by Orla Bailey
Five Jockeys lightly perched on top of their mounts press them on with knees gripped tight and elbows pumping as the equine athletes beneath them respond stout-heartedly to their rider’s commands.
“Camelot is so far back,” I say, deflated. “It isn’t looking good.”
“Things aren’t always the way they appear, remember.” Jack squeezes me for encouragement.
“I remember.” We’ve both learned that moral well. I jump in his arms and shout again.
As the riders line themselves up for the home straight, suddenly Camelot breaks free. He’s up there with the leaders pushing hard to move ahead. They hit the straight and the crowd erupts. The noise is shattering. I’m jumping up and down screaming. We stand right back from the finishing post as the horses thunder towards us, hooves drumming a beat that brings out the pagan in me. Camelot takes the lead, fighting to hold it as another horse tries his best to overtake, but can’t. They whoosh past so fast I can hardly be certain I called it right.
I look to Jack and his face tells me everything. He picks me up and spins me round and round until I have to hang on to my hat to stop it flying off. When my feet touch ground again everyone around me hugs and kisses me. As they’re all Jack’s family and friends he seems happy enough with the situation.
So many of them shake his hand I begin to realise I’m not the only one who bet on the winner. Jack grins. He knew who to pick all along but let me call it for myself. He trusted me.
“A good omen,” Liam announces.
“Can I pick a horse or what?” I’m a little drunk on happiness.
“Looks like we’re both good at spotting a winner,” Jack tells me, with affection.
We spend another hour on the racecourse and in the marquee. Jack continues to monitor the quantity of Champagne which passes my lips but I remember the dinner to follow which will probably go on late into the night. I’m not annoyed with him as I know I don’t have the best track record with alcohol and he’s looking out for me so I can relax, knowing I’m in safe hands.
I’m finally secure in my own mind that Jack really loves me and wants what’s best for me. I trust him.
A huge fleet of cars and vintage buses carry everyone to the country house hotel which Jack has hired in its entirety for the evening. Not only has he arranged dinner and dancing but he’s made sure we have rooms so we can freshen up beforehand.
I follow the women of Jack’s family demurely upstairs while their men congregate in the bar below but laugh when his mother orders buckets of Champagne brought up to the bedrooms for us. Yet I don’t plan to embarrass Jack so make one glass last a very long time.
“Have another, Tabitha,” Fionnoula insists.
“Mother! Leave her alone,” Aoife warns.
“What the men don’t know…” Fionnoula says as we all laugh conspiratorially.
Dinner is a huge formal affair that manages to take on a completely relaxing air, due to the people that surround us.
“Hungry, kitten?” Jack asks, laughing as I stuff the best part of half a walnut and olive bread roll into my mouth in one go.
“Starving.” I wave my arm to encompass the whole room. “Do you do this every year?”
“The Derby and the marquee, yes. But this is a special year.”
I start to ask him why but his mother leans across, interrupting us. “Liam and I met at the Derby. This is where Jack’s father proposed to me. I knew I’d never get him away from the racecourse, so I decided I’d better join him there. We’ve been back every year since. Family tradition. Although it’s a little bit grander, these days.” She squeezes Jack’s hand and looks at him with pride.
I decide it must be some sort of anniversary.
Everyone is served a cocktail. It looks familiar. When I take a sip my eyes fly to Jack’s as he waits.
“Clementine Crush cocktail,” I exclaim. I recall the flavours of ginger, Cointreau and Clementine vodka poured over crushed ice that Jack ordered for us the first time he took me out to Sunday brunch in Chelsea.
Waiters serve the first course. I taste the prosciutto with seared figs, mascarpone and a little rocket immediately. It’s even dressed in the same peppery, balsamic and oil dressing I remember during our first dinner together at Belvedere. That night seems like a lifetime ago.
Jack leans in to me. “Remember?”
“I remember.” Everything. The first time we were naked together. The first time he protected me from my own wildness. Our first fight… I remember so much I blush. I’m certain we must both be sharing similar memories as we hold each other’s gaze and I float in depths of warm Arctic blue.
My heart races when, ignoring everyone around us, he places a little sweet fig between his lips and moves in to kiss the deliciousness from his mouth into mine. I take it, like I did then but this time without a moment’s hesitation.
“I love you so much, kitten.”
My heart soars to hear him say the words. I can’t hear them enough. “I love you too, Jack.”
“Can’t you two leave each other alone long enough to eat your dinner?” Con calls across the table, grinning.
I blush and Jack skims my warm cheek with his fingers. He leans back down to address his brother. “Would I be hearing the man who hasn’t kept both hands above the table at the same time all night long?
Like everyone within earshot, I immediately stare at Darla thinking she’ll be terribly embarrassed at Jack’s improper implication but I discover Aussie girls are made of sterner stuff. She laughs her head off as she points out her own situation. “Look everybody. No hands.”
“Darla Keogh! You’re a scandal to womankind,” Fionnoula says. Her face is flushed but more as a result of all the Champagne she’s consumed than the fact that she’s indignant. Her chuckle convinces me I’m right.
“Come now, Fi. Did yourself never wonder why so many of your own children have spring birthdays?”
As the implication of Liam’s assertion about his wife’s former visits to the Derby hit up and down the rows of guests and everyone laughs or passes on the joke, Fionnoula turns to her husband.
“Did I never tell you you’re an eejit, Liam Keogh? And don’t ask me what I ever saw in you.”
It is entirely the wrong thing to say in this particular gathering. The whistles and rib-nudging last a full five minutes by which time Fionnoula is laughing merrily too.
Liam beams in a self-satisfied and rather intoxicated way until the chorus dies down. Then he stands and announces ponderously. “And there’s life in the owld dog yet, Mrs Keogh.”
She heaves on his arm until he allows himself to be dragged back into his chair as thunderous applause breaks out. I get a sudden picture of Jack, one day, as old as his father and with the same enduring affection for wife and family. I only dare, for a single second, see myself in that picture too.
Jack pours me a drop more Champagne. “Had enough, yet?”
“Not nearly enough.” I’m not even sure I know what he’s referring to but I just want this night to go on and on for ever.
Jack doesn’t neglect his many guests yet he manages to make me feel like the only woman on earth. When the first course dishes are cleared, the fish course arrives. I glance at it and then at him.
“Roasted Wild Sea Bass.” It was exactly what he ordered for our brunch the same Sunday we drank those cocktails.
“Wild.” He softly mouths the word to me.
“Crazy wild.” And so in love with you.
It’s served with the Chavignol Sancerre we drank on that occasion too. He has taken such trouble to make this dinner with friends and family especially meaningful for him and me.
Each course astounds me more than the last and not just because of the quality of the cuisine. Jack has had the chefs recreate many of the dishes we’ve eaten together since we met. It’s a walk down memory lane and he’s reminding me of our journey together.
Guests are offered a choice of steak in rosemary & white wine, almost the exact way I c
ooked it for him at Lassec or Lobster with lemon butter sauce, as we were served at the Old Brewery in Greenwich after our wonderful trip up the River Thames on his boat.
Jack and I order the lobster and I laugh when it’s served with both the Blanche de Bruxelles beer and a pint of chocolate beer. Despite all the pleas and threats, Jack refuses to tell a single soul why it makes him and I giggle so much, whisper reminiscences, and kiss with such affection.
“It’s a secret,” is all he tells them.
I don’t mind secrets like these. Ones he shares with me.
When Bailey’s ice-cream is served beside dessert, I cringe at the thought of it and hope that’s our secret too. Libby must have told Blackstock and Blackstock told Jack how much of the stuff we stole from his freezer and scoffed to cheer ourselves up that miserable weekend.
He watches me as all the lights of memory switch on in my head.
“Did you do all this for me?” I’m shining with sheer delight. His planning has been meticulous. He remembers everything.
He whispers close to my ear. “Everyone thinks they’re eating a jolly good dinner. Only you and I know the truth of it. I wanted this day to have particular meaning for us.”
I press my lips softly against his, breathing him deep inside of me. “It couldn’t be any more special.”
“It could.” He looks at me hungrily. “I want this to be a day you will never forget.”
At the end of the meal, dozens of bottles of Talisker Scotch whisky are fetched and placed up and down the tables.
“It’s the thirty-three year old, bottled the year you were born.” I remember him teaching me about its robust, smoky warmth on the first night I spent at Belvedere. I recall its fifty-four point six percent alcohol volume and how heady it was sipping it with a Jack I barely knew, except in my fantasies.
I recollect how much he told me each bottle was worth. “This was meant to be an investment for the future.”
“I’m investing in that future tonight.”
His words are beyond my understanding but I know I’m living through something momentous. I feel it in the very air I breathe.
He encourages me to touch my glass to his and sip just a little. Then he kisses me and stands.
Without being called to order, the vast room with its hundreds of guests rapidly stills and all attention focuses on Jack at its head. The quiet authority which emanates from him establishes complete order with little effort at all. I’m so in awe of this amazing man beside me.
I wait with interest for his speech just like everyone else.
Chapter Seventeen
Jack stands silent. Yet he commands the room.
No-one interrupts his silence. But none of us can tear our eyes from him. We don’t move and I can hardly breathe until he finally speaks.
“Today I’m blest. Today, I’m surrounded by people who mean more to me than anything in the world. Today I’m sharing the most important moment of my life with you all. You think you’re about to hear a speech.”
“Well are we, son?” Liam shouts. Everybody laughs.
Jack smiles indulgently at his father. “Not exactly.”
I sense an unfamiliar tension about him which belies his habitual self-assurance. It makes me especially edgy. I think I must be the only person in the room who notices. Everyone relaxes in the warm assurance that Jack knows exactly what he is doing and won’t let anybody down. I put my fluttering stomach down to my too liberal enjoyment of Champagne, cocktails and whisky despite Jack’s vigilance and to my usual state of nervous apprehension.
Murmurs circulate as Jack turns and takes my hand. My heart ceases when he draws me to my feet beside him and I feel my cheeks suffuse with colour. His gentle smile is an attempt to reassure me as he leads me – a little reluctantly – to the stage where the band has been set up ready for dancing after dinner. My legs may move automatically beside his but my heart is beating a wild rhythm of its own that I have absolutely no control over.
He helps my quaking legs up the steps onto the raised platform and turns to smile his encouragement. I feel like a ghost who terrifies no-one but herself. As he looks over the crowded room, I don’t dare take my eyes from his but clutch his hand to receive a squeeze of reassurance.
“I would like to introduce everyone to Tabitha Caid. The woman I love.”
The room erupts in applause, cheers and whistles. I’m shocked, elated and terrified all at the same time. Jack manages to remain a rock-steady island of calm and self-assurance, naturally. I wonder briefly what it would actually take to panic him.
My fear is out in the open for everyone to see. Yet with Jack beside me it doesn’t overwhelm me anymore. He looks at me in adoration, leaning and whispering in my ear. “Don’t be afraid.”
I shake my head but cling just that little bit tighter.
When he turns his attention back to the room it silences once more. People know this is only the start of what he wants to say to them and the expectant hush buzzes like electricity.
“Four years ago, I spent the first real money I ever earned – and super-sized my credit – on something very special.” The guests laugh at his debt joke. “I did it with a very special purpose in mind.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something small. He twists it between his fingers as it catches the light. Everyone in the room strains to see what he is holding. My eyes are riveted to it. “With one special person in mind to be more accurate.”
I see the huge pink Argyle diamond resting in the palm of his hand and my eyes fly to his.
“I bought it for the woman I loved very much.”
You could have heard a cat’s whisker brush against a wall. I try to process what Jack is saying. He bought the diamond four years ago? Long before Amanda. Before any of the others. For me? No-one else but me. The diamond was always meant to be mine? A deafening rush of blood courses through my ears, drowning out my noisy thoughts.
My eyes sweep from beautiful light-shattering pink to intense, liquid Arctic blue. Jack regards me steadily, seriously. And I detect the almost imperceptible nod he gives meant only for me in answer to my unspoken question.
“Four years ago I planned to ask this adorable young woman to become my wife.” He speaks aloud for the crowd but I understand the words he is saying are meant for me.
My eyes fill with tears. How many times has he tried to give me the ring since we met again? How many times has my broken heart rejected it?
“But I had to delay the pleasure of asking her.”
I hear a soft moan of commiseration for his tale of unfulfilled love as it unfolds like a drama. He wants nothing hidden. He wants everyone to know he always belonged to me.
“It took a better man than I to show me the time wasn’t yet right.”
We stare into each other’s eyes as if no-one else exists. Although everything Jack utters is witnessed, it’s me he needs to accept this truth.
“Letting her go was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” He drags his eyes away from mine towards the occupants of the room, as if only just remembering they’re here. “And I thank each and every one of you for getting me through the darkest of those lonely days.”
“Oh, Jack,” I whisper and his eyes sweep back to mine. I finally understand his sacrifice. He never truly left me at all. All my accusations were completely unjust. He was protecting me. And it was the most painful thing he’s ever had to endure.
He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it. “But I never once stopped loving her. I saw my own brothers and sisters meet their partners, some marry, start families.” He glances fondly towards Aoife holding her baby, little Liam. “And I waited until I finally knew the time was right for me to find my girl again and see if she could possibly still love me, the way I love her.”
Tears spring to my eyes. He loved me all along. He never stopped loving me. I recall posing for the media when I thought he had been forced into a sham public engagement to me because of what happened at the Commerce Ball. His ange
r truly was because that wasn’t the way he wanted our reunion to be. This is his dream.
The same as mine.
The room sighs almost as one being.
All eyes fix on me. “I know she loves me. I see it in every look she gives me. Even when she’s angry with me her love shines out like a beacon across a stormy sea, drawing me home to her.” He gives a hiccough of a laugh. “And I have the knack of making her pretty mad at me a lot of the time.”
“A Keogh family trait, son.” Liam interrupts happily. “At least down the male line.”
“Don’t be an eejit, Liam. Our boy’s saying something important here. Will you ever shut up and listen?”
“You see what I’m tellin’ ye?”
Everyone chuckles at the affectionate squabbling of Jack’s parents, the only two people who might dare feel entitled to interrupt him.
Jack focuses all his attention on me. “I’m a complete tyrant too. I’ve prevented the poor girl having much of a drink all day but I need her to be of totally sound mind as I have a very important question to ask her.”
My heart stops dead. My knees threaten to buckle.
Jack keeps a reassuring hold of my trembling hand as he ceremoniously drops to one knee before me. In front of the whole room. Which promptly goes insane. My body shakes with nerves but Jack remains steadfast, urging his solid strength into me. All noise falls away again as rapidly as it began. Until we’re alone.
Just him and me.
I’m instantly thrown back to an image from the garden at Lassec where Jack dropped to one knee and proposed to me. I thought it was a deception, a cruel game for sport. I was so devastated he was mocking me when I loved him so much, I tossed the ring back at him and walked away.
I’m not walking away now.
Because it must take true courage for him to risk himself again. Especially in front of everyone he knows. True courage. Or true love.
“Tabitha, I love you more than existence. There’s nothing in this universe more important to me than you. Any part of my world which doesn’t have you in it has little meaning for me anymore. The exquisite loveliness you bear on the outside only serves to reflect the true beauty of the incredible person you are inside. You are such a truly magnificent creature, any man would name himself the luckiest man alive to call you his own. But I’ve always dared to dream big.
