Carmel Harrington - Every Time a Bell Rings

‘I didn’t plan this, which is silly, because it’s all I’ve thought about for days. I don’t even have a ring.’ He says, and looks forlorn.

I’ve spent my whole life dreaming of happy-ever-afters, where the prince drops to one knee, diamond ring in one hand as he pleads his devotion. But now, in this moment, I realise that I don’t care one jolt about a ring. I smile in an attempt to reassure him of my non-materialistic self.

‘But I do have this,’ he continues, his face breaking out into a big smile again, and he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket.

What on earth is he going to pull out? He’s got a square box in his hand, wrapped in red paper, with a brilliant white bow on top.

‘That’s one fancy-pants wrapping job there,’ I say to him.

‘I bought this earlier for you. It’s only one small part of your Christmas present. Don’t worry, there’s more. I was going to put it under the tree at Tess’s. But I think it might just work quite well now.’ He hands the box to me.

My hands are shaking so much I can hardly peel off the wrapping paper. I hold my breath as I unclasp the hook at the front of the box. I know it’s not a ring, he’s made that clear, but I have no idea what delights might be hidden inside.

A tiny silver bell. Nestled on red-velvet fabric within the box, with a red-velvet ribbon attached to it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more perfect.

‘Oh, Jim.’ I sigh and, I swear, the crowd sighs with me.

‘A silver bell for my Belle,’ he says.

I take it out and shake it once, twice and it rings out into the night air. The group around me all sigh again, louder this time, in unison.

I don’t blame them. For goodness sake, I’m about to faint with the beauty of the moment. I’ve read about moments like these, watched them in Christmas specials and now I’m actually part of one. Me.

He takes the bell from my shaking hands and unties the red ribbon.

‘It’s not a ring, but it can be a promise of one if you say yes,’ he says.

‘Appleby Jewellers is still open, love,’ a voice shouts out from behind me and the crowd laughs in appreciation of typical quick Dublin wit.

My head races around and around, like a spinning top, and I feel faint as blood rushes to my brain. I reach back to clasp the wrought-iron railing on the bridge.

For someone who has spent twenty-five years never ever feeling faint, I’ve been doing a good job of it lately, I realise. I close my eyes and take three consecutive deep breaths, until I feel steady once more.

Maybe I just imagined all of that. I look down, expecting to see nothing there, but a red cobbled street.

Instead, there’s Jim, my ride of a boyfriend, still on one knee looking up at me. And I can see only love in his eyes.

‘We’ve only known each other three weeks,’ I splutter to him. It has to be said. One of us needs to be responsible here. This elicits delicious and shocked gasps from our ever-growing audience.

He stands up and grabs my hands in his. ‘My darling, beautiful, courageous Belle. You know that’s not true. We’ve known each other all of our lives.’

Isn’t it funny that at Christmas something in you gets so lonely for — I don’t know what exactly, but it’s something that you don’t mind so much not having at other times.

Kate L. Bosher

December 1988

‘She’s not said a word. It’s not normal. Maybe it’s time you had her tested. You know, to see if there’s anything wrong with her.’ Mrs Gately, my about-to-be ex-foster carer, sniffs as she taps the side of her head.

‘She’s done this before. Stopped talking, I mean,’ Mrs O’Reilly replies, and sniffs in solidarity.

Mrs O’Reilly is my social worker, for as long as I can remember. She doesn’t look happy with me right now, either. I don’t want to make her cross. I never mean to upset anyone, but it keeps happening all the same. I made my mother angry a lot.

I hold my doll Dee-Dee close to me and stroke her black hair, trying to block out memories of my mother.

‘Have a good Christmas, Belle,’ Mrs Gately says loudly as she moves towards me. She almost hugs me, then seems to change her mind at the last minute. She ends up just patting my head instead.

I think I got off lightly because she smells weird. She wears this perfume that makes my nose itch and sneeze. I can see she’s delighted to see the back of me. I heard her telling her husband earlier that no money was worth it. Even though I’m only eight, I’ve worked out that it must be me.

‘Put your seat belt on, Belle,’ Mrs O’Reilly snaps over her shoulder. She’s definitely cross with me too. But then her face softens a little as she looks at me in the rear-view mirror. Her voice goes all high and strained as she tells me, ‘You’ll like this house, you wait and see. Tess is a good woman and this time it’s a permanent placement. That will be good, won’t it? Settling into a new home and unpacking your things.’

I look down at the small backpack that lies at my feet, which holds everything I own.

‘Belle,’ she snaps again and I realise she’s waiting for me to say something in return.

I nod and attempt a smile, even though I don’t feel much like it.

It seems to satisfy her, because she stops staring at me in the rear-view mirror and returns her eyes to the road in front of us.

What do you think Dee-Dee? Will this home be a forever one? Dee-Dee always tells me the truth. I think she’s the only person in the whole world who does.

She looks at me with her big brown eyes and says, ‘Well, Joan and Daniel’s house was supposed to be a forever home too.’

True, in fact Mrs O’Reilly has said that very same line to me loads of times now.

As always, whenever I think of Joan and Daniel, I feel scared all over again. All I want to do is go back to Dun Laoghaire, back to that house I’ve lived in for the past few years. Problem is, Joan and Daniel are not there any more. The house is for sale and locked up. My old foster parents are now somewhere called the Silicone Valley. I don’t know where that is, but I know it must be far away, because they had to go on an aeroplane to get there.

Why did they have to leave me behind, Dee-Dee? My stomach starts to flip.

Dee-Dee looks at me with her big sad eyes and I know what she’s thinking.

Everyone leaves. In the end, they all leave me behind.

‘It’s just you and me, kiddo, stick with me and we’ll be fine,’ Dee-Dee says.

I kiss her forehead and nod. Yes, we’ll be just fine.

Mrs Reilly starts to chatter on about how much fun I’m going to have in this new house in Drumcondra. It will be a new adventure, she keeps saying. And even though I don’t need to go on an aeroplane to get to this new place, I know it’s a long way away from everything I know.

‘Tess, your new foster mum, has been fostering for over thirty years. She has a room ready for you. All to yourself, too. Won’t that be nice? And you can walk to your new school every day, just like you did at Joan and Daniel’s.’ She smiles in the rear-view mirror.

I look at her eyes. The smile doesn’t reach them. Whenever people smile at me, I check out to see if the eyes crinkle up at the corners. I know it’s a real smile if that happens. I’ve noticed that there are a lot of people who fake-smile all the time. Mrs Reilly is a prime example.

The car stops and starts in splutters as she hits the usual rush-hour traffic. I feel a little bit sick, so I decide I’d better close my eyes in an attempt to stop the nausea.

‘It’s almost the Christmas holidays, so we all agree that it’s best you start your new school in January. That gives you a few weeks to settle in. New Year, new beginning. I think that’s best all round. Isn’t that exciting? You’ll love it there, trust me, you wait and see,’ she states in that high, strangled voice of hers.