Chapter Seven

‘Wow! You look amazing,’ Toby said on seeing Dorothy open the main front door to the flats.

He looked puzzled. ‘You weren’t expecting me, were you?’

Dorothy felt another punch of guilt.

‘No …’ She stepped out onto the front step and shut the door behind her.

‘The Ritz?’ he asked.

Dorothy nodded. She was finding words difficult. She looked at Toby and thought how handsome he was in his officer’s uniform. The first time she’d seen him at Lily’s, he’d been in his uniform. She took his arm and guided him down the steps.

‘I hope Angie doesn’t mind?’ he asked.

‘No, no, not at all.’ Dorothy forced a laugh. ‘She’s probably glad. Probably racing upstairs this very moment to put her pyjamas on and then ring Quentin.’

When they reached the end of Foyle Street, they stopped.

‘The Palatine?’ Toby suggested.

Dorothy had to stop herself from screaming ‘No!’ After Toby’s proposal in the hotel’s dining room, she didn’t think she wanted to step foot in the place ever again.

‘Why don’t we just go somewhere more casual,’ she said, turning left into Borough Road.

‘Suits me,’ Toby said, sensing an awkwardness from Dorothy. An awkwardness he had picked up over the phone when they last spoke. Which was why he’d travelled up this evening to see her. To speak to her face-to-face. Find out exactly what was really going on in her head. Did she want to marry him or not? He could normally read Dorothy like a book, but her reaction to his proposal had thrown him.

They walked past Gloria’s flat – now Gloria and Jack’s flat. Crossing the road, they arrived at the Burton House pub. Toby opened the door and Dorothy stepped inside. She felt her heart hammering with nerves. This was going to be so much harder face-to-face.

Once they’d got their drinks and were sitting at a table by the window in a quiet corner, Toby looked at Dorothy. He had never seen her so subdued. Or was she nervous?

‘We’ve not had a chance to really talk properly after …’ Toby hesitated ‘… after I asked you to marry me.’ He took a sip of his beer.

Dorothy didn’t say anything. Didn’t know what to say. She kept thinking of what she and Angie had agreed would be good to say, but her mind had gone blank. All she kept thinking about was the good times they’d had together, their walks along the promenade, the Valentine’s Day when he’d surprised her at the yard and taken her to the Bungalow Café – then told her he loved her. And she had fallen in love with him, hadn’t she? Or had she fallen in love with the idea of falling in love? Oh God, she just didn’t know any more.

‘I know you wanted some time to think things over, which I totally understand. But I thought rather than talk on the phone, it would be best for us to see each other.’

Dorothy nodded. Her mind was still racing with a myriad thoughts and feelings – and memories. She took a large gulp of her lemonade. She had ordered a soft drink because she wanted to keep her head clear.

Toby looked at Dorothy. Since she had told him she needed time to think about his proposal he had begun to doubt her feelings for him. He’d have been a fool not to. Something had made her unsure. Something had changed, although he was not sure what that something was. Nor when that change had happened. He had thought it had been on the day of the proposal, but had there been hints of change before then?

‘If I said to you,’ Toby asked tentatively, ‘that I had taken the ring back to the jeweller’s, what would you say?’

He watched Dorothy’s expression change to one of relief and felt his heart drop.

‘I would say,’ she said carefully, ‘that doing so might have been a good idea.’ She took another big glug of her lemonade.

‘Should I take that to mean you don’t want to marry me?’ Toby decided to just come out and say it. There could be no more beating about the bush.

Dorothy could feel tears start to prick her eyes. She had never felt so terrible in her entire life. She almost wished the tables were turned and it was Toby who had done the dirty – not her. At least that was something she was used to.

‘I’m so sorry, Toby,’ she began. ‘I really am.’

‘I’ll take that as a no, then.’

Dorothy nodded.

They were quiet for a moment. Suddenly, it felt as though there was nothing else left to say.

They supped their drinks in silence for a few minutes.

‘I just don’t understand,’ Toby said. ‘I thought we were happy. We’ve known each other for a year and a half, and I know we’ve not had a lot of time together, but when we’ve not been able to see each other we’ve chatted on the phone – I’ve even met your parents. I thought we were good together?’

‘You’re right,’ Dorothy said. ‘We do know each other. We have been happy. Very happy.’

‘And I have to say,’ Toby continued, ‘I really thought the love I felt for you was reciprocated.’

‘It was. It is,’ Dorothy said, unsure of herself.

‘Was or is?’ Toby asked.

Dorothy let out a huge sigh. She couldn’t do this any more. Suddenly, Mrs Kwiatkowski’s face came to mind and her words about being honest.

‘I kissed Bobby,’ she said simply.

Toby sat speechless for a moment.

‘You kissed Bobby,’ he repeated. Still not quite believing his ears.

‘I don’t know what came over me. He came round and told me he’d sorted things out with his mam and, well, we ended up kissing.’

Dorothy looked at Toby’s face. Saw hurt and anger.

‘You kissed him the evening I asked you to marry me?’

‘Yes, but it was before you asked me.’

Toby let out a bitter laugh.

‘Ah, that makes it all right then.’

He shook his head and looked out of the window.

‘You kissed Bobby and then sat with me through an entire three-course meal at the Palatine and let me propose to you – all the while having just been with Bobby.’

Dorothy looked at Toby and couldn’t think of anything to say that might justify what she’d done.

‘You know,’ Toby said after a few moments’ silence, ‘I thought there might be someone else, but I dismissed it. I actually felt guilty for thinking it about you.’ He looked at Dorothy as though she were a stranger, which at this moment he felt she was. ‘When you didn’t say yes, I thought something was up. I’ve thought about it a lot these past few weeks, but every time I wondered if there was anyone else, I slapped the very thought of it away. Not Dorothy. Not my Dorothy.’

He let out a bark of mirthless laughter.

‘I should have known,’ Toby said, finishing off his beer. ‘Ever since Bobby came on the scene it’s been Bobby this, Bobby that – I should have realised.’ He could have kicked himself. Of course. There’d been an awkwardness that afternoon when he had arrived at the flat and found them both in the kitchen. What an idiot he was!

‘But it wasn’t like that!’ Dorothy tried to justify herself. ‘All I really wanted was for Bobby to make it up with Gloria.’ She bit her lip. ‘And then … well … he did make it up … and … I don’t know what happened … It just came out of the blue.’

Even as she was speaking, Dorothy knew she was not being entirely honest. Ever since Bobby had turned up at Gloria’s flat that night after being medically discharged from the navy, she had felt a pull towards him. Not just of attraction, but something more. A feeling of simply wanting to be with him.

‘I’m sorry, Toby. I really am,’ Dorothy said, not knowing what else to say. Everything she and Angie had planned for her to say while they’d been getting ready had gone out the window.

‘I’m sorry too, Dorothy!’ Toby stood up and put his cap back on. ‘I don’t think you will ever know how much.’

Dorothy stood up. ‘You’re going?’

‘I don’t see much point in sticking around, do you?’

Again, Dorothy found herself at a loss for words.

Toby turned and headed towards the exit. Dorothy followed. They each forced a smile as a worker coming into the pub held the door open for them.

Stepping out onto the pavement, the stony silence between them remained strained.

As they started walking along the street back to the flat, a familiar figure suddenly appeared striding along Borough Road, heading in their direction.

It was Bobby.

Dorothy recognised him first. His tall, muscular physique and rolling gait, which only seemed to accentuate his broad shoulders, were now familiar to her. She guessed he must be heading to Gloria’s to see Hope. She hadn’t thought about the possibility they might bump into him. But then again, she hadn’t expected Toby to turn up. God! Talk about bad timing!

It took a few more seconds before Toby saw him and realised who it was. As soon as he did, he came to an abrupt halt. As did Bobby when he looked up and saw it was Toby.

The two men were now facing each other, just yards apart. A standstill followed by a stand-off.

‘Hello, Bobby,’ Toby said, his voice flat and unfriendly.

And then – quick as lightning – he pulled back his arm and punched Bobby in the face.

Dorothy let out an involuntary scream.

Bobby staggered back a few paces, his hand rubbing his chin. The blow had split his lip and there was blood.

‘I’ll let you have that one for free,’ he said, dabbing his mouth with the back of his overall sleeve. ‘I deserved it.’ He looked at Dorothy. ‘Although I have to admit, it was worth it.’ He saw Toby’s fists clench, ready to let rip again, provoked by his words. ‘The next one’s not for free, though,’ he said, straightening himself up to his full height.

The words were barely out of his mouth when Toby took another swing. This time, though, Bobby was ready. He ducked, causing Toby’s bunched-up fist to glance off the side of his face.

‘Stop it!’ Dorothy screeched.

Neither man was listening. They were both grappling with one another and throwing the odd punch.

Dorothy saw something small and square drop out of Toby’s pocket and fall to the ground. She went to pick it up and saw it was the little velvet box that contained the diamond engagement ring.

Looking up, she saw that a few drinkers had come out of the pub.

Behind Bobby and Toby’s brawling bodies, she noticed Jack coming up the steps from the basement flat. He, too, had heard the commotion.

Two of the men from the pub grabbed hold of Toby at the same time that Jack grabbed Bobby from behind.

Toby fought to be free.

Bobby, seeing that it was Jack who was trying to restrain him, didn’t. He dropped his fists and Jack let go of his grip.

Toby and Bobby stood panting and glaring at each other. Each man had a trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth and what looked like the beginning of a black eye.

Bobby allowed himself to be pulled back by Jack, then guided away from any more confrontation and down to the basement flat.

Dorothy yanked Toby by the sleeve of his uniform, forcing him to walk along the road and turn the corner into Foyle Street.

Pulling out a hanky from her handbag, she gave it to him.

‘Come back to mine and let me see to those cuts,’ she said. She didn’t know whether to feel angry at Toby for having a go at Bobby or to feel sorry that he was hurt – and not just physically.

‘No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m fine,’ Toby said, handing her back the handkerchief.

He walked over to his car. Swinging the driver’s door open, he glared at Dorothy.

‘I hope Bobby makes you happy,’ he said, his words devoid of sincerity.

Dorothy wanted to say something – but couldn’t think of anything at all.

Suddenly, she realised that she was still holding the small box with the ring in it.

‘Oh my God,’ she said, holding the box up in the air. ‘Toby!’ She ran over to the car. ‘Your ring!’

Toby was sitting behind the wheel. He wound the window down.

‘No,’ he said, ‘it’s your ring, Dorothy. Do what you like with it … You can chuck it in the Wear for all I care.’

And with that he wound the window back up, turned the ignition and fired up the engine.

Tears started to form in Dorothy’s eyes. She tried to blink them back, but it was no good, they started to drip slowly down her face.

Through a blur she looked on as the man she had loved – the man she had believed she would marry – pulled away.

Watching as the car turned right at the bottom of the street and disappeared from view, she knew Toby was gone for good. She knew she would never see or hear from him again.

When Dorothy came through the main entrance to the flats, she went straight to Mrs Kwiatkowski’s. Angie was, as predicted, in her pyjamas, nursing a cup of tea, having just got off the phone to Quentin.

‘Dor! Yer back!’ Angie said, staring at her friend. ‘We thought yer might be longer, didn’t we, Mrs Kwiatkowski?’

The old woman nodded.

Seeing the tear stains, Angie jumped out of her seat. ‘Are yer all reet, Dor?’

Dorothy took one look at her friend and burst out crying.

Angie guided her towards one of the chairs by the kitchen table.

Dorothy slumped down on it.

‘I feel so awful,’ Dorothy said between the tears. ‘Really, really awful.’

‘What’s happened?’ Angie asked, suddenly noticing that Dorothy was gripping something in her right hand.

Mrs Kwiatkowski poured out a cup of tea.

‘I told him …’ She looked up at Mrs Kwiatkowski. ‘About Bobby.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Angie.

‘Then we bumped into him on the way back home.’

‘What? Bobby?’ Angie asked, incredulous.

Dorothy nodded.

‘They had a fight.’

Angie’s hand went to her mouth.

Mrs Kwiatkowski went over to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Polish vodka. She held it up for Angie and Dorothy to see. They nodded vigorously.

Realising she was still holding the ring box, Dorothy suddenly let it go as though it was poison.

‘Is that what I think it is?’ asked Angie.

‘It is,’ Dorothy said, glancing across at her elderly neighbour, who was pouring good measures into three small shot glasses. She pushed the box towards Angie, who took it and tentatively opened it.

‘Cor!’ Angie’s eyes almost popped out. ‘I’ve never seen a diamond ring like this.’

Dorothy smiled through the tears. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

‘It is that,’ Angie gasped, entranced. ‘But yer have to give him it back.’

‘I tried to, but he wouldn’t have it. He said I could chuck it in the river for all he cared.’

Angie looked at her neighbour. ‘What dee yer think, Mrs Kwiatkowski?’

‘I think the ring would just be a reminder of his heartache,’ she mused. ‘And it sounds as though he is not in need of the money. From what I have gathered during your courtship, he is a man of not insubstantial means.’

‘Yer reet there, he’s loaded,’ Angie confirmed, looking back down at the ring in the box she was still holding.

‘Well, if that’s the case,’ Mrs Kwiatkowski surmised, ‘you’ll have to think about something good you can do with it.’