A Perfect Proposal (9 page)

She had been absent-mindedly staring at what looked like a giant cake rack for cars, several layers of them, which was
obviously a way of parking a great many cars in a small space, when she realised just how exhausted she was. Although it was extravagant, she hailed a taxi, deciding it was part of the New York experience and therefore a justifiable expense, and went back to Milly’s. There she had a long nap, relishing having the bed to herself.

By the time Milly came home she was up for a party.

‘It’s a bit short,’ Sophie said when she had put on Milly’s dress and was inspecting herself in the mirror. It wasn’t the first time she had borrowed Milly’s clothes. Milly being that bit older than the other two, her wardrobe was more sophisticated than her friends’, and Sophie and Amanda had always raided it.

Milly was inspecting her from behind. ‘It’s fine, as long as your tights haven’t got ladders in them.’

‘They’re new,’ said Sophie with her nose in the air, ‘I bought them today, and they’re called pantyhose.’

Milly laughed. ‘Glad you’re picking up the language. What about shoes?’

Sophie made a face. ‘I haven’t got anything smart. It’s these old flat boots or trainers. On the whole, nannies don’t need killer heels.’

Milly nodded. ‘I’ll lend you some heels. We’re more or less the same size.’ She burrowed in a box under the sofa.

‘Those aren’t shoes, Milly,’ said Sophie when she saw the proffered footwear, ‘those are stilts. I won’t be able to walk.’

‘But look how beautiful they are! Just put them on and quit moaning.’

Sophie fitted her feet into the shoes, unwilling to admit just how gorgeous they were. ‘If you love them so much why aren’t you wearing them?’

Milly looked quizzical. ‘I could tell you it’s because I want
you, my joint-best friend, to wear really heavenly shoes, Louboutin no less, to her first New York date.’

‘But?’ Sophie’s mouth was twitching. She knew a better excuse was on its way.

‘The truth is I’m working and you can’t run around in those things. So I’ll let you be the one to just stand about and admire your feet. Now, if you don’t mind shifting yourself from in front of the mirror, I’d like to get my own slap on.’

Sophie went and perched on the sofa. ‘While obviously New York is big enough for both of us,’ she said, ‘your flat really isn’t. I’m going job-hunting tomorrow and I’ll focus on the ones that say ‘”live in”.’

Milly paused in her application of her second coat of mascara. ‘Why don’t you forget about trying to get a job, Soph? You can just stay with me and we’ll have fun together. I know it’s a bit cramped but I don’t want you moving to the other end of town. That would be so dreary.’

‘I’d feel bad just sponging off you. And you have to work. Besides, I’m on a bit of a mission. If I stayed with you I’d have to go home after a week – if I can change my ticket. I’ll have run out of spending money, probably. Although if my air fare has been refunded directly into my account that would help.’

‘There you are! No need to get a job or go home. We can just have fun together!’

‘I must say it’s just like when we were teenagers, getting ready to go out.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Milly. ‘We just need Amanda to make it perfect.’

‘Is it really going well for you in New York, Mills? Do you think you’ll stay for ever?’

Milly shrugged. ‘It’s all just perfect now, of course: lovely boyfriend, lovely job; but I think I’d miss England eventually.’

‘Amanda’s really settled too. It’s just me who isn’t.’ She sighed.

‘We’re all too young to settle down really. Even me. Anyway, what mission? It sounds interesting,’ said Milly, applying kohl under her lashes.

‘It might be. When I was working for Uncle Eric I came across some papers that implied there are some drilling rights to some oil wells, left as shares to various members of my family …’ She paused.

‘Well, go on!’ Milly said, reaching for her lipstick.

‘It’s such a long shot, but I’m going to see if I can track down everyone who’s got shares and get them to join together so we can do something with the rights. Lease them out or something. Apparently some ancient relation was doing that before. She has an address in New York. If I could find out how far she got with the project, I could possibly carry on with it.’

‘Mm, sounds fun – if a bit unlikely.’ Milly made a doubtful face, obviously not wanting her friend to get too worked up about something that had such a slim chance of succeeding.

‘I know, but I like a challenge, as you know.’

They exchanged glances in the mirror. ‘Well, if anyone can pull something like that off, it’s you. You’re so resourceful.’

‘Thank you. And think how my family would sit up and take notice of me if I was responsible for making them all rich.’

‘They don’t deserve to be rich! And they don’t deserve you either. You’re far too nice to them.’ She paused and gave Sophie a little nudge with her elbow. ‘Now, if you’ve put on your eyelashes, let’s hit the town.’

Sophie gave a little skip and then wobbled precariously in Milly’s high heels. ‘I’m so excited to be going out in New York! Even if it is only going to a boring old art gallery.’

Sophie’s philistine attitude to modern art was an old joke
between them and Milly ignored this remark. ‘Come on, you, and no putting off the buyers. If anyone asks you what you think of a painting, just say it’s amazing.’

‘Or bewildering.’

Reasonably confident that Sophie wouldn’t deliberately do anything to embarrass her, Milly manoeuvred her friend out of the apartment door and locked it.

As they travelled through the streets of New York in a taxi (paid for by Milly’s company) Sophie said, ‘It’s just like when we were at school, isn’t it?’

‘You were at school, I was at college. I didn’t blag my way into pubs when I was underage. Just because you were tall you could get away with it.’

‘I’m still tall,’ said Sophie primly, ‘and I still get ID’d.’

‘You will here, too. You’re not allowed to drink under twenty-one.’

‘I know. Fortunately I have a passport. Oh look! Broadway’s all lit up! This is so exciting! I can’t believe I’m here! Now we’re together it’s even more like being in an episode of
Sex and the City
!’

Milly chuckled. ‘You might not have had as much fun being a nanny. You wouldn’t have been in the city, would you?’

‘No, a little way outside, I think, but I would have had a roof over my head, and food. I could have got on with my mission.’

‘Well, you still can.’

Sophie hesitated. ‘I know. But I do need to find a job so I can stay here a bit longer than just a holiday. I need to earn some money to support myself.’

Milly bit her lip. ‘I think finding work might be difficult.’

‘Everything’s difficult!’ declared Sophie. ‘But few things are impossible.’

‘Huh!’ said her friend. ‘That sounds like the sort of slogan you’d find embroidered on a cushion.’

‘It was on a little plaque actually,’ said Sophie, chuckling.

Once at the gallery in Chelsea, Milly introduced Sophie to a few colleagues. Although they were friendly and welcoming, they were all busy and soon disappeared off. Sophie was left on her own.

She made her way through the crowds of people, none of whom seemed to be looking at the art, until she found herself within viewing distance of a picture. She examined it carefully, giving it the benefit of the doubt, but no, she didn’t understand it, and she wasn’t sure if she even liked it.

She tried a few more paintings, by different artists, but none of them moved her. She realised, sadly, that she really only liked paintings of things she could recognise.

Having just interpreted the signs to the bathrooms, and made her way to the corridor that led to them, she suddenly spotted an elderly lady. Something about her was wrong. Sophie stepped out of Milly’s stilt-height shoes and ran.

As she rushed past the few people in the way to reach her, Sophie thought that if she was in a film, this scene would be shown in slow motion. Fortunately, in a sort of reverse rugby tackle, she reached the old lady just before she collapsed.

‘Got you!’ she said, skidding to a halt and catching her target. Then she lowered her gently to the ground, kneeling down with her to support her.

‘Oh, my dear! How did you know I was feeling so faint?’ the old lady said after a few moments of panting and exclaiming, looking up at Sophie with gratitude.

‘Something about you wasn’t right. You just looked a bit tottery.’

The old lady shook her head as if still dazed. ‘You have very quick reactions, and you’re English!’

Sophie laughed. ‘Yes, but I don’t think the two things are necessarily related.’

‘Well, maybe.’

The woman pulled down her skirt and patted her clothes back into place. She was wearing an elegant cream jersey suit and beautiful shoes and Sophie couldn’t help noticing that the perfectly manicured hand supported a lot of flashing jewels. Sophie felt quite scruffy in comparison.

Other people came flocking up expressing concern. The old lady waved them away. ‘This young woman will take care of me, thank you.’

Sophie sat down and stretched out her legs so as to be more comfortable. Now they were both sitting with their backs against the wall with their legs in front of them. ‘Are you feeling better?’

‘A little. Everything started to go black and I felt myself going.’

‘That’s what I must have spotted,’ said Sophie. ‘I’ve been looking after my great-uncle. It’s sort of got my eye in for sudden wobbles.’

‘I’m very grateful. If I’d fallen I might have broken something and been laid up for ages.’

‘The trick is not to get up again too quickly. We’ll just stay here until you feel completely better.’ Her family sometimes complained that Sophie had no embarrassment gene. While she didn’t think this was true, she was quite happy to sit there on the floor until it felt right to get the old lady up again.

‘Just as well I’m too old to care about looking foolish,’ said the old lady.

Sophie laughed. ‘And I’m an English tourist and have no pride, so we can just sit and talk. But are you here on your own? Is there anyone I should find?’

‘My grandson is in there somewhere. His girlfriend was meeting him here. He went off to look for her so I thought I’d
go to the Ladies on my own.’ She smiled up at Sophie with a twinkle. ‘You see, I’m English too. Hearing your voice reminded me what we used to call things. Restrooms indeed, as if one would go in there for a little nap.’ Then she frowned. ‘Mind you, I was very young when I came over here, I am pretty well assimilated. I have tried to hang on to my accent.’ To Sophie’s ears she did sound American, but only slightly. ‘I was a war bride,’ the lady went on.

‘Really? That’s fascinating! Tell me about it!’

The two of them were happily chatting away, sitting on the floor of the art gallery, their legs being stepped over from time to time by women on their way to the bathroom, when a very tall and smartly dressed young man appeared, carrying Sophie’s discarded shoes.

He was, Sophie decided, ‘preppy’. He had a very neat haircut, a lovely suit, perfect shirt and very shiny shoes. His hair was dark blond and his eyes were probably green – she couldn’t really see from where she was sitting. He didn’t seem terribly amused to discover his grandmother sitting on the floor next to a young woman he had never seen before. There was a blonde woman hovering behind him wearing shoes Sophie realised she couldn’t have even tried on without falling over. She didn’t seem amused either.

‘Are these yours?’ The young man addressed Sophie, glancing down at her for a second before turning to the old lady. ‘Grandmother, are you all right?’ He crouched down. ‘I heard you’d had an accident. Why didn’t you call me?’

To his credit, Sophie decided, he seemed really concerned.

‘Oh, don’t fuss, dear. This lovely young woman has been looking after me. This is my grandson, Luke – Luke Winchester. Luke this is …’

‘Sophie Apperly,’ said Sophie.

‘Oh!’ said the old lady, turning sharply towards her. ‘Is that a West Country name?’

‘Yes, it is,’ agreed Sophie.