She knew that wasn’t true. Eve was the daughter of a policeman and she was not a stupid girl. She did not know exactly how Joseph came by these things, but she knew it wasn’t legitimate. She had considered giving the first gift back to him, but they were so nice and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings and she couldn’t see the harm in accepting them. One gift had led to the other and then to the next and by that time she had decided it would have been churlish to hand them back and so she had kept them. And why shouldn’t she have some of the nicer things in life?

She thought of her Uncle Charlie. She had been worried about his proposal for the first few days but he hadn’t asked much of her––so far, at least––and she had allowed herself to relax about it a little. He had arranged to meet her three times and they had chatted about things, usually over a coffee in one of the new coffee bars that were springing up in Mayfair and Kensington. It was just little pieces of information every now and again: who Joseph was going out with, what had she heard about his aunt and uncle, his friends and the other members of his family? None of it seemed dangerous or damaging and she had started to believe that perhaps she could manage her uncle, give him just enough to keep him satisfied but no more. It wasn’t as if Joseph told her very much about his business, after all. How could she be expected to tell him things that she didn’t know? She had told him that and he had appeared to believe it.

She checked her make-up in the glass. She looked lovely. As she collected her handbag she realised that she was a little drunk. She was a very moderate drinker and she had allowed Joseph to pour her a second glass of wine with dinner. It was all going to her head. She would have to put a stop to that.

Vincanto was especially nice. They had been to plenty of other places, fancy establishments, but they usually ended up here. She felt special as she made her way back into the dining room. She knew she was pretty, she was beautifully dressed and waiting for her at the table was her beau, and wasn’t he a cracker?

“You took your time,” he said, grinning at her.

“Had to make sure my make-up looked alright.”

“What are you on about, girl? You look a million dollars.”

The table was lit by a candle and the warm golden light flickered across his face. She felt the familiar flutter in her stomach. The light danced in his dark eyes, his olive skin framed by his jet black hair with that errant strand that curled above his left eye. He was so handsome. Such a dish. He could have had anyone he wanted and she had no idea why he was interested in her.

Their waiter arrived at the table with an ice bucket, a bottle of champagne and two flutes.

“This is our best bottle, sir,” he said. “Bollinger Extra Quality Brut, 1943.”

Joseph took the bottle and turned it in his hand. “Looks blinding,” he said. “Thank you. I’ll do the honours myself.”

“Yes, of course, sir.” He took the hint and backed away.

“I’m not sure I can manage another glass,” Eve said.

“Nonsense,” he told her. “Just the one. If you don’t want it all, you don’t have to drink it.”

“It looks too expensive to waste.” She screwed up her nose. “Is it?”

“It’s not cheap, but that don’t matter. We need a splash to celebrate.” He shifted awkwardly in his chair. “We’ve been serious for ages now, ain’t we? Five months, and then all the time from before. I haven’t been out with anyone for as long as I’ve been with you. I wasn’t planning it, you know. Out where I was, with no women for so long, I had it in my mind that I’d stay a single lad for a while.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I met you again, didn’t I? It’s got me thinking––I’ve never been with someone like you before. I’m serious, Eve––I can’t hardly stop thinking about you.”

“Joseph––”

“Hold on. I’ve been building myself up to say this all day and I want to get it out straight. It’s like I said, see, I’m serious about us. You and me. I want to prove it.”

“You don’t have to prove anything.”

Joseph ignored her. He stood and then lowered himself to one knee.

“What are you doing?” she almost squealed.

He took a box from his pocket and opened it. “What do you think about us getting married?”

She looked: inside the box was a diamond ring. It had a large oval stone in the centre, set in platinum, and accented with smaller pear-shaped stones all the way around.

She gaped at him. “Oh, my goodness. I––I––” She took the ring and turned it in her fingers. Her mouth opened and closed as she searched for words.

“So what do you say?

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Well say something, girl! You’re not going to leave me here like this, are you?––I feel like a right bloody lemon.”

She slipped the ring onto her finger. “Yes,” she said with sudden impetuousness. “Oh, yes, of course!”

“Terrific.”

Eve hadn’t noticed, but the other diners had stopped their conversations to observe them. With her happy acceptance, several of them started to applaud. It quickly spread around the room until, finally, Joseph stood and declared that everyone should have a glass of champagne on him and, then, once the drink had been poured and he had popped the cork on their bottle, he orchestrated a toast. Eve knew that he was enjoying the spectacle, barely able to keep the grin off his face. He waited until the hubbub died down and the other customers returned their attention to their plates.

“I’ve been thinking about how we ought to go about things. I’m not one for a long engagement. The way I see it, you get engaged to someone, that’s that, there’s no sense in waiting ages to make it official. Best get cracking, right?”

“If that’s what you think is best.”

“I do. There are some things we’ll have to sort out. We’ll need to book the church and a place for the knees up after. And then there’s where to go afterwards. A nice little honeymoon. We’ll have a think about that.”

“Where would we live?”

“My place, I reckon. Doc’s moving out, anyway––he wouldn’t want to share the gaff with a couple of lovebirds, would he? Eventually we’ll get ourselves a place in the country.”

Eve removed the ring from her finger. She twisted and turned it, the light refracting against the diamond. How much must it have cost? She had no idea. Her life had moved so quickly over the last few weeks. She had no idea how she had managed to snare someone like Joseph Costello, but, as she watched him laughing and joking with the waiter, she replaced the ring on her finger and shivered with a warm, excited tingling.

She was still aglow with happiness when the four men came inside. At first, she thought that they must be a party of diners but then Joseph saw them too, and she noticed tension stiffening his body, and then she wondered whether they might be here for something else. Two went to the bar. The manager followed after them, his voice fraught, and then she noticed that they were both holding short metal bars. The man opened the bar and stepped behind it, held his jemmy up behind his shoulder and then swung it, like a cricket bat, straight through the rack of bottles.

The colourful glass smashed. Some of the other diners screamed.

“What’s going on?” she said, her throat closing with panic.

His dark eyes glittered coldly. “Don’t look at them. They’re not here for us.”

“What are they here for?”

“They work for a man I know.”

The men made their way through the restaurant. They each carried a large paper bag and, as they passed from table to table, they ordered the frightened diners to remove their valuables and deposit them into the bags. Wallets, watches, jewellery––it all went inside until the paper bulged.

“Well, look here,” said one of the men as he reached their table. “I know you, don’t I?”