Page 9 of Mad About You

At least she could honestly say she’d had no premonition that Jonathan was going to use this evening to propose. She left out the part where she’d failed to anticipate it because she’d thought there was no way he was so off his chanks to think that doing it in front of his parents, brother, sister-in-law and nephew was remotely fair, romantic or appropriate.

‘It’s so lovely to think your wedding anniversary is our engagement date,’ Jonathan said to his mother, practically simpering, and Harriet wondered if what she’d seen as dutiful benevolence was in fact appalling arse-licking. She’d been dealt such a blow she couldn’t tell what was analysis, and what was raw anger.

As they finally all started yawning and agreeingwell, what an incredible evening but maybe time to turn in, Harriet didn’t know how to feel. What had happened was torrid; what was to come was likely worse.

‘I keep catching sight of the ring on your finger and my heart explodes,’ Jon said to her, grabbing her hand to hold it as they walked up thickly carpeted, shallow stairs to their bedroom.

She was quaking at the prospect of what she was building up to do – it was going to be unutterably awful, but he’d really left her no other options. Harriet didn’t even have the comfort of feeling one dominant, defining emotion – fury at Jonathan, and pity for him were fighting a tumultuous war inside of her. However much he deserved what was coming next, he didn’t deserve what was coming next.

Harriet had a fear that he would try to kiss her, and she’dhave to push him away, so she dropped his hand, swiped the key card and strode assertively through the door. She moved swiftly across the room, sliding the ring from her finger and placing it on a French chest of drawers, then turned and folded her arms. Jon, seeing this, looked unperturbed.

‘Don’t fret about safety?’ he said. ‘It’s worth a bundle but I’ve already put it on the home contents, which would see us covered for loss or damage here, too. So put it back on and come here, my stunningfiancée.’

He looked like a kid at Chessington World of Adventures who’d been told the rides were free.

‘Jon,’ Harriet said, in a voice so low and grim, it didn’t sound like her own. ‘What the hell did you do that for?’

Jon’s expression changed abruptly, and yet he remained motionless, scenting for danger like a vole sensing a predator in the undergrowth.

‘… Should I not have agreed with my mother she could be involved in the dress fittings? I will rein her in if you’d find it too much, don’t you worry. I know you don’t like fuss.’

‘No!’ Harriet shrieked in disbelief he’d still not grasped what he’d done, and Jon recoiled. She realised she’d have to keep her emotions in some check in case they were overheard. ‘I mean, why did you propose? In front of your bloody family?!’

‘That’d be because I very much want to marry you,’ he said, balancing one elbow on the mantelpiece, the smile creeping back onto his face. She could tell that he was fairly drunk, and so elated, so awestruck at the idea he was looking at the future Mrs Barraclough (Junior) that he had enoughhappiness for her, too. Her mithering would not be able to withstand the juggernaut that was Jonathan’s joy. Surely she couldn’t help but be infected with his ecstatic certainty of their bliss? As if infatuation was a communicable disease.

‘I’ve always said that I’d never want my own wedding. You know that. I didn’t leave it in any doubt?’

‘Errrr. Then … why did you say yes?’ Jon said, and even though Harriet guessed this was coming, she still had to dig her fingernails into her palms to stop herself shouting.

‘Are you serious? What choice did you give me? In front of your PARENTS? Have you got any idea how agonising that was?!’

Jon stood up straighter, processing this. But Harriet could see he was also frantically assessing: OK, she’s really upset, Work Brain Mode, conflict resolution, how do I apologise sufficiently for misjudging the manner of proposal and soothe her, make her feel heard? Until we can make up, spoon in bed, and perhaps even chuckle about it?What am I like!

‘Oh God, sorry, Hats. You’re completely right. I’d not thought of how that might feel. I got so excited that my mother had the ring, she said she’d give it to mehere,and of course I couldn’t wait, and a plan formed. My mum was insistent it wouldn’t be stealing their thunder, bless her.’

The incaution of praising his mum for her key role in this shitshow was typical Jon. Jackie wasn’t guileless like her son, she’d have known it was interfering, taking family ownership of what should be a private event. She had no doubt hatched the plan as soon as she found the ring, and stage-directing her son wasn’t difficult. If Barty was Joffrey in theirGame ofThrones, Jacqueline was Lady Olenna Tyrell.Tell Harriet. I want her to know it was me.

‘It was a bit of a runaway train. I see now that you feel you’ve been put on the spot.’

‘I don’t “feel” it, Iwasput on the spot. I don’t want to get married! You know that about me. We’ve had explicit conversations about it?’

‘Yes but …’ he raised and dropped his arms, in a gesture of baffled futility. ‘People say things all the time, don’t they? I say I’m going to pack my job in to become a paddlesport instructor every summer. I thought you were being irreverently witty! You’d got a bit jaded about them because of your work. I thought if you could do a weddingyour way, that—’

‘My way? You mean once you’d offered to pay for one, I’d grab it? My convictions are that shallow?’

‘No!’

He did, he thought his wealth carried all before it. That if he was prepared to roll out the red carpet, in return, he could have what he wanted. Jon wasn’t a cynical person, but this was the calculation.

‘You thought once I was permitted to plan a party, all my silly little feminine objections would magically fly away? It was one of those little lady ideas that don’t really matter in real actual life?’

‘Come on, Hats, I’d never think your opinion doesn’t matter, you know that. You’re being a bit mischievous here,’ Jon said, and she tried not to scream. ‘I suppose I thought … As ridiculous as it sounds, I thoughtno harm in asking. “Shy bairns get nowt.” That you could say no.’

‘Except, if you ask with an audience, Jon, that’s not quite true, is it?’

A hostile audience, at that.

This, more than anything, seemed to pierce his bubble of satisfaction, and he took a step towards her, hands up, beseeching.

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