April 2018

"Do you have any plans for today?" Jess asks me. She's sitting at her dressing table in our bedroom applying some mascara while making eye contact with me in the mirror.

I'm lounging in bed, trying hard to act casual and not like today is possibly one of the biggest days of my life. "Nothing major," I respond. "I might try and get the gym for an hour, or I might just lounge around and binge watch some tv. Or maybe both." 

"Sounds like a plan," she smiles. 

Jess is heading into the city today for a shopping trip and lunch with her mum, while I.... well, let's just say I have a very important mission to complete today that I wouldn't miss for the world. And already I have butterflies in my stomach at the thought of it. 

"What time do you think you'll be back?" I ask nonchalantly as she stands up looking flawless as always and reaches for her bag sitting on the edge of the bed. 

"Probably around tea time," she replies. "Depends how tired we are from all the shopping." She grins, and bends down to kiss me before skirting the edge of the bed to the door. 

"Keep in touch," I call after her, and receive a "will do!" as she bounds down the stairs. I pull back the covers and head to the bathroom, switching on the water in the shower as I hear her shutting the front door behind her. I am showered and dressed in the outfit I picked out yesterday in about fifteen minutes, and spend the same amount of time faffing with my hair in the mirror trying not to look like I'm trying too hard while also trying to look like I'm making an effort. 

I spray a few squirts of fragrance, not too much to be overpowering but enough to be noticeable, and make my way downstairs to grab a cup of tea in a travel mug. I'm too nervous to eat, so rather than stall any longer I grab my keys and phone and head straight out to my car, north out of Hampstead, left onto the A1 and then up the A1M towards Cambridge. Jess's parents' house is only about an hour or so away on a clear run, and mid-morning on a Saturday the roads are quiet but for the sound of my pounding heart. 

I rehearse my speech in my head the whole way there, practising my opening line and hating the sound of it each time until eventually I give up and decide I'm just going to have to go with the flow. 

I pull onto the driveway of the Bradshaws' house and kill the engine, taking a deep breath and praying the sweat patches under my arms aren't visible or worse, emitting any sort of odour. I step out of the car, shoving my phone into my back pocket, check my reflection in the car window, and blip the alarm before making my way to the front door. I speak a silent prayer that Calvin isn't visiting this weekend, and am jolted from my thoughts as the door swings open and Alan Bradshaw looks straight at me, concern creasing his brow as he peers down the driveway behind me.

"Harry? Are you alone? Is Jess alright?" 

"Oh - God, yes she's fine!" I assure him hurriedly, realising immediately that I have never visited the Bradshaw house without Jess being there and Alan Bradshaw's first thought was bound to be 'What the fuck is he doing here?'  "She's shopping with Mrs Bradshaw - Martha," I add unnecessarily. 

"Yes, I know," Alan replies looking a little confused. "Well, don't stand there on the doorstep, come in, come in." 

I step into the hallway and wipe my feet on the mat as Alan shuts the door behind me. 

"Well I must admit this is unexpected," Alan muses, but before I can respond he continues, "but now you're here you can give me a hand if you don't mind." 

"Of course," I answer, eager to please and start this off on the right foot. "How can I help?" 

"I'm just about to change a washer beneath the kitchen sink," he answers, leading me through to the kitchen where the cupboards under the sink are open and empty, the contents strewn haphazardly across the worktops. "The kitchen tap has been leaking slowly for a couple of weeks and I can't quite get my hand behind the u-bend to unscrew the faulty washer - do you think you could try?" 

"I'll give it a go," I affirm. Following his instructions I kneel down in front of the sink, lean into the cupboard and manage to manoeuvre my hand round the back of the pipe to get a good grip on what I assume is the washer. "So I just unscrew it?" I ask, my head jammed against the inside of the cupboard door and my knees pressing uncomfortably against the porcelain floor tiles. 

"Yes, but go easy, there might be a trickle of water left in the pipe," Alan advises. "So what brings you all the way here today, on your own?"

Oh God - this is not how I imagined this conversation going. He's completely caught me off guard. "Um, well, I sort of wanted to talk to you about something," I begin. Stalling for time, I gingerly turn the knob as far as I can to the left, which takes more than a few turns, but nothing happens. "I've turned it as far as I can go," I tell him, and can see his legs move as he leans over the sink above me.

"Oh. Are you sure?" he asks after a moment. "It's not moving at all." 

I don't know what exactly should be moving up there, but I'm too embarrassed to admit I haven't got a clue what I'm doing. "Um, let me try again," I mutter. I feel around under the sink, pressing my head as far in as I can and fumbling for something that might resemble a screw that I can turn. 

"What did you want to talk to me about?" he asks.

My hand reaches a plastic circular piece of pipe just under the worktop that turns when I push it, so I hastily spin it as far to the left as I can. "I think I've got it now," I call, but before Alan can answer I am hit in the face by a sharp jet of water spurting out of the pipe I have been unscrewing. I recoil in horror, and a shout above me tells me that whatever I have just done has not had the desired effect. 

"Harry! Turn the stopcock off!"

The WHAT? 

I cough as the water spurts into my nose and mouth like a water pistol, and try to move my head out of the line of fire, but as Alan is blocking my escape route while he clatters around above me I have no way out. 

"Harry!" he shouts again. "The stopcock! Turn it all the way off! You must have knocked it!" 

I desperately fumble around behind the pipe and my fingers find the original wheel that I unscrewed the first time, and I turn it back the other way as fast as I can. The water comes to a gradual stop and after a couple of seconds Alan's legs step back from the sink, allowing me my escape route. I shuffle out from under the cupboard, my entire upper body drenched, to see the kitchen sink and worktop swimming in water, the kitchen tap swinging loose and Alan Bradshaw rubbing his sopping wet head with a tea towel, looking like a mad professor with his grey hair sticking up in all directions, his eyebrows untidy and his glasses askew. 

"I'm so sorry," I begin. "I don't know what I did..." 

"I think you unscrewed the stopcock instead of the washer," he replied matter-of-factly. "So when you eventually unscrewed the washer, the water was free to gush out of the pipe and flood the kitchen." 

"Oh God," I murmur, horrified. "I really am so sorry. I didn't realise... I'll mop it up..."

"Not to worry, not to worry. It's easy done if you don't know where the washer is," Alan replies, only succeeding in making me feel completely incompetent as he hands me a bundle of tea towels from one of the drawers. I begin laying them out on the worktop to soak up the water, aware of the additional drips I am creating from my wringing wet hair. 

"I'm not too good at DIY," I admit, and he gives me a wry smile as he squeezes out one of the towels in the sink.

"Like I said, easily done," he says. "But now you know which one is the washer and which is the stopcock, could I ask you to attach the new washer in place of the old one, before you turn the stopcock back on and reinstate the water supply please?" 

"Of course," I mumble, feeling my cheeks burn in shame. This is not how this meeting was supposed to go. I mean, I was never going to swan in here all cool and sophisticated and have a calm and impressive conversation with Jess's dad - I'm simply not wired that way. But I had hoped I wouldn't make a complete idiot of myself before I'd even had chance to bring up the subject that has been on my mind for months. 

I duck under the sink again, the new washer in my hand, and carefully replace it without further ado now I know what I'm doing. 

"Marvellous," Alan remarks as I gingerly back myself out of the cupboard under the sink, the new washer successfully installed and the majority of the water soaked up in the many towels lining the kitchen surfaces. "Thank you, Harry. That was, ah, most helpful." 

"You're welcome," I mumble, feeling heat rise in my face as Alan glances around at the messy kitchen as though wondering where to begin. 

"Shall we have a cup of tea?" he suggests, and I accept gladly. While he busies himself filling the kettle and dropping tea bags into two mugs, I dab at my front with one of the last remaining dry towels, but it soon becomes clear I am getting nowhere and resign myself to sitting in a wet shirt for the entirety of my visit. I begin collecting the wet tea towels from the worktops, squeezing them out one by one into the sink and once they are all together, I drop them in a neat pile on top of the washing machine. 

"So," Alan says, bringing two steaming mugs of tea and small plate of biscuits to the breakfast bar. "You wanted to ask me something?" 

I clear my throat, my heart beginning to pound painfully. I sit down opposite him and accept one of the mugs, taking a deep breath in and collecting my thoughts before I say something stupid.

"Mr Bradshaw," I begin, "I want to begin by thanking you for accepting me so welcomingly. When Jess and I first got together you and Mrs Bradshaw always made me feel so welcome here, like one of the family. And I want you to know how much that means to me, and how much I appreciate it." 

Alan nods, but says nothing. He is watching me carefully, his expression completely unreadable. Has he guessed why I am here? Or is he completely clueless, waiting for me to lay my cards on the table? 

"Mr Bradshaw, I love Jess very much. I love her more than anything in this whole world. And I know she loves me, too. I want to look after her, make her happy, keep her safe. I think from moment I met her, I knew she was special. I knew she was someone I wanted in my life, and it wasn't long before I realised I never wanted her not to be part of my life. That is, I want to be with her forever. For keeps. For the rest of my life. Well, if she'll have me." I let out a nervous laugh but Alan is still impassive, listening to every word. 

I lick my lips nervously. He isn't giving anything away so I have no idea if he thinks I'm prattling a load of nonsense or if he understands where I'm going with this.

"I like to do things the right way," I continue. "I'm quite traditional in a lot of respects, and I wanted to come and speak to you alone... to ask your permission... you see..." 

Oh God, my heart is pounding. My stomach is churning so hard I feel physically sick. 

"I would really really like to ask your daughter to marry me, Mr Bradshaw. But I can only do that if I have your blessing." 

Shit. Fuck! What if he says no? What if he actually refuses his permission? What the fuck do I do then? The lyrics to Rude flash through my head involuntarily: I'm gonna marry her anyway, marry that girl, no matter what you say. Now probably isn't the best time to burst into song. 

"I promise, I won't ever let you, or her, down," I add hurriedly, before I can fuck this up. "I promise I will put her first, every single day. I will spend my life making her happy, because if she isn't happy, I can't be happy either. I know she means the world to you, and she means the world to me, too. I know how lucky I am to be with her and I hope now you've got to know me these past few years, you approve of our relationship and will grant me your permission." 

I give a single nod to indicate my little speech is over, and Alan surveys me for a moment, looking thoughtful. He takes a sip of his tea and sets his cup down on the worktop. 

"Harry, how long have you been thinking about this?" 

His questions takes me by surprise. "I've been thinking we would hopefully get married one day for a couple of years," I reply. "But I wanted to take my time, to be sure it would be the right decision, before I rushed into anything. I've been considering it seriously for a few months, ever since Christmas, but I wanted to ask you first. I had to wait for an opportunity to speak to you face to face, man to man. And... here I am." 

Alan nods slowly. "And do you think it is what Jessica wants?" 

"Yes, I do," I answer confidently. "I think she is happy, and I think our relationship is going from strength to strength. I know being with me isn't easy, simply because of the attention it garners. But Jess seems to have embraced that, and supports me through every aspect of it while shining brightly like the star that she is. Obviously, I would never put pressure on her if this isn't something she wants, but at the same time, I wouldn't ask if I didn't think there was a strong possibility she would say yes." 

Alan is still nodding. He reminds me of a nodding dog that used to be in the back of my mum's car when I was kid. 

"Above all Harry, I want my children to be happy," he says softly. "I want them to be loved, cherished and appreciated by whomever they choose to love, and I want them to be safe, secure and happy. One day, when or if you have children of your own, I'm certain you will feel the same way. And when or if that day comes, I hope I am lucky enough to be able to remind you of this conversation." 

Does that mean... did he just - 

"I admire you taking the time to come here and ask me," Alan says, and I swear I hear the slightest tremor of emotion in his voice. "Believe it or not, that means the world to me. I think you will make Jessica the happiest girl in the world, and it would be my honour to welcome you to the family as my son in law. Yes, Harry, you have my permission." 

My face breaks into a smile and I feel the strangest wave emotion crashing over me as I look at this man before me, Jess's dad, and imagine having this same conversation in years to come with some random dude asking for my own daughter's hand in marriage. I can't even begin to imagine letting the most precious thing in my life go, so I appreciate the enormity of his blessing. 

"Thank you, Mr Bradshaw," I beam. "Thank you so much. I won't let you down." 

"Call me Alan," he smiles back. "And I know you won't, because you know what I'll do to you if you do." 

I hesitate for a second, not quite sure where this is going, and whether he is joking or not. 

"I'll tell Calvin," he says simply, with the briefest of winks, before downing the last of his tea and standing up from his chair. 

I laugh, nervously and a little bit hysterically, as I hand him my empty cup too.

"Now, Harry, I hate to be rude but I have a game of golf booked in about forty five minutes," he says. "Of course, you are more than welcome to join me but I appreciate you probably have other plans on a Saturday afternoon." 

"Actually, I have no other plans," I smile. "And if it's alright with you, I would love to join you for a round." 

"Perfect," he smiles, looking surprised and pleased at the same time. "I'll fetch the clubs from the garage and you can borrow a jumper if you like. You'll freeze to death in that wet shirt."

I thank him, and accept the jumper gratefully as we head to my car for some Harry and Alan bonding time. 

"You won't mention to Jess that I was here, will you?" I check as I slide into the driver's seat and he climbs in next to me on the passenger side. "When I get the opportunity to ask her, I'd like it to be a surprise." 

"I won't breathe a word," he affirms, buckling himself in. "Now, make sure you turn left at the end of the road - you want to avoid the A14 at all costs. The traffic lights down there are a blessed nightmare..."

***

May 2018 

"Do you fancy an early morning walk tomorrow?"

Jess looks at me sleepily out the corner of her eye. She is half sitting, half lying on the sofa at my mum's house, half way through a bottle of red wine.

"How early?"

Be cool. Act nonchalant. "After breakfast?"

"If you like," she nods. "It's looking like it's going to be a beautiful day again. We might as well make the most of it. I was worried we'd be coming back to pissing rain after all that sunshine in LA." 

Yes, yes it is going to be a beautiful day tomorrow; in more ways than one, I hope. 

Jess heads up to bed before me, still jet lagged after being in LA for the past couple of weeks with me, and I take the opportunity to send a text to Grimmy.

Mate, I need a massive favour. You on the breakfast show tomorrow? 

I am, he replies almost immediately. Let me guess - you want me to play a One Direction song to boost your following? 

Ha ha, I text back. No, but I would like you to play a song please. Can you fit in Love Me Like You Do? 

I smell a story, comes the response almost immediately. Spill. 

Can't, I tell him. But I would be forever in your debt if you would play the song for me. 

I mean, it's not even on the playlist at the moment so it'll piss off a few people if I do. You know my price. 

Stop it Grimmy, I warn. 

You'll owe me yet another blowie. I think it's 4 now? 

I'm NOT giving you a blowie, I type, chuckling.

I'll play it just before I sign off about 9.45, he promises. I'm switching in the summer anyway to the Drivetime show so they can't exactly fire me.

Woah, what? Since when? 

Had no idea mate! I reply. How do you feel about that? 

Thankful for having done the breakfast show for 5 years, and happy for Greg to take over, he texts back. (I'm assuming he means Greg James, who currently presents the Drivetime slot from 4pm til 7pm.) 

I can't imagine Grimmy is fully happy about this change as the breakfast show is obviously the top slot, but he's also right in being thankful for his time there - he's one of the longest serving presenters on that show so he's definitely made his mark and done really well. 

Congratulations bud, I type. Pleased for you and Greg, and also please don't worry about playing the song tomorrow, I don't want you to feel compromised. 

Honestly, it's no bother. A blowie will definitely fix it. And keep schtum about the swap - it won't be announced for a couple more weeks. 

I won't say a word, I promise, and receive a winking kiss emoji and an aubergine emoji in return. 

My alarm goes off on its quietest setting the following morning at 7am. I am wide awake immediately, my heart lurching with nerves. 

"Why's your alarm going off?" Jess mumbles from beside me.

"Forgot to deactivate it," I fib. "Shhh, go back to sleep." 

She gives a deep sigh and within about ten seconds she is breathing evenly and deeply again. I edge out of bed without disturbing her again, pull on a pair of jeans, a tshirt and a jumper and tiptoe down the stairs. I am just reaching for my keys when a voice behind me says, "you're up early. Where are you off to?" 

My feet literally leave the ground an inch or two in fright and I spin around, clutching my chest, to see Mum standing in the doorway to the kitchen in her dressing gown, eyeing me with confusion. "You almost gave me a heart attack," I gasp. 

"What are you doing?" she asks. 

"Um... nothing," I reply unconvincingly. "I just need to pop out for a few minutes. If Jess wakes up, tell her, um, tell her I'll be back soon." 

"Is everything ok, Harry?" Mum asks, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Yeah, everything's great," I assure her. "Everything's really, really great. I won't be long." 

"Ok sweetheart," she smiles, and I grab my keys, duck out of the front door and jog to my car. I check my carefully prepared signs are safely hidden beneath the rear boot cover, and set off on my way to the River Dane. I pull over periodically to affix the signs in the correct order to various trees, gateposts and bushes, and pause at the top of the mound with the final sign to take a moment to appreciate where I am and how far I have come, not only in my own life but in my relationship with Jess. We are so happy, so secure, so complete. Even amidst my first world tour, I have never felt more at home and more content in my whole life. Knowing she will be there when I get home from a late night flight, pulling me close to her and sometimes (often) inside her, is enough to keep me going (and get me hard) while I am away from her for days and nights at a time. Knowing she is standing in the crowd, screaming along with all the other fans, while I step out on my own, time and time again, is enough to give me the strength to carry on and be the very best I can be. I couldn't have predicted this level of success for my solo career, and I know wholeheartedly I wouldn't have achieved all of this without Jess beside me, behind me, pushing me forward, encouraging me and cheering me on all this time. I am who I am because of her, and I honestly don't think she fully understands just how much she has shaped me and helped me grow. 

I check one final time that the last sign is in place securely, pray that nothing (or no one) disturbs all my hard work, and make my way back home, nervous, giddy and terrified. 

Mum is reading the paper in the kitchen when I arrive back home and regards me with amusement as I bound in, my cheeks flushed from the cool morning air and my hair ruffled from the wind. I take the stairs two at a time and burst into the bedroom, bouncing on the bed and waking Jess with a start.

"Wake up, sleepyhead!" I shout. "It's nearly nine!"

"Why are you dressed?" she mutters, one eye only half open.

"I got up a little while ago," I answer truthfully, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of blonde hair behind her hair.

She squeals and shrinks away from me. "Bloody hell, your hands are freezing! What have you been doing?!"

"Just been outside. In the garden," I lie. "Having a morning brew." 

I reach beneath the covers and she knows immediately what I am about to do. 

"No," she says in a warning tone. "Harry!"

But I ignore her protests and grab her by the waist, pressing my icy cold fingers into her hot flesh and sitting astride her while she screams.

I lean down and kiss her neck, my lips undoubtedly almost as cold as my fingers.

"Get up, lazybones," I laugh against her and she pushes me back, laughing and panting, her eyes sparkling and now fully open. 

"Alright, alright, I'll get up! What's the rush, anyway?"

"We're going for a morning walk, remember?" I remind her.

"We have another three hours left of morning," she pouts.

"Yeah, and I know how long it takes you to get ready. Get up, get in the shower, and be downstairs in fifteen minutes. Your breakfast will be on the table waiting for you." 

I throw some sausages and bacon into the frying pan while Mum watches in amusement, and flap around trying to arrange a spring of May blossom in a small vase before giving up and chucking it in the bin impatiently after it drops half its flowers on the table. It's only as I hear Jess bounding down the stairs (twenty minutes later, I might add) that I remember I haven't poured the tea. 

"I'll do it," Mum offers, giving me a knowing look, and while I dish the breakfast onto two plates she pours us a mug each and brings them to the table while I set the plates down.

"Blimey, what's all this in aid of?" Jess wonders, looking surprised but pleased.

"I thought this would set us up for a nice walk," I shrug.

"How far are we walking?" 

She's looking at me with one eyebrow raised and I can't help laughing.

"Not far," I reply, and before I can stop myself, I throw a red herring into the mix. "We can go to Marbury Park if you want? Or along the River Dane?" 

Oh, fuck, why did I say that? What if she says she wants to go to Marbury Park? I am such a wazzock.

"I don't mind," she says, squirting brown sauce onto her plate. "Which would you prefer?"

OH THANK THE LORD.

"Let's do the River Dane," I reply after a tiny hesitation, as though I have considered them both. "The views are nicer." 

"It is a beautiful walk," she agrees, and I breathe a sign of relief as I sit down opposite her and try to eat my breakfast which now tastes like cardboard thanks to my dry mouth and increasing nerves. I glance at the clock - it is 9.30am and Grimmy said he would play our song just before he signs off. We don't have long.

Thankfully she doesn't seem to notice that I've barely eaten anything and we pull our wellies and jackets on and head outside to the car. I suddenly remember I need to make sure she sees the signs I have carefully positioned, and rack my brains for a reason why she might need to be alert. 

"Mum mentioned something about the road being closed further up," I lie, sounding false and forced. "Keep an eye out for signs will you? I'll need to turn off towards the village if it is."

Luckily she accepts this without question and nods dutifully. It is now 9.40am and my heart is thudding sickeningly in my chest. What if Grimmy blows my cover? What if he forgets? WHAT IF I HAVEN'T EVEN GOT THE FUCKING RADIO TUNED TO THE RIGHT CHANNEL?! 

I jab clumsily at the controls and accidentally lose all the damn presets. With sweaty fingers I scroll through the channels, desperately trying to get Radio 1. 

"What's up with you?" Jess asks curiously. "You're like a cat on hot bricks."

"Nothing, I'm fine." I sound delirious and stressed. Never mind Grimmy blowing my cover, I'm going to do that all by myself. "I'm fine," I repeat,  convincing no one. 

Grimmy is clearly about to finish his show and I suddenly realise we are a minute or so away from the first sign and I need to hurry up. I stamp on the accelerator and the car lurches forward for about three seconds before I have to brake. The roads around here and small and windy, and don't lend themselves to high speeds.   

"What are you doing?" Jess squeaks, clutching the dashboard as I throw the car round a corner. 

"Relax, I know these roads like the back of my hand," I bluff.

"I thought you said there might be a diversion though?"

Fuck. This is why I don't lie.

"Have you seen any signs?" I ask.

"Not yet, but I'll miss them if you carry on at this speed," she answers. "My side of the road is practically a blur."

This is so fucking stressful.

"I'm gonna leave you with a great song now that has special meaning for some friends of mine," Grimmy's voice interrupts my thoughts. "I'm not saying who, but if they're listening, they know who they are. This is Ellie Goulding and Love Me Like You Do." 

My heart lurches and my stomach performs a slow somersault. 

"Oh my God!" Jess squeals. "Is this for us?!"

I can't contain my smirk. "Maybe. Who knows?"

"Did you request it?" she demands.

"Maybe." 

I sneak a look at her. She is grinning from ear to ear.

"You are so cute," she beams.

"Manly," I correct her automatically.

"Manly," she agrees with no conviction. "Yes, definitely."

"You could say it with more conviction."

"Manly!" she repeats in a growl, puffing her chest up and frowning menacingly, her fists clenched in her lap.

"That's better."

Why the fuck didn't I put the first sign a bit nearer? I definitely didn't think this through enough, even though I spent a month planning the route and studying Google Maps every evening between my Asian shows of the tour.

"Slow down," Jess says suddenly. "There's a sign coming up." 

Oh my God. This is it. 

Here we go.

The first sign simply says her name: Jess.

"Hey, that's weird! It's got my name on there!" 

No shit, Sherlock. 

"Does it?" I wonder.

"Yeah! Maybe someone lost their cat or something." 

I can't help chuckling at her reasoning. "Maybe," I concede. 

We approach the end of the road and I can see the next sign looming in the distance. My stomach is now rolling constantly, and I feel almost sick. 

Jess points at it - it has her name again, this time with an arrow pointing to the right which takes us in the direction of the River Dane.

"Is this some sort of weird coincidence?" she wonders.

"Maybe I should follow it," I say wickedly, and turn right. 

"Looks like the road is clear anyway," she observes, and for a second I wonder what she is talking about. "Good thing you didn't need to take a diversion," she clarifies. "Hey look - another sign!" 

Indeed - they are coming in quick succession now.

"What does this one say?" I wonder, playing along, and she squints at the next one as it comes into view.

"Follow me," she reads. "Is someone having a laugh?"

"Looks like it," I chuckle. 

Is this too obvious? Is it not obvious enough? 

She knows me so well, will she realise too soon what is happening? Or will her innocence and modesty prevent her from assuming anything and I will have to explain why we're here, what I have set up, what is going on?

"One Direction," Jess says, breaking my thoughts as she reads the next sign. "Ha! They've got taste, whoever they are. Look, the arrows have all pointed this way."

"We must be on the right track then," I muse. 

I'm just wondering how she hasn't realised I am behind this, as it seems so blatantly obvious to me, when she catches sight of the next one just as we make the turning to the river: Follow the signs.

"Are you in on this?" she demands with incredulity. "Is it something to do with you?" 

I don't know how to answer, or maybe nerves have rendered me incapable of speech. I park the car next to a hedge and remove the key from the ignition.

"Come on," I gesture softly. "Let's walk." 

I take her hand as we step onto our usual path. She is quiet, as though she knows or at least suspects that something is going on that she is not yet party to. I link my fingers into hers and she unzips her coat as we walk along in comfortable silence (which, as you know, is so overrated). I sneak a look at her out of the corner of my eye: she is taking in the scenery, breathing in the scent of the honeysuckle, and generally just appreciating nature. This is everything I love about her - that she can enjoy the simplest of things in life. 

"Do you remember the first time we came here?" I ask quietly.

"I do," she nods smiling. "We came for a walk with your family, and I remember being so happy that I could hold your hand in public, and act like a normal couple."

"I remember you kept letting go of my hand and moving slightly away from me every time we saw someone coming," I recall fondly. "I knew then there was something special about you. You just seemed to understand me, without me having to explain."

"I think we had a pretty strong connection from quite early on," she remarks, and I give her hand a gentle squeeze.

"We really, really did," I confirm. 

Where the hell is the next sign? I'm sure it should have appeared by now. Has someone removed it? Have they removed all of them? Oh God, after all this effort, what the fuck would I do if the last few were missing? 

"Look!" Jess suddenly cries. "There's another one of those signs!"

I breathe a sign of relief as she lets go of my hand and runs up to it. This one simply says, Follow the signs.

"This is definitely something to do with you," Jess declares, turning round to scrutinise my face as I try my best to look innocent." What are you up to?"

"I don't know what you mean," I lie, and then can't resist adding, "Are the signs confusing you?"

She must get this as a reference to the night we met, surely?

"Well, I'm intrigued by them," she answers, turning the latest one over in her hands, but offers nothing more.

"Well in that case, you'd better do as it says," I suggest, trying not to smirk. "You could almost call it a Sign of the Times. Ha! Come on."

I can't resist laughing at my own joke that I came up with on the spot, believe or not, despite it being glaringly obvious. She rolls her eyes and I grab her hand again and walk off at speed, practically dragging her along the riverbank as she laughs and falls into step beside me. She is on full alert now, looking up, down, left and right, clearly wondering where the next sign will be and what it will say. It isn't long before she spies the arrow, pointing to the left this time, to direct Jess up the grassy mound that I climbed only a couple of hours ago to lay the final part of this trail; the spot that I realised three years ago to this very day, that I was in love with her. The words beneath the arrow read, For your eyes only.

She stops dead as she reads the words, and I realise the ring is zipped into my pocket and I need to hurry up and get it ready in my hand because we are nearly at the end of the game now. The end of the game, but the start of something stellar, I can only hope. I fumble with the zip, my hands now sweaty and shaking, my heart pounding so hard and loud it obscures all the sound around me. There is only me; there is only her; there is only us. 

Out of the corner of my eye as I am retrieving the little velvet box containing her engagement ring, I see her dart up the slope towards the top where the final sign is waiting, telling her, So it turns out I'm not that great at reading signs. Turn around. 

I climb the slope briskly, reaching the top just as she is unpinning the sign from the cherry blossom tree. It seems to happen in slow motion as she reads the words and slowly turns to face me, a look of understanding passing over her face.

She knows, or at least, suspects, what is about to happen. 

I feel shy and vulnerable, yet the look on her face puts me at ease. Her eyes are filled with love and emotion; it is almost pouring out of her entire being. 

I shuffle towards her, my hand clenched tightly around the little box in my pocket, summoning the courage to speak. 

"Good job they didn't get taken down temporarily," I joke, meaning the signs. "Or I'd be screwed."

"Did you put all these up?" Her voice is trembling with emotion.

"Yeah. I came out early this morning to set it up." 

I take a deep breath. She says nothing, seemingly aware that it is my turn to explain. 

I have imagined this moment a hundred times over. I have tried to plan what to say, but each time in my head it comes out differently, and each time it sound insincere, or wrong, or contrived. This time however, it flows out of me as though I had scripted it. It is word perfect. 

"I don't think I can put into words what you mean to me, and it's hard for me to admit that, as a songwriter. But every time I try to sum us up, it's never good enough. It never quite reaches the depth of love in my heart. And I've started to think that's because there is no boundary to us, to our relationship. What we have is incomparable; timeless; infinite. It can't be explained, and it can't be quantified." 

Her eyes are filling with tears. I take another deep breath, willing myself to nail this and make it perfect for her, like she deserves. 

"You complete me, Jess. You understand me. You love me despite my faults, and because of my imperfections. You love me for who I am, and I love you for who you are. You know every inch of me, every corner of my soul, every quirk of my character. Your body is completely in tune with mine... I have never known two people to be as close as we are. We're so in sync it's like we're the same person; yet at the same time we're so different sometimes, and we complement each other with those differences. Pretty much since the moment we met, I could never see myself loving anyone else but you. I believe we were meant to be, I believe that fate led you to that party that night, and if we hadn't met then, we would still have met somewhere down the line. We were always meant to be together, and you know I've felt for years that we were in this for keeps."

The tears in her eyes are now spilling down her face. I know she would say she looks a mess right now, but to me she has never looked more beautiful. I swallow the lump in my throat. I am determined to get through this without crying.

"You're kind, sweet and funny, and you keep me grounded," I continue. "You've never been affected or impressed by my fame, and you don't hesitate to pull me back in line if I ever sound like I'm becoming complacent with my achievements. You just fit, with me and with my family. You remind me every day how lucky I am, just by being at my side. I could lose my career tomorrow but I know I'd be fine as long as I had you. I want you with me, forever and always, on my side, fighting my corner, cheering me on. And I want to be next to you, showing you off, bragging about your own success, telling anyone who will listen just how amazing you are, and how happy I am that you chose me. I want to do that for the rest of my life." My voice breaks on these last few words and I dip my sweaty, clammy hand into my pocket and pull out the ring box. I don't know how I manage to get down onto one knee considering my whole body is trembling harder than I have ever experienced. 

"I brought you up here," I tell her, "because this was the exact spot I realised I was in love with you, exactly three years ago to this day, and I couldn't think of a more perfect place to ask you the most important question of my life."

I open the ring box and a sunbeam catches the diamond sending a dazzling gleam into the morning sky. 

"Jessica Bradshaw, I love you more than anything in this whole world. Will you marry me?" 

"Yes," she nods, without hesitation. "Yes, of course I will." 

I let out a cry of emotion, feeling a tear sliding down my cheek, as my trembling fingers pull the ring out of its velvet shroud and slip it onto the fourth finger of her left hand where it sparkles incredibly; the perfect fit.

With trembling legs I get to my feet and before I have stood up fully she has thrown her arms around my neck, burying her face into my shoulder as my own body shakes with emotion. Tears are running down my face and I squeeze her tighter than ever before, thanking the powers that be for bringing this amazing woman into my life and letting her love me for me. 

---***--- 

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I decided several years ago that Harry's POV would include Harry asking for Alan's permission and of course, it had to go a bit wrong because, well, Harry. And Alan. 

Two more bonus chapters left to go, neither of which I have written yet but I will be working on them in the coming weeks and will post them as soon as they are ready. If you're reading this, thank you again for sticking with Harry and Jess's story xxx