Читать книгу Would Like to Meet - Polly James, Polly James - Страница 7

Dan lets go of both oars and searches the front pockets of his jeans, looking more anxious by the second.

“Shit,” he says. “Where’ve I put it?”

I take no notice, as I’m too busy lounging in the stern of the dinghy and trailing my fingers in the water. The sky is intensely blue and I’m as happy as I’ve ever been. (I’m about to get even happier, though I don’t know that yet.)

“A-ha!” says Dan. “I’ve found it. Thank God for that.”

I’m still not looking at him, because now I’m friend-spotting amongst the groups of art school students celebrating the end of finals on the banks of the Serpentine in Hyde Park. The sun’s so bright, I can’t see properly without the sunglasses I dropped overboard the last time Dan kissed me, so I just wave vaguely in the direction of the crowds.

Someone shouts something unintelligible across the water, at the same time as a duck squawks and Dan says something equally unintelligible.

“What?” I say. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Hannah,” says Dan, his dark eyes fixed on mine. “Pay attention, will you? I’m trying to do something important here.”

The boat bobs gently up and down as he adds, “I asked you if you’ll marry me.”

I stare at him, wondering if I’ve misheard due to that infuriating still-squawking duck, and then he tries again.

“I love you, Han. Marry me?”

“Oh, my God, yes,” I say, “Yes, please.”

I jump up and hurl myself towards Dan, just as he tries to pass me the small blue ring box that he’s holding, but then the boat rocks and tips me headfirst into the lake.

Thirty seconds later, Dan has already dived in to rescue me from the weeds in which I’m now entangled, and has lost my engagement ring in the process – as well as the boat, which is drifting away.

Fifteen minutes after that, we’ve swum to the bank and are outside the cafe, wrapped in blankets and toasting each other with mugs of hot chocolate, while being lectured on why you should never stand up carelessly in a dinghy by the owner of the one we allowed to drift away. That’s the exact moment at which an off-duty press photographer takes our photograph, the one that appears in the local paper the following day, under the headline: Loved-Up Art Students Make a Splash.