A Perfect Proposal (10 page)

This caused the old lady to give a nostalgic sigh. ‘I came from the West Country!’

‘Did you?’ said Sophie. ‘Which part?’

‘You haven’t put on your shoes,’ broke in Luke Winchester, who didn’t seem impressed by his grandmother’s sentimental ecstasies about the Old Country.

‘No.’ Sophie could see his point. His grandmother could be ill; he wouldn’t want to waste any time before getting her checked out. She took the offered shoes and put them on. ‘They’re too high for running in. When I saw your grandmother wobble, I just kicked them off and took off. I think she’s OK.’

‘Are you a doctor?’ asked her grandson.

‘No, but I do have—’

‘I think my grandmother should see a doctor as soon as possible,’ he went on.

‘Absolutely,’ agreed Sophie.

‘Oh, don’t fuss! I’m fine! It was just a little dizzy spell, but Sophie caught me before I could fall.’ The old lady seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself. ‘And I’m Matilda Winchester, though my friends call me Mattie.’ She patted Sophie’s arm, as if conferring friendship.

‘Are you going to sit there all night, Grandmother?’ asked Luke.

Matilda twinkled up at Luke. ‘Well, I am having a very nice time. Maybe I should!’

Something Sophie recognised as relief crossed Luke’s rather stern features. ‘If you feel well enough, I think you should get up. Besides, I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet.’

The blonde moved forward and took Matilda’s other elbow as her grandson pulled her to her feet. Sophie, from the ground, pushed upwards on Matilda’s bottom until she was safely upright. Then she clambered up herself.

‘This is Tyler,’ Luke was saying, ‘Tyler Marin. Tyler, this is my grandmother, Mrs Winchester.’

Tyler put out her hand. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you, Mrs Winchester. Luke talks about you all the time.’

‘What an attractive characteristic you must find that,’ said Matilda, looking up at the blonde intently.

Tyler laughed anxiously, not sure how to take this.

‘Really, Grandmother, don’t tease Tyler,’ said Luke. ‘I don’t talk about you all the time, anyway.’

‘Glad to hear it. It’s one thing being a pillar of society but you don’t have to be a crashing bore.’

Luke frowned. ‘You’ve gotten very English all of a sudden.’

‘I know!’ His grandmother was unrepentant. ‘It’s meeting a fellow countrywoman. Now, dear – Sophie, was it? Come with us and have dinner. I want to get to know you better.’

The dismay on Luke’s face almost made Sophie want to accept, had she been in a position to. ‘I’d love to but I have plans – as they say here. I’m with my friend Milly and when she’s finished here we’re going out for dinner and then on to a club. It’s to do with her work.’

‘Oh, which club?’ asked Tyler.

‘Can’t quite remember. Some animal name – with a number?’

‘Bungalow Eight?’ Tyler seemed impressed.

Luke, bored with this discussion, took action. ‘Well, I hope you have a good time there, Miss …’

‘Sophie, please,’ said Sophie, sensing he really wanted to keep her at arm’s length by calling her Miss but she got in quickly before he could add her surname.

At this moment Milly appeared. ‘Sophie! What on earth are you up to? I heard there was some sort of commotion by the washrooms. I might have known you had something to do with it!’

‘Oh, my dear, don’t tell your friend off!’ said Matilda. ‘She
saved me from falling on my – backside.’ She gave her grandson a covert look. ‘I want her to come and have dinner with us but she says she has a date. Is it with you?’

Milly nodded. ‘Yes, I was just coming to collect her.’

‘This is my friend, Milly,’ Sophie announced, feeling that proper introductions would just go on too long.

‘Good,’ said Luke. ‘I mean, it’s great that Sophie won’t be left on her own. We’re leaving now. Thank you so much for looking after my grandmother.’

But Matilda wasn’t going to be rushed. ‘Now, Luke dear, I’m not going to let Sophie go without getting some contact details from her. Give her one of your cards; she can write her telephone number on the back for me.’

‘It would be nice to see you again while I’m in New York,’ said Sophie, taking the card and writing down her number.

‘How long are you going to be here?’ asked Luke, obviously not because he wanted to know but to be polite.

‘It rather depends if I can get a job or not.’ Sophie smiled and handed him the card. ‘If not, I’ll be here about another week.’

‘Have you got a green card?’ he asked.

‘No,’ said Sophie sharply.

‘Then I’m afraid you’ll find it very difficult.’ He made this a statement, not an opinion.

‘So everyone keeps telling me,’ said Sophie, looking at Milly, ‘but I’m afraid when people tell me things are very difficult, I just become more determined to do them.’ As she said this she realised it wasn’t necessarily a virtue.

Matilda obviously saw it as one. ‘Good for you, my dear. A girl after my own heart. Luke, if you’re not going to let me kidnap Sophie, take me to dinner!’

But although Luke would have done this with alacrity, Matilda wouldn’t go without kissing Sophie, thanking her
again and promising her that they’d be in touch. ‘Oh and Luke, give her another of your cards, in case she needs to get in touch with me.’

‘Grandmother, I had some very charming cards printed for you. Don’t you have any with you?’

Matilda attempted to look apologetic, but not very successfully. ‘I only have this silly clutch. The cards are in another purse.’

Luke handed over the card, his expression making it clear that he did not expect Sophie to use it.

Sophie looked at it and raised her eyebrows to express interest. She had no intention of getting in touch with him but she wanted him to worry that she might. What was it with him? Why was he so stuck up when his grandmother was so warm and friendly?

‘Well, he was fit!’ said Milly, holding Sophie’s arm and leading her through the crowd.

‘Yes.’ Sophie was forced to concede this point, especially as she’d managed to establish that his eyes were in fact a sort of golden colour, with dark rings round the irises. ‘But not friendly. His grandmother was lovely, though.’

‘So how did you get involved?’ Milly waved at the growing group of her friends to indicate she and Sophie were on their way.

‘I was staring into the middle distance—’

‘As you do.’

‘Well, as I do at art galleries, and I could tell she was about to faint or something, so I kicked off your shoes and ran to the rescue.’

‘That was kind.’ Milly sounded as if she were a little surprised by this act of mercy.

‘Well, I couldn’t let her fall, could I? She could have broken a hip.’

‘But you don’t know her. Someone else might have helped out.’

Sophie shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. Anyway, I sort of got into old people when I was looking after Uncle Eric. Everyone always assumes they’re a real pain when lots of them are really fun.’

‘Well, maybe I should drop you off at the old folks’ home on our way to the club.’

‘So, will we go to the top of the queue and give our names to the bouncer?’ asked Sophie a little later. ‘And when he sees we’re on the guest list, he’ll just let us in ahead of everyone?’

‘No,’ said a colleague of Milly’s whose taxi they were sharing. ‘He’s booked an entire floor. We just go in.’

‘Oh.’ Sophie was obscurely disappointed. She wanted to have her name checked off against a list and feel like a celebrity.

Milly chuckled, understanding how Sophie felt. ‘We can do that on another night if you like. Only of course we won’t actually be on the guest list so we’ll just be in the queue with everyone else.’

Sophie considered. ‘Well, that would be fun in a rather different way.’ Milly just rolled her eyes.

The next morning, Sophie, whose body clock was beginning to adjust to New York time but was still tired after an energetic night’s clubbing, was dozing in front of the television, risking repetitive strain injury from pressing the remote control button. She was thinking about her job prospects, and slowly coming to the melancholy conclusion that everyone was right: it would be impossible, no matter how determined she was. Suddenly her phone rang. Still in awe of the fact that it worked so far away from home, she checked the number and realised she didn’t know who it
was. At home she didn’t usually respond to numbers she didn’t recognise but, thinking she was miles away from any stalker, or boy she didn’t want to hear from, she answered it.

‘Sophie, dear? Is that you? It’s Matilda Winchester here. You saved my life at the art gallery yesterday.’

Sophie laughed with pleasure. ‘I didn’t exactly save your life—’

‘Darling, you did – you may just not know how much.’ There was a businesslike pause. ‘Now, I’d like to see you again. How long are you going to be in New York?’

‘Well, as I said, it really depends on whether or not I get a job.’ Sophie sighed, she hoped silently. ‘I do have some things I need to do before I go home anyway.’

‘Well, let’s not waste time! Have you seen the Frick?’

Sophie’s mind whirled with possibilities as to what this dear woman might be talking about. Her family had conditioned her to scathing replies when she asked questions but she had to know. ‘Sorry, what is the Frick?’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry! Isn’t it maddening when people just assume you know things when you have no
way
of knowing them? It’s a perfectly delightful museum – art gallery – both, really.’

‘Right. Um … although I was in an art gallery last night, I’ve decided I only really like paintings of things I can recognise,’ Sophie replied cautiously.

‘Then the Frick is for you! Let’s meet there and then go for tea at this enchanting Austrian café nearby afterwards.’

Sophie was delighted at the prospect of seeing Matilda again, not only because she had really warmed to the old lady but because, with Milly out all day, she was quite lonely. However, she didn’t want to spend a single unnecessary cent.

Matilda misinterpreted Sophie’s silence and pressed on. ‘Do you know where the Frick is? I’ll meet you there at two.
We can have a quick burst of culture and then have tea. The cakes at the café I have in mind are as good as anything you’ll get in Vienna – or so people tell me. It’s just next door to the Frick.’

Sophie couldn’t help laughing. ‘OK, that’s a date. I’ll meet you at two.’

Sophie showered and put on a bit of make-up, then she examined her wardrobe for appropriate museum-wear. Her flat boots were an absolute must, she decided, and built up her outfit from there. She ended up wearing a short denim skirt, opaque tights, and one of her customised cardigans and beads. It was a bit of a boho look, but it was comfortable and the best Sophie could do with the clothes she’d brought with her. She put on some lipstick, grabbed her coat and skipped out of the door.

The trouble with arranging to meet people ‘at’ places, Sophie decided, was that it was a bit vague. Was ‘at’ outside or inside? If she’d been meeting a friend they could have sorted out this problem in seconds with the aid of their mobile phones. Matilda may not have had a mobile phone. Sophie’s only point of contact with her was her nephew Luke, with the dark blond hair and eyes to match.

As Matilda wasn’t anywhere outside, Sophie decided to go in. Taking a deep breath, she climbed the shallow stone steps of the entrance.

Once inside the museum Sophie knew she’d made the right decision. The Frick, she decided, was like the ice cube in a glass of sparkling water, the stillness surrounded by the effervescence that was New York. She loved it.

‘Oh, good you’re here.’

Matilda’s bright, nearly-English voice made Sophie turn round, smiling. She hadn’t liked to wander far from the entrance and had been standing, drinking in the wonderful atmosphere. But she had been starting to wonder if she’d got the time or the place wrong, or if Matilda wasn’t coming.

‘I am sorry I’m late, my dear,’ said Matilda, ‘I was delayed.’ She pursed her lips slightly and Sophie got the impression that the lateness wasn’t Matilda’s fault. The old lady paused slightly and then went on. ‘My grandson Luke is insisting on joining us for tea. He seems to think …’ She hesitated again. ‘He seems to think I need protecting. He’s unwilling to accept that you don’t get to be my age without picking up a little bit about people.’