Chapter 11

Wendy found choosing an engagement ring rather unnerving. They had to wait in the jeweller's before being served so looked at the rings on display. She was horrified by the prices. She held onto Tim's upper arm with two hands and looked up at him.

"They're so expensive," she whispered.

"And worth every penny for you, my Wendy."

She gulped.

At last an assistant greeted them.

"Good morning," said Tim. "We're looking for an engagement ring."

"Certainly, sir. Have you any particular stone in mind?"

They both looked expectantly at Wendy who nervously shook her head and looked pleadingly at Tim.

"How about an emerald? It would go beautifully with your eyes."

Wendy blushed and nodded. She tried several on but as far as she was concerned they were all beautiful and she did not want Tim to have to pay too much. Even so she narrowed the selection down to two which she exchanged on her finger a number of times. At last she took the larger one off, gazed at it and resolutely picked up the other one.

"This one?" she asked in a nervous little voice.

"I get the feeling you actually prefer the other one," Tim said softly.

She shook her head. "It'll cost a bomb."

"As I said earlier, worth every penny for you, my Wendy."

Her eyes filled and she buried her face in his chest. His good arm held her. He smiled at the assistant.

"We'll have that one," he said pointing to the one she had rejected.

"Certainly, sir. May I just try the fit please, miss?"

He put the ring on her finger and moved it about. "A little bit on the loose side I'd have said. What do you think?"

Wendy nodded.

"Right! Well if you like to come back any time after two we'll have it ready for you."

Wendy could still do no more than nod.

"Thank you," said Tim. "Come on, my darling. Let's go and find some lunch."

Wendy still said nothing and continued to cling to his arm all the way to the pub despite his crutches. When they got there she dragged him into the vestibule outside the lavatories, pulled his head down and kissed him long and tenderly.

"You, darling, generous, sweet, loving man," she said at last. "Oh, Tim how I love you!" Bursting into tears, she turned and fled into the Ladies.

Smiling happily Tim returned to the bar where he ordered himself a pint of bitter and went and sat at the table they had used when they first met. The barman brought his drink over to him.

When Wendy rejoined him she had washed her face, combed her hair and was looking radiant. Tim felt a lump in his throat.

"My fiancée is a very lovely girl," he said taking her hand. "What's she going to drink? Not coke again, I hope."

She shook her head. "A lager, please."

"Do you mind ordering it yourself? I don't want to make the barman bring it over again. It's on a tab."

"OK." She almost skipped to the bar.

She returned with her drink and a menu. "And I'm not going to have burger and chips this time either," she grinned. "Scampi instead but I'm still going to have chips, so there!"

They enjoyed their lunch having coffee afterwards to kill time. The assistant was waiting for them at the jeweller's. He handed the box to Tim.

"You might like to check it for size, sir," he smiled.

Tim smiled back and handed over his card. He opened the box, took out the ring and took Wendy's left hand. He slipped the ring onto her finger, lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

"Too late to change your mind now, my love," he said.

"Not a hope in a million years," she replied gazing at the ring. She looked up, flung her arms round his neck and kissed him, hard. "Thank you, my darling. Thank you, thank you, thank you." She released him stamped her foot. "No! I am not going to cry again."

The assistant handed the card machine to Tim. "How does it feel, miss?" he asked.

"Perfect! Thank you very, very much."

At that moment two men came in. Both were wearing hoodies and one carried a pistol.

"All of you! Over there!"

He gestured to his left.

Tim, Wendy and the assistant serving them obeyed silently. There was another assistant present, a stoutish middle aged woman behind the other counter. She moved cautiously round it and joined the others.

The gunman's command had been loud enough to be heard in the workshop at the back of the store. The craftsman there did not hesitate. He hit the panic button for the police. That did not set off the alarm but it sent armed police racing to the shop. The watchkeeper at the police station also alerted officers on foot patrol in the city who made their way to the jeweller's. Two minutes later sirens could be heard wailing.

The apparently unarmed thief took a jemmy from the voluminous pocket of his hoody and smashed the glass of one of the display cabinets. That set the alarm off. The gunman turned to his mate.

"Get a fucking move on," he yelled.

"What the fuck do you think do you think I'm doing?" replied the other as he shovelled jewellery into his pockets.

Tim silently slipped his left crutch to the male assistant who was beside him, quickly reversed his other crutch and, despite the agony in his left knee, took a half pace forward and hit the gunman behind the ear with the pommel. The upper and side surfaces of the pommel may have been paddeded but the ends were not. The gunman went down as though pole-axed. The pistol flew out of his hand. The male assistant did not hesitate and, dropping Tim's crutch launched himself in a rugby tackle at the other thief who hit his head on the floor as he landed. The plump female assistant was not going to be left out of the fun, raced round the counter and sat heavily on his head, probably adding to his concussion.

The craftsman stuck his head round from the back again, read the situation and phoned a report through to the police that it was safe for officers to enter the premises unarmed.

In the meanwhile, Tim had fallen to the floor and was clutching his knee and grimacing. Not a sound emerged though.