Jack's Proposal.

"Fetch!" The command drifted across the park, though the larger of
the two scruffy hounds had needed no encouragement to hare away after
the stick. Bounding across the grass, tongue lolling, he finally
cornered his prize. Satisfied, he worried it, flopped down and chewed
it mercilessly as his short-legged companion loped up, barking
furiously.

Harriet knew their owner: more correctly, she said "good morning" if
they passed. She regularly strolled down here, past the pond with its
argumentative ducks and busy anonymous coots, to sit in the sunshine
and idly watch the dogs running their energy off in repetitive pursuit
of mangled sticks. Sometimes, on Sundays, the grass was dotted with
young footballers shouting and pushing each other over. Dogs, kids.. it
was all the same, really; youngsters letting off steam. It was good to
see it.

But where was Jack, the daft old codger? This was typical, Harriet
sighed to herself. Punctuality had never been his strong point, not
ever. Even fifty years before, when they'd first met, he'd been
unreliable. If he'd had more sense, their lives would have taken very
different courses. She'd never have allowed Ted, her late husband, to
even ask her out, and Jack might not have drifted into a contented but
passionless marriage with Edna. Only after her death had the two met
again - entirely by accident, at an afternoon dance.

The years had fallen away in a quite remarkable fashion: they'd both
been able to dig out old photos, and Jack had instantly complimented
Harriet on not having changed one bit. He was like that; unreliable,
but an old charmer.. and irresistible. They'd seldom spent a whole day
apart since that lucky encounter, and it had seemed entirely natural
when Jack had hinted that maybe they should get together at last. None
of this moving in together lark, he'd said firmly, he wanted to do it
properly. Harriet had blushed, of course, and gone all coy on
him.

Harriet had mentioned Jack's comment to her older daughter, Helen, just
to test the water, and had been delighted by her positive response. Why
not? Helen had laughed. Go on, he makes you laugh. You deserve each
other. Harriet had pretended not to know whether that was a compliment
or an insult, but she'd rightly taken it as a green light.

But where was he? it was eleven thirty-five, and he'd definitely said
half past. Then again, he'd always been a joker, delighting in juvenile
pranks even at his age. Harriet peered round, saw nothing and returned
to the canine antics on the grass.

"Boo!"

"You silly.." Harriet twisted round to find Jack grinning at her.
"Where did you spring from? You could have given me a heart
attack!"

"Never!" Jack strode briskly round the bench and sat beside her, taking
her hand to his lips.

"Am I forgiven?"

"Of course," Harriet said. "But where did you spring from? And you're
late again."

"Old military training," Jack tapped his nose and winked. "They never
saw mw coming then, and you never lose the skill. And besides.."

"Besides what?" Harriet pretended that she didn't know what was on his
mind.

"Well, I've hinted often enough."

"What about?" Harriet asked, wide-eyed.

"You don't make it easy for a chap, do you?" Jack sighed, a knowing
twinkle in his eye.

"Woman's prerogative."

"Yes." Jack slipped from the bench to his knees and took Harriet's hand
again. "Would you do me the very great honour of becoming my
wife?"

"Why, Jack! I don't know what to say!"

"Yes you do," Jack insisted.

"Yes I do. Yes," Harriet replied softly.

"Then what about a kiss?" Jack responded eagerly. Returning to the
bench, he gave his new fiance no chance to resist.

"Stop, you'll be making everyone stare.." Harriet insisted, breaking
off to rearrange her hair. "Come on, let's walk down to the lake. It's
quieter there."

"Quieter? no-one seems to be bothered about two old fogies like us!"
Jack was correct: the families strolling past seemed oblivious to the
happy couple on the bench. Only one toddler interrupted the assault on
his ice cream to stare, and he was rapidly dragged off by his
parents.

"If you'll take my arm, Mrs Barnwood?"

"It's not Mrs Barnwood yet."

"It should be. It should have been for the last fifty years." Jack said
quietly, assisting Harriet to her feet. It wasn't often Jack expressed
himself like that, and Harriet looked up to meet his steady gaze.

"Maybe." Harriet patted the hand on her arm. Jack's grip was still
commendably firm, she thought: maybe it was the result of all those
years in the army. In fact, he was still a good-looking man for his
years; tall, tanned, lively-minded. They'd make a good couple. Jack,
his lifelong wish granted, was thinking much the same thing as they
gazed out over the noisy lake: watching everything, seeing very
little.

"It took me long enough to ask you," Jack admitted. "Then as now,
always late."

"I thought you'd never get round to it!" Harriet laughed.

"I always knew I'd ask you, if it was the last thing I did," Jack said.
"Always."

"You didn't disappoint me," Harriet sighed, stopping to lean on the
chipped railing. "I remember you saying once, a very long time ago,
that we'd end up together someday. If not, you'd come back and haunt
me."

"Did I say that?"

"You did. Yes, I recall that clearly."

They set off again, passing the energetic canine friends and their
owner. The pair had recently been in the lake, and were squabbling over
their much-chewed stick again.

"Morning," Harriet said, and was surprised when the other woman
stopped.

"Excuse me asking.." she said. "But are you feeling well? There's
nothing the matter?"

"I feel wonderful!" Harriet laughed. "Better than I have for years!
Why?"

"Oh, nothing. Sorry." The dog owner hurried off after her quarrelsome
pets. Harriet had more important things on her mind, and thought little
of the odd incident. At the gates, Jack halted abruptly before pointing
back to the playground.

"What's that?" he asked, relaxing his grip.

"What?" Harriet squinted into the sun. She saw nothing odd.
"Where?"

She looked back over her shoulder, but, strangely, she was alone again.
Striding across to the scrubby bushes, she peered through. To her
surprise, Jack wasn't hiding there.

"You daft.." she mouthed. There was nothing unusual about this: Jack
was renowned for his impish sense of humour. She'd simply hoped that,
today of all days, he'd hold it in check. But no.. she'd catch up with
the old terror at his house. He'd probably be back there already,
breaking the news.

Harriet left the park, crossed the busy main road and headed off down
Gladstone Crescent. Jack had lived at number fourteen even when she'd
first met him, and no doubt he'd be expecting her to join him there
after the ceremony. She had her own thoughts on that subject.

She rapped the door quietly, and for a moment no-one answered. When it
finally swung back, Harriet was utterly unprepared for the sight that
met her.

"Anne!" she shouted, stepping into the musty hall to grasp Jack's
daughter by the arms. "What on earth.."

"We.. we phoned," Anne stammered. "You weren't at home.."

"I was in the park!" Harriet said. "For God's sake, Anne, what is
it?"

"It's dad," Anne sobbed. "He was just getting ready to go out, and.. it
was quick. His heart, they said. The ambulance was here just after
half-past, but it was.. too late.

"What?" Harriet stepped back, her head spinning out of control, and
grabbed for the banister. "But.."

"Oh, Harriet, I'm so, so sorry. He was going to ask you this morning.
He didn't talk about anything else over breakfast," Anne howled.
"Today, he was going to propose if it was the last thing he ever
did.."

"Yes, Anne, he did," Harriet whispered as the burning tears coursed
down her cheeks. Anne stared at her, trying desperately hard to
understand. "He did.."