“Absolutely not!” says Michael. “But that reminds me, I got a little confused at the engagement party, talking to different people. Are you two getting married in New York or England?”
“New York,” says Luke, frowning in slight puzzlement. “That has been finally decided, hasn’t it, Becky? I never even asked how your mother took the news.”
“I… um…” I play for time, wrapping my scarf around my neck.
I can’t admit the truth. I can’t admit that Mum still doesn’t know about the Plaza.
Not here. Not now.
“Yes!” I say, feeling my cheeks flame. “Yes, she was fine. New York it is!”
As we get onto the train, Luke looks pale and drained. I think it upset him more than he’s letting on, seeing Michael looking so helpless. He sits staring out of the darkening window, and I try to think of something that will cheer him up.
“Look!” I say at last. I reach into my bag and take out a book I bought just the other day called The Promise of Your Life. “We need to talk about composing our wedding vows.”
“Composing them?” Luke frowns. “Aren’t they always the same?”
“No! That’s old hat. Everyone writes their own these days. Listen to this. ‘Your wedding vows are the chance for you to show the world what you mean to each other. Together with the proclamation by the officiant that you are now married, they are the linchpin of the entire ceremony. They should be the most beautiful and moving words spoken at your wedding.’ ”
I look up expectantly at Luke, but he’s gazing out of the window again.
“It says in this book, we must think about what sort of couple we are,” I press on. “Are we Young Lovers or Autumn Companions?”
Luke isn’t even listening. Perhaps I should find a few specific examples. My eye falls on a page marked Summertime Wedding, which would be quite appropriate.
“‘As the roses bloom in summertime, so did my love bloom for you. As the white clouds soar above, so does my love soar,’” I read aloud.
I pull a face. Maybe not. I flick through a few more pages, glancing down as I go.
You helped me through the pain of rehab…
Though you are incarcerated for murder, our love will
shine like a beacon…
“Ooh, look,” I say suddenly. “This is for high school sweethearts. ‘Our eyes met in a math class. How were we to know that trigonometry would lead to matrimony?’ ”
“Our eyes met across a crowded press conference,” says Luke. “How were we to know love would blossom as I announced an exciting new range of unit trusts investing in European growth companies with tracking facility, fixed-rate costs, and discounted premiums throughout the first accounting period?”
“Luke—”
Well, OK. Maybe this isn’t the time for vows. I shut the book and look anxiously at Luke. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you worried about Michael?” I reach for his hand. “Because honestly, I’m sure he’s going to be fine. You heard what he said. It was just a wake-up call.”
There’s silence for a while — then Luke turns his head.
“While you were going to the rest room,” he says slowly, “I met the parents of the guy in the room next to Michael’s. He had a heart attack last week. Do you know how old he is?”
“How old?” I say apprehensively.
“Thirty-three.”
“God, really? That’s awful!”
Luke’s only a year older than that.
“He’s a bond trader, apparently. Very successful.” He exhales slowly. “It makes you think, doesn’t it? Think about what you’re doing with your life. And wonder.”
“Er… yes,” I say, feeling as though I’m walking across eggshells. “Yes, it does.”
Luke’s never spoken like this before. Usually if I start conversations about life and what it all means — which, OK, I don’t do very often — he either brushes me off or turns it into a joke. He certainly never confesses to doubting what he’s doing with his life. I really want to encourage him — but I’m worried I might say the wrong thing and put him off.
Now he’s staring silently out of the window again.
“What exactly were you thinking?” I prompt gently.
“I don’t know,” says Luke after a pause. “I suppose it just makes you see things differently for a moment.”
He looks at me — and just for an instant I think I can see deep inside him, to a part of him I rarely have access to. Softer and quieter and full of doubts like everyone else.
