Chapter Ten What Will Luis Say?
The independent jeweller’s was a sliver of a shop squeezed in between a tattoo parlour and a Japanese-owned hairdresser’s on D’Arblay Street.
More workshop than shopfront, in the window there was an industrial steel desk from a defunct factory in East Berlin, fitted with a counterbalance lamp and a magnifying glass.
A bronze bell over the door announced Danny and Sophie’s arrival to the shop’s security – a copper-coloured German Shepherd.
A woman in her fifties emerged from the back, wearing wire-rimmed glasses and an abattoir-style leather apron, her fingernails sparkling with shimmering gemstone dust as though she had been butchering stars out back.
Sophie took the lead, offering her hand which the jeweller accepted, recapping their phone conversation.
The jeweller turned to Danny, introducing herself as Abi, aghast that they had wasted their time on Bond Street.
‘Why did you bother? The attitude. The inflated prices.’
Danny pointed out, ‘We didn’t even get to the prices.’
Sensing her task was to turn the mood around, Abi pivoted.
‘Listen. No one loves weddings more than me. I married my wife before civil partnerships existed. We held our own commitment ceremony in Devon in an apple orchard. I made our rings. An artist friend of mine wrote our wedding certificate in sumi ink. Okay, it wouldn’t count in court, but it means the world to us.
When we were finally allowed to turn it official, we applied for the legal documents, but we don’t hang those on our wall.
The certificate my artist friend created, that’s the one we framed. ’
Abi indicated for the three of them to sit on mismatched steel stools and asked what kind of ring Danny was looking for. At a loss, Danny shrugged.
‘I don’t know. I’ve no idea what an engagement ring for a guy should be. I’ve never seen one. In real life or in a movie.’
Abi waved away the pop culture references.
‘Forget the movies. Forget the magazines. This is your wedding and your ring. We’re going to create it from your mind. Did you bring a photo of Luis?’
Danny took out his phone and showed her a selection of photos of the two of them. Abi nodded.
‘Definitely marry this guy. He’s stunning. Does he wear any jewellery?’
Danny thought on the question.
‘He owns a silver crucifix which his grandfather gave him. But he never wears it.’
Abi correctly deduced that Danny had no idea about Luis’s ring size. Seeing him worry, she put her hand on his shoulder.
‘You’re not the first guy who doesn’t know their partner’s ring size. Is this engagement a real surprise or a pretend surprise?’
Danny thought hard on the question.
‘We’ve been together for twenty years. It will come as a surprise.’
Abi cleaned her glasses.
‘Sir, it would be an honour to make your engagement ring. But you’ll need to do some detective work. You’re going to have to measure his finger with string when he sleeps.’
Danny turned to Sophie.
‘Is this what Harry did?’
Sophie shook her head.
‘He asked one of my girlfriends.’
Abi consoled Danny.
‘I know how you’re feeling right now, like you’re tiptoeing through these traditions as if you were an intruder in someone else’s house. But you are not an imposter.’
Abi stood up.
‘I’m going to brew some coffee. We’re going to smoke a joint. And then we’re going to talk precious metals and gemstones. Afterwards, I’m going to make you a ring worthy of a twenty-year relationship. And I swear to God, Gollum will be chasing you down the street for it. How does that sound?’
Danny opted for a seven-millimetre-wide ring.
Nine millimetres felt like conforming to some unspoken notion that a man’s engagement ring should be broad.
As for gemstones Abi described how a diamond could be cut flat and flush-set into the band like a floor tile.
When Danny saw examples of diamonds cut this way the appearance reminded him of the magic rings a sorcerer might wear and his greatest fear was that any part of this marriage should be mocked as a gaudy pastiche.
Keen on the symbolism of the world’s most durable precious metal, Danny chose platinum for the ring itself which was more expensive and less ostentatious than gold.
He then worried that the ring seemed plain.
Abi floated the idea of shaping the platinum so it would look like the gnarled roots of an ancient tree.
It would be a difficult task requiring additional labour.
The final cost was four months’ salary, wiping out most of Danny’s savings.
What was he saving for anyway? He bought his clothes second-hand and the mortgage was almost paid off.
The ring would be ready in time for the August Bank Holiday – the weekend he planned to propose.
Afterwards Danny treated Sophie to lunch at a tiny French restaurant on Lexington Street with antique tables, wooden banquettes and vases of snapdragons.
The summer set menu was radish leaf soup, followed by morel mushrooms served on rye toast, finished with a lemon and polenta cake.
Emboldened by a carafe of house white wine Danny asked, ‘Why did you disappear after we graduated? You didn’t tell me about Harry until you were engaged. ’
Sophie turned towards the window, watching the passers-by before answering, ‘Because no one I dated was ever good enough for you. Whenever I met someone, you would find fault with them. Not in a mean way, you were being protective. But the trick when you’re dating is to discover if the great stuff outweighs the stuff that’s not so great and to do that you need to give people a chance. ’
Danny apologized.
‘I’m sorry, Sophie. I had no idea. Maybe I was trying to be funny or trying to impress you. It was university. We were young, stupid and high most of the time.’
Sophie countered, ‘One of the reasons people go to university is to find the person they’re going to spend the rest of their life with. We didn’t realize it because we were messing about so much. We wasted our chance.’
Danny asked, ‘On each other?’
Sophie took his hand.
‘We were never going to get married, were we?’
Danny ventured, ‘Was I jealous?’
Sophie shook her head.
‘You were afraid of being alone.’
Danny sat back in his chair, recalling those days at university. The conclusion hit him hard. He could critique a relationship, but he couldn’t create one. Sad at the memory of that lost and lonely young man, he asked, ‘Would you have told me any of this if I wasn’t getting married?’
She pushed back, ‘Would you have asked?’
There was silence for a time. Sophie sipped her wine, before matching his boldness with a frank observation of her own.
‘When you told me you were going to propose to Luis, I admit I was surprised. After today I understand a little better what this wedding might be for you.’
Treading carefully, Sophie continued, ‘It’s an opportunity. To ask the questions you never asked. Of me. Of yourself. With the biggest question of all being to Luis. Will you marry me?’
Danny knotted his fingers together.
‘I want the world to know that we’re more than just two people living together who split the bills and share the chores.’
Sophie reacted sharply to that idea.
‘No one thinks you’re just two people living together.’
But Danny disagreed.
‘That is how it feels sometimes.’
Turning to the subject of the proposal, Sophie asked, ‘Can I give some advice? About the proposal? Make sure there’s no one watching, no band playing, no string quartet.’
Pondering the suggestion, Danny asked, ‘You think Luis might say no?’
Sophie was taken aback.
‘That’s not what I meant. Even if you’re excited and you’re going to say yes, you want the space to make the decision for yourself.
You don’t want to feel like you’re being rushed or taken for granted.
I have a friend and she was asked onto the London Eye by a guy she’d been seeing for a year.
He had rented an entire pod, there was a team of people serving champagne and canapes.
At the highest point he got down on one knee and asked her to marry him.
Instead of thinking about him or love or whatever, she noticed that the staff were looking away, none of them were watching because they’d been instructed this is how to behave when he proposed.
She realized that these strangers knew before she did. In that pod she was the last to know.’
Danny admitted, ‘My greatest fear is that it will feel phoney and fake.’
The waiter filled their wine glasses and cleared their dessert plates. Once he had left, Sophie ventured, ‘Why did you ask if I thought Luis might say no?’
Danny shrugged.
‘I was reacting to what you said.’
Sophie shook her head.
‘You were reacting but not to me. Danny, you guys have discussed marriage, right?’
Danny’s voice became brittle.
‘I told you. Luis and I discussed civil partnerships as a possibility when the law was passed. Luis didn’t feel the need.’
Sophie pushed the point.
‘You’ve never spoken about it again?’
Danny thought back over the years. There were hardly any occasions when the subject had come up.
‘When gay marriage passed in Spain, we discussed it. He said the same thing. He didn’t feel the need.’
Sophie asked, ‘Danny? Is there a chance he might say no?’
Danny considered Luis’s many extraordinary qualities.
He was an outsider from the south of Spain who through grit had made his way into an Oxbridge-dominated law firm, a man who saw photos of mountain ranges in Condé Nast Traveller and pointed to their summits and said let’s go there and they did; they stood at the point where his finger had pressed against the page.
The truth was that if he wanted to be married, they would be married.
‘Yes, there’s a chance.’