One Hundred Proposals: A feel-good, romantic comedy to make you smile. Holly Martin

      *

      Waterfalls, emerald green rainforests, turquoise seas, koalas, kangaroos, crocodiles and white sandy beaches all assaulted me from my computer screen. Australia was a beautiful country and I wanted to devour every single part of it.

      Even though it was the weekend, I was still answering emails or doing research for the.PerfectProposal.com. I’m not sure when it had become my life, Before Jack or After Jack, but it had become something of an addiction now. Every spare minute I had was spent researching new locations, new proposals. I loved it. It made me so happy to think of couples getting engaged in these places and that in some small way we were helping them to start their life together.

      One of my clients was taking his girlfriend to Australia this summer and wanted some ideas for romantic places to propose. Maybe I had taken a little bit more interest in researching Australian locations because I’d always wanted to go.

      My friend, Peri, had emigrated there two years before to marry some beach bronzed Adonis called Brad. Her emails and Skype calls ever since had been filled with details of beach barbeques, surfing, sunshine, scuba diving, water skiing and the incredible beauty of the Australian east coast.

      I was living in her tiny flat, on permanent loan from her and the only way I could afford such a central affluent location. But despite my house sitting duties, Peri tried to convince me to move out there with her every time we spoke.

      When she was first set to move there, she desperately tried to convince me to go with her. With my parents over in New Zealand, and most of my friends scattered to the four corners of the world, there didn’t seem a lot to hang around for. I’d always wanted to live abroad, somewhere hot or maybe a big city. Then Harry had come into my life and all thought of leaving Britain had quickly vanished.

      But I wanted to visit. I was desperate to experience some of this sunshine bliss for myself and had set about saving for it. My savings account, renamed ‘Aussie Dreams’, currently had a huge total of two hundred and forty six pounds in it. I had a long way to go.

      My computer pinged to indicate I had a message just as I was looking at pictures of the beach paradise at Tangalooma.

      I closed down my web browser and opened up my email. I frowned with confusion as I read the notification. Harry’s Proposer’s Blog had been updated. The followers of our blog had all registered so they would be notified of when the next blog went live. For some reason, Harry had included me on this notification as well. But what new updates would Harry have now? He hadn’t proposed to me today. He was supposed to be with Sexy Samantha. I clicked on it and my confusion deepened.

      Proposer’s Blog

      Day 4: The Self-Humiliation Proposal. Location: Trafalgar Square. Date: Valentine’s Day. Time 1pm.

      My dear would-be proposers, nothing says ‘I love you’ like some toe curling humiliation. If you are prepared to go to any length necessary to declare your love for your woman, no matter how embarrassing or degrading, then that surely can’t be a bad thing.

       Join me, if you can, for my special Valentine’s Day proposal. I’ll be near one of the four lions. I’ll be the one dressed in black and white.

      I stared at the words. I looked at the clock. It had just gone twelve. I stared at the words again. Then quickly grabbed my bag and coat and ran out the door.

      *

      Trafalgar Square was packed, as it was at all times of the year, despite the cold weather. Pigeons fluttered about, scrabbling for any kind of leftover food that the tourists may have discarded.

      Four big bronze lions stood proud in the middle of the square as I cast my eyes frantically around for Harry. He’d said he was going to be wearing black and white, did he mean a tux? My heart leapt at the thought of Harry looking delicious in a sexy tux.

      There was quite a crowd around one of them so I headed in that direction.

      I saw Badger first, his bright ginger hair welcoming me in like a beacon. He greeted me with one of his huge bear hugs.

      ‘Hey, Badger, how much did Harry pay you to be involved in this one?’ I could see people giggling and laughing at something on the other side of the lion that I couldn’t see.

      ‘Are you kidding, I wouldn’t miss this for all the tea in China.’ He nodded his head behind him and I followed his gaze.

      As the crowd parted slightly, I saw Harry dressed in a very tight cow print onesie that was clearly several sizes too small for him.

      My eyes temporarily dropped to the significant bulge, shown dramatically because of the tightness of the onesie. I dragged my eyes away from it to look at Harry as he approached me, holding a single yellow rose.

      He looked ridiculous.

      ‘Hi,’ he said, passing me the rose.

      ‘Hi.’ There were no other words in my head.

      He bent his head and whispered in my ear so only I could hear him. ‘I wanted you to know that I loved Jack almost as much as you did. So this one’s for him.’

      I smiled with love for him.

      ‘And you have to have a special licence to perform anything here so I don’t think we’re going to have long before the police descend. If it all kicks off, just run.’

      He stepped away. Police? What on earth was he going to do that would bring the police down on us?

      ‘What? Harry, wait…’

      He let out an ear piercing whistle. Music started from the other side of the lion and the immediate crowd fell silent.

      The music was classical, possibly Tchaikovsky.

      ‘You wanted the ballet and a bag of chips.’ Harry said as Badger plonked a bag of slightly cold chips in my hands. ‘Well, there are the chips and here is the ballet.’ He raised his voice. ‘Ladies and Gentleman, may I present to you the National Ballet’s version of Cow Lake.’

      Laughter erupted as the crowd parted. From behind the lion danced twelve big burly lads holding hands and kicking their legs about in some very bad attempt at ballet. I burst out laughing. I instantly recognised them as being from Harry’s rugby team. They were all wearing cow print onesies and pink tutus over the top. Harry joined on at the end, seamlessly, as they danced inelegantly from side to side, kicking their legs out, kicking each other, stamping on each other’s toes. This clearly had not been practised and it made the crowd laugh even more every time they hurt each other. I was laughing so hard that my face was aching. The music gained in speed and they broke off in pairs, lifting each other off the ground as their partners kicked their legs in the air. It was a mess but the crowd were lapping it up.

      The music reached a crescendo as Badger started signalling frantically to wrap it up. They quickly formed rows – two rows of five, one row of two – as Harry broke away and moved to stand in front of me. As the music stopped they all turned around to reveal a letter on each of their backs. In foot high sequinned letters, the words ‘Suzie Marry Me’, were clear for everyone to see. With a final dramatic pirouette, Harry came down on one knee with a huge grin on his face, he clutched my hand.

      The crowd broke into spontaneous applause.

      Badger interrupted the romantic scene before my eyes with a sudden shout. ‘RUN!’