we stop, listening to the sounds that tinkle in the air.
We walk slowly up to Stephen’s Green and take a stroll around the park. It’s quiet there and we walk in comfortable silence.
‘Where to next?’ Jim asks when we have done a full loop of the park.
‘I told you, we head to the Ha’penny Bridge then to O’Connell Street, finally back to Tess’s,’ I say.
‘And I really have to sleep in her spare room tonight?’ Jim moans.
‘Yes. Don’t you dare try to do any bedroom flits. You’ll give her a coronary,’ I say.
Before we have a chance to debate sleeping arrangements any further, the sound of a girl singing floats towards us. ‘That’s so pretty.’ I point towards the Ha’penny Bridge. ‘It’s coming from over there.’
‘She’s singing your favourite Christmas song,’ he says.
His knowing this, remembering that fact, overwhelms me. He sees this and lightly touches my cheek. ‘I keep telling you, Belle. I remember everything.’
We move towards the sound of her voice. It is so pure and beautiful, it makes harried shoppers stop in their tracks, one by one. We push our way through the crowds and I half expect to see a CD deck. But to my surprise, I see that the owner of the voice is in fact a young girl, standing in the middle of the bridge.
‘She’s no more than ten or eleven,’ I say, unable to take my eyes off her.
‘She’s so cute,’ a woman remarks and we both nod in agreement. The girl is wearing a double-breasted red woollen coat. She has bobbed, black shiny hair that bounces off her black-velvet collar. The lights on the bridge bounce off the still water below and back up around her, creating a soft glow.
It’s the most beautiful moment I’ve ever experienced. There is something so pure about the voice, the girl, the bridge.
‘Can you believe that voice?’ Jim says in amazement as she belts out O Holy Night like a pro.
‘She has the voice of an angel,’ I whisper and feel emotion swell inside of me. Tears threaten to fall and that won’t do at all, not on Christmas Eve.
‘A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices. …’ I sing along with her, reaching for Jim’s hand. He clasps it tight. The words touch my heart in a way they’ve never done before. I realise that I felt exactly like that, weary, only three weeks ago. Then Jim walked into my life and, in an instant, everything changed.
I feel my whole body shudder as another wave of emotion overtakes me and I have to pinch myself hard to stop myself falling to the ground weeping. Is it just me, or is Jim as affected? I pull my eyes away from the girl and take a peek at him. Thank goodness, I can see he’s not immune to her voice either. His eyes glisten in the crisp night air and I lean in towards him once more.
And then something hits me with a jolt. I’ve finally come home. Right here, in this man’s arms. I’m home.
It’s only been three weeks, though.
But it feels like a lifetime. How can that be?
I know why. He’s my destiny. I wished for him. And he arrived all but wrapped up in a bow.
I look around at the gathered audience standing around this young girl. Families, couples and groups of friends, all captivated by a beatific voice.
I decide there and then that I must never forget this moment. There aren’t many times in life that are so perfect and pure that they can make your heart explode in joy. This is one of them.
As the young girl builds up to the last line, her voice hits the high note with ease. And all at once the busy thoroughfare is silent, spellbound, by her pure voice.
How long do we stand in wondrous silence? It seems to stay that way for ages, but it can only be for a few seconds.
Then the hush is interrupted by a joyful jingle as the crowd moves forward, one by one, to drop coins into a red-velvet hat that is by her feet. As the coins hit each other, they chime and tinkle, casting magical notes high up into the night air.
‘It’s like the bells are ringing.’ I say in wonder.
‘Bells ringing for you, Belle,’ Jim says.
I take my turn to throw a handful of euros into the red cap and the girl looks right into my eyes, a big smile across her face. And you know what? The weirdest sensation overcomes me. I swear I know this girl. I have this ridiculous urge to hug her.
As her parents are most likely watching right now and would think I’m a crazy lady, I resist.
‘If Simon Cowell were to rock by right now, he’d have euro signs shining in his eyes. That’s a Christmas number one right there, that song,’ I turn to tell Jim, expecting to see him behind me. Where’s he got to? I scan the bridge right and left, kicking myself for moving forward, away from him. The crowds are thick as everyone moves to continue their evening, and I can’t see him anywhere.
But then, I feel his hand grab mine and I smile in relief, feeling silly for my dramatic panic.
‘There you are!’ I exclaim. Now what the hell is he doing? I watch in complete shock as he drops to one knee, right here, in the middle of the Ha’penny Bridge.
‘Have you lost something?’ I ask, thinking he must have dropped his wallet or something. I start scouring the cobblestones around me.
‘Look. That man is going to propose,’ someone shouts from behind me, and my stomach starts to flip, even though I know that it’s impossible. Jim’s not going to propose.
I turn to them to say, ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, there’s no way that’s happening.’
Sure I’ve only known Jim three weeks. People don’t propose that quickly. That only happens in books or movies. Not in Dublin. And certainly not to me, Belle Bailey.
But when I look down, he’s not laughing, he’s looking at me intently. He doesn’t look like he’s lost anything. Nor does he look terrified. In fact, if I had to call it, I’d say he looks downright happy. A little bit goofier than normal, with a strange look on his usually cocky face.
‘I’ve not lost anything, Belle. On the contrary, I would say that I’ve found something pretty wonderful.’ I can hear an audible gasp from someone behind me. I look around at the sea of faces who a moment ago were united in emotion at the young girl’s song. And now they are united in expectation, as delicious real-life drama unfolds in front of them. They’ll have plenty to chat about over their mince pies later on.
‘I want my happy-ever-after to be with you, Belle. I want to grow old with you. I never want to let you go. I want to love you so much that you never look sad again,’ Jim states.
Did I just dream that?
I mean, it does sound like a proposal, but there again he hasn’t actually asked me. I purse my lips tight. There’s no way I am going to jump in and say ‘yes’ to a declaration as opposed to a question.
But, even so, something that feels a lot
