Always You

She nodded.

‘I told him to mind his own effing business.’

She blinked, suddenly so proud of him for standing up for her against his father that her throat swelled up and she found it hard to speak. ‘You did?’ she squeaked.

‘Pah,’ he said, brushing off his father’s objections like dandruff. ‘I’m not having a layabout like him telling me what to do.’ He smiled then and placed his palm on her cheek, his big hand curled around her face like one half of a shell. ‘I know what I want, Sarah. I want you. And I’m not going to let anything, or anyone in this world, come between us.’

‘Me neither, Cahal.’

‘Do you mean that, Sarah? Do you really, really mean it?’

Her heart pounded in her chest. ‘With all my heart and soul. I have never loved a man as I love you and I never will again.’

‘Stay there,’ he said, as a wide, triumphant grin spread across his face. He jumped out of bed and crossed the room in two strides, the gluteal muscles in his tight, stark white buttocks flexing as he walked. Above his backside, a narrow waist widened into a deep, strong back and broad triangular shoulders. She propped herself up on both elbows and butterflies born of lust, not nerves, made her stomach churn.

He crouched down and rummaged in the bottom of the wardrobe, his muscled body vulnerable in a crouched position, like Atlas preparing to take the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

He stood up, faced her front on. ‘Found it,’ he grinned, holding out his closed right fist. His knuckles bore dark red crusty scars from hurling, a game she’d never seen until yesterday, when she’d stood on the sidelines astounded by its pace and warrior-like qualities, the sticks brandished like swords.

He came over and knelt on the bed, seemingly oblivious to the chill in the room, which the early spring sunshine did nothing to dissipate. If she breathed out hard enough, her breath misted. She sat up, leaned against the pillows and pulled the covers up to her chin.

‘I want you to have this,’ he said and he held out a small gold ring in the palm of his calloused hand.

She hesitated.

‘Go on. Take it.’

She picked it up and examined it. It was a curious design featuring two hands entwined around a heart with a crown on top, all wrought from pale yellow gold. The edges of the ring were worn with age, like the weathered sandstone gargoyles on Ballyfergus town hall that had fascinated her as a child.

‘It belonged to my grandmother on my father’s side, Sarah. It was her wedding ring.’

Sarah breathed in sharply and her heart began to pound.

‘She left it to me when she died,’ he went on. ‘By tradition Claddagh rings get passed down the female line but she never had a daughter of her own, and she never got on with my sister. So I got it.’

‘It’s … it’s beautiful.’

He smiled, his eyes all glassy and bright. ‘I want you to wear it, Sarah.’

‘I … I can’t. It’s a family heirloom.’

‘Exactly.’ He stared at her intensely, and the quietest of silences settled between them. And then he said, ‘That’s why I want you to have it. You are my family now.’

Her whole body flooded with happiness. ‘Oh, Cahal.’

He plucked the ring from her open palm. ‘Will you wear this ring as a token of my love?’

She gasped and, letting go of the covers to reveal her naked torso, clapped both hands over her mouth at once. Under her fingers, her face burned, and she felt foolishly giddy. She stared into his eyes, steady and calm and the giddiness evaporated. Her hands dropped onto the bed cover and she said solemnly, ‘I will.’

He took her right hand and slid the ring onto her third finger. ‘There,’ he said and grinned. ‘You see the way the heart faces inwards towards your heart?’

Her hand trembled. ‘Yes.’

‘That means your heart is taken.’

She smiled. ‘Oh Cahal, that’s so sweet.’

‘And it is taken, isn’t it?’ His right eyelid twitched.

‘Completely and absolutely. Forever.’

He squeezed her fingers tightly in his and kissed the back of her hand. ‘You understand what this means, me giving you this ring?’

She looked at him blankly.

‘Claddagh rings are passed down from generation to generation. And one day I hope it will seal our marriage.’

She looked at her hand but she could not see the ring, only the blur of tears in her eyes.

He slid in beside her then and pulled her fiercely against his hard cold body. They wriggled down under the covers and both held their arms aloft, forming a tent-like space underneath the duvet where it was warm and dim like a cave.

‘This is our world, Cahal, under this duvet. Under here it’s just you and me, and the rest of the world doesn’t matter.’ She tried to forget about what would happen when Cahal graduated in the summer. ‘Just each other. In our wee world.’ In the dimness, his pupils were large and black. The space was filled with the smell of him and already his body was radiating heat like a furnace.

He inched forward but she placed a hand on his chest. ‘Promise me you’ll never leave me, Cahal.’

He smiled easily and, moving closer, teased, ‘Of course I’ll never leave you, you eijet.’

She pressed her palm against his flesh. ‘You have to say it. You have to say the words.’

‘Sarah Anne Walker. I’ll never leave you. Not so long as I have breath in my body.’

The next day, Sarah strolled down the corridor, clutching a folder to her chest and thinking of Cahal. Rain battered the glass walls of the building and the wind howled around it like a demented ghost. She felt guilty about the three lectures and tutorial she had missed yesterday, even more about spending an entire day in bed. But it had been the most wonderful day of her life. Cahal wanted to marry her.

‘What are you smiling about?’ said a male voice and she started.

It was Ian Aitken, one of her oldest friends from Ballyfergus. She clutched the folder even tighter across her breasts – tender from Cahal’s passionate, rough love-making – as if it might hide the guilty secrets of her heart.

‘Nothing.’

‘I missed you at the Physics Society talk last night,’ he said, staring down at her with pale blue eyes, his gaze as resolute as his character. His ginger hair was carefully combed in a side parting and his terribly unfashionable dark blue jeans had a crease ironed down the front of each leg. ‘I only went because I thought you’d be there.’

She chewed her lip and looked away. ‘Sorry. Had some work to catch up on.’ She glanced up into his face and gave him a quick smile. That bit at least was true. She’d left Cahal’s flat in the late afternoon and gone home and started an assignment.

After a moment’s hesitation his face relaxed into a forgiving smile. She felt as if he could see right through her and she blushed. She could not see him approving of a full day spent in bed. Ian was conventional, old-fashioned even, in his outlook.

‘Have you got time for a coffee, Sarah? I haven’t spoken to you properly in ages.’

‘Sure,’ she said brightly.