Page 20 of A Midlife Gamble

But he’d lifted his forefinger and was now tapping it against his lip, as if in the gentlest possible way he was asking her to stop talking, saying to her, that they were good without words. Which they were. They were always good. He’d steered her through that awful evening last August, the shock of Kay’s diagnosis, the coming to terms with the resignation from her job – which she hadn’t rescinded and which she would have to face the reality of when her final client was handed over in a couple of weeks… and of course, the death of her mother. He’d become a fixture in her life, perhaps the only one that she’d never pursued, or coveted, or pinned a thousand impossible hopes upon. Quiet and welcome as a summer breeze, comfortable as an armchair, he’d entered discreetly from stage left, or right, and never left. She put her head to one side and smiled. How lucky she felt.

Once again, Shook smiled back at her, then he took a sip of his coffee, mopped the froth from his lip, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, faded, bronze-coloured box.

Caro stared at it. She felt her stomach drop to her feet. Her hands, wrapped around her warm coffee, went icy cold. The box was a ring box. The box was a ring box… ‘Shook,’ she started, and again his finger was at his lip, tapping her silent. Good. Because she didn’t know what she would have said. Anything and everything that was on her mind. That’s what would have come out, that’s what people tended to do when they weren’t prepared. And she wasn’t prepared. Weekend walks and late-night, one-glass-of-wine-calls were one thing. Ring boxes? She was terrified, nervous and excited. Was that even possible at her age?

‘Of course I didn’t have to come in with you,’ Shook said. ‘You’re a big girl now.’

Caro pushed her hair back behind her ear. Her smile was weak with fear. Not for herself. For him. She had no idea what she would say, and her uncertainty was like a terrible power that she knew she had to keep hidden. Exposed, it could hurt him. It could hurt them both. It could… it probably would… be fatal if she said it now…I don't know,when he so obviously did.

‘And I understand this is not what you were expecting, ' he said and paused, his hand on the box. 'Which is why it isn't what you think it is.’

Caro didn't speak. She stared at the box. Across the bottom she could see a scroll of white, the jeweller’s name. Hirsz, Watchmakers & Jewellers.

‘This ring,’ Shook continued, ‘was my grandmother’s. I bought it back from Poland with me the last time I visited. There is a story behind it that…’ He smiled. ‘That I would very much like to tell you.’

Caro nodded. She was scrabbling for information. The last time Shook had been to Poland was Christmas, barely a couple of months after they had met, which left this whole scene even more unanchored. A crowded airport coffee shop? For her first ever proposal of marriage? At fifty-one, from a man who’dknownafter barely a few weeks? With a ring that had a story, that she wasn’t going to be told?

‘I know what you’re thinking.’ He smiled.

‘No you don’t.’

‘You’re thinking,Why now? Why here in this place?’ As if to emphasise the point, Shook offered his palm as he looked around the oh-so-ordinary scene surrounding them.

And because there was nothing else to do but laugh, Caro laughed. It was almost exactly what she’d been thinking.

And Shook laughed too. And for a moment they sat, looking at each other, laughing and shaking their heads.

Then, Shook stopped smiling and reached across and took her hand. ‘The only question I'm asking you is if one day you think you will say yes to hearing the story?'

She didn’t answer, watching in silence as Shook drew the box towards him and slipped it back in his pocket. 'I don't understand,' she said helplessly. Was this not a proposal of marriage then?

‘I know you, Caro,’ he answered quietly. ‘Sometimes, I think I know you better than you know yourself. You will need time to think about your answer. When you have, you can let me know and if the answer is yes, you would like to hear the story, I promise I will find somewhere that is not Starbucks to tell you.' His mouth twitched at one corner and his eyes crinkled in amusement.

‘And then?’ she whispered.

‘And then we will go from there.'

The only thing she could do was swallow down the swirl of emotion and nod in agreement. Perhaps he really did know her better than she knew herself. Mike had been the only man that she’d ever imagined progressing to this stage with. And every time she had entertained such imaginings, the one element she’d never accounted for was surprise. If it was coming, she’d already constructed the reality in which it would come with images of beaches or restaurants with sky-high views. And with so much else in place, she’d also known how she would answer. But this? Shook had blown every plan she'd never known she had into smithereens. And what’s more, he understood this. So what was he really doing? Asking her to marry him? Or asking her if she wanted to hear a story? She thought she knew, she really did, but it was as if in layering the scene in such a deep fog of ambiguity he was giving them both time and space to escape. He'd shown her a door and eased it open just a crack so she could see what lay behind. He did know her. He knew she could never jump blind. Gambling wasn't her style. Staking her future on one impetuous decision? Not her style at all.

’I won’t call you, or text while you’re away.'

‘You won’t?’

‘No. And that’s a promise,’ he said. ‘You can trust me.’

‘I know.’

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1 If you’d also like to hear Shook’s story, you can do so with the short story that accompanies this series.The story of the ring

PARTIII

9

Dear Kay! I can’t thank you enough for inviting me on this trip. I’m so excited. I haven’t been on holiday on my own like this since 1995! My son is telling me, Etekleri zil caliyor! This means all the bells on my skirt are ringing! It’s true if I’m wearing a skirt, but I’m too fat for them, even though I have been on a diet since you invited me. Only olives. For breakfast, dinner, lunch. Like that footballer’s wife. You know the footballer covered in tattoos? Never mind. The olives didn’t work. I’ve gone to meet an old friend. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I didn’t ask them to ring your room. My room is so beautiful! The hotel is beautiful! I can tell you my manager, Sofia, you remember, the one with her know-all degree in tourism, the one who makes me stand behind that plank of wood, she calls a desk? She could learn a thing or two about desks if she got her skinny backside over here! The only thing that is not good, is no chairs! Where are all the chairs?

I won’t be long. I brought with me all the out of date Pringle minis from the hotel. I left them on the table by the mirror in my room if you need a snack.

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