A Friend of the Family by Lisa Jewell Page A

the playgroundeighteen storeys below. Spring was very much in the air. Sean spent hours out there on his balcony in the summer, wrote most of his first book on it, when he used to write longhand. He’d miss this secret little corner of London when he finally got his act together and got out of here. He’d be hard-pushed to find another view like this, tons of cash or no. It was ironic that only the very poor and the very rich could afford a London panorama.
    ‘Cool wallpaper,’ Millie said facetiously, coming up behind him.
    ‘Fucking shocking, isn’t it? I keep meaning to do something about it, but you just sort of get used to bad wallpaper after a while, don’t you?’
    ‘Ah – so it wasn’t your choice, then?’
    ‘What?! How dare you! If I ever get round to buying my own place I will astound you with my natural sense of style and taste, I can assure you.’
    ‘Oh, really?’ She picked up a wine glass and held it up expectantly. ‘So – are you going to open that, or what?’
    He smiled at her and attempted to ease the cork from the bottle. ‘Jesus,’ he muttered as the cork refused to budge.
    ‘Here, give it to me – I’m an expert.’ She took the bottle from him and popped the cork easily. They both watched as it flew in an elegant arc across the London skyline, tracing the tops of towerblocks and cranes, caressing the curves of Blackheath Common and landing incongruously among the junk-filled paladins below.
    Millie poured the champagne and passed Sean a glass.‘Cheers,’ she said, ‘here’s to your flat. About bloody time too. And to meeting your family in three days’ time,’ she grimaced nervously.
    ‘You don’t have to come, you know. It’s fine. I’ve given you a get-out clause. No one will mind.’
    ‘No, no. I want to. I really want to. It’s just a bit daunting, that’s all.’
    Sean looked at his older woman, then, standing on his Catford balcony in her Portobello jumper and inherited earrings, nervously clutching her champagne and looking up at him as if she were about to be introduced to the Royal family, and felt a huge, overwhelming surge of love for her that started in his stomach and went all the way to his tearducts.
    ‘Aw, come here,’ he said, holding his arms out to her. ‘They’re going to love you, you know that. They’ll adore you.’ She smiled warmly and stepped into his embrace and he hugged her tightly to him, inhaling her aroma. Now, said a little voice in his head. Now, do it now. There could never be a better moment; a mild April evening, London beneath them, the sun setting above and a whole bottle of chilled champagne left to drink.
    He held her hands in his and looked at the ginger flecks in her olive eyes, the laugh lines that grew from the corners of her eyes, the little scar just above her top lip, the little imperfections he’d grown to love almost more than her perfection over the past eight weeks, and as he looked he found himself doing it, saying it, without even having to think about it:
    ‘Millie – will you marry me?’
    She looked at him in shock for a brief moment, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.
    ‘What?!’
    ‘I said,’ he got down on his knee this time, ‘Millie, I know we haven’t known each other long, but we know each other well enough for me to know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you so I’d like to ask you – will you please marry me?’
    He stared up at her, feeling slightly foolish but very excited, and waited for her to react. She stared at him blankly for a moment. And then she threw her head back and started to laugh.
    ‘Are you winding me up?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘ You want to marry me?’
    ‘Yup.’
    She laughed out loud. ‘But, nobody wants to marry me. That’s the whole point of me. You can’t possibly want to marry me.’
    ‘Oh, but I do.’
    ‘But I’m a spinster. I’m an old maid. I’ve never even lived with anyone. Are you sure about this?’
    ‘Never been