Page 51 of The Promise
‘That’s it!’ she says, sitting up on the bed now. ‘That’s perfect! I can keep it general like that and fundraise under that umbrella name for all victims of trauma, of all ages and from all walks of life. I could talk to them about my own experiences and how I’ve learned to deal with both the physical and mental scars since the bomb. I really want to do this, David. I have a big story to tell and I know I can help others!’
‘You sure do,’ I say in bewilderment, as I wait for her to acknowledge that I too have a story, quite a similar one, and have loads of experience by now in fundraising, but she is already miles ahead of me. I wait for her to suggest we could work on it together around our day jobs. It could be a project for us both to get our teeth into and I know it could be life changing for so many who could benefit.
But she doesn’t, and once again I’m reminded that we are miles away from ever doing anything properly together in public as far as Kate can see. I feel my stomach twitch and I swallow hard as she goes off on an excited ramble about her plans.
‘I could work with schools and hospitals, plus there are so many community groups my mum has been helping out with, so they would be a perfect audience too for what I’d have to say,’ she tells me. ‘What do you think, David? Do you think it sounds good?’
‘I think you’d be amazing,’ I tell her, biting my tongue.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asks.
‘Nothing is wrong, Kate,’ I say, getting up from the bed. I need more water. ‘I think it’s a fantastic idea. You’ll be wonderful.’
I feel her eyes on me as I leave the room, and when I get to the top of the stairs I stop and take a deep breath, feeling a fizz of frustration run through my veins.
It’s not the charity work – or that she wants to do it alone– that bothers me at all deep down. In fact, I’m delighted to see her so passionate. For her to go off and do her own thing in any field if it makes her happy, but I’m not sure how much longer I can tolerate being totally invisible in Kate’s real world or her long-term plans. This has hit a nerve; it’s a reminder that that’s exactly what I am for now: a secret.
It’s surely a road to nowhere for our so-called relationship, but for now I’ll be excited for her. As hurtful as it might be sometimes, I’ll do my best to swallow my pride and support her every step of the way.
‘Where are you going?’ I hear her call after me just before I slam the door behind me, leaving it too late to give her an answer. I need some fresh air. I need to go for a long walk, and most of all I need to take some time out from being a secret.
JANUARY 2010
16.
KATE
You could hear a pin drop in the audience in the Dublin community hall where I’m launching my brand-new venture. I’ve notes in front of me, but I haven’t really needed them, as – after lots of planning – I knew exactly what I wanted to say. I am coming to the end of my debut speech.
‘I honestly thought at one point the doctors were trying to kill me, even though they were doing everything in their power to save my life,’ I explain to the gathered crowd of potential volunteers and local media. ‘That’s how frightened I was back then. I was so, so scared that I thought the people who were trying to save me, who were trying to build me back together, were trying to kill me.
‘Like so many others I’ll never forget the horror of that day,’ I tell them. ‘I’ve looked death straight in the eyes and I’ve constantly asked myself since – why on earth am I still here?’
I pause.
I’ve practised every word of this speech so many times. I look at the audience, making eye contact with several of them.
‘And I am grateful every single day for this second chance,’ I continue, ‘so from now on I aim to try and help others through this brand-new umbrella charity organization I’ve set up called Silent Steps. Please join me in my local campaign to help others overcome trauma, so their new world can be a better place and so their futures can be as positive and fruitful as possible.’
The audience applaud me with great vigour and I fill up with adrenaline at what I’ve just achieved. My heart is thumping, I thought at one stage I wouldn’t be able to find my breath, but I just focused on David who sits in the audience willing me on, and now I have managed to get through my speech just as I’d planned.
David had been with me when I first thought of Silent Steps; it has been his drive and ambition that has inspired me to keep pushing it forward, and yet he is willing to sit back and let me take centre stage.
‘You totally rocked it, babe!’ he whispers into my ear when I find him in the audience. ‘You’re amazing! Once you’re finished up here let’s go celebrate! Dinner and drinks are on me!’
‘And dancing,’ I tell him, still totally buzzing inside as a few journalists approach me to ask a few questions. ‘Don’t forget how you promised me dancing.’
David playfully rolls his eyes. He looks so damn sexy in his white shirt and faded denims and I can’t wait to get my hands on him properly.
‘I’ll think about it,’ he teases. ‘Although, I’ll be saving my best moves for the bedroom later.’
A journalist approaches us, meaning David is saved by the bell when it comes to his commitment for now to go dancing, which is now a bit of a running joke between us. He always gives in, and we’ve spent so many nights on the dance floors of bars and clubs in both Dublin and London as our relationship has gone from strength to strength and become hotter and hotter as we continue our long-distance romance.
‘Kate, my name’s Jen from the localHerald,’ the lady explains. ‘Can I just ask you to come this way for a quick photo? Maybe we could get a shot of you over here by your banners and merchandise?’
‘Of course, that would be fantastic!’ I say, delighted to have such a positive response to my campaign launch. I stand up to make my way to where a photographer awaits.
‘Is this your partner?’ Jen asks me, referring to David. ‘It would be great to get you both together. It would be nice to have a glimpse into your everyday life behind the bigger campaign.’
