They told everyone on the first day of rehearsals for ‘The Arrival’, right at the end of the read-through. The last couple of pages of the script, written by Tony in anticipation of his own emotional state, were serious, shot through with love and tenderness, and clearly the happy couple had been so overcome that they could no longer keep the news to themselves. The audience for the announcement included Sandra, the rather difficult and unlikeable actress that Dennis had cast as the midwife. Sandra was the first to speak; Tony, Bill and Dennis merely gaped in disbelief and, in Dennis’s case, misery.
‘That’s marvellous news,’ said Sandra. ‘I’m so happy I was here for it.’
‘We didn’t know you were going to be here for it, to be honest.’
‘No, but you saw me and went ahead anyway,’ said Sandra. ‘I’m honoured.’
‘You shouldn’t be,’ said Clive. ‘In an ideal world, you wouldn’t …’
‘Stop it now, Clive,’ said Sophie.
‘Are you actually going to get married?’ said Bill.
‘Why else would we get engaged?’ said Clive.
‘People like you are always getting engaged,’ said Bill. ‘And half the time there’s nothing at the end of it. It’s like a phantom pregnancy. Or wind.’
‘I take it all back,’ said Clive. ‘It’s just as well Sandra’s here to wish us well. We’ve got Bill comparing our engagement to a fart and nobody else saying anything.’
‘Sorry,’ said Tony. ‘We’re all very pleased for you.’
They looked at Dennis, who still hadn’t spoken.
‘Yes,’ said Dennis. ‘I’m still trying to process it.’
‘In your own time,’ said Bill. ‘We’ll just wait here.’
‘The thing is, I was going to ask Sophie myself,’ and he gave a nervous little laugh.
Tony hoped that he was the only person in the room who understood that Dennis was serious.
‘I see what you’re doing,’ said Tony.
‘What’s he doing?’ said Clive.
‘Very good. OK.’
Tony stood up.
‘I am Spartacus.’
Bill laughed and stood up with him.
‘I am Spartacus.’
‘I haven’t seen Spartacus,’ said Clive.
‘If we all ask Sophie to marry us, she won’t know how to choose, and she’ll be spared a fate worse than death.’
‘Ah!’ said Dennis. ‘Very good.’
He stood up.
‘You don’t have to do it, Dennis,’ said Tony.
‘Oh.’
‘You started it. You can’t do it twice.’
‘I didn’t say, “I am Spartacus”, though. I just said I was going to ask Sophie to marry me.’
‘That was you saying, “I am Spartacus.” ’
‘Right-o,’ said Dennis. ‘I see.’
Tony could see that he was sweating now – an indication that the strange bubble of insanity had floated right across the brain and out into the room. They could get on.
‘Congratulations,’ said Dennis.
‘Thank you,’ said Sophie.
She was still looking at Dennis when everyone else had gone back to the script.
Diane wanted to interview the happy couple for Crush, quickly, but Clive was nowhere to be found, so the two girls ended up going out for dinner, Diane’s treat, to celebrate.
‘How did he propose?’
‘He took me to the Tratt, bought champagne, got the pianist to play “And I Love Her”, produced a ring and got down on one knee.’
‘Oh, my God.’
‘Oh, my God, good, or oh, my God, bad?’
‘Oh, bad. Terrible. Embarrassing. Cheesy.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I told him not to be so bloody stupid. I told him that if the question were actually popped I’d leave the restaurant.’
‘And then he popped it and you said yes.’
Sophie laughed and sighed at the same time.
‘Yes. Sort of. A lot later on. He kept on about it, and I said yes to shut him up, really.’
‘Beautiful. A fairy tale come true. I’ll have to be a bit more upbeat for Crush readers, or they’ll end up sticking their heads in their gas ovens. Anyway. A bit of the Diane gloss on it and you’ll make people very happy.’
‘Them again,’ said Sophie.
‘Who?’
‘ “People”. Will it make me very happy, that’s the question? I’m a person.’
‘So why on earth did you say yes?’
‘Because … Well, because it would make people very happy. It’s hard to resist, when everyone goes on about it all the time.’
It wasn’t true, really. When they went out together, people smiled, asked for autographs, made jokes. Nobody ever said, ‘Please get married.’ A wedding would make newspapers and magazines happy, she knew that, but the overwhelming pressure to give the people what they wanted came from within. One very small step sideways and she could make everything fit together, Jim and Barbara and Sophie and Clive, and perhaps there would be a baby to match the baby that she was about to give birth to on television. There was a part of her that wished she was married already, pregnant already, because then everything would double back on itself and give her more pleasure than any ordinary woman or any fictional character would ever know. But she knew that the pleasure wouldn’t last long, because there was nothing real at the centre of it, and then she found herself longing for something else.
‘Do you love him?’
‘Oh, come off it, Diane. Perhaps it is time you left Crush,’ she said.
She knew immediately she’d been too sharp with her. It wasn’t the silliest question to ask a girl who had just become engaged.
‘Can I say, “I couldn’t bear to let another girl steal my Jim”? ’ said Diane.