fire and the thud of her heart that seemed to want to beat its way out of her chest.
She started to shake, crying with the sheer joy. Finally, she spoke, and she had to force the words out; his proposal had taken her voice and breath away. ‘Oh, Jack, of course I’ll marry you.’
He came around to her side of the table, swept her up in his arms and kissed her passionately, and pulled her so close to him he lifted her off her feet. She laughed breathlessly as she finally pulled away from him. He gently took her hand and slipped the delicate white gold ring onto her finger.
They were in the middle of another embrace when Mrs Barton came in with the pudding and didn’t seem to be too taken aback to see the two of them in each other’s arms.
‘Now that’s nice to see,’ she said, stopping in the doorway to admire the picture of them together as Lizzie wiped tears of happiness from her eyes and held out her hand towards the older woman as an explanation.
‘Oh, bless my soul,’ the older woman retorted. ‘Has he just proposed to you?’
Lizzie nodded, trying to believe it herself as she locked eyes with Jack’s own, so full of love.
‘Well, we have to celebrate!’ said the landlady dropping the dessert unceremoniously down on the table and bustling out of the room, remarking over her shoulder, ‘Mr Barton has some home-made brandy put aside for an occasion like this.’
As Lizzie held Jack close again, Mr Barton, a short, balding man, arrived, clearly having rushed from his own dinner table, as he still had his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow and a cloth napkin tucked in the top of his shirt. In his hand was a bottle of red, syrupy liquor.
‘I was keeping this for when the Germans surrendered,’ he informed them as Mrs Barton handed out crystal brandy glasses. ‘But this seems a much better use for it; I can always make another batch for when we see off the Hun.’
He poured generous glasses all round and lifting his own, toasted them.
‘To your excellent health, and I wish you as many years of happiness together as Mrs Barton and I have enjoyed.’
Lizzie smiled. Years, no one talked about years any more, when you weren’t sure what would happen from moment to moment. But she would take any happiness she could. After the brandies were downed, the Bartons tactfully excused themselves, and Jack walked over to a record player in the corner and slipping an Al Bowlly record out of a paper sleeve, placed it on the turntable. Holding each other close, they turned slowly together in front of the fire. Lizzie closed her eyes and listened to Al Bowlly crooning on about forgetting everyday things because of the strength of his love, trying to absorb the whole experience. And something struck her, it was if nothing else mattered in the world, not the war, not Scotland nor the air force, nor even her family. All that mattered was this incredible love she had with Jack and this stolen moment of bliss together.
32
The next morning, Lizzie woke to the sound of the gulls and rays of weak morning sunlight shining through chinks in the blackout curtains. And for one minute she thought she was back in Scotland because it was so quiet and such an airy room. Then the memory of the night before came rushing back, and her stomach tightened with the excitement of what had happened. She was going to marry Jack.
To prove that it hadn’t been a dream, she quickly pulled her hand out from beneath the covers to make sure she was still wearing the engagement ring he had placed there the night before. And there it was, an exquisite sapphire surrounded by an oval of diamonds in an elegant white gold setting. She rolled it around on her finger with her thumb, trying to get used to it. It was the first piece of real jewellery she had ever owned, and amazingly it was a perfect fit. She thought about Jack’s grandmother who’d worn this ring. Who would have guessed that, years later, her grandson would be giving the same ring to the woman he loved, and that woman would be Lizzie?
There was only one thing that threatened to rob her of her happiness. The truth about Annie. She felt awful not telling him about her daughter, but what if he couldn’t accept her past?