Free A Perfect Proposal by Katie Fforde Page B

ground, kneeling down with her to support her.
    ‘Oh, my dear! How did you know I was feeling so faint?’ the old lady said after a few moments of panting and exclaiming, looking up at Sophie with gratitude.
    ‘Something about you wasn’t right. You just looked a bit tottery.’
    The old lady shook her head as if still dazed. ‘You have very quick reactions, and you’re English!’
    Sophie laughed. ‘Yes, but I don’t think the two things are necessarily related.’
    ‘Well, maybe.’
    The woman pulled down her skirt and patted her clothes back into place. She was wearing an elegant cream jersey suit and beautiful shoes and Sophie couldn’t help noticing that the perfectly manicured hand supported a lot of flashing jewels. Sophie felt quite scruffy in comparison.
    Other people came flocking up expressing concern. The old lady waved them away. ‘This young woman will take care of me, thank you.’
    Sophie sat down and stretched out her legs so as to be more comfortable. Now they were both sitting with their backs against the wall with their legs in front of them. ‘Are you feeling better?’
    ‘A little. Everything started to go black and I felt myself going.’
    ‘That’s what I must have spotted,’ said Sophie. ‘I’ve been looking after my great-uncle. It’s sort of got my eye in for sudden wobbles.’
    ‘I’m very grateful. If I’d fallen I might have broken something and been laid up for ages.’
    ‘The trick is not to get up again too quickly. We’ll just stay here until you feel completely better.’ Her family sometimes complained that Sophie had no embarrassment gene. While she didn’t think this was true, she was quite happy to sit there on the floor until it felt right to get the old lady up again.
    ‘Just as well I’m too old to care about looking foolish,’ said the old lady.
    Sophie laughed. ‘And I’m an English tourist and have no pride, so we can just sit and talk. But are you here on your own? Is there anyone I should find?’
    ‘My grandson is in there somewhere. His girlfriend was meeting him here. He went off to look for her so I thought I’dgo to the Ladies on my own.’ She smiled up at Sophie with a twinkle. ‘You see, I’m English too. Hearing your voice reminded me what we used to call things. Restrooms indeed, as if one would go in there for a little nap.’ Then she frowned. ‘Mind you, I was very young when I came over here, I am pretty well assimilated. I have tried to hang on to my accent.’ To Sophie’s ears she did sound American, but only slightly. ‘I was a war bride,’ the lady went on.
    ‘Really? That’s fascinating! Tell me about it!’
    The two of them were happily chatting away, sitting on the floor of the art gallery, their legs being stepped over from time to time by women on their way to the bathroom, when a very tall and smartly dressed young man appeared, carrying Sophie’s discarded shoes.
    He was, Sophie decided, ‘preppy’. He had a very neat haircut, a lovely suit, perfect shirt and very shiny shoes. His hair was dark blond and his eyes were probably green – she couldn’t really see from where she was sitting. He didn’t seem terribly amused to discover his grandmother sitting on the floor next to a young woman he had never seen before. There was a blonde woman hovering behind him wearing shoes Sophie realised she couldn’t have even tried on without falling over. She didn’t seem amused either.
    ‘Are these yours?’ The young man addressed Sophie, glancing down at her for a second before turning to the old lady. ‘Grandmother, are you all right?’ He crouched down. ‘I heard you’d had an accident. Why didn’t you call me?’
    To his credit, Sophie decided, he seemed really concerned.
    ‘Oh, don’t fuss, dear. This lovely young woman has been looking after me. This is my grandson, Luke – Luke Winchester. Luke this is …’
    ‘Sophie Apperly,’ said Sophie.
    ‘Oh!’ said the old lady, turning sharply towards her.