“No, I didn’t need the money.” She glares at me. “You want to know why I took it, Miss Poppy? It’s because it should have been mine. ”
“Yours? Wh—”
I can’t even finish the word, let alone the sentence.
“You know Magnus and I are old flames.” She throws the information out casually, like a swatch of material on a table.
“What? No! No one ever told me that! Were you engaged?”
My mind is juddering with shock. Magnus was with Lucinda? Magnus was engaged ? He never mentioned a previous fiancée, let alone that it was Lucinda. Why don’t I know any of this? What is going on ?
“No, we were never engaged,” she says reluctantly, then shoots me a murderous look. “But we should have been. He proposed to me. With that ring.”
I feel a clench of disbelieving pain. Magnus proposed to another girl with my ring ? With our ring ? I want to turn on my heel and leave, escape, block my ears … but I can’t. I have to get to the bottom of all this. Nothing seems to make sense.
“I don’t understand. I don’t get it. You said you should have been engaged. What happened?”
“He bottled it, is what happened,” she says furiously. “The bloody coward.”
“Oh God. At what stage? Had you planned the wedding? He didn’t jilt you, did he?” I say in sudden horror. “He didn’t leave you standing at the altar?”
Lucinda has closed her eyes as though reliving it. Now she opens them and gives me a vicious glare.
“ Far worse. He chickened out halfway through the bloody proposal.”
“What?” I peer at her, not quite understanding. “What do you—”
“We were on a skiing holiday, two years ago.” Her brow tightens in memory. “I wasn’t stupid, I knew he’d brought the family ring. I knew he was going to propose. So we’d had dinner one night, and it was just us in the chalet. The fire was going, and he knelt down on the rug and brought out this little box. He opened it up, and there was this amazing vintage emerald ring.”
Lucinda pauses, breathing hard. I don’t move a muscle.
“He took hold of my hand, and he said, ‘Lucinda, my darling, will you … ’ ” She inhales sharply, as though she can hardly bear to carry on. “And I was going to say yes! I was all poised! I was only waiting for him to get to the end. But then he stopped. He started sweating. And then he stood up and said, ‘Bugger. Sorry. I can’t do this. Sorry, Lucinda.’ ”
He didn’t. He didn’t. I stare at her in disbelief, almost wanting to laugh.
“What did you say?”
“I yelled, ‘Do what, you prick? You haven’t even bloody proposed yet!’ ” But he didn’t have anything to say. He closed up the box and put the ring away. And that was that.”
“I’m sorry,” I say lamely. “That’s really awful.”
“He’s such a commitment-phobe, he couldn’t even commit to a fucking proposal ! He couldn’t even see that through!” She looks absolutely livid, and I don’t blame her.
“So, why on earth did you agree to organize his wedding?” I say incredulously. “Isn’t that rubbing it in your face, every day?”
“It was the least he could do to make amends.” She glowers at me. “I needed a job. Although, actually, I’m thinking of changing career. Arranging weddings is a bloody nightmare. ”
No wonder Lucinda’s been in such a bad mood this whole time. No wonder she’s been so aggressive toward me. If I had known for one second that she was an old flame of Magnus’s …
“I was never going to keep the ring,” she adds sulkily. “I just wanted to give you a scare.”
“Well, you managed it, all right.”
I can’t believe I’ve let this woman into my life, confided in her, discussed all my hopes for my wedding day—and she’s an ex of Magnus. How could he have let this happen? How could he have thought it would ever work?
I feel like some kind of filter has been lifted from my eyes. I feel like I’m finally waking up to reality. And I haven’t even tackled my main fear yet.
“I got the idea you were still sleeping with Magnus,” I blurt out. “I mean, not when you were going out together. Now. Recently. Last week.”
There’s silence and I look up, hoping she’ll launch into some stinging denial. But as I meet her eye, she turns away.
“Lucinda?”
She grabs her suitcase and starts wheeling it toward the door. “I’m going away. I’ve had enough of this whole thing. I deserve a holiday. If I have to talk weddings for one more second—”