Presently, hand in hand, they strolled along the streets, glancing around them casually. It wasn’t quite dark, but all the street and shop lights were on as they made their way towards the restaurant. Sam looked down at her.
‘I know there are many months before our wedding,’ he began, ‘but for a start, we should have some idea of how many guests we might want to invite.’
Alice paused before replying. Tonight was the night of her engagement. The wedding, and all the complicated details connected with it could surely wait. She looked up at him, her eyes moist. ‘Let’s not talk about wedding plans tonight,’ she murmured. ‘Can I please get used to being engaged first?’
‘Of course, if you like,’ he said casually, ‘but we’ll soon need to think about the venue for the reception – and the number of guests we envisage.’
Alice smiled. ‘Well, as far as that’s concerned, my list is not going to be as long as yours,’ she said lightly.
He grinned down at her. ‘And mine won’t be as long as another couple’s I could mention,’ he said.
‘Who’s that?’ Alice said curiously.
‘Well, the royal couple’s,’ he said. ‘I’ve heard it on the grapevine – you hear most things in London, believe me – I’ve heard that Princess Elizabeth is to become engaged to Prince Philip of Greece. And that the nuptials are likely to take place in November in Westminster Abbey.’
Alice’s eyes shone. A royal wedding! How exciting!
But not as exciting as hers! As theirs!
‘And luckily for us,’ Sam went on, ‘we shan’t have to invite a lot of boring dignitaries to ours. Our guests will be our friends. People we like. We are going to enjoy our wedding.’
Alice looked away. As long as she could calm down about all the planning beforehand – and on the great day stop herself from tripping over her dress and falling flat on her face…
The restaurant was seductively lit, and exquisite – just full enough to be relaxed and congenial. Their table in the corner was beautifully laid, the white linen immaculate, the cutlery and glassware shining – reflecting the light from the flickering candle in the centre.
Presently, the waiter took their order, poured them each a glass of champagne from the bottle in the ice bucket, and departed.
And Sam leaned across and smiled at Alice with that deep, dark smile…that conspiratorial smile she’d encountered so often in the past. And even though she knew exactly what was coming – and what she was going to be given – Alice’s mouth went dry.
This was the MOMENT! The moment she had never dared to hope would happen. Then Sam reached into his pocket for the little box holding her ring, which he carefully withdrew, and after taking her hand he slipped it onto the third finger of her left hand and looked into her eyes.
‘Dearest, dearest Alice, will you marry me?’ he asked softly. ‘Are you sure that you really do want to marry me?’
The brief pause that followed could have been an hour long as Alice gazed back at him. Why was he asking her that, tonight of all nights? Had his intuitive mind detected the small doubts she might have? Not doubts about their love for each other, but her doubts as to whether she could follow in his mother’s footsteps and ever truly fit in as Mrs. Carmichael. And not just be Alice Watts masquerading in the role?
Alice set her lips in a determined line. This would not do.
‘Of course I want to marry you, Sam,’ she replied. ‘I have never wanted to marry anyone else in my life.’ She gazed down at her ring. It was sparkling, glistening, the diamond throwing out little shafts of coloured light.
And after a moment, they raised their glasses and Sam murmured –
‘To us.’
‘To us,’ Alice whispered.
Then they both sipped, and the ice-cold bubbles tingled on their tongues as they gazed at each other in a kind of wonderment.
They had both chosen the same for their meal – smoked salmon, followed by medium-rare steak, and as she ate, Alice realized that she was enjoying every single mouthful. That she was going to eat everything on her plate, that her appetite really had returned. Well, that was no surprise. The sadness, the depression she had experienced during the last few months had disappeared like magic…the magic associated with new-found happiness, new-found joy, new-found hope for her future. Tonight, any fragments of self-doubt were going to be pushed to the very back of her mind.
Conversation was light as they ate – well, what could possibly follow what had just taken place? And Alice thought – later, they’d sit in front of the fire at home and just talk and talk…perhaps she’d even be able to start talking about those plans. And they’d just enjoy each other in the light of their new relationship, and she’d open the bottle of expensive wine she’d bought at the off-licence. It would probably be very late before they made their way to their bedrooms, and in the morning she would cook them a real English breakfast…bacon and eggs and fried bread and little rings of black sausage…and they’d take their time, finishing with toast and marmalade and lots and lots of tea – or coffee – if that’s what Sam would like. She didn’t know which he’d prefer because, well, there were many things she didn’t really know about Sam…so many things – small and not so small – that she didn’t know about him…
Then, later, they’d wander through the streets and alleyways of the town together and Alice would explain about Judge Jeffreys and his ghostly howlings… Sam would have a good laugh about that.
Finally, they left the restaurant and began making their way back. Alice didn’t need Sam to tuck her hand into his arm…it was suddenly the most natural thing in the world for her to do that herself. He looked down at her, pulling her into him closely.
‘We’d better get a move on,’ he said, ‘because my train leaves in an hour.’
Alice looked up at him blankly. ‘Your train? Oh – I didn’t realize you were going back tonight,’ she said.
He looked puzzled for a second. ‘Didn’t I tell you? Oh sorry, Alice, I thought I had.’
‘No, you didn’t mention that,’ Alice said.
He shrugged. ‘Sorry,’ he said again. Then – ‘No, the thing is, a few of us have been given the opportunity to observe what’s to be a very long and complicated operation on Monday morning,’ he went on, ‘and it was suggested that for those of us who were available, we should attend a pre-op talk the day before – that’s tomorrow – at 11 am.’ He paused. ‘I knew it was something I shouldn’t turn down – I need all the expert guidance I can get – so I put my name down to be there in the morning.’
He looked away, hating himself for a moment, hating to obviously disappoint her. But he didn’t want to explain – how could he ever explain – the demon of endeavour that he constantly lived with, and which sometimes tormented him? That he must strive and go on striving to be worthy of all the money that had been spent on his education, that he must be worthy of the family tradition and expectations? Not that what he had decided to do in life was anyone else’s idea of course…it had been his, all along. It had been his own choice to follow the onerous path he was treading, and he was determined to prove himself worthy of the chance to heal, to give hope, and to succeed.
But how could he ever explain the sense of guilt he felt? The guilt that still sometimes kept him awake at night? The guilt about Toby? Toby, one of his closest friends, had been on the same medical course, but had joined up to defend his country as soon as war was declared. Shouldn’t he, Sam, too, have put duty before his ruthless ambition?
Sam took a long breath as his