A Perfect Proposal (48 page)

She felt in a strange limbo. Part of her felt swaddled in comfort and calm while inside a little turbo of panic whirred away, muffled by the padded softness of her settings.

‘All the papers are there,’ said Sheila. ‘That tea will be with you in a jiffy.’

Longing for
Hello!
magazine, Sophie riffled through the broadsheets and financial journals and was pleased to find a copy of
Vogue
. She didn’t often buy it but was always pleased to have an opportunity to see what the latest trends were.

Except she couldn’t concentrate. Luke had known she was coming; why was he being so long on the phone? The stewardess and the pilot, who had smiled a welcome, seemed preoccupied with pre-flight checks. Engines were running; the plane seemed set to take off at any moment.

‘Would you mind fastening your seatbelt?’ said Sheila. ‘We’ll be taxiing in a moment.’

‘Oh God, you won’t take off with me on board, will you?’ Sophie fumbled for her seatbelt and Sheila laughed.

‘We haven’t had a stowaway yet!’ She closed the door at the end, deadening yet more sound. Sophie hoped both that she wouldn’t have to wait too long for her tea and that the car would be able to find her to pick her up.

It struck Sophie that she wouldn’t really qualify as a stowaway because she wasn’t hiding, and stowaways would want the plane to take off. She was considering getting up
and having a discussion about semantics when the plane started to move.

Now she panicked. She’d been told they were going to move, but surely the plane wouldn’t wait if it was all ready to go? But Luke was still at the back of the plane, having the longest telephone conversation on record, and her document was still unsigned. Supposing the car couldn’t find her? She’d have to walk miles across runways, and it was raining again.

She fiddled with her belt buckle but just as she got it loose, Sheila came back and sat next to her, buckling it up again. ‘Not while we’re moving. It’s not safe.’

‘But I need to get off! The plane is about to take off!’

‘Not immediately. I assure you Mr Winchester has it all under control.’

Sophie calmed down a little. Luke was very conventional. He wouldn’t do anything untoward and, while he might be annoyed with her at the moment, he wouldn’t commit her to a long and possibly dangerous walk back to the terminal.

The stewardess got up as the plane seemed to speed up. One rule for staff and one for passengers, thought Sophie, in the safety stakes. Sheila closed the door behind her and Sophie was alone in the cabin.

Suddenly, Sophie could bear it no longer. If the stewardess was safe to walk around, so was she. She got out of her belt and her seat and marched to the back of the plane.

‘Luke!’ she demanded. ‘Sign this paper! I need to get off!’

Luke, still on the phone, turned to her and smiled. ‘Don’t panic, it’s all going to be fine. Just sit down and wait. And do up your seatbelt.’

Sophie had thought she would die before she saw Luke smile at her again. It made her want to cry. There was so much unfinished business between them. Everything had all gone wrong but she could never deny how magical those short hours had been when they’d been together, heart and
soul and mind. She sat back down and did up her seatbelt and looked out of the window, watching the rain dash against the glass, raindrops racing as the plane speeded up and then to her relief, slowed down again.

‘OK.’ Luke came and sat down opposite her and did up his own belt. ‘Sorry that call took so long. Give me the paper.’

It was actually a manila envelope and was looking quite tatty now. It had been clutched in Sophie’s hand for a while. She handed it over. ‘Hurry up and sign it! The plane’s going to take off in any minute!’ She glanced out of the window. ‘Oh my goodness, we’re going backwards!’

‘That’s right. We don’t want to miss our slot.’ He had taken the paper out of the envelope but he didn’t seem to be reading it, let alone getting out his pen.

‘But I need to get off before it takes off! Tell them to stop!’ Why didn’t he understand the urgency of the situation?

‘You’re all right.’

‘No I’m not all right! I’m on a moving plane that is going to take to the skies at any moment! I want to get off!’

‘Can’t let you do that. It’s too late. And besides, I’m kidnapping you.’

‘No!’ she roared. ‘You are not! This is not a film where the hero carries the girl out of the factory at the last minute!’

‘Do you judge all life by whether you’ve seen it in a film or not?’

Sophie breathed. ‘Seriously, Luke, tell them to stop the plane. I want to get off.’

‘I’m not letting you go, Sophie, ever.’

Sophie thought she was going to faint, a sensation not helped by the fact that the plane was now going very fast indeed. She really couldn’t get off now. A second later they were in the air. Her mouth was dry and she felt slightly sick. ‘Luke, what have you done?’

‘Seriously, Luke. It’s not allowed! It’s hijacking or something.’ Addled by the horror of the situation, Sophie’s brain refused to work properly.

‘No, hijacking is when someone takes over the plane,’ Luke explained gently. ‘Now, have you had breakfast?’

Just for a moment, Sophie couldn’t think what breakfast was, let alone if she’d had it or not. Then she remembered the toast she hadn’t finished. ‘I don’t know,’ she said cautiously.

Luke nodded to Sheila, who had appeared with a tray. She set it down on Sophie’s table. There was the promised tea, a glass of orange juice and a basket filled with warm croissants, some butter and a dish of cherry jam.

‘You planned this,’ said Sophie.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve messed up so badly, I felt I had to work out a strategy.’

‘Champagne?’ said Sheila, producing a napkin-covered bottle from somewhere, behind her back probably.

‘Certainly not!’ said Sophie.

‘Maybe later,’ said Luke and the stewardess took the bottle and herself away.

‘This is a dreadful thing you’ve done,’ chided Sophie, looking at the croissants and suddenly wanting one.

‘I know, but it’s not the worst thing and I felt I might not get an opportunity to apologise or explain – so I kidnapped you.’ Luke sat down opposite her, picked up a plate, put a croissant on it and tore it apart. Then he put a smear of butter on it and
some jam. He held it out to Sophie.

‘I don’t like jam. Thank you,’ she added as an afterthought. Then she remembered she usually loved it.

Luke prepared another bit of croissant for her, leaving off the jam this time. Sophie took it.

‘You went to bed without supper last night. You can have the Full English afterwards if you like.’

The way he said ‘Full English’ made Sophie smile inside a little. He offered her half a croissant and she ate that too. She drank the orange juice.

‘Tea?’ she said.

‘Certainly, tea,’ Luke agreed. He picked up the pot and poured tea into a china cup. ‘Milk?’

‘Just a little.’ She took a sip of tea and realised that there was something about the food and Luke feeding it to her that made her feel a little more human, less as if she’d been swept up into the sky by a giant. ‘Aren’t you eating?’

He shook his head. ‘I did have supper and breakfast, and a large dose of humble pie, even if you haven’t eaten it yet, sort of takes away your appetite.’

Sophie looked at him questioningly. Her mouth was full.

‘Oh yes. When we got back last night, after you had gone to bed, Matilda and I had a long talk.’

‘What about?’ The croissants were heavenly.

‘Well, she said, “Have you and that lovely girl got together yet?”’

Sophie stopped chewing, swallowed and had to take another sip of tea to chase the croissant down. ‘Did she really?’

‘Yes, she did, and when I told her that no, I’d just shouted at you, she was not pleased.’

Sophie smiled a little. ‘I can’t imagine she told you off, she adores you.’

‘She does adore me and it’s that that gives her the right to treat me to a bit of plain speaking, once in a while.’

Sophie laughed. He was obviously quoting Matilda word for word.

‘Then she cross-examined me on my feelings for you.’

Sophie winced. ‘And did you pass the test?’

‘Oh yes. And then she helped me hatch this plan. I think Moira helped too.’

Sophie became serious. ‘You do realise you’ve committed an illegal act. I haven’t got a passport.’ Although feeling much better disposed towards him now, she didn’t want him to think he could just feed her croissants and orange juice and everything would be all right.

‘Currently, you don’t need a passport to get from Cornwall to London, although that may change.’

Sophie should have been relieved, but part of her was disappointed that she wasn’t being swept over the Atlantic in this little bubble of luxury.

‘Oh. And I’ve got Moira’s shoes,’ she added.

‘I’m sure she doesn’t mind them going for a little trip.’

Moira was probably fed up with her metaphorically and literally sobbing in her arms about Luke; she would probably be willing to sacrifice a pair of shoes not to have to do it again. Sophie hoped Moira hadn’t wasted her shoes on a lost cause.

‘We have about an hour to get things sorted out,’ said Luke. ‘I have an hour, I mean.’

Sophie swallowed. The flutter of hope that had been stirring in her stomach was increasing, but she couldn’t let it get out of hand. There was still the matter of Ali to get over. ‘Get talking then. Tell me what was in the paper that Matilda needed so urgently. Or was it just a ruse?’

Luke didn’t answer.

‘So it was a ruse?’

‘I had to get you here somehow, Sophie.’

‘Really? You didn’t think you could have just stayed at
Moira’s and talked to me? Like a normal human being?’

He shook his head. ‘I have this damn meeting and you might have run away. Besides, there were too many people in Moira’s house for a proper discussion.’

Sophie acknowledged this was true by gathering up croissant crumbs with her finger as she always did.

‘And I do have to be in London,’ Luke repeated.

‘And would it have been a big fuss to get your slot changed?’

Luke tried to imply with a look that such petty matters were of no concern to him but then just said, ‘Yes.’

‘I still think you should look at the paper. She did put something into the envelope and if it had just been a ruse, she wouldn’t have bothered.’

Luke took the envelope, which was lying on the seat. ‘I expect she just put some sheets of paper in to stop it feeling empty.’ He opened it and pulled out a couple of typed sheets. ‘Oh.’

Sophie watched his expression change as he read. First he seemed to be reading something familiar. Then he frowned and, finally, he smiled.

‘What’s funny?’ asked Sophie when she couldn’t wait for him to tell her a minute longer.

He looked up and handed her the paper. ‘Granny has given you the house.’

Sophie snatched the paper in horror. She skimmed the first half, which seemed to be Matilda telling Luke how much she loved him, and then reached the relevant paragraphs.

I’m giving the house to Sophie. She told me back home that she’d always wanted to live by the ocean – she obviously loves it – and we both know that I don’t need another property, although I do very much love that one
.

Whether she decides to hook up with you is up to her, but my advice to you, young man, is to catch that girl and never let her go …

There was more but Sophie didn’t read it. She let the paper slip from her fingers. ‘This is awful!’

Luke frowned, rescuing the paper. ‘Is it?’

‘She can’t give me the house … that’s just not right! Just because I love it and everything—’

‘And found it.’

‘We found it, Luke! Together!’

‘We wouldn’t have if you hadn’t looked for it, you know that.’

‘But it’s too much! Goodness, I felt guilty enough when she gave me this ring, I can’t accept a house!’