She had to leave - or so, Louise told herself, closing the suitcase. Tony would get over it. Still, she looked round the flat they'd shared for a year, and sighed.

She'd tried to explain last night that he hadn't failed her. He'd stared blankly, then dropped the engagement ring to the floor.

That unexpected proposal had come too soon. It was always too soon - except with John. That had been a whirlwind romance, then a whirlwind wedding - only to be followed by a whirlwind tragedy. `

A minor explosion on the oil rig,' they'd said, but major everything for Louise.

Too painful, even now, to think about, or tell Tony. Serious commitment felt like a betrayal to John's memory.

Out on the landing, Louise gasped. By the door, was a bouquet of flowers.

"Nice thought, Tony," she said. At least, she could put them in water. She re-entered the flat and looked at the blooms in the light. Yellow chrysanthemums, blue carnations and white roses. Her "football colours", John had called them. Strange Tony should have hit on the same idea.

Then she noticed the card. "For all your tomorrows". Those were John's words on every present he'd ever sent her - "Yours always".

For all your tomorrows.' How could Tony know? But who said the flowers were from Tony?

Suddenly, Louise pictured a miracle. John hadn't been killed at all. It was a mistake. Louise turned over the card. "Freshfield florists".

The girl in the shop was distinctly unhelpful.

"I deal with all customers, but it's against company policy to reveal their names".

Louise knew she had to go back to the flat. She couldn't leave without knowing for sure.

When she arrived, Tony was home early. He brightened to see her.

"Louise, you've changed your mind". So welcoming, so loving - this man who'd been there for her, comforting her through a bereavement he knew nothing of.

How could she tell him nothing had changed. Coming back was the cruellest thing she could have done.

On the table stood the flowers. Louise buried her face in them. They caressed her like a soft protecting shield. John's words flooded her mind.

"Yours always. For all your tomorrows".

"The man in the shop guaranteed you'd like them,' said Tony.

Louise froze. What man? The girl said she dealt with all customers.

"Yes, real friendly guy. Advised on something different from a dozen red roses".

Louise turned. "And the card, Tony?"

"He suggested the wording. I couldn't think of anything, I felt so down".

How could some stranger have picked those colours and words? Unless ... Louise picked up the card again. The handwriting was familiar. But something had changed. Yours always" was missing.

Yet, she knew he was always here, in that shared past forever. Only now the thought on the card was just for all her tomorrows. Louise breathed the spring scent of the flowers once more.

"Yes, Tony,' she said at last. `I've changed my mind.".

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