A Perfect Proposal
“then? I’m sure you’ve told me but I can’t keep track of my own relations, let alone other people’s.’ Sophie laid her teaspoon down in her saucer and looked thoughtfully across the table at one of her two best friends. ‘He’s some relation of Dad’s, Mands, but as I’ve never met him either – or if I have, I was too young to remember – it’s hardly surprising you’ve forgotten. I’m not quite sure if he’s really an uncle or just an older cousin. There was some sort of falling out which apparently is a...ll sorted now.’ They were in their favourite coffee shop, at their favourite table by the window where they could watch the passers-by, and, if appropriate, comment on their clothes. Sophie, from habit, mopped up some spilled coffee with a napkin.
‘And remind me why you’re going to look after him? You’re only twenty-two. Not quite old enough to be palmed off as a spinster and sent to look after single male relatives.’ Amanda’s disapproval was evident in the way she was carving patterns on the top of her cappuccino in choppy downward movements.MoreLess
‘And remind me why you’re going to look after him? You’re only twenty-two. Not quite old enough to be palmed off as a spinster and sent to look after single male relatives.’ Amanda’s disapproval was evident in the way she was carving patterns on the top of her cappuccino in choppy downward movements.MoreLess
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