Chapter 29 Four Years After Bethany Murray’s Retrial #2
Ben gives me a peck on the lips before disappearing to change into his barrister’s robes. As he strides by, I inhale as much of him as I can, like he’s a drug that I can’t get enough of. I savour the taste of him on my lips and cherish the lingering tickle left by his beard.
Jane Keely is the one to pull me from my Ben-induced daze. “I’m so sorry, Nick. Feckin’ Luas! I came as fast as I could,” she says.
I cough. “No problem, Jane.” I look at my watch. “And you’re still two minutes early.”
“Phew.” Jane laughs, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead.
Did she run here?
Just as Jane is about to make her way towards the barrister’s robing room, both of our phones chime. We look to each other, an eyebrow each raised in confusion.
All,
Our apologies. The hearing scheduled for today in the matter of Director of Public Prosecutions v Halligan has been postponed due to illness.
This hearing has been rescheduled to Monday next week at 11.00 a.m. sharp.
Kind Regards,
Amanda Stafford
Clerk to Judge Elma Gallagher at the Circuit Criminal Court
Still squinting at her phone, Jane announces, “Well, I guess I’ll see you next week then.”
I peel my attention away from the small screen in my hand.
It’s a bit of a punch in the gut to come all this way for nothing.
For Jane, it must be infuriating. Casting my gaze toward her, I expect to see a frustrated expression: eyebrows drawn together, flared nostrils.
But my expectation couldn’t be further from the truth.
Jane is calm and collected, as cool as a cucumber.
“At least it gives us some more time to prepare,” she notes. “Not that we need it considering the evidence we have.”
I smile, mirroring Jane’s satisfaction. “Hopefully it’ll be a slam-dunk for us once we show it to a jury.”
After a beat, Jane starts to fumble in her bag. Clearly, she’s searching for something that’s buried deep. As she does so, she asks, “How’s that Ben of yours? All’s well in paradise, I hope?”
Paradise. It sounds cliché, but ever since Ben and I started our relationship, I truly feel like I’ve been living a dream. For me, he’s the perfect partner, the perfect man. He loves me. And I love him.
“He’s great. And life is great,” I tell Jane. “We’re going for a little dinner date tonight.”
“How lovely for both of you,” Jane coos. Having found what she was looking for at the bottom of her bag – her Leap card, evidently – she adds, “I won’t keep you, Nick. Enjoy your date with Ben and I’ll see you next week.”
“See you then, Jane.”
With that, we go our separate ways.
By seven o’clock in the evening, the predicted snow still hasn’t arrived.
Though Dublin hasn’t become a winter wonderland just yet, it’s still deathly cold.
Rivers run from my nose, forcing me to sniffle every few seconds; the skin on my face feels as if it is being pricked by pins of cold, and my breath fogs before me.
The sky above is pitch black too, adding to the wintery weather.
Yes, the cold is almost unbearable, but I love this time of year.
I love the lights, the cosiness, the hustle and bustle.
As I reach the restaurant – it’s a beautiful Chinese place located at the top of Camden Street – my phone pings. I step to the side and wrestle the device from my pocket. With effort, I remove my glove to paw at the screen. It’s a message from Ben.
Sorry I’ve been held up. I’ll be there in a few minutes x
With my body shivering, I thumb back a reply as quickly as I can.
No problem. See you soon x
I decide not to wait for Ben outside of the restaurant – it’s far too cold for that – so I trudge inside, satchel still slung over my shoulder, and give Ben’s name to the kind hostess.
I follow her as she weaves through the restaurant towards our table.
It’s quiet in here tonight, with just a few couples dotted around and one or two families here and there.
As soon as I fall into my chair, I bask in the restaurant’s warmth.
While I wait for Ben, I text Brendan.
I see the Department of Housing were in the news again.
I know. I’ve been answering Parliamentary Questions about it all day.
Just think of that civil service pension you’ll be getting. How many years left until retirement? Is it 34 now?
Bang on. It will all be worth it in the end. Let me know how tonight goes.
How tonight goes? I repeat in my mind. What does that mean? Does he know about my date with Ben? If he does, I certainly wasn’t the one to tell him. Maybe Ben mentioned it to him while they were texting about the Champions League or Formula 1?
Just as I’m about to text Brendan back to seek some clarity, Ben arrives.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, babe,” he says, shrugging off his long black coat. “I got held up working on a brief for tomorrow morning.”
He leans over the table to kiss me. Even though he’s just come from outside, his tulip-pink lips are warm.
Taking his seat and flipping open his menu, he asks, “Have you had a chance to look at the menu yet?”
I shoot him a smug look. My head is tilted and a sly smile plays on my lips. Ben knows this look too well. Today, it’s telling him ‘of course I’ve looked at the menu. I looked at it online days earlier and have known what I wanted to order since.’
Ben laughs, but it isn’t his usual hearty one. “Always the planner.”
We order our food and make small talk about our cases, ensuring we keep our facts brief so as to not breach legal privilege.
I complain about Judge Gallagher’s last minute illness and Ben mentions the bare minimum in facts about his case.
It’s strange. Ben isn’t acting like his usual self.
He doesn’t maintain eye contact with me as I reference the plan to win Mr Halligan’s case; whenever he does look at me, I feel as if the words I’m speaking are going in one of his ears and straight out the other.
And his leg is bouncing so uncontrollably beneath the table, his chopsticks fall onto the floor.
When the food arrives, Ben barely touches any of his. What’s going on?
I reach out to him, grabbing hold of his muscular forearm. As expected, his skin is as warm as a hug. “Hey,” I begin, my voice as soothing as I can make it. “Are you okay?”
Ben forces a smile and his leg halts its bouncing. He takes a deep breath. “I suppose now is as good a time as any.”
What?
Ben stands up, the legs of his chair scraping against the wooden floor. Fishing in his pocket for something, he edges closer to me.
Then, he gets down on one knee.
I stop breathing.
He pulls a velvet box from his pocket, slowly opening it to reveal a dazzling, sparkling golden ring. He presents it to me in the palm of his hand. Looking up to me with his gorgeous eyes, he asks the question I’ve waited my entire life for.
“Nick Carthy, will you marry me?”
It all makes sense now. His nervousness; Melissa’s interest in whether I’d be seeing Ben today; Brendan’s odd text message. They knew what Ben had planned. They knew what he was going to ask me tonight.
My eyes drift back and forth between Ben and the beautiful ring. My entire being swells with delight, like I’m intoxicated with joy. My heart leaps with happiness, excitement sparks throughout my body from my head to my toes, and it feels as if my soul has been inundated with sunshine.
Looking into Ben’s eyes, I know that there’s only one response I want to give, the one that I’ve been dreaming of saying for almost five years. I’ve never been surer of anything in my entire life.
With a wide smile forming from ear to ear, I answer, “Yes, Ben Kehoe. Of course, I’ll marry you.”