I've Got Your Number (42 page)

“
That’s
where that went. Extraordinary.” She frowns, hesitates a moment, then puts the folders back on top of it. “Let’s try the drawing room.”

I sit down on one of the bumpy sofas, and Wanda draws up an ancient needlepoint-embroidered chair opposite. The smell of old wood smoke, musty kilim, and potpourri is overwhelming. Golden light is streaming through the original stained-glass panels in the windows. This room is so Tavish. And so is Wanda. She’s sitting in her usual uncompromising position, knees firmly apart, dirndl skirt draping around her legs, head tilted forward to listen, with her frizzy hennaed hair falling all around her face.

“Magnus—” I begin, then immediately come to a halt.

“Yes?”

“Magnus—”

I stop again. There’s silence for a moment.

This woman is so significant in my life, but I barely know her. We’ve had a completely civilized, distant relationship where we haven’t talked about anything except things that don’t matter. Now it feels like I’m about to rip down the screen between us. But I don’t know where to start. Words are buzzing around my head like flies. I need to catch one.

“How many girls has Magnus proposed to?” I didn’t mean to start there, but then, why not?

Wanda looks caught out. “Poppy!” She swallows. “Goodness. I really think Magnus … This is a matter …” She rubs her face, and I notice that her fingernails are filthy.

“Magnus is in Bruges. I can’t talk to him. So I’ve come to talk to you.”

“I see.” Wanda’s expression becomes grave.

“Lucinda told me there’s a list and she and I are at the end of it. Magnus never mentioned anyone else. He never even told me he and Lucinda used to be an item.
Nobody
told me.” I can’t keep the resentment out of my voice.

“Poppy. You mustn’t …” I can tell Wanda’s floundering. “Magnus is very, very fond of you, and you shouldn’t worry about … about that. You’re a lovely girl.”

She might be trying to be kind—but the way she says it makes me flinch. What does she mean by “lovely girl”? Is that some patronizing way of saying, “You may not have a brain but you look OK”?

I have to say something. I have to. It’s now or never. Go, Poppy.

“Wanda, you’re making me feel inferior.” The words
rush out. “Do you think I’m inferior, or is this just in my mind?”

Argh. I did it. I can’t
believe
I said that out loud.

“What?”
Wanda’s eyes widen so far, I notice for the first time what a stunning periwinkle blue they are. I’m taken aback by how shocked she seems, but I can’t back down now.

“I feel inferior when I’m here.” I swallow. “Always. And I just wondered if you really thought I was or …”

Wanda has thrust both hands into her frizzy hair. She comes across a pencil, pulls it out, and absentmindedly puts it down on the table.

“I think we both need a drink,” she says at last. She heaves herself up out of the sagging chair and pours two glasses of scotch from a bottle in the cabinet. She hands one to me, raises her own, and takes a deep gulp. “I feel a bit knocked for six.”

“I’m sorry.” Immediately I feel bad.

“No!” She raises a hand. “Absolutely not! Dear girl! You do
not
have to apologize for a
bona fide
expression of your perception of the situation, be it construct or not.”

I have no idea what she’s going on about. But I think she’s trying to be nice.

“It’s up to me to apologize,” she continues, “if you have ever felt uncomfortable, let alone ‘inferior.’ Although this is such a ridiculous idea that I can barely …” She trails off, looking baffled. “Poppy, I simply don’t understand. May I just ask what has given you this impression?”

“You’re all so intelligent.” I shrug uncomfortably. “You publish things in journals and I don’t.”

Wanda looks perplexed. “But why should you publish things in journals?”

“Because …” I rub my nose. “I don’t know. It’s not
that
. It’s … like, I don’t know how to pronounce
Proust
.”

Wanda looks even more baffled. “You clearly do.”

“OK, I do now! But I
didn’t
. The first time I met you, I kept getting things wrong, and Antony said my physiotherapy degree was ‘amusing,’ and I felt so mortified—” I break off, my throat suddenly blocked.

“Ah.” A light dawns in Wanda’s eye. “Now, you must never take Antony seriously. Didn’t Magnus warn you? His sense of humor can be, shall we say, a little off? He’s offended so many of our friends with misplaced jokes, I can’t count.” She raises her eyes briefly to heaven. “He
is
a dear man underneath it all, though, as you’ll get to know.”

I can’t bring myself to reply so I take a gulp of my scotch. I never usually drink scotch, but this is hitting the spot. As I look up, Wanda’s sharp eyes are on me.

“Poppy, we’re not the type to
gush
. But, believe me, Antony thinks as highly of you as I do. He would be devastated to hear of your anxieties.”

“So what was the row in the church all about?” I fling the words at her furiously before I can stop myself. Wanda looks as though I’ve slapped her.

“Ah. You heard that. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” She takes another gulp of her scotch, looking stressed out.

Suddenly I’m sick of being polite and talking around things. I want to cut to the chase.

“OK.” I put my glass down. “The reason I’ve come here is, it turns out Magnus has been sleeping with Lucinda. I’m calling off the wedding. So you might as well be honest and say how much you hated me from the start.”

“Lucinda?”
Wanda claps a hand over her mouth, looking
aghast. “Oh, Magnus. That wretched,
wretched
boy.
When
will he learn?” She seems absolutely deflated by this piece of news. “Poppy, I’m so sorry. Magnus is … What can I say? A flawed individual.”

“You guessed he might do this?” I stare at her. “Has he done it before?”

“I was afraid he might do something stupid,” Wanda says after a pause. “I’m afraid whatever gifts Magnus inherited from us, the gift of commitment was not among them. That’s why we were concerned about the wedding. Magnus has a history of leaping into romantic ventures, backtracking, changing his mind, making things messy for everyone.”

“Then he
has
done it before.”

“In a way.” She winces. “Although we’ve never got as far as the church before. There have been three previous fiancees, and I gather Lucinda was an almost-fiancee. When he announced yet
again
that he was marrying a girl we hardly knew, I’m afraid we didn’t rush to celebrate.” She eyes me frankly. “You’re right. We
did
try to put him off the idea in the church, quite forcibly. We thought the two of you should spend a year getting to know each other better. The last thing we wanted was for you to be hurt by our son’s idiocy.”

I feel dazed. I had no idea Magnus had proposed to anyone else, let alone four girls (including Lucinda—half). How can this be? Is this my fault? Did I ever actually ask him about his past?

Yes. Yes! Of
course
I did. The memory comes back to me in a fully composed picture. We were lying in bed, after that dinner at the Chinese place. We told each other about
all our old flames. And, OK, so I edited very slightly.
⁹⁴
But I didn’t leave out
four previous proposals
. Magnus never said a word. Not a word. But everyone else knew.

Now, of course, all the odd looks and edgy voices between Antony and Wanda make sense. I was so paranoid. I assumed they were all about how crap I was.

“I thought you hated me,” I say, almost to myself. “And I thought you were angry he’d used the family ring, because … I dunno. I wasn’t worthy of it.”

“Not
worthy
?” Wanda seems absolutely appalled. “Who has put these ideas into your head?”

“What was the problem, then?” I feel the old hurt rising again. “I know you weren’t happy about it, so don’t pretend.”

Wanda appears to debate internally for a moment. “We’re being frank with each other?”

“Yes,” I say firmly. “Please.”

“Well, then.” Wanda sighs. “Magnus has taken that family ring out of the bank’s safe so many times now, Antony and I have developed our own private theory.”

“Which is what?”

“The family ring is so
easy
.” She spreads her hands. “It requires no thought. He can do it on impulse. Our theory is that when he
really
wants to commit to someone, he’ll find a ring for himself. He’ll choose something carefully. Give it some thought. Perhaps even let his bride choose her own.” She gives me a rueful smile. “So when we learned that he’d used the family ring yet again, I’m afraid alarm bells rang.”

“Oh. I see.”

I twist the ring round my finger. It suddenly feels heavy and lumpish. I thought having a family ring was special. I thought it meant Magnus was
more
committed to me. But now I’m seeing it as Wanda sees it. A thoughtless, easy, no-brainer choice. I cannot believe how everything I thought has been turned on its head. I cannot believe how I misinterpreted everything.

“For what it’s worth,” adds Wanda, a little despondently, “I’m very sorry things have ended like this. You’re a lovely girl, Poppy. Great fun. I was looking forward to having you as a daughter-in-law.”

I wait for my hackles to rise at the phrase
great fun
, for my internal prickliness to put in an appearance—but somehow it doesn’t. For the first time since I’ve met Wanda, I’m able to take her words at face value. By
great fun
she doesn’t mean
low IQ and inferior degree
. She means
great fun
.

“I’m sorry too,” I say—and I’m speaking the truth. I do feel sad. Just as I work Wanda out, it’s all over.

I thought Magnus was perfect and his parents were my only problem. Now I’m feeling like it’s the other way round. Wanda’s great; shame about her son.

“Here.” I wrench the ring off and hand it to her.

“Poppy!” She looks startled. “Surely—”

“It’s all over. I don’t want to wear it anymore. It belongs to you. To be honest, it never really felt like mine.” I grab my bag and stand up. “I think I should go.”

“But …” Wanda seems bewildered. “Please don’t rush into anything. Have you spoken to Magnus?”

“Not yet.” I breathe out. “But it’s kind of irrelevant. It’s over.”

That’s pretty much the end of the conversation. Wanda sees me to the door and presses my hand as I leave, and I feel a sudden rush of affection for her. Maybe we’ll stay in touch. Maybe I’ll lose Magnus but gain Wanda.

The massive front door closes, and I push my way through the overgrown rhododendrons, down the path to the gate. I’m expecting to crumble into tears any moment. My perfect fiance isn’t perfect after all. He’s a lying, unfaithful, commitment-phobic flake. I’m going to have to call off a whole wedding. My brothers won’t get to walk me up the aisle after all. I should be in bits. But as I walk down the hill, all I can feel is numb.

I can’t face the tube. Nor can I afford any more taxis. So I head toward an out-of-the-way bench in a patch of sunshine, sit down, and stare blankly into space for a while. Random thoughts are floating around my brain, bouncing off one another as though in zero gravity.

So much for all that … I wonder if I’ll be able to sell my wedding dress…. I should have known it was too good to be true…. I must tell the vicar…. I don’t think Toby and Tom ever liked Magnus, not that they admitted it…. Did Magnus ever love me at all?

At last I heave a sigh and switch on my phone. I have to get back to real life. The phone is flashing with messages, about ten of them from Sam, and for a ridiculous instant I think,
Oh my God, he’s psychic, he knows
.

But as I click on them, I immediately realize how stupid I’m being. Of course he’s not texting about my personal life. This is all strictly business.

Poppy, are you there? It’s incredible. File was on computer. Voice mails were there. This confirms everything.

Are you around to talk?

Give me a call when you can. It’s all kicking off here. Heads rolling. Press conference this afternoon. Vicks wants to talk to you too.

Hi, Poppy, we need the phone. Can you call me asap?

I don’t bother scrolling through the rest of the texts; I press
call
. A moment later the line is ringing and I feel a spasm of nerves. I have no idea why.

“Hi, Poppy! At last! It’s Poppy.” Sam’s ebullient voice greets me, and I can hear a background hubbub of people. “We’re all whooping here. You have no
idea
what your little discovery means.”

“Not my discovery,” I say honestly. “Violet’s.”

“But if it hadn’t been for you taking Violet’s call and meeting her … Vicks says, high five! She wants to buy you a drink. We all do.” Sam sounds totally high. “So, did you get my message? The tech guys here want to look at the phone, in case there’s anything on that.”

“Oh. Right. Sure. I’ll bring it to your office.”

“Is that OK?” Sam sounds concerned. “Am I disrupting your day? What are you up to?”

“Oh … nothing.”

Just canceling my wedding. Just feeling like a total fool about everything
.

“Because I can send a bike—”

“No, really.” I force a smile. “It’s fine. I’ll come in straightaway.”

⁹⁴
No one needs to know about that blond guy at the freshers’ party.