I sat on the nearest bench and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed while James just hovered nearby. For a while he said nothing then, when I thought my heart was actually breaking, he gathered me up in his arms and said he was tired of us fighting and that he loved me more than life and he couldn’t bear to see me cry. We weren’t going to split up, he said, he could never let me go.
That scenario played itself out several times in the last month – a couple of lovely days, then an argument swelling out of nowhere, me crying, James comforting me, a period of calm and then the cycle would begin all over again. I found it so exhausting I started to wonder whether splitting up might not be such a terrible idea after all – and then he sprang a surprise trip on me.
He rang me last Thursday, told me to cancel all my plans and pack a weekend suitcase and a passport and meet him at Gatwick airport. I was gobsmacked. That kind of thing only happens in Meg Ryan films, not in real life. I tried to be sensible, insisted he couldn’t afford it but he said that he knew what he could afford and I should just shut up and pack my bag like a good girl or I’d spoil the surprise.
I didn’t need asking twice and when I got to the airport, James was bouncing on his heels he was so excited.
‘Come on, come on,’ he grabbed my suitcase and my hand and speeded me towards the British Airways ticket desk. I gasped when I saw the destination details above the heads of the check-in staff.
‘Prague?’ I stared at James in astonishment. ‘We’re going to Prague?’
‘Yep.’ He squeezed me tightly. ‘I thought we could celebrate Christmas early in one of the most romantic cities in the world.’
I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly. Prague! How had he known? I’d always wanted to go there but I’d never mentioned it. It was like he knew me better than I knew myself.
We spent our first day in Prague happily sightseeing and when I asked James what he had planned for the evening he kept telling me it was a surprise but I should put on my glad rags and do my hair and make-up.
I was relieved when James asked our hotel reception to call us a taxi (my heels were far too high to navigate the tram system) but I was still no closer to knowing where we were going. I thought perhaps we might be on our way to a jazz club as James is a huge fan but he shook his head and told me to stop guessing. As we sped past the jazz club, I spotted a barge on the river. My heart leapt. I’d never been on a riverboat cruise and here we were, about to embark on one at night with Prague at its most beautiful, lights twinkling on the water, the sky a beautiful mix of royal blue and black.
Despite the boat’s glamorous appearance the evening didn’t start off too well. James was disappointed by the hot and cold buffet (the tour operator he’d booked the trip from had assured him it was three-course silver service) and the fact there were at least two tables of rowdy hen dos on board. When the barman said there was champagne but it wasn’t chilled because of a problem with the ice machine, James thumped the bar with his fist but I managed to dissipate the situation by suggesting we have beer instead as Prague was famous for it. As we sailed under Charles Bridge and past the National Theatre, James started to relax. After half an hour he took my hand and suggested we go and sit on the top deck. I was worried one of the hen do parties would already be up there but luckily we had the entire deck to ourselves.
‘This is more like it,’ he said, wrapping his coat around me and cuddling in. ‘All this beauty and just the two of us to share it.’
I relaxed into his shoulder. The view was stunning. It was like something out of a dream. London looked positively grimy in comparison. As I took my camera out and started snapping away at the Royal Palace glittering above us as we sailed past, I felt James lean away from me. I assumed he was getting his camera out too and thought nothing of it. A couple of minutes later, satisfied with my shots, I turned to talk to him and he’d gone. Well, he’d disappeared from the seat next to me anyway. He was kneeling on the decking, looking up at me, a nervous expression on his face, a small, black velvet box clasped between his hands.
I could barely breathe.
‘Susan Anne Maslin, you are the most beautiful, most warm-hearted, caring, genuine woman I’ve ever met. You are a precious angel and I don’t deserve you but …’ He opened the box. A beautiful diamond and sapphire ring glinted up at me. ‘Will you marry me and make me the happiest man in the world?’
My hands flew to my mouth and I burst into tears.
James looked shocked. ‘That’s not a no, is it?’
‘No, it’s a yes. Yes! Yes! Of course I’ll marry you.’
I can’t remember what happened next – whether we hugged or we kissed or James slid the ring onto the ring finger of my left hand – but I do remember him saying that it was his grandmother’s ring and he thought he’d never find a woman he loved enough to give it to and how he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with me.
The rest of the weekend went by in a blur. It was magical moment after magical moment. I felt like the happiest woman in the world.
Chapter 13
I throw the snow shaker out of the door. It smashes into a thousand pieces against the side of the garage.
‘Come on, girl. Quick!’ With my hand on Milly’s collar I stumble across the driveway to the car and open the driver seat. ‘In!’
Milly clambers across the car and into the passenger seat and I hop in after her, lock all the doors and start the engine. The radio explodes with sound as ‘Monkey Gone to Heaven’ by the Pixies blares from the speakers and I glance at the house, convinced someone is watching me from the window.
‘Come on.’ I wrestle with the gear stick as I try to get from reverse to first. ‘Come ON.’
Milly whines with excitement beside me.
‘Yes!’ With the car in gear I glance at the rear-view window. A black shape leaps at the kitchen window. Milly scrambles onto my lap, her claws scratching at the window as she barks furiously.