had been gearing up to propose then and was halted by a call from an ex. ‘Congratulations to you both. I’m truly thrilled for you.’
‘You will come out for the wedding, won’t you?’
‘I’ll try my best,’ I promised. ‘Where’s Rebecca now?’
‘She’s phoning her parents. I told mine a little while ago.’
I was flattered that I featured so high up on his list of folk to call.
‘And what about you?’ he asked. ‘Any joy with that Finn fella?’
‘Lots,’ I grinned, thinking of the evening before.
‘Oh, really?’ said Peter, sounding deservedly smug. ‘So, I was right then?’
‘As it turns out.’
‘I knew it!’
‘I know you did,’ I said, shaking my head and regretting it, ‘now, go and find your fiancée. We’ll chat again soon, okay?’
‘All right,’ he agreed.
‘Congratulations,’ I said again, but the tipsy fool had already hung up.
I had barely put the phone down before it buzzed again. This time I checked and it was Mum.
‘Morning, Mum,’ I said, feeling genuinely brighter than before, buoyed up as I was by Peter’s wonderful news. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine, thank you, Freya,’ she said, ‘but what’s wrong with you? You sound all croaky?’
‘I’ve had a cold,’ I told her, amused that Peter hadn’t noticed and grateful that she was miles away and couldn’t see my hungover state. ‘It’s almost gone now,’ I sniffed to prove the point, as I rifled through my drawer of hair accessories. ‘I’ve just been left with a bit of a croak. How are things with you and Dad?’
‘Busy,’ she said, just as I knew she would.
She and Dad were always busy.
‘And I have news,’ she added.
‘If it’s about Jackson and Broad-Meadows, I don’t want to hear it,’ I interrupted.
‘There’s no need to be rude,’ Mum tutted. ‘I do have news about Broad-Meadows, and lots of it, because you wouldn’t let me tell you the last time we spoke, but I’m actually calling about Peter.’
‘Peter,’ I repeated, trying to keep the smile out of my voice, because I already knew what she was going to say.
‘It’s a bit delicate,’ Mum carried on, ‘especially if you still have feelings for him. You don’t, do you, darling?’
‘Not the sort you’re implying,’ I said. ‘And you know I never did. I thought we’d established that a long time ago.’
‘Well, as long as you really mean it and you aren’t just saying it,’ she went on, making me bristle a little, ‘then that’s something I suppose.’
‘Oh, just spit it out, Mum, for heaven’s sake,’ I goaded, spurred on by the bedside clock which seemed to have fast-forwarded at least half an hour.
‘He’s engaged.’
She accompanied the two words with a sigh of such magnitude that she must have sucked in every last drop of air in her orbit in order to release it so dramatically.
‘Well, that’s wonderful news,’ I said happily.
I had no intention of telling her that I already knew. Had in fact heard the words from the man himself, because that would only lead to a barrage of questions.
‘If you say so.’
‘Of course, I say so,’ I said, with a very genuine smile, ‘I’m absolutely delighted for him. Do you know his fiancée’s name? I’ll have to send a card.’
‘It’s Rebecca,’ Mum said airily. ‘No idea what her last name is. Peter’s parents called earlier with the news, but they didn’t say who she was. She’s no one significant, I’m sure.’
‘Well,’ I said, bristling again, ‘she’s pretty significant to Peter, isn’t she? Otherwise he wouldn’t have asked her to marry him. And that’s all that matters.’
‘I suppose.’
I was quiet for a moment, imagining Peter happy and drunk in New Zealand and my pounding head stilled a little. I wasn’t sure if it was the painkillers kicking in, or if I was still drunk too – on love, that is – but whatever it was, I was happy for him and for me. The year was going to end on a high for both of us. If someone had told me that just a few months ago, I wouldn’t have believed it.
Unfortunately, Mum misconstrued my momentary quiet for disappointment.
‘Oh, you are upset,’ she sympathised. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’
Her voice drifted away and I knew she was saying something to Dad who, as always during these Sunday morning calls, was lingering in the background.
‘Freya?’ came his voice.
He sounded concerned and I daresay Mum had told him I’d collapsed and was having a crisis.
‘Hey, Dad,’ I smiled, ‘I’m guessing Mum’s—’
‘We’ve just put you on speakerphone,’ he cut in, saving my blushes. ‘We’re sorry about, Peter,’