LITMIR.BIZ

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contents, “Lydia help you out?”

      “No, she was gone most of the weekend. Not sure where, just said she was popping out with mates. She offered though.” She didn’t mean it as a hint, but he didn’t take it as one either, as he was busy setting up the desserts.

      Two ramekins of something with a brown sugar topping sat on the blanket and he fished out a small kitchen blowtorch. He looked quite excited to be holding it. “I saw them do this on Saturday Breakfast.” He must have seen Jen’s look of concern as he released her hand and stroked her cheek. “Don’t worry, Jen. Fire-handling comes with the Y chromosome.”

      Minutes later, the flames were quickly doused with a bottle of Evian, but the blanket was a goner.

      “Never mind,” he insisted, unfazed and more intent on pressing the alleged Crème Brȗlée into her hands, “Mumsie will be pleased with the shopping excuse.”

      Jen looked at her dessert. It wasn’t fully burnt, there was still a small patch she could breach to access the custard. The intense way that he was nodding her on, eager for her to tuck in, suggested perhaps he’d made this part himself. She swallowed her gulp quite admirably.

      Credit where credit was due, the patch she stabbed made exactly the right cracking sound, much to his delight. Robert didn’t seem overly concerned with trying his own dessert though, which was worrying, but he’d made such an effort and appeared so keen, that she couldn’t do anything else but delve out a substantial spoonful and put it in her mouth.

      She knew instantly she’d made a mistake. There was something big and hard in there, definitely not smooth and creamy. She looked about, not sure what to do; spitting was not a seemly option. Finally, she looked at him distressed and what was that in his eyes? Mischief? It certainly looked like it. Slowly, carefully, trying to appear as ladylike as possible while desperate to gob it out, she extracted the object from her mouth.

      In her hand lay a ring.

      Even without the half-saliva half-custard coating it was easily the ugliest ring she’d ever laid eyes on. Large and bulky, the square cut stone was held in an oblong setting. Beyond the murky gem, the filigree ivy detailing was the only thing to set the ring apart from a knuckle-duster. Staring at it, it took Jen a moment to realise Robert was on one knee in front of her, grinning proudly at his dessert wheeze.

      “Jennifer Attison, will you be my wife?” His eyes and smile widened even further at her shock. “Surprised?”

      “Well, yes,” she stammered. It was a surprise. A great big astounding surprise given they’d never talked about the future and in Jen’s head their two dates a week routine had worked perfectly for the last six years, so why would he be looking to change it?

      Jen’s brain couldn’t keep up, as his expression now changed from amused to ecstatic. He jumped to his feet, raised his hands in the air and channelling Tom Cruise on Oprah’s sofa, shouted to everyone on the beach “She said Yes!!”

      Wait, what? Jen looked around, panicked. That wasn’t what she’d meant. He grabbed her hands and dragged her to her feet, before clamping his hands to her face and kissing her. She could hear onlookers clapping, and the noise made a disturbing duet with the alarm bells in her head.

      “This ring was my great-grandmother’s, on Mumsie’s side,” he explained, plucking it off her palm as she stared shell-shocked at him, “apparently, it hasn’t seen daylight since the undertakers took it off her finger and handed it to my granny.” Jen fought the urge to paw her tongue clean, as he slipped it easily onto her ring finger. Very easily. “Oh. It’s too big.”

      Great-granny must have had salamis for fingers, the ring would have fallen freely off Jen’s thumb.

      “Oh dear,” she said, the relief nearly felling her, “what a shame.”

      “Don’t be upset, Jen, I’ll have it resized.”

      Jen’s feigned joy was Oscar-worthy.

      “I’m glad you love it though. Mumsie will be too.”

      “It … It’s remarkable.”

      “Certainly is,” he said wistfully gazing at it. “I’m the first boy in the family for generations, hence it’s mine to give.”

      He kissed her again and Jen began to realise how happy this was making him, how overjoyed he was she’d accepted his proposal. She couldn’t help but be deeply flattered. Robert was a catch by anyone’s standards; sensible, solvent and career savvy. His height and broad golf-toned shoulders gave him gravitas in a room; other women looked his way when they were out together. And he had a kind face. She’d always thought that.

      They’d first met when she was thirteen and her mother had dragged her along to a dress fitting for Robert’s mother. Marooned in the hallway, listening to Mrs Thwaites’ loud voice through the walls, Jen had at first been shy when the eighteen-year-old Robert had stopped to greet her, dressed in muddy rugby kit. He was on route to the shower, but he’d taken the time to chat and ease her awkwardness. After that she’d seen him at various times in her dad’s mechanic’s workshop when his father had brought the Jag in for tyres or tinkering and she’d been there doing homework after school. The private school boys of Westhampton didn’t normally mix with the state school girls, but that didn’t seem to be the case with Robert. He’d always made a point of saying hello and her dad had remarked he was a “decent lad”. It hadn’t surprised her at all that her parents had chosen him as their lawyer when he qualified.

      So when he’d first asked her out, a respectable time after her parents’ affairs had been settled, it had been easy to accept because it was like going out with a friend. What you saw was what you got with Robert and that was important to Jen.

      And he knew her. He knew all she’d been through. Taking his lawyerly duties seriously, he’d pitched up at the hospital as soon as he’d heard. He’d seen her at her worst, grieving for her parents, devastated over Lydia’s injuries, wracked with guilt as she’d agreed to the amputation. He’d borne the brunt of her anguish when Lydia was screaming from waking up to a missing leg. He’d taken Jen’s guilt-ridden tongue-lashing head on, never once holding it against her. He’d been there for all of it and he’d still been attracted to her. It amazed her.

      Jen looked up at him properly and the panic began to subside. She’d been surprised, that was all. No wonder she panicked – heaven knew she’d had enough surprises for a lifetime. Why should this not be a good idea? He knew her, really knew her and he wanted her. They worked well as a couple, their routine was testament to that. They were clearly compatible, she reasoned; they’d never argued over anything. How could this be anything but the most sensible, comfortable and right marriage ever? What more could a marriage need than what they already had? And she had as close as she could ever get to having her dad’s approval.

      “And I’m delighted to accept it,” she finally said with a genuine smile, careful to keep her eyes on his face and off the god-awful ring.

      “I knew you would be,” he said, wrapping her in his arms and pulling them both back down onto the bare deck, the smouldering blanket having been flung onto the shingle. Once they’d rearranged themselves from their unbalanced heap, they returned to sitting against the beach hut wall, hands entwined, the setting sun casting a warm glow on their faces – it almost felt like a blessing, only slightly marred by the skinny-dipping stag party and the smell of burnt wool.

      “I’ve got more exciting news,” Robert blurted, his exuberance now at unprecedented levels, “I made partner!”

      Was it her, or did he look even more thrilled than before? She decided excitement must be cumulative. Partnership on top of an accepted proposal would make anyone ecstatic.

      “That’s wonderful, Robert!” She was over the moon for him, he’d worked so hard for it, played all that golf for it too. It was madly pleasing to see someone’s drive come to fruition. That was more they had in common; drive, ambition and a sound work ethic.

      “Old

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