"Well, why not?" Clive questioned with utter reason in his tone.

"Because, because. Oh I don't know just because." The shock of the question had caught her off guard.

"We've known each other twenty years. You're hardly letting yourself in for a nasty surprise." Though this did make sense, it didn't quell Martha's worries. They'd always been through everything together. Pupillage, trials, even silk now. But, then there was a sort of fear, deep in her chest. 'What if it doesn't work out?' Martha knew her biggest fear: losing.

"I need you to stay." Martha's mother's begs quelled a sense of guilt within her. That was it. Finally, her mother had said the words she knew that had been on her mind since she's received her first university offers. She was smart, but everyone knew that a working class girl from Bolton didn't get into university to study law. It was just unheard of. But, Martha did. She surprised everyone, herself and her mother included.

"I can't," questions flew through Martha's head: 'why had she waited until now? Two weeks before I am meant to go.'

"He won't remember you."

"It's not him that needs me," Martha tried to reason, but she knew from the aguish sight of her mother's face that she's gone too far."

"Is that a risk you are willing to take?" Her mother's tone had taken on a bitter quality, and Martha wondered whether she's detected a hint of jealousy. Was her mother jealous that she was the one who could get away?

"Sometimes the risk we have to take are worth the dreams that we might just be able to achieve." The room was silent for what felt like an age, "mum, you know how much this means to me and how long I've wanted it."

Martha stopped for a moment, her thoughts began to collect to form something that might make sense. Was Clive something that she had wanted for a long time. Was it a risk worth the dreams that could be made possible?

Maybe it did make sense.

"I love you, Martha." Clive's declaration hung in the air. He never did this sort of thing. This commitment thing. Niamh was a fling that was never going to happen. George, now George, that was never going to work out. His heart wasn't in it. More to the point Billy's heart wasn't in it. It was just a bit of fun. The worst part of his sorry series of relationships was that was just the past year. Then something clicked in his head and be realised that now was not the time to be thinking about this. Now was about Martha. The woman that has always been there. Through all of his flings and affairs. The woman who would clear her diary just for him. She would be there for him in a heartbeat. It was her that was there when he did his knee in. She was always there despite everything.

"Clive?" His internal monologue was suddenly interrupted by Martha's questioning whisper of his name.

"Hmm?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" Clive asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.

"Yes, I will marry you." Clive took one long look at Martha. Her face was glowing. Her bright blue eyes gleamed in the pearly pool of her tears. Her lips were turned up at the corners forming smile that was perfect to him. Just looking at her made his heart swell, but the idea that she was going to marry him almost sent him into cardiac arrest.

As all of his emotions caught up with him, Clive stood and took his fiancé into his arms twirled her around the room in an expression of his jubilation. Her laugh erupted and his quickly joined. This was music to their ears. The realisation of after twenty years they were going to get married was bizarre and beautiful both at the same time.

Their movements slowed until Martha was just being held in Clive's arms. Standing on her tiptoes she whispered the same words that had made her fall for him all over again. "I love you."

"Say it again."

"I love you, Clive Reader."

"Are we really doing this then, Marth?"

"Yes, Clive." Her heart began to pound. What was he doing? Was he joking? Was she wrong to risk everything?

"Well we better do this properly then." Clive dropped to one knee and fished his hand into his pocket.

"Clive, what the hell are are you doing?" Her words came out amongst splutters of giggles.

"Martha Costello, will you do me the very great honour of marrying me?"

"Oh of course I bloody will, you soppy git. Now get up here and give me a snog."