gasped, falling back into the sofa, against the soft cushions. She did not know what to say. Her mind was blank, waiting for the flood of emotions that would follow. ‘Me? You’re asking me…?’
He grasped her hand, holding the ring up, sliding it onto the wedding finger. It was a little loose. ‘It fits well. Real diamonds. The best money can buy. So – would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
Jen was aware that she hadn’t said yes. Not yet. But he was right: it was a good idea. They were both in their seventies. Jen was seventy-three and Eddie a little older. They were both alone, widowed. Neither of them liked solitude. And Eddie was a nice man, dapper, suave, well dressed, and pleasant company. Thoughts were rushing, crashing against each other in her mind. It would be good to have someone there when she woke up, someone to share meals with, to talk to, to share the warmth of an embrace. And he was such a nice man, so caring, so considerate. She’d be mad to refuse.
But it had happened so quickly she couldn’t catch her breath. In some ways, Eddie was still a stranger: she’d only known him since Boxing Day. They’d been on pleasant dates and enjoyed each other’s company; he was courteous, kind, always complimenting her, offering her his arm as they strolled along the beach. It fluttered into her head that he was nothing like Colin, her Colin, whom she’d known so well, who had fitted her married life like a comfortable sock, who had become such an essential part of the fabric of her life that she knew every stitch. Eddie was unknown to her, a fit that wasn’t yet snug.
‘What do you say, Jen? Will you be Mrs Bruce? Will you accept…?’
An expression of confusion etched itself across her face. Her fingers shook; the ring was loose on her wedding finger. She stared at Eddie. ‘I’m not sure – I mean – I don’t know. It’s early days yet. Can I think about it?’
He slid the ring from her finger and held it in his open palm, meeting her eyes with his serious blue ones. ‘Of course. Take as long as you need. But neither of us is getting any younger…’
He pressed his lips against hers. They were cool. When he pulled away, he seemed composed.
‘Just let me know when you’re ready, Jen. You know I’ll wait for you to decide.’
Jen nodded energetically. ‘All right, Eddie.’
He glanced around the house. ‘You’ve made it so nice here. A feminine touch. But of course, I could tidy it up a bit, you know – I’m good with DIY.’
Jen nodded again. She wasn’t sure what to say. It was as if a whirlwind had lifted her up – she was buoyant and moving out of control. Her limbs had gone numb. Her lips too. She could only nod. Eddie eased himself upright.
‘Well, I’ll get off now, shall I? Perhaps we can meet tomorrow and we can talk about it again when you’ve had time to give it some thought? It’s a good offer, my dear. What do you say, Jen?’
She stood up, facing him. ‘Yes. Yes, all right, I’ll think about it.’
He kissed her lips lightly again. ‘Well, that’s it. Do take it seriously, though. You and I are very good together. We make a good couple and we’d make each other very happy.’ He reached for his coat, tugging it over broad shoulders.
Jen blinked, then fussed with his collar, fidgeting with the buttons. ‘Are you going home now, Eddie?’
‘It’s eleven o’clock,’ he said, smiling. ‘I need my beauty sleep. You too.’ He lifted her chin. ‘Well, you just need sleep.’ He shuffled towards the door. Jen wondered if she should invite him to stay. She wanted company. She wanted him to hold her tight, to kiss her properly. He hadn’t said he was in love with her yet.
‘You wouldn’t like to stay… a bit longer?’
He pecked her cheek again. ‘I’ll phone you tomorrow and we can meet for afternoon tea.’ He put a finger to her face. ‘What a wonderful evening this has been. It’s so nice to spend time with you. I just thought it would be lovely if our arrangement was a bit more – permanent.’
Jen nodded. She wondered if she should have said yes, if her refusal had made Eddie’s feelings cooler towards her. He kissed her cheek and put an affectionate arm around her. She clung to him but he eased himself away.
‘It’ll be cold outside. I’ll see myself out. I don’t want you to catch a chill. Goodnight, my dear.’
And then he was gone. Jen squeezed her eyes closed, not sure if she was disappointed, in love or just confused. All three, perhaps. But she would have liked him to stay. She’d have enjoyed more conversation and a sense of closeness. Then perhaps she would be sure she loved him; she’d know if she should have accepted his proposal. But there was always tomorrow. She was suddenly filled with a thrill about the future, and what it might bring.
She picked up the tray. The coffee was untouched, but it had gone cold. Jen sighed. She’d wash up, tidy a little and then she’d go to bed, alone. She gazed at her finger where the diamond ring had stayed for almost a minute. She’d had the chance to become an engaged woman, a bride-to-be. It had felt strange, frightening and just a little bit exciting. She wasn’t sure what she’d tell her friends at aqua aerobics — that Eddie had proposed and she’d turned him down? The room was cold and Jen was alone. For a moment, she imagined that Eddie was her husband, that they’d finished cups of cocoa and they were on their way upstairs to bed. He’d take her small fingers in his large hand and they’d go up together. Jen suddenly felt a chill in the air and she realised how lonely she was.
Rose played Für Elise again, perfectly. Her fingers drifted easily over the piano keys and the sound of the music flowing, confident and loud, was somehow reassuring. She finished with a flourish, sat back and looked at her hands. Small, neat, well-shaped, a single gold band on her left hand. She still missed him, Bernard, especially at this time of night, although there had been times he’d annoyed her and they’d bickered. But it was too late for feelings of regret. She had no one to be annoyed with now, and that made her sad. When the last vibration of the piano had faded, it was replaced with empty silence and she felt cold and alone. Rose stood up from the piano stool. She’d throw away the half-eaten macaroni cheese, wash the plate and go up to bed.
Della lay on her back, listening to the nasal rattle of her husband, Sylvester, who was sleeping by her side, his glasses still perched on his nose. It was his usual nightly practice to snore, an adenoidal snort that lasted for fifteen seconds, stopped and then started up again. Like a chainsaw. Della smiled. She waited through the silence, the seven seconds’ respite, counting him down and then, bang on time, he started again, the persistent wheeze assaulting her ears again. She reached over, patting his shoulder lovingly. ‘Sylvester… Sylvester. Stop snoring and go to sleep now, will you, my love?’
He paused and then mumbled through soft lips. ‘Love you too.’
Della grinned. She breathed out, rolled over, tugging the duvet with her, and snuggled down into the cocoon of warmth. She closed her eyes, sighed, and started to drift. Seven seconds of blissful silence. The chainsaw rattle began again, stretching out into a fifteen second rumble, pausing for seven seconds, then starting up all over again.
It was past
