Hold the Dream

Emma was the first to rouse herself.

She said, in a small, pained voice, ‘Were you trying to tell me, a few minutes ago, that my success put you off? Prevented you from proposing? She studied that dear, familiar face with infinite compassion, thinking of the years he had wasted, the happiness he had let slip through his fingers, and all because of his love for her. A love unuttered.

Blackie nodded. ‘Aye, I suppose I am, mavourneen. I decided, there and then, that you could never be weaned away from your business because it was very much a part of you, was you, really. In any event, I lost my confidence. After all, I wasn’t half as rich and successful as you in those days. I didn’t think you’d have me. My nerve failed me. Yes, that’s precisely what happened.’

A deep sigh trickled out of Emma, and slowly she shook her head. ‘How foolish you were, my dearest, dearest friend.’

Blackie gaped at her, his jaw slack with astonishment. ‘Are you saying that you would have married me, Emma Harte?’ he asked, unable to keep the shock and incredulity out of his voice.

‘Yes, I believe I would, Blackie O’Neill.’

Now it was Blackie who began to shake his head, and he did so in wonderment, trying to absorb her words. For a few minutes he could not speak as old emotions took hold of him, surprising him with the strength of their impact.

At last he said, ‘It does me good to hear that, even so long afterwards.’ His voice took on a quavering treble, as he added, ‘Perhaps it’s just as well we didn’t marry, Emma. I’d have been left high and dry, not to mention brokenhearted, when Paul swept you off your feet again.’

‘How can you say such a thing! What kind of woman do you thing I am!’ she cried, her indignation flaring as she jerked herself up in the chair and glared at him with such unprecedented ferocity he flinched. ‘I would never have hurt you! I’ve always loved you, cared about your well being, and you know it. Apologize at once,’ she spluttered angrily, and added, as an afterthought, ‘or I’ll never speak to you again!’

He was so startled by her vehemence he was speechless for a few seconds. Slowly a shame-faced look crept on to his face. He said in a most tender and placating voice, ‘It’s sorry I am, Emma, I take back those words. I believe you. I don’t think you would have left me for Paul. And that’s not my ego talking. I know you … better than anyone does. No, you wouldn’t have betrayed me, you wouldn’t have given him the time of day if you’d been married to me. It’s not in you to be cruel to someone you love, and then there’s your morality and your loyalty and goodness and sense of responsibility. Those would have worked in my favour. Besides – ’ He gave her a boyish grin that brought his dimples out. ‘I would have made you happy.’

‘Yes, Blackie, I believe you would.’

This was said rapidly, and there was a sudden urgency in her manner as she leaned forward anxiously, needing to clarify the past, to make him understand the reasons which had motivated her and Paul, quite aside from their great love. ‘Don’t forget,’ she began, intent on jogging his memory. ‘My marriage to Arthur Ainsley was on the rocks long before Paul McGill returned to this country. I was on the verge of divorce when Paul showed up. Besides, and this is most important, Blackie, Paul wouldn’t have intruded, wouldn’t have sought me out, if I’d been happily married. It was only because Frank had told him I was miserable, and separated from Ainsley, that he arrived on my doorstep.’

She paused, settled back in the chair, and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. ‘I know I would not have seen hide nor hair of Paul ever again, if my life had been on an even keel. He told me that himself. He came searching for me because he was aware I was unhappy – and also available. He most certainly wouldn’t have done that if I’d been married to you. Have you forgotten how much he liked and respected you?’

‘No, I haven’t. And you’re correct in what you say … Yes, Paul was a fine and honourable man. I always had a lot of time for him.’

Blackie now rose.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘that’s all water under an old and decrepit bridge, my girl. There’s no point rehashing our troubles of half a century ago. And maybe it was meant to be …’ he lifted his hands and shoulders in a brief shrug ‘… exactly the way it is. But I would like you to have the ring. It’s always been yours, you know.’

He bent over her. She looked up at him, and then at the black leather box in his hands. He lifted the lid, turned the box to her.

Emma gasped.

The ring was exquisite, throwing off the most brilliant prisms of light, and sparkling with life and fire against the black velvet. The central diamond was round and multifaceted, and very large, at least twenty carats, and it was surrounded by smaller stones which were equally as lovely and superbly cut, and these formed a circle at the base of the mounting.

Even Emma, accustomed to magnificent jewellery, was awestruck and she found herself blinking, truly taken aback by its size and beauty. ‘It’s stunning, Blackie,’ she said a bit breathlessly. ‘One of the most beautiful rings I’ve ever seen.’

His joy at her words was evident. ‘It’s an old setting, of course, the original, and perhaps it’s even a bit outdated. But I didn’t want to have it reset. Here, slip it on, mavourneen.’

She shook her head. ‘No, you do it, my fine black Irishman.’ She offered him her left hand. ‘Put it on the third finger, next to my wedding ring.’

He did so.

Emma held out her small, strong hand, her head on one side, admiring the ring glittering so brightly in the fire’s glow. And then she glanced up at him, her expression unmistakably mischievous. ‘Are we finally engaged to be married then?’ she teased in a flirtatious voice, and offered him a smile that was decidedly coy.

Blackie laughed, with delight, hugely amused. He’d always enjoyed her sense of humour.

Bending closer to her, he kissed her cheek. ‘Let’s just say we’re engaged to be – to be the dearest and closest friends and companions for the rest of the time we have on this earth.’

‘Oh Blackie, that’s such a lovely thing to say, and thank you for my beautiful ring.’ She caught his hand and held on to it and pressed it tightly and looked up at him again, and then she smiled that incomparable smile that filled her face with radiance. ‘My dear old friend, you’re so very very special to me,’ she said.

‘As you are to me, my Emma.’

He stepped away from her chair as if heading to his own, and then he paused and swung his white head. ‘I hope you’re going to wear the ring,’ he remarked off-handedly but his glance remained riveted intently on hers. ‘I sincerely hope you’re not going to put it away in that safe of yours.’

‘Certainly not. How could you think such a thing. I’m never going to take it off … ever again.’

He touched her shoulder and returned to his seat, smiling to himself. ‘I’m glad I gave you your ring, me darlin’. I’ve thought about doing so many times, and I’ve often wondered what you’d say. I know I’m always accusing you of being a sentimentalist in your old age, but I do believe I’ve become a sentimental old man myself.’

‘And tell me, Blackie O’Neill, what’s wrong with sentiment? It’s a pity there isn’t more of it in this world,’ she said, her eyes unexpectedly moist. ‘It might be a better place to live in, for one thing.’

‘Aye,’ was all he said.

After a short while, Blackie cleared his throat, and remarked, ‘Now, what about that little proposition of mine, Emma? This morning you said you were doubtful that it would work, but I can’t agree.’

‘Do you know,’ she exclaimed brightly in an enthusiastic voice, ‘I was thinking about it again this afternoon. Emily’s moved in with me, and it suddenly struck me that the only way I’ll get a bit of peace and quiet is to accept your generous invitation.’

‘Then you’ll come with me! Ah, me darlin’, this news warms the cockles of me heart, sure an’ it does.’ He beamed at her, happiness and excitement welling inside him. He lifted his brandy balloon high. ‘Come along, take a sip of your Bonnie Prince Charlie, Emma. This calls for a toast, it does indeed.’

She held up her hand instead. ‘Wait a minute! I didn’t actually say yes. I can’t accept – at least not just yet. I am seriously thinking about the trip, but you’ll have to give me a few more weeks to settle things, to adjust to the idea of being absent for several months.’

Biting down on his disappointment, he said, ‘All right, I’ll be patient. However, I will have to start making the arrangements soon, so please don’t delay your answer for too long.’

‘I’ll let you know as quickly as possible. I promise.’

He sipped his cognac, savouring it, and slowly a sly gleam entered his eyes. He was wrapped in thought for a minute or two longer, said finally, ‘By the way, Emma, I’ve recently made a plan, as no doubt you’ll be surprised to hear. I think of it as my Plan with a capital P, since it happens to be the first plan I’ve ever made.’ He was unable to contain himself, and let out a throaty chortle and his eyes became merry and teasing. ‘Do you remember that first plan of yours?’

‘Goodness me, I’d forgotten all about that.’

‘I never did. And I even recall the day you confided it in me. Such a small slip of a thing you were, too, and I was most impressed. Anyway, if you’ve got a few minutes, I’d like to tell you about mine. It’s a most marvellous plan, me darlin’, even though I say so myself. And I’ll bet my last quid it’s going to intrigue you, sure an’ I know it will.’

Amusement touched her mouth. ‘I’d love to hear about your plan, Blackie dear.’

He sat back expansively, nodding to himself, and began: ‘Well, it’s like this. There is this woman I know, and she’s the most stubborn creature I’ve met in all my born days. It just so happens that this stubborn, contrary, maddening but quite adorable woman has a grandson living in Australia. I know she wants to go and see him, and I thought it would be a wonderful treat for her, if I took her out there to see him myself. And so I’ve made a very special plan, and this is how it goes …’

Emily had fallen asleep on one of the huge sofas in the upstairs parlour.

To Emma, standing over her, she looked small and defenceless and innocent, wrapped in a white towelling robe and curled up in a ball against the pile of cushions. A feeling of infinite tenderness swept through Emma, and she bent down and gently moved a strand of pale blonde hair away from Emily’s eyes, and brushed her lips against the girl’s smooth young cheek. She straightened up, wondering whether to awaken her or not, decided to get ready for bed herself first, and tiptoed into the adjoining bedroom.

Emma hung up her sable jacket, took off her pearl choker and matching earrings and placed them on the dressing table. After removing her watch and the McGill emerald, she started to pull off Blackie’s ring, then stopped and looked down at it. This ring had lain in a vault waiting for her for fifty years, and she had promised Blackie she would never take it off. She pushed the ring back on her finger, next to Paul’s platinum wedding band, and finished undressing. She had just put on her nightgown when there was a tap on the door and Emily’s smiling face appeared around it.

‘There you are, Grandy. I waited up for you.’

‘So I noticed, darling. But you didn’t have to, you know.’

‘I wanted to, Gran. But to be honest, I didn’t think you’d be as late as this. It’s turned twelve-thirty!’