stares and imagines on the other side of it the elegant flower-shop where for months hed pretended to admire seasonal flowers in the display window : first daffodils like gay yellow telephones and then tulips , red like her cheeks when she caught his gaze on her and now , this june day on the other side of the pure white wall , hell push the door open on the three aproned girls twittering in french and louise will smile shyly and in lovely fragmented english counsel his bouquet and this time hell know shes jealous of the girl she thinks the bouquets for but its for her as shell discover an hour later at closing time when she comes out and finds him there ( the past corrected by hindsight into a new future ) with the flowers and also with the gold ring cleaned of muck , earned by a lifetime of suffering here , waiting for her , her honey hair and shy smile .