A Perfect Proposal Read Online Free PDF Page B

after him and hand him back to you in perfect condition.’
    ‘It’s porridge for breakfast—’
    ‘I know. It’s on the list. You’ve given me wonderful instructions. Uncle Eric and I will be just fine.’
    Mrs Brown still wasn’t convinced. ‘The number of the agency is on the bottom of the final page. I felt it would be better to have someone qualified, but he wasn’t willing to pay the agency and wages. He likes to watch the pennies.’
    As her family had described him as a mean old skinflint, this wasn’t a great revelation to Sophie. ‘We’ll be fine. I like to watch the pennies myself.’ With this, she ushered Mrs Brown out of the door, waving merrily at her from the step when she got to the pavement.
    Then she offered a silent prayer that nothing would go wrong and he wouldn’t fall down and break a hip or anything ghastly, before going back to talk to her aged relation.
    Porridge (made with water, no sugar, just a dribble of milk, don’t let him have extra salt) was what she was expected to produce, but when she mentioned this to Uncle Eric, who was already spreading the newspaper around him in the dining room, he didn’t seem enthusiastic.
    ‘Muesli then? I brought some with me.’
    ‘Good God, girl! Are you trying to kill me? Invented by dentists to increase trade! They put those damned nuts in that break the strongest teeth. Give it to the birds!’
    ‘OK, so what would you like? Toast? Maybe with scrambled eggs?’
    A wistful expression crossed Uncle Eric’s well-worn face. ‘Boiled eggs with soldiers?’
    Sophie made a face. ‘Well, I’ll do my best, but it’s very hard to get boiled eggs just right. But if it turns out too hard, we can have egg sandwiches for lunch.’
    As Sophie managed to get Uncle Eric’s eggs – she made him have two – exactly right, boiled eggs and soldiers became a breakfast favourite.
    Sophie had to cook Uncle Eric four small meals a day, see he took his pills, and do some housework, but that didn’t take all day. When the weather was fine she explored the local area for charity shops and cafés; when it wasn’t, to keep herself amused she sorted him out. Accompanied by Radio Four – the only radio station Uncle Eric would permit – she went through the hidden corners of his house, clearing cupboards, washing and sorting, cleaning and rearranging. By the end of the first week, having investigated every cupboard, she had found enough bric-à-brac to furnish a small shop. As he wouldn’t let her book a stall at the localmarket and sell the bric-à-brac, she wanted to start on his muddle of a desk.
    She’d already been through his wardrobe, darned his favourite cardigan (pointing out she was one of the few girls of her generation who knew how to do it), sewn the pocket back on his dressing gown and put fleecy insoles into his slippers.
    In the evenings, over supper, and afterwards, they chatted. Sophie asked Uncle Eric about the ‘olden days’ until he got bored with this; eventually he asked her about her love life.
    ‘So, young Sophie, you’re moderately good-looking, I suppose, have you got a chap?’
    It took Sophie a moment or two to work out what he meant. ‘Oh, you mean a boyfriend? No, not currently. Thank goodness.’ She momentarily thought of Doug, her particularly clingy ex, but dismissed him just as quickly.
    ‘I thought girls liked having a man around to take them dancing, on picnics, that sort of thing.’
    ‘Well, I would if my boyfriends ever did that, but they didn’t. The best I could hope for was a half of lager in a gloomy pub.’ She sighed. ‘I seem to attract dreadfully boring men.’ Then she considered. ‘Although my girlfriends say it’s because I’m too soft-hearted to tell them to pi—– go away. If they ask me out for a drink I always say yes and go, if I want to or not.’
    ‘Sounds like sheer lunacy! And pretty damn boring!’
    ‘Yes, it was. Awfully boring. I’m planning to stay single for a bit, anyway. I