“I just need to find out where you’re registered.”
“Well, actually, we haven’t registered yet,” I say, feeling a flicker of frustration. It’s not my fault we haven’t registered yet. It’s Luke’s! He keeps saying he’s too busy to spend a day in the shops, which frankly just doesn’t make sense.
“You haven’t?” Elise frowns. “So how can I buy you a gift?”
“Well… um… you could just… buy something. Maybe.”
“Without a list?” Elise stares at me blankly. “But what would I get?”
“I don’t know! Anything you felt like!” I give a little laugh. “Maybe a… toaster?”
“A toaster. OK.” Elise roots around in her bag for a piece of paper. “What model?”
“I’ve no idea! It was just off the top of my head! Look, Elise, just… I don’t know, get me something in Hong Kong.”
“Are you registering there too?” Elise looks alert. “Which store?”
“No! I just meant…” I sigh. “OK, look. When we register, I’ll let you know the details. You can probably do it online.”
“Well. OK.” Elise puts her piece of paper away, giving me a reproving look. “But you really should register. People will be wanting to buy you gifts.”
“Sorry,” I say. “But anyway, have a fabulous time in Hong Kong.”
“Thanks.” Elise hesitates, then awkwardly comes forward and pecks me on the cheek. “Bye, Becky. Thanks for all your help.”
When she’s gone, I sit down again and look at my piece of paper, trying to concentrate.
But I can’t stop thinking about what Elise said.
What if she’s right? What if there are loads of people out there, all trying to get us presents and unable to?
Suddenly I feel a fresh stab of fear. What if they abandon the attempt in frustration? Or what if they all buy us nasty green glass decanters, like the one Auntie Jean bought for Mum and Dad that still gets brought out every Christmas?
This is serious. I pick up my phone and speed-dial Luke’s number.
As it rings, I suddenly remember promising the other day to stop phoning him at work with what he called “wedding trivia.” I’d made him stay on the line for half an hour while I described three different table settings, and apparently he missed a really important call from Japan.
But surely this is an exception?
“Listen!” I say urgently as he picks up. “We need to register! We can’t put it off any longer!”
“Becky, I’m in a meeting. Can this wait?”
“No! It’s important!”
There’s silence — then I hear Luke saying, “If you could excuse me for a moment—”
“OK,” he says, returning to the phone. “Start again. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is, people are trying to buy us presents! We need a list! If there’s nothing for them to buy, who knows what they might get us!”
“Well, let’s register, then.”
“I’ve been wanting to!” I squeak in frustration. “You know I have! I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to have a spare day, or even an evening—”
“I’ve been tied up with things,” he says, a defensive edge to his voice. “That’s just the way it is.”
I know why he’s so defensive. It’s because he’s been working every night on some stupid promotion for Elinor’s charity. And he knows what I think about that.
“Well, we need to get started,” I say. “We need to decide what we want.”
“Look, Becky. Do I really need to be there?”
“Of course you need to be there! Don’t you care what plates we have?”
“Frankly, no.”
“No?” I take a deep breath, about to launch into a tirade along the lines of, “If you don’t care about our plates, then maybe you don’t care about our relationship!”
Then, just in time I realize, this way I get to choose everything exactly as I want it.
“Well, OK,” I say. “I’ll do it.”
“Great. And I agreed we’d have a drink with my mother tonight, at her apartment. Six thirty.”
“Oh,” I say, pulling a face. “All right. See you then. Shall I call you after I’ve been to Tiffany to let you know what I registered?”
“Becky,” says Luke, deadpan. “If you call me again with any more wedding talk during office hours, it’s entirely possible we may not be having a wedding.”
“Fine!” I say. “Fine! If you’re not interested, I’ll just organize it all and see you at the altar, shall I? Would that suit you?”
There’s a pause, and I can tell Luke’s laughing.
“Do you want an honest answer or the Cosmo ‘Does Your Man Really Love You?’ full marks answer?”
“Give me the full marks answer,” I say after a moment’s thought.
“I want to be involved in every tiny detail of our wedding,” says Luke earnestly. “I understand that if I show any lack of interest at any stage it is a sign that I am not committed to you as a woman and beautiful, caring, all-round special person, and, frankly, don’t deserve you.”
“That was pretty good, I suppose,” I say, a little grudgingly. “Now give me the honest answer.”
“See you at the altar.”
“Ha-di-ha. Well, all I can say is, you’ll be sorry when I put you in a pink tuxedo.”