Chapter Fifty-Five

There was a break of a few seconds as the record was changed and then the unmistakable sound of Bing Crosby singing ‘White Christmas’ rang out, bringing even more people onto the floor. The back-to-back slow songs were a sign that the Christmas Extravaganza was drawing to a close. Quentin continued to hold Angie tight as they danced. The song was one of Angie’s favourites.

The time had come.

‘It’s been the best Christmas Day ever, hasn’t it?’ Angie’s voice was low and a little tired, but she sounded happy and contented. The extravaganza had been a huge success. Much more than she or Dorothy or any of the women could have wished for or imagined.

‘It will be,’ Quentin said.

‘What do you mean, “It will be”?’ Angie looked at him with a puzzled expression.

‘I want to ask you something,’ Quentin said. ‘And then it will be. Or I hope it will be.’

He slowly stopped dancing and looked at Angie. Taking hold of her hand, he pulled her to a quieter, darker area of the dance floor.

Putting his hand in his pocket, he panicked. Damn it! He’d been checking it was there obsessively all day. He had purposely taken the ring out of the little red leather box as he wanted to put it on Angie’s finger himself. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when he felt the slightly jagged edge of the diamond.

Angie was looking at Quentin, thinking he had gone quite white.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

‘I’m fine,’ Quentin said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever felt better in my entire life.’ His beaming smile showed the veracity of his words.

‘Although I’m a little nervous,’ he added.

As he went to pull the ring out of his pocket, he did so a little too quickly – at the exact moment the nurse and the soldier with the bandaged head, who had been chatting as they danced and not watching where they were going, bumped into him.

The slight collision caused Quentin to stumble forward.

As he did so, his arm went out to steady himself and he accidentally tossed the ring up into the air.

Angie put her arms out to save Quentin from toppling over, but she was looking up in the air, mesmerised by the glint of the ring.

Of the diamond ring.

Quentin was going to propose!

Of course he was. Why hadn’t she cottoned on earlier? All those trips to the toilets. And he’d seemed uncomfortable in his jacket. Had kept fidgeting. Checking his breast pocket.

For the ring.

The diamond ring.

The diamond ring now flying up into the air.

All these thoughts raced through Angie’s head as she watched the ring drop down, giving in to gravity and hitting the dance floor.

Fear and panic struck.

Someone might stand on it.

‘Where’s it gone?’ Angie asked, alarmed.

She stood with Quentin, staring at the ground, desperately looking for it.

‘There!’ Angie shouted out as she spotted the ring on the floor.

Before Quentin had a chance to get it, Angie leapt forward. Seeing a couple about to waltz right over it, she splayed her arms out to stop them going near it, then ducked down and snatched it up.

‘Oh, thank goodness for that!’ She held the ring out and beamed at Quentin. ‘I thought it was gonna get crushed.’

Quentin looked at Angie, standing there holding the ring out to him.

‘Don’t worry,’ he reassured her, ‘diamonds are pretty sturdy.’

This proposal was not going the way it should.

He looked at the diamond, unsure what to do next. Should he take the ring off her? Or just drop down on one knee? God, he wished he’d planned this better.

Suddenly, he became aware that people had stopped dancing and were looking at them both. Angie, though, seemed oblivious. Her attention focused on the ring.

‘Angie, I wanted to tell you how much I love you,’ Quentin said.

Angie was still staring at the ring. It couldn’t be? Could it? It looked like the ring, but, no, really, it couldn’t be. They had sold it to the jeweller’s on Blandford Street.

She looked up at Quentin.

‘I think this is the same ring that Dor sold,’ she said, incredulous.

‘It is,’ Quentin said. ‘It is the same ring.’

Angie looked at Quentin, then to the ring and then back to Quentin.

‘Oh. My. God,’ Angie said, realising she sounded like Dorothy and not caring.

‘Did yer buy it for me?’ she asked, still incredulous.

‘I did,’ Quentin said.

‘I love this ring,’ she said. ‘How did yer knar I loved it so much?’

Quentin raised his eyebrows.

‘Of course! Dorothy!’ Angie exclaimed.

‘White Christmas’ had now ended and ‘Only Forever’ had started to play.

‘Are yer giving it to me?’ Angie said, holding out the ring.

Quentin nodded.

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ Quentin said. He hesitated. ‘But there’s a condition attached.’

Angie made a puzzled expression.

‘What’s that?’

Now was the time.

The whole dance floor had come to a standstill. Everyone was quiet. Only Bing Crosby’s velvet voice filled the air.

‘The condition being …’ Quentin said ‘… that you agree to be my wife.’

What had happened to dropping down on his knee and asking her properly? This was not how he’d envisaged his proposal. Not in the slightest.

He watched as his words sank in and Angie’s face was illuminated by a wide smile.

She flung her arms around him and hugged him.

‘Ah, Quentin! I’d love to be your wife. Love. Love. Love to be your wife.’ She kissed him full on the lips.

As soon as she did so, the canteen erupted into cheers and whistles and shouts.

Quentin kissed her back, feeling like the happiest man on the planet. Now this really was the best Christmas ever. It might have ended up the most disastrous proposal of marriage ever, but he couldn’t have asked for a more perfect response. The woman he loved more than anyone else in the world loved him back with equal fervour. Angie was as excited about being his wife as he was about being her husband.

He’d found his perfect match. His own rough diamond. And like the song that was playing said, he knew their love was for ever.

‘Oh. My. God!’ Dorothy declared as soon as everyone had stopped clapping and congratulating Angie and Quentin.

Dorothy was ecstatic. She had been watching and waiting intently, knowing that the moment was imminent. Seeing them on the dance floor, she had taken over the music and was pleased as punch that she had managed to put on ‘Only Forever’ just as Quentin had finally decided to propose.

‘You’re going to get married!’ She grabbed her best friend and hugged her hard.

Angie hugged her back equally hard.

‘Eee, Dor, look at the ring!’ She held her hand out. ‘Yer dinnit mind, do yer?’

Dorothy laughed. ‘Of course I dinnit mind!’

‘It was actually Dorothy’s idea,’ Quentin admitted. ‘She rang me the day you’d been to the jeweller’s and sold it.’

‘Really?’ Angie said. ‘Did yer really, Dor?’

‘I did. Really,’ Dorothy laughed. ‘Quentin rang Mr Golding the next day and told him that he wanted to buy the ring and to keep it for him.’

‘Ahh, Dor, thank you!’ Angie hugged her friend again.

‘I’m just glad you said yes.’ Dorothy threw a guilty look at Quentin, who had just been handed a cigar by one of the soldiers. ‘I thought I might have gone on too much about marriage being all about—’

‘Baking and breeding,’ Angie and Quentin said in unison, chuckling.

Dorothy laughed. Of course, she should have guessed Angie would have told Quentin. They told each other everything.

Feeling herself being gently nudged to the side, she looked to see the rest of the women waiting to congratulate their friend.

‘Move over, Dor, yer can’t hog her all to yerself,’ Gloria said, opening her arms and embracing her workmate.

Rosie, Polly, Martha, Hannah and Georgina followed suit.

‘Congratulations, Angie!’ They all beamed.

Dorothy looked over their heads to see Olly and Adam, the tuba player, waiting a few yards away. ‘All this proposing malarkey might be contagious.’

Martha shook her head in exasperation. It was not the first time this evening that Dorothy had jibed her about her new friend.

Hannah laughed. ‘Olly has to complete a full cycle of the Jewish calendar before he can convert.’

Everyone looked at Gloria.

‘Looks like you’ll be next on the list, then,’ said Dorothy.

‘Congratulations!’

They all looked around, having recognised Helen’s voice.

‘Wishing you both all the happiness and love in the world!’ Helen put her arms out and gave Angie a kiss on the cheek. She then shook Quentin’s hand.

‘Ah, thanks, Helen,’ Angie said. Her face was a picture of pure joy. ‘That’s lovely.’

‘Happiness and love!’ Dorothy said.

‘Happiness and love!’ the women chorused, all beaming.

Quentin’s proposal brought the Christmas Extravaganza to a natural and very happy end – an ending made all the more special when one of the wounded soldiers hobbled to the front of the makeshift dance hall on crutches and shouted out for quiet. His tone was commanding. Everyone obeyed.

‘Bet you he was a sergeant major,’ Dorothy whispered to Bobby.

Everyone’s attention was focused on the smartly dressed army officer. Even the left trouser leg, which was now redundant, had been neatly pinned back.

Bobby stood behind Dorothy and put his arms around her waist as they waited to listen to what the officer had to say.

‘On behalf of all the soldiers in the Ryhope Emergency Hospital, I want to convey a huge “Thank you” to the organisers of this Christmas Extravaganza. I don’t know the names of all those who have made this happen, and I wouldn’t want to name anyone, in case I left someone out – but I do know that the idea and most of the hard work and fundraising has been done by a group of women welders from Thompson’s shipyard in town.’

There was some muttering.

He grinned.

‘Yes, you heard right. A group of women welders!’

Dorothy, Angie, Rosie, Gloria, Polly, Hannah and Martha all looked at each other and beamed with pride.

‘I can say hand on heart that there isn’t a soldier here that has not been taken aback by the time and effort that has gone into making this day so special. You have all sacrificed most of your own Christmas Day to be with us. I can’t say how much that alone means to us, never mind all the presents, food – and entertainment.’

There were a few whistles at this point.

Dorothy looked over at Dahlia and Marie-Anne, who were smiling and lapping up the last bit of attention.

‘So, thank you!’ the sergeant major said, resting his elbows on the top of his crutches and putting his hands together. ‘Thank you! And wishing you all a Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year!’

The canteen was filled with the sound of shouts and whistles and clapping.

The women looked at each other. They were all beaming from ear to ear. Their eyes shining with emotion.

This Christmas really had been the best ever.