“Hi, Annalise! What’s up?”

“You’d better talk to Ruby.” She gives me a sidelong look, without smiling.

“What?”

“I don’t think I should say.” She takes a sip of cappuccino, eyeing me secretively over the top.

What’s up now? Annalise’s quite prickly—in fact, she’s a bit of a child. She goes all quiet and sulky, and then it comes out that yesterday you asked her for that file too impatiently and hurt her feelings.

Ruby is the opposite. She’s got smooth latte-colored skin, a huge, motherly bust, and is packed so full of common sense it’s practically wafting out of her ears. The minute you’re in her company, you feel saner, calmer, jollier, and stronger. No wonder this physio practice has been a success. I mean, Annalise and I are OK at what we do, but Ruby is the star turn. Everyone loves her. Men, women, grannies, kids. She also put up the money for the business,25 so she’s officially my boss.

“Morning, babe.” Ruby comes breezing out from her treatment room, beaming her usual wide smile. Her hair has been back-combed and pinned in a bun, with intricate twisted sections on either side. Both Annalise and Ruby are totally into their hairdos—it’s almost a competition between them. “Now, look, it’s a real pain, but I have to give you a disciplinary hearing.”

“What?” I gape at her.

“Not my fault!” She lifts her hands. “I want to get accreditation from this new body, the PFFA. I’ve just been reading the material, and it says if your staff chat up the patients you have to discipline them. We should have done it anyway, you know that, but now I need to have the notes ready for the inspector. We’ll get it done really quickly.”

“I didn’t chat him up,” I say defensively. “He chatted me up!”

“I think the panel will decide that, don’t you?” chimes in Annalise forbiddingly. She looks so grave, I feel a tickle of worry. “I told you you’d been unethical,” she adds. “You should be prosecuted.”

“Prosecuted?” I appeal to Ruby. I can’t believe this is happening. Back when Magnus proposed, Ruby said it was such a romantic story she wanted to cry, and that, OK, strictly it was against the rules, but in her opinion love conquered all, and please could she be a bridesmaid?

“Annalise, you don’t mean ‘prosecuted.’ ” Ruby rolls her eyes. “Come on. Let’s convene the panel.”

“Who’s on the panel?”

“Us,” says Ruby blithely. “Annalise and me. I know we should have an external person, but I didn’t know who to get. I’ll tell the inspector I had someone lined up and they were ill.” She glances at her watch. “OK, we’ve got twenty minutes. Morning, Angela!” she adds cheerily as our receptionist pushes the front door open. “Don’t let any calls through, OK?”

Angela just nods and sniffs and dumps her rucksack on the floor. She has a boyfriend in a band, so she’s never very communicative in the mornings.

“Oh, Poppy,” Ruby says over her shoulder as she leads the way into the meeting room. “I was supposed to give you two weeks’ notice to prepare. You don’t need that, do you? Can we say you had it? Because there’s only a week and a bit till the wedding, so it would mean dragging you away from your honeymoon or leaving it till you’re back, and I really want to get the paperwork done… .”

She’s ushering me to the sole chair, marooned in the middle of the floor, while she and Annalise take their seats behind the table. Any minute I expect a bright light to shine in my eyes. This is horrible. Everything’s suddenly turned. It’s them against me.

“Are you going to fire me?” I feel ridiculously panicked.

“No! Of course not!” Ruby is unscrewing her pen. “Don’t be silly!”

“We might,” says Annalise, shooting me an ominous look.

She’s obviously loving her role as chief henchwoman. I know what this is all about. It’s because I got Magnus and she didn’t.

Here’s the thing. Annalise’s the beautiful one. Even I want to stare at her all day, and I’m a girl. If you’d said to anyone last year, “Which of these three will land a guy and be engaged by next summer?” they’d have said immediately, “Annalise.”

So I can understand her point of view. She must look in the mirror and see herself (Greek goddess) and then see me (lanky legs, dark hair; best feature—long eyelashes) and think: WTF?

Plus, as I said, Magnus was originally booked with her. And at the last minute we switched appointments. Which is not my fault.

“So.” Ruby looks up from her foolscap pad. “Let’s run over the facts, Miss Wyatt. On December fifteenth last year, you treated a Mr. Magnus Tavish here at the clinic.”

“Yes.”

For what form of injury?”

“A sprained wrist sustained while skiing.”

“And during this appointment, did he show any … inappropriate interest in you? Or you in him?”

I cast my mind back to that first instant Magnus walked into my room. He was wearing a long gray tweed coat, and his tawny hair was glistening with rain and his face was flushed from walking. He was ten minutes late, and he immediately rushed over, clasped both my hands, and said, “I’m most terribly sorry,” in this lovely, well-educated voice.

“I … er … no,” I say defensively. “It was just a standard appointment.”

Even as I say this, I know it’s not true. In standard appointments, your heart doesn’t start to pound as you take the patient’s arm. The hairs on the back of your neck don’t rise. You don’t hold on to his hand very slightly longer than you need to.

Not that I can say any of this. I really would be fired.

“I treated the patient over the course of a number of appointments.” I try to sound calm and professional. “By the time we realized our affection for each other, his treatment was over. It was therefore totally ethical.”

“He told me it was love at first sight!” shoots back Annalise. “How do you explain that? He told me you were instantly attracted to each other and he wanted to ravish you right there on the couch. He said he’d never known anything so sexy as you in your uniform.”

I’m going to shoot Magnus. What did he have to say that for?

“Objection!” I glower at her. “That evidence was procured while under the influence of alcohol and in a nonprofessional capacity. It therefore cannot be allowed in court.”

“Yes, it can! And you are under oath!” She jabs a finger at me.

“Objection sustained,” Ruby interrupts, and looks up from writing, a distant, wistful look in her eyes. “Was it really love at first sight?” She leans forward, her great big uniformed bosom bulging everywhere. “Did you know?”

I close my eyes and try to visualize that day. I’m not sure what I knew, except I wanted to ravish him on the couch too.

“Yes,” I say at last. “I think so.”

“It’s so romantic.” Ruby sighs.

“And wrong!” Annalise chimes in sharply. “The minute he showed any interest in you, you should have said, ‘Sir, this is inappropriate behavior. I would like this session to end and for you to transfer to another therapist.’ ”

“Oh, another therapist!” I can’t help a short laugh. “Like you, by any chance?”

“Maybe! Why not?”

“And what if he’d shown interest in you?”

She lifts her chin proudly. “I would have handled it without compromising my ethical principles.”

“I was ethical!” I say in outrage. “I was totally ethical!”

“Oh yes?” She narrows her eyes like a prosecuting barrister. “What led you to suggest exchanging appointments with me in the first place, Miss Wyatt? Had you in fact already Googled him and decided you wanted him for yourself?”

Aren’t we over this?

“Annalise, you wanted to swap appointments! I never suggested anything! I had no idea who he was! So if you feel like you missed out, tough luck. Don’t swap next time!”

For a moment, Annalise says nothing, She’s getting pinker and pinker in the face.

“I know,” she bursts out at last, and bangs a fist to her forehead. “I know! I was so stupid. Why did I swap?”

“So what?” cuts in Ruby firmly. “Annalise, get over it. Magnus obviously wasn’t meant for you, he was meant for Poppy. So what does it matter?”

Annalise is silent. I can tell she isn’t convinced.

“It’s not fair,” she mutters at last. “Do you know how many bankers I’ve massaged at the London Marathon? Do you know how much effort I’ve made?”

Annalise cottoned on to the London Marathon a few years ago, when she was watching it on telly and realized it was stuffed full of fit, motivated guys in their forties, who were probably single because all they did was go running, and, OK, forties was a bit old, but think what kind of salary they must be on.

So she’s been volunteering as an emergency physiotherapist every year since. She makes a beeline for all the attractive men and works their calf muscles or whatever, while fixing them with her huge blue eyes and telling them she’s always supported that charity too.26

To be fair, she’s got lots of dates out of it—one guy even took her to Paris—but nothing long-term or serious, which is what she wants. What she won’t admit, of course, is that she’s extremely picky. She pretends that she wants a “really nice, straightforward guy with good values,” but she’s had several of those desperately in love with her and she dumped them, even the really good-looking actor (his stage play ended and he had no other work coming up). What she’s really after is a guy who looks like he’s out of a Gillette commercial, with a massive salary and/or a title. Preferably both. I think that’s why she’s so mad about losing Magnus, since he’s Dr. She once asked me if he would become Professor one day and I said probably yes, and she went a kind of green.

Ruby scribbles something else down, then screws her pen lid on. “Well, I think we’ve covered the facts. Well done, everyone.”

“Aren’t you going to give her a warning or something?” Annalise is still pouting.

“Oh, fair point.” Ruby nods, then clears her throat. “Poppy, don’t do it again.”

“OK.” I shrug.

“I’ll put that in writing, show it to the inspector; that’ll shut him up. By the way, did I tell you I’ve found the perfect strapless bra to go under my bridesmaid’s dress?” Ruby beams at me, back to her usual cheery self. “Aquamarine satin. It’s lush.”

“Sounds amazing!” I get up and reach for the Costa coffee tray. “Is one of these for me?”

“I got you a flat white,” says Annalise grudgingly. “With nutmeg.”

As I take it, Ruby gives a small gasp. “Poppy! Haven’t you found your ring?”

I look up to see both Annalise and Ruby staring at my left hand.

“No,” I admit reluctantly. “I mean, I’m sure it’ll turn up somewhere.”

“Shit.” Annalise has a hand over her mouth.

“I thought you found it.” Ruby is frowning. “I’m sure somebody said you’d found it.”

“No. Not yet.”

I’m really not enjoying their reaction. Neither of them is saying “Not to worry” or “These things happen.” They both look horrified, even Ruby.

“So, what will you do?” Ruby’s brows are knitted.

“What did Magnus say?” chips in Annalise.

“I … ” I take a gulp of flat white, playing for time. “I haven’t told him yet.”

“Sheeesh.” Ruby exhales.

“How much is it worth?” Trust Annalise to ask all the questions I don’t want to think about.

“Quite a bit, I suppose. I mean, there’s always insurance … ” I trail off lamely.

“When are you planning to tell Magnus?” Ruby has her disapproving face on. I hate that face. It makes me feel small and mortified. Like that awful time she caught me giving ultrasound and texting at the same time.27 Ruby is someone you just instinctively want to impress.

“Tonight. Neither of you guys has seen it, have you?” I can’t help asking, even though it’s ridiculous, like they’ll suddenly say, “Oh yes, it’s in my bag!”

They both shrug “no.” Even Annalise is looking sorry for me.

Oh God. This is really bad.

By six o’clock it’s even worse. Annalise has Googled emerald rings.

Did I ask her to do this? No. I did not. Magnus has never told me how much the ring is worth. I asked him, jokingly, when he first put it on my finger, and he joked back that it was priceless, just like me. It was all very romantic and lovely. We were having dinner at Bluebird, and I had no idea he was going to propose. None.28

Anyway, the point is, I never knew what the ring cost and I never wanted to know. At the back of my mind I keep trying out lines to Magnus, like, “Well, I didn’t realize it was so valuable! You should have told me!”