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‘Shouldn’t we be with a bodyguard about now? Anyone could jump out at us around here.’
‘I’ve got you,’ she said playfully nudging his shoulder.
They walked in silence for a while. ‘Sorry for bringing you out here,’ said Brooke finally. ‘I thought it might be fun, but it’s just made me depressed.’
‘You don’t have to wear that other dress you know,’ said Matt.
She sighed. ‘I do. It cost such a lot of money, and Asgill’s got the licence to manufacture the Guillaume Riche perfume because he was making the dress.’
‘Does that appear in a contract anywhere?’
‘I don’t think so, but Liz would go crazy. She spent weeks negotiating with Guillaume’s business partner.’
He smiled and rubbed the dark stubble on his chin. ‘So you’d prefer to feel like a cream puff on your wedding day than annoy your sister? The sister you don’t like very much, I should add?’
She smiled ruefully and they stopped at the iron railings, looking across to the magical Manhattan skyline sparkling against a Prussian blue sky. Brooke sighed. It was one of her favourite views in the world, especially at night, when the Brooklyn Bridge was festooned with lights, its arches like two black bishops’ mitres.
‘Funny how the best view of the Manhattan isn’t even in Manhattan,’ she said, suddenly feeling like Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. ‘Sometimes you need to get out of somewhere to get the best perspective on it.’
She glanced across at Matt and felt a strange illicit thrill being with him, seeing wedding dresses, taking romantic walks. Matt pulled up the collar of his long overcoat and thrust his hands in his pockets. He looked more brooding than usual tonight, his wide mouth in a long firm line, his eyes fixed at some vague point on the river. Brooke frowned, wondering if he was thinking about Susie. To her amazement she felt a sharp jolt of jealousy.
‘I’m going to Africa in February,’ he said, turning to face her. ‘I’ve decided to do the programme and it looks like I’ll be offered a place in Ghana.’
Although she had known about it for ages, she still felt disappointed he was leaving. ‘That’s great, Matt,’ she said, forcing out her enthusiasm. ‘Good job I brought this from the studio then, huh?’
She took a mini–bottle of champagne from her coat pocket and struggled with the cork until it eased off with a pop.
‘To the future,’ she said, offering him the bottle.
He took a long gulp and turned to look at her. ‘I’m going to miss you,’ he said simply.
She waved her hand to laugh off his comment. ‘Hey, I’ll expect postcards,’ she said. ‘But it’s only for a year, isn’t it?’
‘It won’t be the same though, will it?’ he said. ‘I’ve got a feeling that when you’re married we might not see so much of each other.’
She knew he was right. In a week’s time she would be married and she knew in her heart of hearts that, even if Matt stayed here, their friendship would not last long. She wasn’t sure if that made their friendship false, it was just the dynamics of a marriage. She would have made a commitment to David that changed things. Still, she wasn’t quite ready to say it out loud.
‘Matt, you’re my friend,’ she said. ‘David isn’t some ogre, you know. Of course we’ll see each other after the wedding.’
‘Hey don’t worry,’ said Matt, taking another drink. ‘It’s what happens. You get married, somehow all
your friends of the opposite sex, particularly unmarried friends, just drop off. It happened to me.’
Brooke felt a sudden twist of jealousy. She often forgot that Matt had been married before.
‘Don’t be silly, we can still have lunch and drinks when we’re not working,’ she insisted. ‘In fact, we should make a date for you to come to our house for dinner.’
‘Well, if you do, make sure you fix me up with a Park Lane Princess so I never need to work again.’
‘You’d hate that,’ she smiled. I’d hate that, she thought, feeling a shift in mood between them.
Just then, specks of snow started falling, drifting down from the sky like stardust. Smiling, she began walking towards the bridge again.
‘So what do you think?’ she asked, trying to steer them back onto a more platonic footing. ‘What am I going to do about my wedding dress? Guillaume’s or Nicholas’s?’
‘It’s very simple: do you makes you happy, Brooke,’ said Matt. ‘What feels right to you, not other people.’
‘It doesn’t work like that though, does it?’ she asked searchingly.
