The Proposal Plan. Charlotte Phillips

What do you both do? When do you see each other? How often do you get together?’

      ‘Wow, twenty questions.’

      He simply looked at her expectantly, eyebrows raised as if she were a misbehaving toddler, and she spoke quickly before he could admonish her for not taking it seriously. ‘Well, I get up early, of course. Usually about five so I can get to the bakery and sort out the stock for the day. So he rarely stays over on a week-night.’

      ‘So you don’t see him during the week except in the evening?’

      ‘Well, no, but he usually rings me every day mid-morning,’ she said brightly. ‘That’s if he’s not in the middle of something at one of the houses.’

      Ed was a property developer. Fed up with his job in IT, he’d given it all up three years ago, just before they’d met in fact, and now spent his time buying run-down shacks and doing them up, then selling them on for profit. It wasn’t yet turning out to be the giant money-spinner he always talked it up to be.

      Still, early days, she told herself. Give the guy a chance. She liked the fact that he’d thrown himself into building up a business, being his own boss. Taking responsibility for his own success or failure. It was something she could relate to. After all, it had taken her years of hard graft to build up her cake business. They had a lot in common, and that always made for a good, strong relationship, in her opinion.

      Gabriel pressed on. ‘And how much does he actually do around the house?’

      ‘Plenty.’

      ‘Not good enough. What’s his house like? Imagine you’re married and living together in this lovely flat.’

      She glanced around the perfectly tidy room with satisfaction. She loved her little flat, filled with unusual bits and pieces of furniture that she’d picked up in markets and antique shops. Gabriel had always teased her about it, telling her she was ‘nesting’.

      ‘Imagine you go away on holiday or business for a week,’ he went on. ‘You leave him alone here. Based on what you know of him, what would the place be like when you got back?’

      She pulled a face. ‘Well, he’s not that good on his own, to be honest. He’s not really a cook, so he’d probably have lived on pizza and takeaways. The place would most likely look just like his house. A hovel. You’d feel at home in it!’ She dodged as he threw a cushion at her.

      ‘I’m not that bad!’

      ‘Your flat is a pigsty, Gabe. Face facts. The only time there’s been any semblance of order was when I stayed with you and that’s only because I can’t live in your kind of squalor.’

      ‘You’re not doing yourself any favours here, you know.’ He put on a hurt expression. ‘Anyway, we’re talking about Ed, not me. What else?’

      She pursed her mouth, considering. ‘There’d be an overload of washing. I’m not sure he knows how to work the machine.’

      ‘Pathetic!’

      ‘And the plants would probably be dead. He never remembers to water them.’

      He held up a hand to stop her. ‘I think I’ve heard enough. Basically, Lu, and I’m going to be brutal here…’ She looked at him expectantly. He paused dramatically then announced loudly, ‘You have become Ed’s mother.’

      Silence for a moment while this sank in and then she exploded. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous! You’re twisting everything. You make it sound like he’s some layabout slob who doesn’t lift a finger while I do everything!’

      ‘Sounds about right.’

      She stood up, feeling irrationally that it might somehow give her the advantage to be taller than him. ‘You’re wrong, Gabriel. We’re just very different people with different priorities. There must be millions, zillions of couples just like us.’

      ‘I’m sure there are,’ he said with calm amusement. ‘But what you think you have is the traditional “he hunts it, she cooks it” model of relationship. Only trouble is, unless he changes his ways you will hunt it and cook it because, face it, if you get married to Ed, you are going to be the main breadwinner.’

      ‘That has nothing to do with it!’

      ‘It has everything to do with it!’

      Hands on hips, she glared at him angrily.

      He held his hands up in a calm-down gesture. ‘OK, let’s take a different approach. Have you told him about going to the dinner as my date yet?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said, relaxing a little at the change of tack. She sat down again. Ed had been more than reasonable when she’d asked him. Let’s see you pick holes in that, Gabriel.

      ‘And what did he say?’

      ‘He was totally fine about it, as a matter of fact. Didn’t bat an eyelid. Even told me to have a good time,’ she said triumphantly.

      ‘Oh, dear.’ He looked at her sympathetically.

      ‘What now?’

      ‘Well, it’s good for me, of course, problem solved for the dinner and dance. But for you… you are being taken for granted! Big time.’

      She felt her temper strain madly at its leash. This was rapidly becoming a character assassination of Ed and she wasn’t going to take it lying down. ‘I don’t see that,’ she countered coldly. ‘Surely it’s a positive thing that he’s being so reasonable.’

      ‘Aha! That’s where you’re wrong.’ He leaned in close to her suddenly, grabbed her wrist and looked into her eyes. Her stomach made a sudden unexpected flutter and she felt her pulse increase. She ignored it, assuming it must be part of the effort required to keep her temper from flaring. ‘Lucy, if I was in a relationship with you, lovely you, I would not let you go on a date with any other guy but me. I wouldn’t care whether he was your friend, if he was gay, whatever.’

      She looked into his eyes. Clear slate grey filled with nothing but genuine love and concern for her. The pit of her stomach felt warm and soft suddenly, like melting chocolate. She felt the tiny spark of a long-forgotten memory, almost there and then gone again. Her mind felt adrift, as if sand had suddenly shifted below her and she was no longer standing firm. What the hell is this? Grappling for self-control, she focused hard on her train of thought.

      ‘He used to be like that when we first met,’ she protested in a small voice. ‘He couldn’t stand the sight of you.’

      ‘There you go.’ He released her hand and sat back with a triumphant nod, grabbing his wine glass as he went. She felt an odd sensation of loss and put her hand in her lap to compensate. ‘He’s got used to the fact that you will always be here, you’ll never look at anyone else, no one else will ever look at you…’

      ‘Hey!’

      ‘I’m not criticising you, Lu, I’m just telling you that he’s got complacent. He’s taking you for granted. No need to make an effort because he counts on you always being here. Stopped working at it, hasn’t he? That’s the key.’ He was nodding his head emphatically.

      ‘What is?’ She was rapidly losing the point of this conversation. Hadn’t it been to focus on the positives of her relationship? Instead he seemed to be implying that Ed was coasting along and taking her for granted. Just what was going on here?

      ‘He thinks he’s got it all sewn up. He doesn’t need to propose to you because he’s already got you. What we need to do is shake that perception up a bit. Make the ground shake a little bit underneath him. Make him realise how fabulous and gorgeous you are and that he has to work to keep you.’

      That sounded a bit more like it. ‘OK, so how do we do that, Sherlock?’

      ‘You need to move the goalposts,’ he said firmly. ‘One of the things you can do is see a bit more of me.