‘Well, we thought it was about time we met you. We suspected Nick was going to propose at some point.’
I hid my surprise. ‘What made you think that?’
Rosamund laughed lightly. ‘My son is a romantic, as you’ve probably worked out by now. No idea where he gets it from.’
‘Well, being married to the same man for forty-five years is pretty romantic,’ I said.
Rosamund shook her head. ‘It’s different with Nick. He never holds back when it comes to love, to his detriment at times. And he hasn’t stopped talking about you since you met. I could tell he was head over heels for you a long time ago.’
This was nice. Rosamund was making an effort, which was promising. And she seemed to love Nick very much, so surely there was no reason why she couldn’t also learn to love me. I wondered, though, why Nick had waited so long to introduce me to his family if they’d known about me all along.
I followed Rosamund across to the next display, which was a collection of hundreds of pairs of trainers stacked neatly in a cabinet. There were mirrors on the floor and ceiling so that if you looked up or down, you could see versions of yourself getting smaller and smaller and further and further away. Rather disconcertingly, I could also see Rosamund’s reflection, about a hundred identical versions of her, no matter which direction I looked in.
‘What about Gucci for your wedding gown?’ suggested Rosamund.
‘Um, I don’t think I could afford it,’ I said, taking a photo of a particularly bling pair of customised trainers.
‘Or you’d look lovely in Prada.’
‘Maybe.’
‘You’ve got your own ideas, of course you have,’ said Rosamund. ‘Feel free to tell me to mind my own business.I love weddings and have a tendency to get a little overexcited.’
I smiled at her. ‘I’m sure I’ll be very grateful for any help you can offer,’ I said, reassuring her.
‘Good,’ said Rosamund, looking pleased with herself. ‘This may not be the first time my son has got married, but presumably it will be the first time you have. Remember that. You deserve to have a big fuss made of you.’
I watched her go through to the next room, wondering about the fanfare that must have accompanied Nick and Sophia’s wedding. Did she wear Prada?
‘What do you think?’ whispered Nick in my ear, sliding his arm around my waist.
‘Of what?’
‘The museum.’
‘It’s amazing, actually,’ I said, feeling the need to whisper back. ‘It’s crazy when you think about what inspires fashion designers. I mean, wig collectors? Clocks?’
Nick laughed.
I checked Rosamund was out of earshot and then said to him: ‘I think me and your mum might finally be bonding.’
Nick did a double take. ‘Why, what’s she said?’
‘Oh nothing major. Just talking weddings and stuff. But it’s a start.’
Nick kissed me on the top of my head. ‘That’s great, Mads. See? She’s not as scary as she likes people to think.’
I wasn’t totally sure about that, not yet. But what mattered was Nick, and if getting along with his family made him happy, then I was going to have to make it happen.
‘Your mum thinks I should wear Prada on our wedding day,’ I said to him.
He rolled his eyes. ‘Ignore her. Anyone would think she wears designer clothes twenty-four/seven the way she andSophia are prancing about. Let me tell you, her wardrobe is ninety per cent Boden!’
Another group came into the room and it seemed like the right time to move upstairs. As I followed Rosamund up a level, I was greeted by a vision: Sophia posing in front of a giant Gucci campaign poster. She had put herself into the same pose as the three models behind her and was absolutely loving the attention as we formed a crescent around her.
‘Oh darling, you look fabulous,’ said Rosamund. ‘Let me take a photograph for Instagram.’
I tried to hide my surprise and whispered to Nick, who was standing in front of me: ‘Your mum’s on Instagram?’