He had one knee on the ground and the other propped out in front of him. He held up a little black velvet case in the palm of his hand.

Oh, my Lord in heaven, he was proposing. He was doing one of those proper, bended-knee, ring-already-purchased proposals. How wonderful.

And yet how strangely excruciating.

Her eye was caught by something behind him. A slight movement. There was somebody standing at the lookout, taking photos of the sunset.

“Ellen,” said Patrick again. He cleared his throat. “OK, I feel sort of stupid. And there’s something digging into my knee. It looks so much easier in the movies.”

Ellen laughed and put down her champagne glass with slightly trembling fingers. She blinked back tears, overcome with flattered self-consciousness. A man is proposing to me at sunset.

She saw the woman with the camera turn around and face them. She was smiling.

“Ellen, will you, I mean, could you, I would be honored, would you, that is, marry me?”

“There are two things I need to tell you first,” said Ellen. She was surprised at the clarity of her voice.

“OK.” Patrick immediately dropped his hand holding the black velvet case and then almost lost his balance. He gripped the side of the picnic table for support. “Umm. Should I get back up?”

“I’m pregnant,” said Ellen. She paused. “Also, I’m pretty sure that woman over there is Saskia, and she’s coming this way.”

Then she laid one hand firmly on his right shoulder and hoped for the best.

Chapter 12

One of the effects of increasing urbanization is the increasing isolation and loneliness of the individual. It has therefore been suggested that psychiatrists and psychologists be invited to join town planning committees to contribute their thoughts on this complex issue.

—Excerpt from a paper delivered by Saskia Brown

at Urban Development for 2004 and

Beyond Conference, Noosa, 2004

Hi, Patrick. Hi, Ellen! I thought I recognized you!” Saskia came striding toward them and stopped at the picnic table, removed her sunglasses and smiled brightly down at them. She was wearing shorts (Ellen noted beautiful long, smooth legs) and a T-shirt and baseball cap, and her whole demeanor seemed perfectly sane and ordinary. She looked sporty and attractive. No one watching would ever guess that she was anything other than a woman out for a walk who had happened to run into some friends. If anything, they would think that Ellen and Patrick were the ones behaving strangely. Neither of them spoke; they stared dully up at Saskia.

“It’s such a beautiful evening.” Saskia polished the lenses of her sunglasses with the edge of her T-shirt and put them back on, gesturing at the sky. “It’s one of those sunsets that should be on a postcard.”

“Saskia,” said Patrick hoarsely. He went to stand up; his back hunched, like an old man.

“Oh, no, Patrick, please don’t let me interrupt!” Saskia made friendly, flapping gestures with her hands, indicating that he should kneel back down. “You get right back to proposing. Lovely to see you both!”

She went striding off.

Patrick sat down heavily on the bench opposite Ellen, picked up the champagne glass and drained it.

Saskia stopped and called back. “I’ll see you on Friday for our appointment, Ellen!” She slapped her thigh. “The leg is doing pretty well!” She waved.

Ellen’s hand automatically went up and she waved back.

“You know her?” said Patrick. A panicky expression flew across his face. “Have you always known her? Is this like some sort of weird setup between the two of you?”

“No, no, no!” Ellen rushed to explain. “I knew her as Deborah. That’s what she called herself. Deborah Vandenberg. She’s been coming to see me about her leg pain.”

“Deborah,” repeated Patrick, and his eyes brightened with suspicion. “But you knew it was Saskia. Just then! You knew it was her.”

“I worked it out on the plane,” said Ellen. “When you told me about her bad leg. But I didn’t want to upset you by mentioning it. It’s my fault she’s here. I told her we were coming to Noosa … when I thought she was Deborah. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

She felt as though she had actually been part of a wicked conspiracy with Saskia.

Patrick lifted the lid of the jewelry box, then snapped it shut. He laughed disbelievingly, to himself. “I was sure I was safe. I thought I’d be able to propose without her watching, but I couldn’t even do that.”

“May I see the ring?” asked Ellen.

“It’s an antique,” said Patrick. “It’s got a history. Someone else’s history, I mean. It’s not like it’s from my own family, but I thought you’d like that.” He opened the box and flipped it shut again without looking at it. “I didn’t think you were the type for one of those standard shiny diamond rings. Jack helped me choose it.”

He was talking sadly and nostalgically, as if about something that had happened a long time in the past.

“It sounds perfect,” said Ellen. “So, could I … ?”

He pushed the ring across the table to her and she opened the box.

“Oh, Patrick.” The ring was white gold with a small oval aquamarine stone the color of the ocean. “It’s beautiful. It’s exactly what I would have chosen for myself.”

Ellen had never been especially interested in jewelry. She was not one of those women who could speak authoritatively about carats or cuts. “Ooh, sparkly!” she would say when newly engaged friends drooped their left hands at her. To her, their rings all looked identical.

But the absolute rightness of Patrick’s choice made her want to cry. It was like tangible evidence that he really saw her. It was a ring she could never have envisaged, or described, but one that said “Didn’t you know? This is who you are.”

Ellen regretfully closed the lid, unsure what to do next; she hadn’t actually said yes to his proposal yet. For the first time since she’d heard about Saskia’s existence, she felt a satisfying, righteous flash of rage. That moment had been hers. Right now she was meant to be doing that half-sobbing, half-laughing thing that women did, burying her head in Patrick’s chest, stopping every now and then to hold up her hand and examine her ring. It was meant to be a memory to cherish, and now it was gone forever.