One Hundred Proposals. Holly Martin

will be phoning us up for support.’

      ‘I’ve already diverted the calls to your mobile and you can still pick up your emails, besides today is completely work orientated – we’re sourcing new locations, so stop making excuses and get your boots on.’

      When I hesitated, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out the office.

      I laughed. ‘Where are we going?’

      ‘First stop, we’re going to buy you some decent pyjamas, so the next boyfriend won’t be scared off by seeing you in that onesie.’

      I stopped dead and when he turned to look at me, his eyes were kind.

      ‘Jack bought it for me,’ I said, quietly.

      ‘I know.’

      ‘I’m not getting rid of it.’

      ‘I’m not saying throw it out. But I know Jack, he had a wicked sense of humour and you know as well as I do that he bought it for you as a joke because you used to take the piss out of onesies and people that wore them. You know that he never intended for you to wear it at all let alone every day since his death. If you want to keep it, keep it. All I’m talking about is options. Something else you could wear that would show off that fabulous figure of yours.’

      I opened my mouth to protest as the last words he said slammed into my brain. Fabulous figure?

      He moved his hands to my shoulders and when he spoke his voice was soft.

      ‘I know you’re trying to keep your brother alive, keep him close, but he would be cringing if he could see you wearing that thing and you know that. Keep him close with your memories of him, not by compromising who you are.’

      I blinked. That was very profound for half nine on a Thursday morning.

      ‘I’m just saying, the Suzie McKenzie I know and love wouldn’t be caught dead in something like that.’

      ‘I think it’s funny.’ I knew I sounded like a petulant child.

      ‘Yes, for about five minutes after you opened your present – it’s not quite so funny eight months later.’

      He had a point. I’d washed it so many times that the white patches were now grey and the udders were looking decidedly limp.

      ‘And while we’re on the subject. You can stop wearing black as well. We’re not in the Victorian times anymore.’

      He pulled me into the bedroom and I followed, still in shock over his brutal honesty. He opened my wardrobe and pulled out my favourite scarlet jumper dress. ‘You can wear this today with those purple leggings.’

      They would clash horribly. I smiled

      ‘And you can wear them with those Barbie pink boots you love so much and…’ He rooted around in one of my drawers, finally found what he had been looking for, pulled it out and thrust it into my face. ‘This. You’ll wear this.’

      ‘But –’

      ‘No buts. Get changed. You have five minutes.’

      I stared after his retreating back and then down at the black shirt and black trousers I had put on out of habit. In the months after Jack’s death my taste in bright and garish clothes had seemed disrespectful somehow. Was one month too soon to return back to my colourful spots, stripes and swirls? Was two months? But now it had been eight months and I had seemingly been wearing black ever since. My bright clothes even seemed to have a thin layer of dust on them as they hung forgotten in my wardrobe. Harry had a point. Again.

      I came downstairs a few minutes later, dressed in my purple leggings, scarlet jumper, pink boots and my red and gold spotted sequinned beret that I adored and Jack hated because he said I looked like a toadstool. I felt lighter already.

      Harry grinned when he saw me. ‘You look beautiful.’ He offered me his arm. ‘Now let’s go.’

      I leaned into him and walked out into the early morning sunshine.

      *

      ‘No way. I’m not doing that,’ I said, staring at the scene before me in horror. ‘There’s nothing romantic about that.’

      ‘Who says proposals have to be romantic?’ Harry said as he bent down to forcefully remove my boots.

      ‘It’s the rules. Flowers, fireworks, chocolates. A stuffed teddy with the words emblazoned across a red heart. Not this. Never this.’

      ‘I disagree.’

      ‘You would,’ I said as Harry pushed me gently but forcibly forwards in the queue.

      ‘I think proposals can be weird, funny or in the case of this little adventure, adrenaline filled.’

      I was next.

      ‘If I die –’

      ‘I’ll wear a cow print onesie to your funeral. Now get up there.’

      My phone rang in my pocket.

      ‘Oh I have to get that, shame I’ll miss my turn.’

      But to my annoyance, Harry had already wrestled my phone from my pocket and had answered it. He was more than capable of dealing with our customers and he knew I knew that.

      ‘Are you going or what, love?’ asked a big gruff man whose face looked like it had been punched several times. His nose was bent in two places and he had a huge scar across his forehead. Had he sustained these injuries doing this? I shrunk back but Harry pushed me forward.

      ‘Yes she is, and send her as high as you can.’

      The man nodded, somewhat evilly I thought.

      I climbed the steps to my doom and they attached thin rubber cables to my harness. I kept my eyes on Harry as the man bounced behind me for a few seconds, causing me to bounce as well. A moment later I was propelled some ten feet into the air, a scream tearing from my throat. I fell back to the earth but no sooner had I touched the ground than I was sent back into the air again, this time even higher than the last.

      We had been walking along the Thames when the sounds of screams had attracted us. As we rounded the corner, we saw the bungee trampolines and watched with amusement as we saw people screaming, being bounced higher and higher in the air. My amusement had quickly turned to horror when I realised Harry had paid for me to have a go, and that we had come here deliberately for this reason.

      I screamed again as I flailed in the air, kicking my legs helplessly in the hope that it would slow my descent. Each time I thought I was going to crash into the ground, I came to a slow stop, bounced gracefully off the trampoline and was propelled back into the air again. As I was thrust into the air for the fifth time, a bubble of laughter escaped my throat. It was a rush – a terrifying, brilliant rush. The man bounced with me, sending me higher, and I roared with joy.

      All too soon the experience was over, and the man slowed me down and stopped me. He unhooked me and I quickly clambered down the steps and ran straight into Harry’s arms, still laughing uncontrollably.

      Finally my laughter subsided.

      ‘Thank you.’

      ‘You’re very welcome,’ he said, into my forehead. ‘You see, at this point, while your heart is still pounding furiously and with the grin plastered on your face, I would propose.’

      ‘And I would say yes.’

      I felt him smile into my hair.

      ‘So one we can definitely add to our repertoire?’

      ‘Yes, I take it all back. I love it.’

      ‘They’re not here all the time, but the guy is going to give me his card as they go all round the UK. We can phone them up if need be and find out where they are.’

      ‘Excellent, it’s great to get contacts like this.’

      ‘Are you ready