I've Got Your Number

“I’d also like to say a big welcome back to Mum and Dad.” Magnus raises a glass, and they both nod. “We missed you while you were away!”

“I didn’t,” chimed in Felix, and Wanda gives a bark of laughter.

“Of course you didn’t, you terrible boy!”

“And finally”—Magnus tinkles his glass again to get attention—“of course, happy birthday to Mum! Many happy returns of the day, from all of us.” He blows her a kiss across the table.

What? What did he just say?

My smile has frozen on my lips.

“Hear, hear!” Antony raises his glass. “Happy birthday, Wanda, my love.”

It’s his mother’s birthday? But he didn’t tell me. I don’t have a card. I don’t have a gift. How could he do this to me?

Men are crap.

Felix has produced a parcel from under his chair and is handing it to Wanda.

“Magnus,” I whisper desperately as he sits down. “You didn’t tell me it was your mother’s birthday. You never said a word! You should have told me!”

I’m almost gibbering with panic. My first meeting with his parents since we got engaged, and they don’t like me, and now this.

Magnus looks astonished. “Sweets, what’s wrong?”

How can he be so obtuse?

“I’d have bought her a present!” I say under cover of Wanda exclaiming, “Wonderful, Felix!” over some ancient book which she’s unwrapping.

“Oh!” Magnus waves a hand. “She won’t mind. Stop stressing. You’re an angel and everyone loves you. Did you like the mug, by the way?”

“The what?” I can’t even follow what he’s saying.

“The Only Just Married mug. I left it on the hall stand? For our honeymoon?” he prompts at my nonplussed expression. “I told you about it! Quite fun, I thought.”

“I didn’t see any mug.” I stare blankly at him. “I thought you’d given me that big box with ribbons.”

“What big box?” he says, looking puzzled.

“And now, my dear,” Antony is saying self-importantly to Wanda, “I don’t mind telling you, I’ve rather splashed out on you this year. If you’ll give me a minute … ”

He’s getting up and heading out to the hall.

Oh God. My insides feel watery. No. Please. No.

“I think … ” I begin, but my voice won’t work properly. “I think I might possibly … by mistake—”

“What the—” Antony’s voice resounds from the hall. “What’s happened to this?”

A moment later he’s in the room, holding the box. It’s all messed up. Torn tissue paper is everywhere. The kimono is falling out.

My head is pulsing with blood.

“I’m really sorry.” I can barely get the words out. “I thought … I thought it was for me. So I … I opened it.”

There’s a deathly silence. Every face is stunned, including Magnus’s.

“Sweets … ” he begins feebly, then peters out as though he can’t think what to say.

“Not to worry!” says Wanda briskly. “Give it to me. I don’t mind about the wrapping.”

“But there was another thing!” Antony is poking the tissue paper testily. “Where’s the other bit? Was it in there?”

Suddenly I realize what he’s talking about and give a little inward whimper. Every time I think things can’t get worse, they plummet. They find new, ghastly depths.

“I think … Do you mean”—I’m stuttering, my face beet-red—“This?” I pull a bit of the camisole out from under my top and everyone gazes at it, thunderstruck.

I’m sitting at the dinner table, wearing my future mother-in-law’s underwear. It’s like some twisted dream that you wake up from and think: Crikey Moses! Thank God that didn’t really happen!

The faces round the table are all motionless and jaw-dropped, like a row of versions of that painting “The Scream.”

“I’ll … I’ll dry-clean it,” I whisper huskily at last. “Sorry.”

OK. So this evening has gone about as hideously as it possibly could. There’s only one solution, which is to keep drinking wine until my nerves have been numbed or I pass out. Whichever comes first.

Supper is over, and everyone’s got over the camisole incident. Kind of.

In fact, they’ve decided to make a family joke out of it. Which is sweet of them but means that Antony keeps making ponderously funny remarks like, “Shall we have some chocolates? Unless Poppy’s already eaten them all?” And I know I should have a sense of humor, but, every time, I flinch.