The Good, the Bad, and the Dumped - Jenny Colgan Page 0,1
fringe of lash.
From nowhere, she felt a little stab of something that felt suspiciously like panic. Matt and her . . . they were so different. Such an unlikely match, everyone said.
But on the other hand, they were here. Now. After everything that had happened. After every morning she’d woken up feeling she could never be happy again . . . here, finally, was the moment she’d dreamed of for such a long time. Not always with the same man, it had to be said. But still.
She burst out, “Oh yes! Ooh yes! I love you!”
Matt’s face split into a grin.
“But not too much of The Smiths at the wedding, all right?”
They both jumped up and dusted themselves down, so they could embrace more easily.
“Some.”
“No!”
“I’m going to invite Morrissey.”
“You are not. He’ll bring the mood down.”
They kissed again, laughing. Posy felt light-headed and giddy, as if she were outside her own body, watching herself.
“Can you get a signal up here? Can we phone everyone?”
“Put the ring on first.”
“Ooh, yes.” Posy extended her finger. “Did you get it fitted?”
“No,” admitted Matt. “I just said that my girlfriend has really gigantic shovel-like man hands.”
“You didnt?” said Posy, whose large hands and feet were the bane of her life.
“I did too,” said Matt, as the ring slid perfectly onto the fourth finger of her left hand. “They thought I was buying it for a chap. The jeweler kept trying to intimate that it was quite all right, gay weddings were legal and everything. It was really embarrassing.”
He looked at her. “Do you like it?”
It was a perfect solitaire, with two smaller cut diamonds on either side, on a platinum band.
“I love it,” said Posy, truthfully.
“You didn’t want to shop for it?”
“Matt. Ssh.” She looked at him. “You chose it. Which means it’s exactly right. Now can we call everyone?”
“Not your sister. You’ll be on for two hours and I want lunch and champagne and lots of nice things!”
“Can’t promise,” said Posy. Then she paused. “Did you say . . . champagne?”
Posy is !!!!!!!!!
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So Posy had to wait till they’d got down the mountain and celebrated rather loudly in a pub (she’d thought people would have been more excited, but it turned out that loads of couples got engaged on the peak every year, they even kept a special bottle of champagne in the fridge just for the purpose). But this didn’t dent her amazing feeling—that she had caught a cloud from the mountaintop and surfed it down.
Later, post an afternoon sojourn at their bed-and-breakfast (Posy felt obscurely weird having sex in a B&B, after all it was someone else’s house and someone else’s bed. And in the afternoon, too! Their landlady had been full of congratulatory winks, but oddly that didn’t seem to make things any easier):
“Ooh, marital relations,” Matt said. “I could get used to this.”
“Well, you’re going to have to,” said Posy, then wondered if reminding Matt he was only going to get to sleep with one woman for the rest of his life wasn’t a bit mean.
“Good,” said Matt, smiling at her, and she reached up to meet him. “I’m very, very happy. I was bricking it a bit though.”
“Why?” said Posy, genuinely surprised. “Didn’t you think I would say yes?”
Matt shrugged. “Well, I don’t know, do I? Women, you’re funny things.”
Posy bit her lip. It wasn’t like he didn’t know she had a past.
“But you know I love you, don’t you?”
“Yeah, course I do,” said Matt.
“Well then, why were you nervous?”
“No reason. I just . . . you know, sometimes you’re a bit private . . .”
Posy sat up and put her arms around her legs. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not a bad thing. But, you know. Sometimes I think there’s a part of you locked away that I can’t get to—I don’t mind so much. A woman should be a bit of a mystery. But it makes you . . . unpredictable.”
“I’m the least mysterious person ever! You’re the one that spends six hours boiling up their Oyster card to get the magnetic bit out and stick it to a wand so you can magically open the tube barriers. That is mysterious.”
“You’re right,” said Matt. “Forget I said it. Shall we go out for a super slap-up engagement feast? And tell the waiters and everything? We must be able to get freebies somewhere—what’s the point in having a big life event if people don’t buy you drinks?”
Chapter Two
Posy is cheerfully