I looked at his tag. ‘Diamond. Aw, cute. Is that because of the diamonds on his waistcoat?’

‘Partly,’ Scott said. ‘And partly because of what he’s got in his pocket.’

I caught Karen’s eyes across the table and knew that she was thinking about the conversation we’d just had. My heart raced as I reached my fingers into the pocket of Diamond’s waistcoat and lifted out a simple platinum ring with a small square diamond held in place by four claws.

Scott got down on a bended knee beside my chair as the others gasped. ‘I love you only, Jemma, and I want to marry you. Excuse the pun, but do you think you could bear to spend the rest of your life with me?’

Could I? Nothing would make me happier! Eyes glistening, I nodded, handed him the ring, and held out my shaky left hand.

‘Is that a yes?’ he asked.

‘Yes!’ I squealed.

He slipped the ring onto my finger, stood up, and wrapped his arms round me. This time, there were no shouts about getting a room. His lips met mine for a warm, tender kiss and I melted against him. I’d never felt so happy as I did at that moment. I could feel the love emanating from him with every kiss and every touch.

‘Did you know?’ I asked Mum after everyone had admired the ring and given hugs.

‘Yes. He asked my permission.’

‘Aw, that’s so traditional and so sweet.’

She hugged me once more. ‘I’m so happy for you. You two are just perfect for each other.’

I gazed across at him laughing with Tiff and Leah, my heart aglow. I really had found love that day at the tube station and, unlike Mum and Dad, I’d found someone who still made my tummy fizz and my heart sing nearly eighteen months down the line. It was going to be forever.

5

Sam

Present Day – 24th June

‘You didn’t have to come,’ I said, picking up my half-empty pint and taking a gulp.

Jack dropped an overnight bag onto the floor, pulled out a stool, and sat down opposite me in a gloomy corner of my local, The Hero & Hammer. The irony of the pub’s name wasn’t lost on me.

‘Of course I was going to come. How are you?’

I gulped down the rest of my drink and held the glass out to him. ‘Get me another one of these and I’ll tell you.’

‘How many have you had?’

‘What are you? The bereavement police?’ I slammed the glass down on the table.

‘No. Just a concerned brother.’ He stood up and grabbed the empty glass.

‘Dark Anvil,’ I muttered.

‘What?’

‘It’s a real ale. Dark Anvil.’

With a sigh, he turned and headed towards the bar.