A Perfect Proposal (40 page)

Sophie didn’t wait to hear what ‘Lukey’ thought about
this, she decided to see for herself. ‘Hello! Are you off?’

‘Sophie!’ Luke spun round. He looked pale and anxious.

‘Are you OK, Luke?’ Sophie asked. She sounded admirably controlled, she thought.

‘Of course. I was just a bit worried about you.’

‘Why? There’s no need! I’m going to be rich! I’ll have money to do whatever I want!’ She wasn’t as convinced by her performance this time and so she forced a smile to reinforce it.

‘Yes,’ agreed Ali. ‘And it’s down to you, Luke. I’m sure Sophie’s very grateful.’

‘Oh yes,’ agreed Sophie. ‘Very grateful indeed.’

‘So there’s no need for us to hang around. We’ll be in touch.’ Ali made as if to kiss Sophie’s cheek but she dodged.

‘How will you be in touch?’ asked Sophie with a touch of asperity she was proud of.

‘Give me your cellphone number,’ demanded Ali. She produced a business card from her bag with a flick of a well-manicured hand, like a conjuror. A gold pen followed and soon Sophie was writing her number on the back of the engraved card. ‘Here!’ Ali handed Sophie another card. ‘Now you have my details. Come on, Luke.’

Luke didn’t move. ‘Sophie, are you sure you’re OK?’

‘Of course! I’m going to be fine. I’m going to have enough money to do my course and set up a business. How could I not be fine? Now do get on. Long-drawn-out goodbyes are so tedious, aren’t they?’ She looked at Ali who turned slightly pink. She may have realised Sophie had overheard their previous conversation.

‘Absolutely. We’ve said goodbye to Moira,’ she breezed. ‘Goodbye, Sophie! We’ll be in touch!’

‘You know something?’ Sophie said to Moira when she was back in the kitchen. ‘I don’t even want to cry any more! I’ve
so had it with that man. He’s spineless and pathetic. I don’t know why I fancied him even for a second. Plenty more – far better – fish in the sea than him!’

‘Good girl!’ said Moira, relieved. She banged the kettle down on the hotplate in triumph. ‘So now what are you going to do?’

‘Well,’ said Sophie after a couple of moments’ thought. ‘As soon as the money comes through I’ll go on my course. There may be enough to set up a business. It’s a bit annoying that we don’t know how much we’re due to get. My share is tiny, it might be only tuppence. But it’s something good to look forward to.’

‘You’re very young to set up on your own,’ commented Moira, handing Sophie a mug of tea.

‘I’m fed up with being young! Or rather I’m not really fed up with being young, but why is it, because I’m only in my early twenties, people think I must be an idiot? Or incapable of having feelings for someone for more than five minutes?’

Sophie’s indignation made Moira smile and shake her head. ‘I do know what you mean, Sophie, but I promise you, being young is a huge advantage. And you have much better skin than Ali.’

Sophie bit her lip. She’d been so proud of her I-don’t-care act and yet it hadn’t fooled Moira, not for a minute.

‘I know. I have a huge advantage.’ Then she frowned. ‘How long do you reckon it takes to get over a man, usually?’

Moira shook her head. ‘Hard to say. But work on it. Don’t spend every second thinking about him.’

‘Fine, I won’t!’ declared Sophie, failing to follow this very good advice in the very next instant.

Sophie spent a few more days with Moira, visiting the house and taking more photographs. This time, however, she
didn’t send them to Matilda; she had a feeling that Luke had fallen out with his grandmother over the house and she didn’t want to make matters worse.

Then she took the car back to where they’d hired it and got on the train home.

‘Well,’ she said as the family sat round the dinner table. ‘Don’t you want to know how I got on?’

‘Of course, dear. How did you get on?’ asked her mother, who did at least seem to have missed her.

‘Very well! We found the last member of the family who had shares and—’

‘Who’s we?’ asked Michael who liked details.

‘Me and Luke,’ said Sophie, deciding not to mention Ali. It would involve far too much painful explanation.

‘And where’s Luke now, darling?’ asked her mother, loading mashed potatoes on to Sophie’s plate as a gesture of affection.

‘In London. He has to work now. He only had a few days before he had to go back.’

‘I liked Luke. A change for you to have a boyfriend with a brain,’ said her father.

‘And a bank balance,’ added Michael.

Sophie exhaled silently and dug her fork into the potato. ‘Luke isn’t my boyfriend, and never was, and I do wish you’d all just let me finish my story and not keep banging on about him.’

‘Sorree!’ said her brother, mockingly. ‘Touched a sore spot, have we?’

‘No! It’s just I have news – and Luke isn’t part of it!’

Her father and brother put down their knives and forks in an exaggerated gesture of paying Sophie attention.

‘We got Mrs Littlejohn’s – she’s Uncle Eric’s cousin’s widow – to sign an affidavit making it possible for me to act for her. Luke is tying up a deal that will mean the drilling rights are leased and we should all get some money. Not
quite sure how long it’ll take but it shouldn’t be too long.’ Sophie added this bit of optimism to disguise the fact that she was kicking herself for telling her family before it was all finalised. ‘So that’s good, isn’t it?’

Her mother was smiling and nodded, chewing away happily, but her father and brother were looking at her in horror. ‘Sorry, did I hear that right?’ said her father. ‘Did you say she signed something so
you
could act for her? Why you? You’re the youngest member of the family and you’ve very few shares. Why are you going to act for them?’

‘Yes! It should be me, as the eldest,’ said Michael.

His father gave him a look. ‘Me, actually. I’m the previous generation. It shouldn’t be any of you lot.’

Sophie considered. Should she point out that if it hadn’t been for her none of this would have been happening? Or that Uncle Eric was a generation older than her father even, and if that was how it should be decided, it should be he who acted for them?

‘Well,’ she said after a moment or two while people fumed and exclaimed, ‘it’s me. End of.’ She hadn’t actually signed anything yet but her name was on the papers Luke had drawn up. ‘Sorry if you don’t like it.’ She paused. ‘I’m sure Luke would have put someone else down but as I was the one who started searching for everyone, I think he thought it should be my name on the deal. It simply means that you all have to sign on affidavit giving me power to act on your behalf. Uncle Eric’s happy to do it. That won’t be a problem, will it?’ she finished defiantly.

Michael was dumbstruck. Her father blinked. He’d never heard Sophie being so decisive. ‘It’s very irregular,’ he said eventually. ‘I’m not at all happy.’

‘Yes,’ her brother, recovering his voice, chipped in to support his father. ‘How can a girl like you possibly take responsibility? It’s mad!’

‘It’s not mad, it’s fine,’ said Sophie firmly. ‘It’ll all be very straightforward. I’ll ask if I need help,’ she added, suddenly anxious in case she did need assistance.

‘Well,’ said her father, ‘if it’s your name on the deal with the oil company, we’ll have to accept it. But it’s very irregular.’

‘No “Well done, Sophie, for potentially making us all rich?”’ said Sophie quietly. ‘No? Thought not.’

Sophie had been home long enough to tell Amanda the entire story and send Milly a series of emails bringing her up to speed. Both girls were very supportive and Sophie was beginning to feel, if not better, at least accustomed to feeling a little bit sad, when she had a phone call from Uncle Eric.

‘Can you come and see me, m’dear?’ he asked.

As he was not a man who was free with his endearments, Sophie instantly worried. ‘Are you all right? Does Mrs Brown want some time off?’

‘I expect she does. She’s always wanting time off to visit her grandchildren.’

‘I thought her grandchildren were in Australia!’ said Sophie, thinking Mrs Brown must be paid much more than she thought if she could keep visiting them.

‘Not those grandchildren! The ones in Rugby! Do try and keep up!’

Sophie chuckled, thinking how soothing Uncle Eric’s acerbic manner was. ‘Thought you might want to see me!’ He sounded reproachful.

‘Of course I want to see you!’ said Sophie instantly. ‘I’ll come up tomorrow.’

Sophie went to Uncle Eric’s on the train, trying not to think about the time she went there with Luke; trying not to think about him, however, guaranteed that she thought about him with every bump and jerk and all the bits in between for the entire journey. But arriving at Uncle Eric’s house, her rucksack on her back, made her feel better. He would be on her side, whatever happened.

He opened the door to her. ‘Well, don’t just stand there. Come in.’

‘Lovely to see you too, Uncle-Eric-dear,’ she said and kissed his cheek.

‘You’re letting all the warm air out.’

Later, when Sophie had settled in to what she thought of as her room, Uncle Eric joined her in the kitchen while she made supper. She made him sit at the kitchen table; it was an unfamiliar place for him but better for her than having him wander about, wondering about things.

‘So, you got Mattingly’s widow to do the decent thing eventually.’

‘Yup. But it took Luke and his –’ she swallowed ‘– girlfriend to convince her. I told you in my letter.’

‘So you did.’ He paused. ‘Pity about the Yank. I liked him. Thought he was decent.’

‘He is decent, he’s just not my boyfriend.’

‘Thought you’d have made a match of it.’

Sophie put down her wooden spoon and turned to her
great-uncle, unsure if she wanted to laugh or cry. ‘You sound like someone out of Georgette Heyer! And I admit, I would have liked us to get together, but I’m not really suitable. It probably wouldn’t have worked.’

‘Hmph.’ Having expressed his opinion on that subject he reverted to their original topic of conversation. ‘I gather it might be a while before the money actually turns up from the oil thing?’

‘Oh yes. These things always take time.’ She tossed her spoon into the sink and then put the macaroni cheese into the oven. ‘Even macaroni cheese – although that’ll be only take half an hour or so. Would you like a cup of tea or something while we’re waiting?’

‘No, I fancy something stronger. Come into the study.’ With relief, Uncle Eric left the strange and arcane room that was the kitchen and led Sophie to his study.

‘I think we should have a glass of port,’ he said. ‘It’ll never get drunk otherwise and I hate waste.’

‘Port? Not what I’d usually have, but if you fancy it, I’ll find a glass.’

‘Ought to be sherry, of course, before dinner, but haven’t got any. And I want you to have some too. Something I want to discuss with you.’

‘That sounds very ominous. You’re not ill, are you?’ Sophie kept her tone light but a pang of dread touched her. Uncle Eric was very elderly and although she hadn’t really known him all that long the thought of him dying was awful.

‘No iller than I’ve ever been, thank you very much. Now get the port, there’s a good girl.’

Sophie found glasses and the bottle of port in the cupboard he waved at, still worried. Then she filled the glasses and waited.

‘Are you sure about the Yank?’ said Uncle Eric, having taken a sip.

‘Oh yes! He’s got a much better girlfriend.’

‘Sure about that too? You’re a damn good cook, Sophie, and handy about the house.’

Sophie couldn’t help laughing at the thought of Ali being handy about the house in the way she was. ‘Oh yes. She’s ideal for him. They work in the same office. She’s bright, attractive, nearer the same age. Tailor-made, practically.’ She tried to sound pleased about this, as if she was happy that Luke had such a nice girlfriend, which in a way she was; she still wanted the best for him.

Her great-uncle took a thoughtful sip of port. ‘Think you may be wrong. I thought he was a decent chap, Yank or not. But still, he’s neither here nor there, really.’

‘Half right, said Sophie, falsely bright. ‘He’s not here, but he’s probably there.’