one of those?’

      She laughed and he grinned back at her as he uncorked the bottle of wine.

      ‘OK, let’s get started.’ She took one of the glasses and led the way into her little sitting room. It was neat and tidy. The scented candles she’d lit earlier gave off a delicious warm winter scent of orange and cloves. He followed with the bottle and took the armchair. She settled herself close by on the sofa.

      ‘So, where do you think we should start, then?’ she asked him as soon as she was comfortable.

      He glanced up at her as he poured the wine.

      ‘Should I ask him on his own, or with all our friends and family there?’ She put her head on one side and screwed her nose up, considering. ‘Do you think it would be too weird if I bought myself a ring?’

      He held up a hand for her to be quiet and she waited impatiently while he took a slug from his glass. ‘Firstly, for the record, I want you to know I think this is possibly the most crackpot idea you’ve ever had. I’m including in that the time when we were kids and you convinced me my mother would be pleased if we repainted the sitting-room door yellow with my fingerpaints.’

      She laughed and he smiled back at her. He had a heart-melting smile that gradually crept up to his eyes, creasing the corners and giving him a look of intensity. She always felt he kept that smile just for her. No doubt many other women felt the same, she thought wryly.

      ‘But since you’ve agreed to watch my back at this wretched work dinner dance,’ he went on, ‘I will help you.’

      She clapped her hands together excitedly.

      ‘But if we do this, we’re going to take it seriously and we’re going to do it my way. OK?’ He looked at her sternly for agreement.

      ‘OK.’ She sat on her hands to keep herself from fidgeting, and made herself wait for him to carry on. Once Gabriel had committed to something she knew he would take it totally seriously and wouldn’t allow her to sidetrack him with her enthusiasm. It was one of the things she adored about him.

      In all the years she’d known him, he’d never let her down. Unlike most of the other main players in her life, she thought, with a pang of regret. The finger-painting memory reminded her of how much she’d loved spending time with him as a child. Gabriel was an only child, just like her, except that his parents were very loving and very wealthy. She hadn’t cared about the wealthy part, but she had envied him for the happy, unworried and loving life he had. His family were warm and kind and had always welcomed her. For her the ‘big house’, as she’d thought of it, had been a refuge from the constant escalating fights in her own home.

      Gabriel dragged her back to the present by making an enthusiastic start on his plans. ‘OK, there’s only two weeks until the twenty-ninth so we need to get our skates on. That means radical plans to make him sit up and take notice of you.’ He leaned back a little and looked at her critically. ‘I know you, Lucy. You’ll be wanting to jump in and plan a massive party culminating with you getting down on one knee. But it’s not enough to plan a speech and a big sweeping gesture of a proposal.’ He paused for effect. ‘For true success you need to get to the bottom of why he doesn’t feel he needs to propose to you himself. If we can do that we can change the way he thinks of you and we’ll be guaranteed a positive outcome.’ He grinned at her across the coffee table.

      ‘How do we do that?’ She marvelled at how well he knew her. It was almost spooky. One of the options she’d been secretly considering was a party ending in a firework display. Another was hiring a barbershop quartet to sing the proposal to Ed while she looked smugly on awaiting his resounding ‘yes’. Her own enthusiasm could easily overshadow her common sense, which was why Gabriel’s calm perspective was exactly what was needed.

      ‘We’re going to scrutinise every area of your life,’ he said. ‘Find out why he needs a rocket lit under him to get him to commit. We’ll look at your home life, your social life, your wardrobe, your appearance…’ He sat back again for a moment and looked her up and down appraisingly from the extra distance. His slate-grey eyes looked puffy and sleep-starved, but nothing could detract from the strong jawline and determined mouth. Even when he’s tired he looks gorgeous, she thought. How unfair. And now he’s going to criticise the way I look.

      She pushed her fingers through her curls defensively. ‘What’s the matter with my appearance?’ she demanded.

      He leaned forward again to pick up his glass. ‘Nothing, sweetie, except that Ed is used to you looking like that. We need to make him see you through fresh eyes and the easiest way to do that is by working on your appearance. I know someone who runs the personal shopping service at Jolly’s in town. Leave it to me.’

      ‘Right,’ she said dubiously. ‘Because if your intention is to boost my ego, let me tell you you’re falling way short.’

      He

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