Kate links her arm through mine as we walk towards the car park. She’s settling in really well over here and we’re about to embark on a whole new chapter of our lives once more, but this time, we’re together at last.
‘I don’t know what it is with either of us, but what I do know is that if I’m going to work here in this hospital from next week on, I certainly do not want to be passing you in the corridors ever,’ Kate jokes with me.
We stand outside the hospital and look up at the children’s wing in the distance, where she will soon start as a nurse after sailing through a job interview and clinching a post in a new and exciting role.
‘I’m still going to keep up some charity work and public speaking, so I’ll be keeping my ear to the ground for that,’ she tells me as we make our way to the car. ‘I’m thinking my next element of Silent Steps will be focused on an awareness of childhood trauma, you know, in line with what Shannon experienced at such a young age. She’s turned out such a dream, but I know for so many others such scenes can haunt them for ever.’
I know exactly what she means and, as I drive us out of the car park and towards the city, where we plan to have a picnic lunch in the grounds of Kensington Palace, I fear that someday Kate will realize just how much I’m battling with my own trauma inside, when she lies asleep and I lie there beside her at night with scenes of blood and carnage keeping me awake and messing with my head.
I can’t tell her just how bad it gets sometimes: the nightmares, the night sweats; the times I have to slip out of the apartment in the still of night and just breathe as the darkness threatens to choke me. The fear that someone is after me for my life, the sense of hopelessness at my inner ability to take any more, and the worry that this is going to get a real grip of me one day soon.
‘Today is a good day,’ Kate says with a smile, oblivious to my thoughts, and she puts her hand on my leg as I drive with the windows down and the fresh air on our faces. I look across at her, sitting in the passenger seat with her eyes closed and the wind in her hair, and I remind myself just how lucky I am. As long as I can still see that, I know we are going to be just fine.
I can’t wait until I see her face in just a few days on Friday, when I plan to make it so much more than just a good day.
It’s the day we both go home to Ireland to see our parents, but it’s also a day for a whole lot more and I can’t wait to surprise her.
We arrive in Belfast early on Friday morning and set off for the coast, to a sandy hideaway I’ve chosen as the perfect location for what I’m planning, under the guise of an excuse to see some of our own Irish countryside and coast before we face the wrath at home, where we plan to officially break the news to our parents that we are indeed a couple.
Kate’s face is full of wonder as we park up the car in viewof the famous Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge in the distance, and the magnificent sights of the Causeway Coast with its breathtaking scenery reminding us that we are very much back home.
‘I’ve no idea why you’ve brought me here, but I’m enjoying this sea air and all this beauty,’ she says as she takes it in. ‘I’d already forgotten how spectacular it is here at home. Doesn’t it just fill up your soul to stand here and breathe it in?’
She turns to me to catch me staring and pushes her dark hair away from her face.
‘You’re beautiful,’ I tell her. ‘You really are so beautiful and I’m so lucky.’
She puts her hand on her slender hip and tilts her head to the side.
‘What are you up to now, David Campbell?’ she asks me with suspicion in her magnificent eyes. ‘You’re up to something, I can tell. This isn’t just a detour for the sake of a detour, is it?’
I take a deep breath and put my hand into the inside pocket of my jacket as her eyes widen in front of me.
‘I don’t want to introduce you to my family as my girlfriend, Kate,’ I say to her, emotion catching my throat so that my voice breaks a little. ‘You are so much more than that and I want the world to know it.’
I take her hand and kiss it gently then, in a very carefully practised move, I flip open the box in my hand and showher the Celtic band I’ve had especially designed for her, with a diamond in the centre that represents all the love I have for her.
‘Kate Foley, will you marry me?’ I ask her, and she puts her hands to her face in delight. ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you, for ever and ever.’
She nods as tears burst from her eyes and she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses my face all over, and then we lock into each other’s arms, the ring still in the box in my hand behind her back. She hasn’t even looked at it yet, but that’s what I love about her most.
We both have realized that nothing is bigger or more important than us just being together – especially the opinions of others any more. I kiss her fully on the lips and breathe in this wonderful moment.
‘Is that a yes then?’ I ask her, when we finally feel our pulses slowing down again.
‘That’s a million yeses, David Campbell!’ she says, then she gives me the most striking stare right into my eyes that makes my breath catch in the back of my throat. ‘My God, I love you so much. I love you, so, so much.’
‘Let’s go and tell our family our news,’ I say, and I put the ring on her finger, then we walk back to the car hand in hand, feeling a new sense of confidence in our stride.
18.
KATE
David and I arrive at his parents’ house on this cool April afternoon where the wind has blown cherry-blossom petals over the driveway like confetti ready to greet us. I can’t help but glance at the sparkling diamond on my left hand as David drives the car beside me, and my heart swells with pride as we take this next step in our lives, one we have put off for far too long.
‘They’re here!’
Martha Campbell waves at us with frail excitement from the front door of the Old Rectory Manor and, just as I did the first time I came here on my own so many years ago, I can’t help but gasp at such grandeur. I shudder to think how my own home, which we’ll visit next, will look so humble and modest in comparison.
