He hadn’t been planning to do it quite at that moment, but suddenly, it seemed fitting.

“I’m not sure if this is the time, because you are very, very tear-stained, but . . . I brought you something to go with that diamond necklace . . .”

And he took a small box out of his coat pocket.

“If you can get enough time off between shifts . . .”

Now he was going down on one knee. Flora was just staring at him, astounded. Then she wiped her face furiously.

“Oh my God, this is so unfair,” she said.

“I know,” said Joel.

“Oh my God.”

“In your own time.”

He smiled up at her widely and she returned his grin.

“Oh my God.”

“I know, Mark and Marsha are going to kill us for not doing it when they were here.”

She flung her arms around him. “Yes please! Yes please!! Yes please!!!”

“Shh,” said Joel. “You’ll wake him.”

But it was too late. She heard the familiar wail from the sitting room. But somehow—somehow—it wasn’t as hard as it usually was. Just knowing that Joel understood . . . and omg, she was engaged!

She danced into the sitting room.

“Where are you, my darling little man?” she crooned.

Joel stayed behind in the bedroom for a moment, slightly stunned with himself.

“I knew that was a bad baby Bugglas,” came an unrepentant voice from under Flora’s old duvet.

Chapter 67

I t had been a hard night’s work, but a hard night’s work was exactly what Konstantin didn’t mind anything like as much as he’d always thought he might, and he couldn’t sleep anyway so it had made sense.

Now he was hovering, waiting for sunup. He couldn’t help it; he wanted to see her face. However alone he felt, there was someone who might be happy to see him.

Also he was dreading going back to the Rock. Having to face Isla. Knowing she felt he’d let her down, that she hated him, thought him some sleazy, lying player. It had taken so long to break down her defenses so she felt she could trust him, like a little bird, in a funny way. And then just as he’d thought they had reached an understanding, and as he was getting to know someone better than he ever had before—certainly better than any of the girls he’d been with—well . . .

He could see it from her point of view. But he had wanted to get away, desperately at first.

Now, though, as Christmas Day dawned bright and frosty, the ice crackling over the fields with the short, shaggy cows with their big horns mooing enthusiastically; the beautiful, endlessly long beach with the clear blue sea to the horizon; the little painted houses huddled round the harbor; the fresh air with the scent of warm baking—he could see why people loved it too. He didn’t mind it at all, in fact, as he strode through it, warm in his darned jacket.