He tilts his head to the side as if he is asking about his own child.
‘It is, yes. She is amazing,’ I tell him, unable to contain a beaming smile now. ‘She is the bravest girl, just as you told her she was that day. She’s a ray of hope every single day.’
The applause from the streets beneath the hill where we stand grows louder, and we both turn towards it briefly.
‘Look, I probably should get back to Lesley,’ David says,glancing over my shoulder towards the crowds, and my heart sinks a little. I can tell by the agony in his eyes that he might feel the same. ‘I could talk to you all day but she’ll be worried if I’m gone for much longer. Can we keep in touch, Kate? I’d love if we could.’
He reaches into his jacket pocket and hands me a business card, crisp and new, where his name is stamped in the corner. I play with it in my hand, looking at his name in print, and the enormity of meeting him again hits me once more.
He tilts his head and looks at me as if in confession, an aching smile etched on his gorgeous face. He breathes in, as though he is trying to force out what he wants to say next.
‘You know I used to drive around this whole town, into every housing development, and around every corner of the countryside, hoping to bump into you,’ he tells me with a faint smile. He pushes his hair back and bites his lip at his hurried admission, laughing shyly now. ‘I told myself that if I met you, I’d bite the bullet and ask you out on a date. I’d take a chance and just go for it.’
I can’t hide my surprise. ‘You did?’
‘I did.’
He smiles more, his eyes brightening, but he has no idea how much it pains me to think we were both looking all this time, if not always physically, at least in our own minds.
‘And you would have asked me out on a date?’ I repeat.
He glances around and unbuttons his shirt at the top as the heat from the street rises. I do my best not to stare.
‘I wanted to ask you out for sure,’ he says with the same side smile I remember so clearly from before. ‘I fancied you a lot back then.’
I lick my lips and look away, and when I look back at him our eyes meet; we stand in silence for what feels like for ever.
‘I wanted to find you so badly, Kate,’ he continues more seriously now; then, as quickly as he says it, he snaps out of his daze. ‘Anyhow, you could drop me a line or give me a call and maybe we could meet up again, properly, away from here.’
I can’t help but feel a bit lost in this quite surreal moment. It’s like today, at this moment, in this place, this was meant to happen, but then I recall his father’s words, his hurried, definite tone, his warning to me, and at that moment the reality of the world we live in hits me hard.
How could an ex-RAF pilot and the daughter of a Republican family be friends? I didn’t think it would be possible. We had grown up amid a fierce, bloody conflict that had lasted more than thirty years, from the 1960s to the late 1990s. Until the peace agreement, it was all our parents and we had ever known, living through sectarian shootings, bombs, street riots, reprisal attacks. So, despite that incredibly traumatic shared moment, when it comes down to it David and I are two people from opposite endsof a war that still seeps through the bones of those who lived through it.
I hand the business card back to him. I shake my head and my face creases with disappointment.
‘It’s not me or you, David, but I don’t think we can be friends, sorry,’ I tell him. ‘Your father disapproves of my mother, my family. We’re on opposite sides here. He would never want us to be friends. I know he is a very influential man and I don’t want to provoke any more trouble with him.’
‘With my father?’ he asks in surprise. His voice breaks. He straightens his shoulders and raises an eyebrow. ‘What on earth has this got to do with him?’
I instantly wish I hadn’t mentioned it. I wish I’d just taken the card and pretended it was a good idea to keep in touch but, as usual, my honesty trips me up. I can’t turn back the conversation now.
‘We come from two very different worlds, David, let’s not even try to forget that,’ I say to him. He shakes his head in denial, but I need to say this. ‘Where I’m from in this town and where you’re from – well, the two communities just don’t mix well. We couldn’t possibly have anything in common and—’
‘What has my father said to you?’ he asks. His pushes one tanned hand through his thick dark hair and his handsome face twists in despair. ‘I don’t care about any of that. Where is this coming from?’
‘I—I looked for you,’ I confess in a whisper. ‘I’d promised to find you again, so I looked for you and I thought I’d found you. I went to your house.’
He is flummoxed. ‘You did? When?’ He frowns as he awaits my answer.
‘I went to your house when I got back on my feet, so to speak. It was almost a year after the bomb,’ I tell him. ‘I wanted to keep my promise, but most of all I wanted to thank you in person for helping us that day and to see how you were coping. But your dad told me to never come back again—’
‘What the …?’
David licks his lips and shakes his head in disbelief. He laughs a little but he is not finding any of this funny. I can tell he is laughing in shock and frustration at the realization that, for all this time, his father has stood in the way of the one thing we both wanted the most. Just to be friends, just to get to know each other properly.
He takes my hand again and presses the card into mine.
‘Kate, please believe me,’ he whispers firmly. ‘I amnothinglike my father, and I never will be. You can contact me whenever you want. I’d love to see you again.’
