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‘It’s my gran’s,’ he said with a lopsided shrug. ‘My mum gave it to me when Gran died, dunno why.’
The ring was a delicate vintage gold band with five small diamonds in a line across the top. Minnie felt a warm rush of excitement when she saw it – it was so Leila: quirky but classic. She would love the fact that it was vintage, that there was a story behind it.
‘It is perfect, Ian. This is the ring, this is definitely the ring!’
Minnie squealed, punched the air and started doing a little jig on the spot.
‘It’s got a mark on the back ’cause it had to be sawed off my gran when she died on account of her fingers all swelling up from the diabetes.’ Ian turned the ring over in his palm to show her. ‘My ma said they almost didn’t know it was there when she was at her fattest, ’cause the finger just grew around it like a bird’s neck stuck in a plastic beer-can loop. It started cutting off the oxygen and her finger went all rank and blue.’
‘Don’t tell Leila that story when you propose,’ said Minnie firmly, reaching out to grab Ian’s wrists. ‘Promise me you won’t tell that story when you give her the ring.’
Ian tapped his nose, as though making a mental note.
‘There’s something else,’ said Ian, sitting down on the coffee table.
‘If you want to adopt me, the answer is yes,’ said Minnie.
Ian stared down at his shoes in silence. He clicked shut the ring box and started passing it between his hands like a baseball player warming up to pitch. He fumbled it, finally clasped a fist around it, and thrust it back into the pocket of his grey tracksuit bottoms.
‘I want you to think about giving up the business,’ he said, closing his eyes.
Minnie looked to see if he was serious.
‘What? Why?’
‘Because it’s killing her,’ said Ian, opening his eyes again. ‘She’s so stressed, Minnie. She can’t sleep; she’s up half the night worrying. She’s put all her own money in just to prop itup. We want to buy a house, Min, maybe have kids; we’re never gonna get a mortgage as things stand.’
Minnie let out a loud exhale. She had never heard Ian sound serious before.
‘She should have said something.’
‘She wouldn’t,’ said Ian, shaking his head. ‘She’s your best mate, she wants you to have your dream. She’d run herself ragged for you.’
‘Our dream,’ Minnie corrected him. ‘This business is our dream.’
‘Is it?’ Ian looked up, his eyes finally meeting hers. ‘Is it Leila’s dream? Or is it the dream you told her about, that she wanted to make a reality.’
Minnie shook her head.
‘You know what she’s like, she’s like a dog shaking a rat. She won’t let it go, she won’t stop attacking with everything she’s got, until you say it’s dead. You should put it out of its misery and let her move on.’
‘The business isn’t dying,’ Minnie started biting her thumbnail, ‘and it’s not a rat. We’ve just had a few cash-flow issues.’
‘That’s what she tells you,’ Ian said, staring at her with piercing, unblinking eyes.
Minnie stood up, shaking her head.
‘She loves it as much as I do.’
‘She loves you,’ said Ian.
They stayed in silence for a moment. Ian rubbed both hands across his scalp. ‘You know she got offered a job at a fashion start-up last week. Did she tell you?’
‘No,’ said Minnie. She suddenly felt unsteady on her feet, as though Ian had pulled a rug out from under her. Why wouldn’t Leila tell her something like that? They told each other everything.
‘You know she’d love doing something like that. She won’t even consider it as long as you need her.’ Ian hung his head. ‘I’m not saying this to be a shit-stirrer, Min, it’s just I love her and … it’s like, you know when Sonic the Hedgehog is in Invincibility Mode and he’s in this bubble running super-fast, and the music goes all uptempo and there’s nothing he can’t do, he’s just bashing everything straight out the park?’
‘Yes,’ Minnie said slowly, unsure where this analogy was going.
