Rory's Proposal by Lynda Renham

any more.
    ‘Is that sensible dear?’ says Mum worriedly.
    For a second I think she is talking to Yvonne about the wine and then realise she is actually talking to me.
    ‘I only had lunch with him. He banged me in the car park.’
    ‘Good Lord,’ says Dad.
    ‘No, my car not me.’
    ‘I was about to say, that was daring of you,’ says Yvonne excitedly.
    ‘He’s very nice, rich and good looking. I have his email address. I just think Luke is never going to propose and now this thing with the salon. I don’t know what to do. Devon got engaged too. I feel like I’m on the shelf …’
    ‘You are on the shelf,’ agrees Mum.
    I sigh. Maybe she’s right. Two years is stretching things a bit isn’t it? Luke probably has no intention of proposing. We’ll drift along for years like this if I leave it to him. I had this thing about getting married in my thirtieth year but I don’t think he is going to take the initiative. I pop another After Eight into my mouth and as the minty flavour melts on my tongue it comes to me. How stupid, why didn’t I think of it before?
    ‘I’ll propose to him,’ I say.
    Yvonne turns me onto my back.
    ‘What if he says no?’ she asks, lurching towards me with her thread.
    I feel a prick above my left eye and gasp. That’s a point, what if he says no? He won’t, surely. After all, we’ve been together for two years. We’ve just got into a routine that’s all. I feel a tremor of excitement at the thought. This time next month I could also have an engagement ring on my finger, if I could just get engaged in time for my birthday. In fact …
    ‘I’ll propose on my birthday. Ouch, Christ Yvonne, you’re scalping me of eyelashes.’
    ‘But won’t Luke be in Dublin on your birthday?’ says Mum gently.
    ‘It’s the tournament, he can’t miss that, he’s the best in the club,’ says Dad, looking concerned.
    Oh, well that’s that then. God forbid I should come before the sodding golf.
    ‘Go to Dublin,’ says Yvonne, taking a break to top up her glass. I gingerly feel my eyebrow, just to check it’s still there. Ooh, it feels rather good. I take a sip from my glass and it hits me, not the wine obviously, but my great idea.
    ‘Yes, that’s it. I’ll surprise him in Dublin, on my birthday. It’ll be a double surprise.’
    There’s no stopping me now. I picture the scenario. I’ll have to get a ring for Luke, or something that represents my love for him. It will be great.
    ‘The flights are going to get booked. It’s a big tournament,’ says Dad.
    I wave a hand airily.
    ‘I’ll get there, but don’t say a word about it to anyone. What do you think?’
    I’ll be engaged by thirty. After all, we have equal rights don’t we, and it’s not that unusual for a woman to propose is it? I’ll have to plan it properly. I feel myself tremble with the excitement. I’m sure I’ll have more confidence to take on Rory’s if I’m an engaged woman.
    ‘You should have your eyebrows done more often,’ says Mum. ‘It makes you very positive.’
    The ginger wine has a lot to do with it of course.
    ‘Oh, and about Rory’s, I’ve started a petition and we have stickers. I’m having a protest in a few weeks. I want you to come and support me. You too Yvonne,’ I say. After all every body counts doesn’t it?
    ‘You sound like Jane Fonda,’ says Mum.
    ‘I’d love to,’ says Yvonne, playing with the thread and making my eyes water.
    ‘Well I suppose we could,’ says Mum .
    ‘I think it’s wonderful what you’re doing,’ says Yvonne dabbing at my eye.
    ‘So, you’ll come?’ I say, helping myself to wine.
    Mum sighs resignedly.
    ‘I suppose so. Will it be in the papers?’
    ‘I don’t know, why?’
    ‘I’ll dress like a proper activist if it is,’ she says.
    Dad rolls his eyes.
    ‘I dread to think what one of them looks like,’ he groans.
    As long as she doesn’t turn up with pink hair and wearing something outrageous I don’t care. I glance at