I've Got Your Number
Page 28
At least saving the supper made me feel useful. But half an hour later we’re all sitting round the table, and I’m back to my speechless panic mode.
No wonder Antony and Wanda don’t want me to marry Magnus. They obviously think I’m a total dimbo. We’re halfway through the Bolognese, and I haven’t uttered a single word. It’s too hard. The conversation is like a juggernaut. Or maybe a symphony. Yes. And I’m the flute. And I do have a tune, and I’d quite like to play it, but there’s no conductor to bring me in. So I keep drawing breath, then chickening out.
“ … the commissioning editor unfortunately saw otherwise. So there will be no new edition of my book.” Antony makes a rueful, clicking sound. “Tant pis.”
Suddenly I’m alert. For once I actually understand the conversation and have something to say!
“That’s terrible!” I chime in supportively. “Why won’t they publish a new edition?”
“They need the readership. They need the demand.” Antony gives a theatrical sigh. “Ah, well. It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters!” I feel fired up. “Why don’t we all write to the editor and pretend to be readers and say how brilliant the book is and demand a new edition?”
I’m already planning the letters. Dear Sir, I am shocked that a new edition of this wonderful book has not been published. We could print them in different fonts, post them in different areas of the country—
“And would you personally buy a thousand copies?” Antony regards me with that hawklike stare.
“I … er … ” I hesitate, stymied. “Maybe … ”
“Because, unfortunately, Poppy, if the publisher printed a thousand books which did not sell, then I would be in a worse boat than ever.” He gives me a fierce smile. “Do you see?”
I feel totally squashed and stupid.
“Right,” I mumble. “Yes. I … I see. Sorry.”
Trying to keep my composure, I start clearing the plates. Magnus is sketching some argument out for Felix on a piece of paper, and I’m not sure he even heard. He gives me an absent smile and squeezes my bum as I pass. Which doesn’t make me feel that much better, to be honest.
But as we sit back down for pudding, Magnus tinkles his fork and stands up.
“I’d like to announce a toast to Poppy,” he says firmly. “And welcome her to the family. As well as being beautiful, she’s caring, funny, and a wonderful person. I’m a very lucky man.”
He looks around the table as though daring anyone to disagree with him, and I shoot him a grateful little smile.
“I’d also like to say a big welcome back to Mum and Dad.” Magnus raises a glass, and they both nod. “We missed you while you were away!”
“I didn’t,” chimed in Felix, and Wanda gives a bark of laughter.
“Of course you didn’t, you terrible boy!”
“And finally ”—Magnus tinkles his glass again to get attention—“of course, happy birthday to Mum! Many happy returns of the day, from all of us.” He blows her a kiss across the table.
What? What did he just say?
My smile has frozen on my lips.
“Hear, hear!” Antony raises his glass. “Happy birthday, Wanda, my love.”
It’s his mother’s birthday ? But he didn’t tell me. I don’t have a card. I don’t have a gift. How could he do this to me?
Men are crap.
Felix has produced a parcel from under his chair and is handing it to Wanda.
“Magnus,” I whisper desperately as he sits down. “You didn’t tell me it was your mother’s birthday. You never said a word! You should have told me!”
I’m almost gibbering with panic. My first meeting with his parents since we got engaged, and they don’t like me, and now this.
Magnus looks astonished. “Sweets, what’s wrong?”
How can he be so obtuse?
“I’d have bought her a present !” I say under cover of Wanda exclaiming, “Wonderful, Felix!” over some ancient book which she’s unwrapping.
“Oh!” Magnus waves a hand. “She won’t mind. Stop stressing. You’re an angel and everyone loves you. Did you like the mug, by the way?”
“The what?” I can’t even follow what he’s saying.
“The Only Just Married mug. I left it on the hall stand? For our honeymoon?” he prompts at my nonplussed expression. “I told you about it! Quite fun, I thought.”
“I didn’t see any mug.” I stare blankly at him. “I thought you’d given me that big box with ribbons.”
No wonder Antony and Wanda don’t want me to marry Magnus. They obviously think I’m a total dimbo. We’re halfway through the Bolognese, and I haven’t uttered a single word. It’s too hard. The conversation is like a juggernaut. Or maybe a symphony. Yes. And I’m the flute. And I do have a tune, and I’d quite like to play it, but there’s no conductor to bring me in. So I keep drawing breath, then chickening out.
“ … the commissioning editor unfortunately saw otherwise. So there will be no new edition of my book.” Antony makes a rueful, clicking sound. “Tant pis.”
Suddenly I’m alert. For once I actually understand the conversation and have something to say!
“That’s terrible!” I chime in supportively. “Why won’t they publish a new edition?”
“They need the readership. They need the demand.” Antony gives a theatrical sigh. “Ah, well. It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters!” I feel fired up. “Why don’t we all write to the editor and pretend to be readers and say how brilliant the book is and demand a new edition?”
I’m already planning the letters. Dear Sir, I am shocked that a new edition of this wonderful book has not been published. We could print them in different fonts, post them in different areas of the country—
“And would you personally buy a thousand copies?” Antony regards me with that hawklike stare.
“I … er … ” I hesitate, stymied. “Maybe … ”
“Because, unfortunately, Poppy, if the publisher printed a thousand books which did not sell, then I would be in a worse boat than ever.” He gives me a fierce smile. “Do you see?”
I feel totally squashed and stupid.
“Right,” I mumble. “Yes. I … I see. Sorry.”
Trying to keep my composure, I start clearing the plates. Magnus is sketching some argument out for Felix on a piece of paper, and I’m not sure he even heard. He gives me an absent smile and squeezes my bum as I pass. Which doesn’t make me feel that much better, to be honest.
But as we sit back down for pudding, Magnus tinkles his fork and stands up.
“I’d like to announce a toast to Poppy,” he says firmly. “And welcome her to the family. As well as being beautiful, she’s caring, funny, and a wonderful person. I’m a very lucky man.”
He looks around the table as though daring anyone to disagree with him, and I shoot him a grateful little smile.
“I’d also like to say a big welcome back to Mum and Dad.” Magnus raises a glass, and they both nod. “We missed you while you were away!”
“I didn’t,” chimed in Felix, and Wanda gives a bark of laughter.
“Of course you didn’t, you terrible boy!”
“And finally ”—Magnus tinkles his glass again to get attention—“of course, happy birthday to Mum! Many happy returns of the day, from all of us.” He blows her a kiss across the table.
What? What did he just say?
My smile has frozen on my lips.
“Hear, hear!” Antony raises his glass. “Happy birthday, Wanda, my love.”
It’s his mother’s birthday ? But he didn’t tell me. I don’t have a card. I don’t have a gift. How could he do this to me?
Men are crap.
Felix has produced a parcel from under his chair and is handing it to Wanda.
“Magnus,” I whisper desperately as he sits down. “You didn’t tell me it was your mother’s birthday. You never said a word! You should have told me!”
I’m almost gibbering with panic. My first meeting with his parents since we got engaged, and they don’t like me, and now this.
Magnus looks astonished. “Sweets, what’s wrong?”
How can he be so obtuse?
“I’d have bought her a present !” I say under cover of Wanda exclaiming, “Wonderful, Felix!” over some ancient book which she’s unwrapping.
“Oh!” Magnus waves a hand. “She won’t mind. Stop stressing. You’re an angel and everyone loves you. Did you like the mug, by the way?”
“The what?” I can’t even follow what he’s saying.
“The Only Just Married mug. I left it on the hall stand? For our honeymoon?” he prompts at my nonplussed expression. “I told you about it! Quite fun, I thought.”
“I didn’t see any mug.” I stare blankly at him. “I thought you’d given me that big box with ribbons.”
