Chapter 77 Proposal
I expect our celebration drink to be somewhere rather special as Hollis sent a car for me, but the Mercedes deposits me outside a dreary pub near the river. I feel overdressed and unimpressed. ‘The Last Post’ is the ominous name that hangs in gloomy light over the door.
I don’t really know if the pub is simply run-down or if this is what passes for chic these days. It smells of stale beer with top notes of cider and is populated by bald men watching football on a large telly, sipping at their pints and making unnecessary comments.
I look out of place in my rather revealing outfit and cause something of a fuss.
My dress is low cut, my hair is freshly blow-dried and I’m looking absolutely drop-dead, red-carpet gorgeous.
I wanted to appear to Hollis as a sparkling gift.
In these surroundings, I’m more like a Quality Street dropped onto a turd, if that helps capture the moment.
I spy Hollis with his wheelchair tight against a dilapidated table staring at a pint. I have a feeling that he’s expecting rejection. I will try to convince him that I love him, and not because he’s a billionaire, but because of the depth of our love.
There are comments and noises from the men as I sashay over the sticky wooden floor. I’m glad to give them something to think about when they crawl back to their illegal dogs and tattooed wives.
‘Hello, you,’ I say, giving Hollis a kiss on his head. ‘Are we staying?’
‘Just for one,’ he says. ‘What’ll you have?’
‘Something from a bottle that remains in a bottle,’ I say.
Hollis raises a finger to the barman. ‘A Peroni, no glass.’ He turns back to me. ‘You look absolutely stunning.’
‘I’ve been thinking about your proposal,’ I say. ‘And all the wonderful memories that you’ve filled in for me, too, but it’s so much to get used to.’
‘I want you so much,’ he says. His eyes are moist and his hand rests on mine. It’s really rather lovely, in a pathetic way.
‘Well,’ I say, wondering if I’ve resisted enough and made my point. ‘I want you too.’
‘You do, really?’ His eyes redden and his lips quiver. ‘Even without working legs.’
‘Just as you are,’ I say. Our fingers entwine, tears fall (his not mine) and we hug over his pint.
‘I love you,’ he says.
There are several things I want to say and I have to suppress them all, before I say, slightly choked, ‘I love you, too.’
‘Drinks on me!’ he shouts, and of the six men in the bar, two turn their eyes from the screen and look across. It won’t be an expensive round. Hollis kisses me. I kiss back. He’s been eating mints which I find a little presumptuous, but sweet.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ I say, and show him my left hand where his ring is glittering in the dim light.
‘You’ve taken off your wedding ring!’ he says.
‘I told Stephen it’s over,’ I say. ‘Told him all about us. No more secrets.’
‘You did that for me?’ he says, looking shaken.
‘I lost you for such a long time. I feel like I’m getting the chance to live my life over again.’ I’m such a good actress that I’m even beginning to convince myself.
‘Until yesterday, I felt sure you didn’t feel the same.’
‘My feelings are coming back more and more each day. I was so traumatized by losing you that I closed off all my feelings, but I’m ready for Lalla and Hollis, Season Two.’
‘This is more than I ever dared dream of.’
I can’t help feeling this sounds a tiny bit sarcastic, but all declarations of love sound like that to me. A bottle of lager appears in front of me. I thank the barman. He doesn’t speak and returns to the bar.
‘To us,’ I say, with a broad smile, and clink. I take his hand and squeeze it to reinforce the idea of unexpressed emotion like I’ve seen on TV.
‘What about your children?’ he says.
‘They come with me, but we can have our own children too,’ I say, immediately calculating that if we sleep together soon, I could reasonably claim that Leopold or Leopoldine is his.
‘Cool,’ he says, glancing at his pint, which I’m not really sure how to interpret.
‘Don’t you want children?’
‘Oh, yes, I do. It’s just . . . my testicles were ripped off during the fall, which makes it, well, tricky.’
‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t know. You should’ve said. Both of them?’ If I was ever going to feel guilty in my life, I guess it would be now, but nothing appears.
‘Yeah, both. That little stumble cost me a lot, didn’t it? I mean, my legs, my ability to have children, even my wife . . . for a time.’
I nod in a manner I hope is grave enough to honour a man’s lost testicles but privately I’m wondering how I’ll cope with another man with low testosterone levels.
‘But you have your wife back now, and we can have my children. I’m sure they’d like you. Nathan would love your wheelchair, and Nelly would be fascinated by your legs. She disables all her own toys.’ I decide to leave out any mention of Leo until we’re fully back together.
‘Thanks, that’s appreciated,’ he says, in a tone I’m not quite able to read.
‘You sound sad. Having second thoughts?’
‘No, of course not. It’s just. It’s been a long chase. Feels like Moby Dick, you know,’ he says, and empties his glass.
‘A man hunting a whale in revenge for taking his leg? Not a flattering analogy.’
‘It’s been a long search,’ says Hollis reflectively.
‘I’m not always right in reading people, Hollis, but you seem less like a man who’s finally found his true love again, and more like a man who’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders. You think I’m just in it for the money?’
‘No, of course not. There’s something else,’ he says, looking away and tapping the table.
‘That sounds ominous.’
‘I’d never written a will before, you know. And well, I was so worried about your turnaround that I wrote one last night, Lalla, and you’re not in it. You’d get nothing if I died.’
‘I was going to suggest it myself. I want nothing from you,’ I say, my pulse almost stopping, but it won’t take long to conjure up a plan to make him change his will back in my favour. ‘I presume your cheap little flat was also a test?’
‘I didn’t want you to like me just for my money,’ he says.
‘Well, I’d love you if you had nothing,’ I say. ‘After all, I once did. I’m not someone who cares about all those status symbols.’
‘That means so much,’ he says and smiles warmly. And we stare into each other’s eyes for what would feel like far too long even if I were in love.
Hollis grabs both my hands. ‘Look, if we’re going to start again, I want us to be able to be completely honest with each other.’
‘Yes, of course,’ I say.
‘Call it an amnesty,’ he says. ‘Whatever you tell me now doesn’t count, right? We say it all and then we move on.’
‘But there isn’t anything to tell you.’
‘Yeah, I totally get that,’ he says, then smiles. ‘But I want to talk about the day I fell.’
‘What for? It’s not something I remember at all.’
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘It makes me wonder if you blocked something out.’
‘Like what?’ I look at him struggling with his thoughts.
‘Something you did that you don’t want to think about. Something you can’t face.’
‘Like the trauma and pain of it all?’ I say.
‘No, before that. Before the fall, in fact,’ he says.
‘I have no idea,’ I say, looking as innocent as possible.
‘I remember it in two different ways, and I’ve been thinking over the years that maybe I joined the dots wrong,’ he says. ‘Trauma can do that. You fill the gaps.’
‘As interesting as this is, Hollis, don’t you think we should go home to bed?’ I say, although I’m wondering if sex without testicles is even possible. I decide to google it later.
‘Look, I know I’m struggling a bit,’ he says, and holds my gaze. ‘I’ve got these two versions in my head of what happened the day I fell.’
‘Go on, then, what are they?’
‘In the first one, I hear you shout “Watch out, rocks!” I look up, lose my balance and stumble. You try to grab me, and I fall.’
‘And the other version?’ I ask.
‘That’s even harder to imagine. Maybe so hard, I suppressed it.’
‘What are you getting at?’ I say.
‘That you shouted, tried to grab me, and it was only then that I stumbled.’
‘Meaning I tried to help you, but I made it worse? Oh God, that’s a terrible thought,’ I say, and raise my eyebrows as sympathetically as possible.
‘Yes, but that’s not even the most terrible thought,’ he says, and stares at me.