Page 37 of The Last Love Song
‘How much more?’
Sorcha pursed her lips. ‘With my Christmas bonus, we could afford the deposit. Okay, it’ll mean having to cut back on extras, but can you imagine having a nice comfortable room? Could we at least go and see it, Con, please?’
Con kissed her cheek. ‘Of course, Sorcha-porcha, whatever you say.’
They moved into the bedsit in Arkwright Road three days before Christmas. It consisted of a large, newly decorated airy room which opened onto a small kitchenette.
Sorcha had four days’ leave from work, and they spent the Christmas break settling in. On Christmas Eve, Sorcha received a Christmas card with three pounds in it from her mother. With that, she went shopping in Berwick Street market just as the stallholders were packing up, and managed to buy a small tree, a turkey and a big spray of holly.
While Con was out at his gig, Sorcha busied herself makingthe room festive. She stuffed the turkey and peeled the vegetables ready for the following day, then hummed along to the carols on the radio as she wrapped Con’s present: an expensive aftershave she’d bought at Swan and Edgar’s with her staff discount.
‘Silent night, holy night.’ Sorcha placed Con’s present under the tree, then went to the window and opened the curtains. The night was still and crisp, with hardly a breeze blowing.
The bells on the radio rang out to herald the arrival of midnight.
‘Merry Christmas, Mammy,’ she murmured.
The following morning, Con and Sorcha exchanged their presents. Sorcha opened a velvet box. Inside was a ring. Sorcha held it up to the light and saw how the small emerald sparkled in its cluster of diamonds.
‘Con, ’tis beautiful,’ she breathed. ‘However did you afford it?’
‘You’re not to concern yourself with that. I’ve been well paid in the last week.’ Con knelt beside her, reaching for the ring and the third finger of her left hand. He slid it on. ‘There. It’s a little large, but the man in the jeweller’s said he could alter it.’
She looked up at him, her eyes shining. ‘Is this meant to be...?’
‘Yes. An engagement ring. I only wish ’twas a wedding ring I was placing there. As soon as I’ve earned enough money to give you the day you deserve, I promise I’ll be meeting you in front of the altar.’
Sorcha kissed him. ‘I love you, Con. And this ring means the world to me.’
Later, after a good dinner, a few too many whiskeys and a walk over the heath, Sorcha snuggled up to Con contentedly.
‘It’s been a grand Christmas Day, just the two of us in our new home,’ she said.
‘You didn’t think back to Christmases in Ballymore?’
‘A little. Did you?’
‘No, Sorcha, I didn’t. My daddy would get so wrecked on whiskey on Christmas Eve that most times he’d not be out of bed until the afternoon and then he’d sulk because the bars were shut on Christmas night,’ Con chuckled.
‘Well, now you have me, and I’m your family. And I promise I’ll never leave you or hurt you, ever.’
He stroked her hair gently. ‘And I promise that one day I’ll make you proud of me.’
‘I know you will, Con, I know it.’
12
‘Well, Helen, Tony Bryant was right. I believe you are dyslexic.’ Dr Allen, a middle-aged Englishman, glanced at her over his half-moon glasses.
‘That...that’s wonderful,’ breathed Helen.
‘Upon my word, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a patient go into paroxysms of delight when I’ve diagnosed them.’
‘Sorry. It means that I’ve finally found a reason why I find it hard to read and why I did so badly at school.’
‘Yes. I can see what you mean. However, dyslexia can be a persistent little problem. It’s going to take a lot of patience and determination to overcome it.’
‘I’m very determined.’
