Oliver Spencer represented. Unknown. Potentially dangerous. Definitely exciting. But they weren't alone and Sophie felt trapped by the web she had successfully woven about herself and had reinforced only minutes ago. The myth of the happily engaged woman. The woman who had known she had met the right person even if she had only been seventeen years old. Her voice seemed to be coming from a long way away.
'The wedding date,' she heard herself saying. 'We... I finally made a decision.'
'Really?' Toni sounded excited. 'Oh, I love weddings! When is it going to be, Sophie?'
'July.' Sophie closed her eyes briefly. Why on earth had she said that? Her runaway mouth refused to close itself. 'July twenty-fifth,' she added for good measure.
Oliver was still crouched beside her. He frowned as though puzzled but then his expression changed to one of bland neutrality. 'Congratulations,' he murmured. 'If that's really what you want.'
'Of course it is.' Sophie straightened, clutching the roses tightly.
'That's only three months away,' Josh observed. 'You're not planning on leaving us before you sit your Primex exams and qualify as a registered GP, are you?'
'No.' Sophie bit her lip. 'Of course not.' She had forgotten that she would be in Christchurch at least until the end of October to finish her GP training programme. Why hadn't she picked a date next year? Why had she picked a damned date at all?
'So you're going to get married and then live in separate cities?' Oliver sounded intrigued rather than critical.
'No. Well, not for long anyway.' Sophie felt a desperate need to escape. 'I'd better get going. I want to ring Greg and thank him for the flowers and I've got a lot of reading I want to get done before the workshop on Wednesday afternoon. It's the one on minor surgery.' Sophie knew she was babbling. 'I've been really looking forward to this one.'
'See you tomorrow, then.' Josh had turned his attention back to the fax he was holding. 'Just look at that serum cholesterol level. Nine-point-eight! Phew!'
Oliver said nothing. He was staring at Sophie with an expression that hinted strongly of disapproval.
Toni leaned over the counter as Sophie reached the front door.
'We'll talk tomorrow,' she said happily. 'I want to hear all about your plans. Especially your wedding dress.'
The ring had to come off. It had to. The roses lay abandoned on the kitchen bench as Sophie squirted a generous dollop of dishwashing liquid onto her finger. She gripped the gold band and stared at the small solitaire diamond, a poignant stab reminding her of the pride with which the ring had first been worn. It had been a symbol of a future—dreamed about, carefully planned and striven for. A future that no longer existed. Perhaps it had only 'ever been a fantasy. Sophie pulled the ring and found it slipped off far more easily than she had expected. She placed it beside the bouquet of flowers and rinsed her soapy hands. Then she reached for a tumbler and filled it from the box of wine that sat in her fridge. She didn't normally have a drink after work but she was in dire need of something tonight. She was very glad that she had carried her glass with her when she moved to answer the telephone a minute later.
'Hi, Dad.' She took a large swallow of the chilled white wine. It tasted of cardboard. She should have bought a bottle to celebrate moving to Christchurch, not a five-litre cardboard carafe. Now it even had a faint aftertaste of dishwashing liquid. 'Sorry, Dad.' Sophie tried to forget the wine. 'I didn't hear that. How are you?'
'How I am is not why I'm ringing.' As usual, her father got straight to the point. 'I was talking to Greg this morning. He informs me you've broken off your engagement.'
Sophie took a deep breath. 'That's right, Dad. I have.'
'I thought you might come to your senses after Greg took up his registrar position and decided to specialise. Surely three months of infected ears, geriatrics, overweight women and social work
'The wedding date,' she heard herself saying. 'We... I finally made a decision.'
'Really?' Toni sounded excited. 'Oh, I love weddings! When is it going to be, Sophie?'
'July.' Sophie closed her eyes briefly. Why on earth had she said that? Her runaway mouth refused to close itself. 'July twenty-fifth,' she added for good measure.
Oliver was still crouched beside her. He frowned as though puzzled but then his expression changed to one of bland neutrality. 'Congratulations,' he murmured. 'If that's really what you want.'
'Of course it is.' Sophie straightened, clutching the roses tightly.
'That's only three months away,' Josh observed. 'You're not planning on leaving us before you sit your Primex exams and qualify as a registered GP, are you?'
'No.' Sophie bit her lip. 'Of course not.' She had forgotten that she would be in Christchurch at least until the end of October to finish her GP training programme. Why hadn't she picked a date next year? Why had she picked a damned date at all?
'So you're going to get married and then live in separate cities?' Oliver sounded intrigued rather than critical.
'No. Well, not for long anyway.' Sophie felt a desperate need to escape. 'I'd better get going. I want to ring Greg and thank him for the flowers and I've got a lot of reading I want to get done before the workshop on Wednesday afternoon. It's the one on minor surgery.' Sophie knew she was babbling. 'I've been really looking forward to this one.'
'See you tomorrow, then.' Josh had turned his attention back to the fax he was holding. 'Just look at that serum cholesterol level. Nine-point-eight! Phew!'
Oliver said nothing. He was staring at Sophie with an expression that hinted strongly of disapproval.
Toni leaned over the counter as Sophie reached the front door.
'We'll talk tomorrow,' she said happily. 'I want to hear all about your plans. Especially your wedding dress.'
The ring had to come off. It had to. The roses lay abandoned on the kitchen bench as Sophie squirted a generous dollop of dishwashing liquid onto her finger. She gripped the gold band and stared at the small solitaire diamond, a poignant stab reminding her of the pride with which the ring had first been worn. It had been a symbol of a future—dreamed about, carefully planned and striven for. A future that no longer existed. Perhaps it had only 'ever been a fantasy. Sophie pulled the ring and found it slipped off far more easily than she had expected. She placed it beside the bouquet of flowers and rinsed her soapy hands. Then she reached for a tumbler and filled it from the box of wine that sat in her fridge. She didn't normally have a drink after work but she was in dire need of something tonight. She was very glad that she had carried her glass with her when she moved to answer the telephone a minute later.
'Hi, Dad.' She took a large swallow of the chilled white wine. It tasted of cardboard. She should have bought a bottle to celebrate moving to Christchurch, not a five-litre cardboard carafe. Now it even had a faint aftertaste of dishwashing liquid. 'Sorry, Dad.' Sophie tried to forget the wine. 'I didn't hear that. How are you?'
'How I am is not why I'm ringing.' As usual, her father got straight to the point. 'I was talking to Greg this morning. He informs me you've broken off your engagement.'
Sophie took a deep breath. 'That's right, Dad. I have.'
'I thought you might come to your senses after Greg took up his registrar position and decided to specialise. Surely three months of infected ears, geriatrics, overweight women and social work
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