Is he nuts? There is no way I am living under the same roof as the Tavishes.
I follow Felix into the kitchen, where Magnus is lounging on a kitchen chair, gesturing at a page of typescript, and saying, “I think your argument goes wrong here. Second paragraph.”
However Magnus sits, whatever he does, he somehow manages to looks elegant. His suede-brogued feet are up on a chair, he’s halfway through a cigarette,17 and his tawny hair is thrown back off his brow like a waterfall.
The Tavishes all have the same coloring, like a family of foxes. Even Wanda hennas her hair. But Magnus is the best-looking of all, and I’m not just saying that because I’m marrying him. His skin is freckled but tans easily too, and his red-brown hair is like something out of a hair ad. That’s why he keeps it long.18 He’s actually quite vain about it.
Plus, although he’s an academic, he’s not some fusty guy who sits inside reading books all day. He skis really well, and he’s going to teach me too. That’s how we met, in fact. He’d sprained his wrist skiing and he came in for physio after his doctor recommended us. He was supposed to be seeing Annalise, but she switched him for one of her regulars and he ended up coming to me instead. The next week he asked me out on a date, and after a month he proposed. A month!19
Now Magnus looks up and his face brightens. “Sweetheart! How’s my beautiful girl? Come here.” He beckons me over for a kiss, then frames my face in his hands, like he always does.
“Hi!” I force a smile. “So, are your parents here? How was their flight? I can’t wait to see them.”
I’m trying to sound as keen as I can, even though my legs are wanting to run away, out the door and down the hill.
“Didn’t you get my text?” Magnus seems puzzled.
“What text? Oh. ” I suddenly realize. “Of course. I lost my phone. I’ve got a new number. I’ll give it to you.”
“You lost your phone?” Magnus stares at me. “What happened?”
“Nothing!” I say brightly. “Just … lost it and had to get a new one. No biggie. No drama.”
I’ve decided on a general policy that the less I say to Magnus right now, the better. I don’t want to get into any discussions as to why I might be clinging desperately to some random phone I found in a bin.
“So, what did your text say?” I quickly add, trying to move the conversation on.
“My parents’ plane was diverted. They had to go to Manchester. Won’t be back till tomorrow.”
Diverted?
Manchester?
Oh my God. I’m safe! I’m reprieved! My legs can stop wobbling! I want to sing the “Hallelujah” chorus. Ma-an-chester! Ma-an-chester!
“God, how awful. ” I’m trying hard to twist my face into a disappointed expression. “Poor them. Manchester. That’s miles away! I was really looking forward to seeing them too. What a pain.”
I think I sound pretty convincing. Felix shoots me an odd look, but Magnus has already picked up the typescript again. He hasn’t commented on my gloves. Nor has Felix.
Maybe I can relax a notch.
“So … er … guys.” I survey the room. “What about the kitchen?”
Magnus and Felix said they were going to clear up this afternoon, but the place is a bomb site. There are takeaway boxes on the kitchen table and a stack of books on top of the hob and even one in a saucepan. “Your parents will be back tomorrow. Shouldn’t we do something?”
Magnus looks unmoved. “They won’t care.”
It’s all very well for him to say that. But I’m the daughter-in-law (nearly) who’s been living here and will get the blame.
Magnus and Felix have begun talking about some footnote,20 so I head over to the hob and start a quick tidy-up. I don’t dare remove my gloves, but the guys aren’t giving me the slightest glance, thankfully. At least I know the rest of the house is OK. I went over the whole place yesterday, replaced all the old manky bottles of bubble bath and got a new blind for the bathroom. Best of all, I tracked down some anemones for Wanda’s study. Everyone knows she loves anemones. She’s even written an article about “anemones in literature”. (Which is typical of this family—you can’t just enjoy something, you have to become a top academic expert on it.)
Magnus and Felix are still engrossed as I finish. The house is tidy. No one’s asked me about the ring. I’ll quit while I’m ahead.
“So, I’ll head home,” I say casually, and drop a kiss on Magnus’s head. “You stay here, keep Felix company. Say welcome home to your parents from me.”
“Stay the night!” Magnus sweeps an arm round my waist and pulls me back. “They’ll want to see you!”
“No, you welcome them. I’ll catch up tomorrow.” I smile brightly, to distract attention from the fact that I’m edging toward the door, my hands behind my back. “Plenty of time.”
“I don’t blame you,” says Felix, looking up for the first time since I’ve arrived at the house.
“Sorry?” I say, a bit puzzled. “Don’t blame me for what?”
“Not sticking around.” He shrugs. “I think you’re being remarkably sanguine, given their reaction. I’ve been meaning to say so for weeks. You must be a very good person, Poppy.”
What’s he talking about?
“I don’t know—what do you mean?” I turn to Magnus for help.
“It’s nothing,” he says, too quickly. But Felix is staring at his older brother, a light dawning in his eyes.