56 Daily Mail gossip column.
57 I actually half-remember seeing that story in the paper.
58 Good thing he isn’t my boss, is all I can say.
59 I know he’s free on Wednesday at lunchtime, because someone has just canceled.
60 I know he may not have a dog. I just feel pretty sure that he does.
7
The fake ring’s perfect!
OK, not perfect. It’s a tad smaller than the original. And a bit tinnier. But who’s going to know without the other one to compare? I’ve worn it most of the afternoon and it feels really comfortable. In fact, it’s lighter than the real thing, which is an advantage.
Now I’ve finished my last appointment of the day and am standing with my hands spread out on the reception desk. All the patients have gone, even sweet Mrs. Randall, with whom I’ve just had to be quite firm. I told her not to come back here for two weeks. I told her she was perfectly capable of exercising at home alone, and there was no reason she shouldn’t be back on the tennis court.
Then, of course, it all came out. It turned out she was nervous of letting down her doubles partner, and that’s why she was coming in so often: to give herself confidence. I told her she was absolutely ready and I wanted her to text me her next score before she came back to see me. I said if it came to it, I’d play tennis with her, at which point she laughed and said I was right, she was being nonsensical.
Then, when she’d gone, Angela told me that Mrs. Randall is some shit-hot player who once played in Junior Wimbledon. Yowser. Probably a good thing we didn’t play, since I can’t even hit a backhand.
Angela’s gone home too now. It’s just Annalise, Ruby, and me, we’re surveying the ring in silence except for a spring storm outside. One minute it was a bright breezy day; the next, rain was hammering at the windows.
“Excellent.” Ruby is nodding energetically. Her hair is up in a ponytail today, and it bounces as she nods. “Very good. You’d never know.”
“ I’d know,” Annalise retorts at once. “It’s not the same green.”
“Really?” I peer at it in dismay.
“The question is, how observant is Magnus?” Ruby raises her eyebrows. “Does he ever look at it?”
“I don’t think so …”
“Well, maybe keep your hands away from him for a while, to be on the safe side.”
“Keep my hands away from him? How do I do that?”
“You’ll have to restrain yourself!” says Annalise tartly. “It can’t be that hard.”
“How about his parents?” says Ruby.
“They’re bound to want to see it. We’re meeting in the church, so the lights will be pretty dim, but even so … ” I bite my lip, suddenly nervous. “Oh God. Does it look real?”
“Yes!” says Ruby at once.
“No,” says Annalise, equally firmly. “Sorry, but it doesn’t. Not if you look carefully.”
“Well, don’t let them!” says Ruby. “If they start looking too closely, create a diversion.”
“Like what?”
“Faint? Pretend to have a fit? Tell them you’re pregnant?”
“Pregnant?” I stare at her, wanting to laugh. “Are you nuts?”
“I’m only trying to help,” she says defensively. “Maybe they’d like you to be pregnant. Maybe Wanda’s gunning to be a granny.”
“No.” I shake my head. “No way. She’d freak out.”
“Perfect! Then she won’t look at the ring. She’ll be too consumed with rage.” Ruby nods in satisfaction, as though she’s solved all my problems.
“I don’t want a raging mother-in-law, thanks very much!”
“She’ll be raging either way,” Annalise points out. “You just have to decide which is worse: pregnant daughter-in-law or flaky daughter-in-law who lost the priceless heirloom ring? I’d say go with pregnant.”
“Stop it! I’m not saying I’m pregnant!” I look at the ring again and rub the fake emerald. “I think it’ll be fine,” I say, as much to convince myself as anything. “It’ll be fine.”
“Is that Magnus?” says Ruby suddenly. “Across the street?”
I follow her gaze. There he is, holding an umbrella against the rain, waiting for the traffic lights to change.
“Shit.” I leap to my feet and clasp my right hand casually over my left. No. Too unnatural. I thrust my left hand into my uniform pocket, but and my arm is left sticking out at an awkward angle.
“Bad.” Ruby is watching. “Really bad.”
“What shall I dooo?” I wail.
“Hand cream.” She reaches for a tube. “Come on. I’m giving you a manicure. Then you can leave a bit of the cream on. Accidentally on purpose.”
“Genius.” I glance over at Annalise and blink in surprise. “Er … Annalise? What are you doing ?”
In the thirty seconds since Ruby spotted Magnus, Annalise seems to have applied a fresh layer of lip gloss and sprayed scent on, and is now pulling a few sexy strands of hair out of her ballerina’s bun.
“Nothing!” she says defiantly, as Ruby starts rubbing cream into my hands.
I only have time to dart her a suspicious look before the door opens and Magnus appears, shaking water from his umbrella.
“Hello, girls!” He beams around as though we’re an appreciative audience waiting for his entrance. Which I suppose we are.
“Magnus! Let me take your coat.” Annalise has rushed forward. “It’s OK, Poppy. You’re having your manicure. I’ll do it. And maybe a cup of tea?”