One Perfect Summer

slopes with a personal instructor. Lukas is keen for me to learn as quickly as I can so we can go skiing together – that won’t be this trip, though. I hope I enjoy it – the spa and heated pool looked pretty damn enticing to me – but I reckon I could just about manage tobogganing if all goes wrong.
    ‘I thought we’d take a ride up the mountains and watch the sunset,’ he suggests.
    ‘Sounds lovely.’
    We manage to secure a cable car all to ourselves and it glides up, up, up the mountain to the very top, where the snow is the purest white and the sky is the bluest blue. Ischgl is a tiny dot far below. I notice Lukas watching with envy as skiers shoot off down the slopes. I bet he’s a brilliant skier – he’s good at everything else.
    ‘Tomorrow,’ I say with a grin, squeezing his thickly gloved hand. He turns to face me and his expression is a mix of emotions. ‘What are you looking like that for?’ I tease, but he doesn’t smile.
    ‘I love you,’ he says.
    ‘I love you too.’
    ‘No, I love you, Alice.’ I’m shocked to realise that he’s close to tears. ‘When you said Rosalinde was my first love . . . You were wrong.’ He shakes his head fervently. ‘ You ’ re my first love. I love you . I’ve never loved anyone more.’
    I swallow. I so want to be able to say the same about him. Out of the blue I feel like screaming with frustration. JOE IS GONE! He’s in my past. Lukas is my future. He may not be perfect, he may be a bit aloof at times, but he’s also smart, sexy and anything but ordinary, And. . . he’s here. He’s never left me. He’s never deserted me. He has always come back to me when he’s said he would. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he loves me. I want to slap myself around the face for not being able to accept that this is enough.
    Suddenly Lukas pulls off his glove and delves into his coat pocket. He doesn’t meet my eyes and it’s like the world around us has come to a standstill as he kneels on the brittle snow and presents me with a diamond ring.
    ‘Alice Simmons,’ he says in a clear, precise voice. ‘Will you marry me?’
    He sounds so formal, so . . . nervous , I realise with a flood of love for him. Finally he meets my eyes and I know that I can give him no other answer.
    ‘Yes.’
    Goodbye, Joe.

 
    ‘That is the most enormous fuck-off diamond I have ever seen.’
    I smile at Lizzy and take my hand away.
    ‘Seriously, how do you lift your arm?’ she asks.
    ‘Oh, stop it,’ I chide.
    ‘Husband. Husband ,’ she emphasises the word. ‘Husband,’ she repeats.
    ‘Stop it!’ I say again. ‘He’s not my husband yet.’
    ‘It won’t be long, though. You may as well get used to calling him it.’
    ‘Stop going on and help me find a wedding dress.’
    We’re waiting in a bridal shop for an appointment I booked six weeks ago. I’ve gone to London for a weekend of shopping.
    ‘Are you sure the Husband isn’t going to have one made for you?’ she asks wryly.
    That’s a really good point. ‘He’d better not,’ I say. ‘This is one dress I’m choosing myself.’
    ‘I hope he knows that,’ she mutters.
    ‘He does,’ I say firmly, making a mental note to double-check later.
    The sales assistant flourishes through and invites us into the hallowed boutique, where rows and rows of white and cream gowns are lined up on padded silk coat hangers.
    ‘Whoa,’ Lizzy says, looking around.
    ‘Let’s start over here,’ I direct.
    ‘You seem remarkably calm considering the wedding is only months away.’
    ‘Why shouldn’t I be calm?’ I ask, not really wanting an answer.
    ‘I still don’t understand what the rush is,’ she says.
    ‘Lizzy, can we please not go there again?’
    I’ve had this discussion before, both with Lizzy, and with my parents. Lukas’s father turns sixty next summer, and apparently things are growing serious between Frieda and her boyfriend, who I didn’t meet at Christmas. Lukas persuaded me that we should secure a date for this year before any other family commitments got in the way. And so we’re getting married in August. This August. Five and a half months away.
    AAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!! Deep breath.
    ‘I can’t believe you agreed to get married in Germany,’ she says.
    ‘Neither can I,’ I admit. Lukas’s mother insisted. I found out later that he asked his parents for their blessing – or permission, I’m not sure which – when we were at his house over Christmas. His mother