shook her head. ‘It’s the first time I’ve ever seen anything quite like this,’ she admitted.
His level black brows drew together in a frown. ‘Tell me about yourself… Apart from the fact that you work for Rothwell, your mother comes from Boston, and you were brought up in England, I know very little about you.’
Never one for talking about herself, she said, a touch awkwardly, ‘There’s not much to know. I’ve led a very dull life.’
‘Then, tell me all the dull bits, and I’ll try not to yawn.’
‘I’m sure you won’t be interested.’
‘And I’m sure I will,’ he disagreed firmly. ‘You’re an odd mixture of shyness and courage, of warmth and reticence. You like people, yet you tend to leave them alone. I can’t imagine you’re the sort to make bosom friends and confide in them…’
When, made even more uncomfortable by that shrewd summing up, she said nothing, he went on, ‘You have a great deal of quiet pride and, while you fail to condemn others, you’re very moral.’
‘You make me sound terribly stuffy,’ she protested.
‘Not at all. You’re exactly the sort of woman I’d always hoped to find…’
Her heart swelling, she caught her breath as he added, ‘And I want to know what made you that way. So, tell me about your childhood. Where were you brought up?’
‘In Sussex.’
‘What were your mother and father like?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I never really knew them. They died when I was only two.’
‘Tough,’ he said simply. ‘How did it happen?’
‘They left me with my paternal grandmother while they went to France on a skiing holiday. It was to have been a second honeymoon. They were killed in an avalanche the first day there.
‘Both my parents had been only children and, apart from my father’s mother, neither of them had any close relatives.’
‘So who brought you up?’
‘My grandmother. She didn’t want to be saddled with a child at her age, but she was a woman of strong principles and an even stronger sense of duty.
‘Nan had been widowed the previous year and there was very little money, so we lived in a kind of genteel poverty.
‘Though she was careful never to say so, I knew, in the way that children do know, that I was a burden to her.
‘She preferred her own company to that of a child, so I was always left very much to my own devices.’
‘But you had school friends?’
Her voice matter-of-fact, Sera said, ‘I wasn’t encouraged to make friends. Nan had always “kept herself to herself” as she put it, and didn’t see why I shouldn’t do the same.’
‘It must have been very lonely for you.’
‘I had some imaginary friends and, thanks to a kindergarten teacher who took an interest in me, I learnt to read at a very early age…’
Seeing the bleak look on Keir’s face and worried in case she’d given the wrong impression, Sera added hastily, ‘I don’t mean Nan was ever unkind to me, and she did everything she was able to do. She insisted on me going to university and, though I lived at home to save money, it was still a struggle to find the fares to travel.
‘When I graduated with a first class honours degree and went to work for Anglo American, she was as proud as a peacock and declared the struggle had been well worth it.’
‘What did she think of you coming to the States?’
‘She never knew. Nan was getting very old and infirm, and she died last winter. Otherwise I wouldn’t have left her.
‘Her death was one of the reasons I took the chance of a year in New York. The lease on the house was up, and there was nothing to keep me in England…’
For a while they walked in silence, each busy with their thoughts, while music and laughter, the noise of the amusements, and the shrill voices of children, flowed around them.
Then, their casual meal finished, they paused to wipe their greasy fingers on paper napkins, which they disposed of in the nearest litter bin, before strolling on.
Tucking her hand companionably through his arm, Keir asked, ‘Now which shall we sample first? The fairground or the aquarium?’
Just happy to be with him, she said, ‘I don’t mind in the slightest. It’s up to you.’
‘In that case, let’s go for all the fun of the fair.’
As though trying to make up for her colourless childhood, Keir pulled out all the stops and the rest of the day was packed with more pleasure and excitement than Sera had known in the whole of her life.
When, her face glowing, she thanked him, he said with an odd kind of tenderness, ‘At the moment you’re easy to please, my love.’
Hot, tired, and dusty, but completely happy, they were heading back to the subway when some jewellery being displayed by a street vendor caught Sera’s eye and she paused to take a second look.
The item that had attracted her attention was a narrow silver ring with an unusual chased design.
‘Seen something you fancy?’ Keir queried, reaching for his wallet.
If it had been anything but a ring, she might have told him. As it was…
Flushing a little, she shook her head and made to move on.
‘How about this as a memento?’ As though he had second sight, he reached to pick up the very ring she’d been looking at. ‘Try it on.’
When she hesitated, he took her left hand and slipped it on to her engagement finger. ‘That fits quite well.’
Turning to the vendor, who was sporting dreadlocks and a plaited headband, he asked, ‘How much?’
Moving a wad of gum from one side of his mouth to the other, the man weighed up Keir and, apparently deciding not to push it, suggested, ‘Twenty dollars?’
Keir nodded and the money changed hands.
As they walked away, Keir’s arm round Sera’s waist, he murmured, sotto voce, ‘It might be as well not to keep it on too long. It will probably turn your finger green.’
Lifting her hand to look at it, she said, ‘I’ll chance that.’
He gave her a squeeze. ‘One day, hopefully in the not too distant future, I’ll buy you something a great deal more expensive from Tiffany’s.’
A feeling of pure joy and thankfulness filled her. Keir loved her and wanted to marry her.
No
