Page 1 of Our Song

This is what I want.

Not right now, obviously, I think, as I look around the function room of the hotel where my mother’s retirement party is in full swing.

But eventually. Some day. I want to be able to look back at my life with this sort of happiness.

I can see myself in thirty years, laughing with my future husband and children and my friends and family, popping open a bottle of champagne, celebrating a career I loved and a life well lived, looking forward to future adventures.

It’s the best sort of dream – lovely, yet achievable.

Although hopefully my celebrations will take place somewhere a bit more glamorous than a hotel in the north Dublin suburb of Drumcondra, where my fiancé (it still feels so weird to call him that) Dave is currently singing my praises to my extended family.

‘You know Laura used to be in a band?’ he says proudly.

‘Is that true, Laura?’ My aunt Mary can’t hide her surprise as she turns to me.

‘Oh, it’s true,’ I say. ‘But it was a long time ago. In college.’

‘I’m sure I mentioned it at the time, Mary,’ says my mam.

I roll my eyes and smile at Dave, who winks back at me.

‘And you didn’t keep it up?’ says my uncle Gerry. ‘The music?’

‘Oh no.’ I take a sip of wine. ‘The band split up when we left college.’

‘Before my time,’ says Dave in mock sadness. He notices my mother’s wine glass is empty and refills it.

‘Thank you, David,’ says Mam fondly. She turns to me. ‘I always thought you’d find another band, Laurie. You were so devoted to your music.’

Well, she’s changed her tune from the days of ‘Shouldn’t you be studying for your finals, Laura?’. But I’m not going to mention that now.

No, I am. ‘In fairness, Mam, at the time you were delighted I was more focused on my first proper job than faffing around on the guitar.’

‘Speaking of proper jobs,’ says my dad, clearly keen not to revive those old arguments, ‘Laura’s ad agency just got bought by Zenith, the big consultancy company! She’s going to get a promotion.’

‘Visions isn’t my agency!’ I protest. ‘I just work there. And I might not get a promotion.’

My mother ignores this. ‘You know that funny TV ad about the ethical pensions?’ she says. ‘The animated one?’

The aunts and uncles all know it. It’s on all the time. Not exactly the sort of fame you dream of, perhaps, but my friend Aoife and I did win an award for it.

‘Well, Laura wrote that!’ says Mam. Everyone is suitably impressed.

‘You’re doing very well for yourself, Laura,’ says an aunt.

‘Ah, thanks, I’m doing all right,’ I say. ‘Now, shouldn’t the food have been brought out already—?’

‘But you never thought of doing the music professionally?’ says Gerry.

I shake my head. ‘Oh God, no.’

This is a lie, of course. I thought about it a lot, once upon a time.

Dave laughs at the very idea. ‘Being in a college band is like playing five-a-side football, Gerry,’ he says. ‘You do it for fun, but you know you’re never going to play for Real Madrid.’

I feel myself bristle at this, just a tiny bit. Which is stupid, because he’s right, I know he’s right. But …

Then an unexpected voice behind me says, ‘Laura’s band was really good, David .’

‘Oh yeah, I’m sure they were!’ says Dave hastily. ‘I didn’t mean—’

‘They were seriously good,’ says my younger sister Annie, pulling out a chair next to me and sitting down. She lives in London but she’s come home for the weekend to celebrate Mam’s retirement.

‘How do you know?’ says Dad. ‘You were still in school back then!’

‘Laura sneaked me into one of their gigs,’ says Annie. ‘I thought they’d be terrible.’

‘Wow, thanks,’ I say.

Annie turns back to Dave. ‘But you should have seen Laura on stage. She was incredible.’

‘I’m sure she was!’ says Dave. ‘I only meant that loads of people are in bands in college and they don’t make a career out of it. It wasn’t an insult!’

And Annie says, ‘Well, Laura’s bandmate has made a pretty good career out of it.’

Oh shit.

I try to subtly give her a ‘please change the subject’ look but it’s too late because Dave is saying, ‘What do you mean?’

‘She was in a band with Tadhg Hennessy,’ says Annie. Her eyes widen in gleeful disbelief. ‘Oh my God, didn’t you know?’

I never knew what a stunned silence felt like until this moment. Everyone at the table – and some of my mother’s friends who are standing nearby – are staring at me. I think at least one mouth has literally dropped open.

‘What?’ says Dave.

‘Tadhg Hennessy ?’ says Dad. ‘Who sings ‘Winter Without You’?’

‘Your cousin Cass saw him play the 3Arena!’ says an aunt.

‘Annie, don’t be ridiculous!’ says Mam. ‘Laura wasn’t in a band with Tadhg Hennessy!’

‘Yes, she was!’ says Annie. ‘Tell them, Laura.’

The only other people who know I was in a band with Tadhg Hennessy in college are my friends who were around at the time. I’ve never told anyone since.

But maybe it was ridiculous to think I could keep it a secret forever.

‘It is true,’ I say reluctantly. I meet Dave’s eye and he raises his eyebrows in exaggerated shock, which I hope means he’s not too freaked by this revelation. ‘But it wasn’t a big deal.’

Well, that’s another lie.

‘What was he like?’ says Mary. ‘He seemed very nice on the Late Late Show .’

‘Was he always that good at singing?’ says Gerry.

‘He was the best-looking man I’ve ever seen in real life,’ says Annie unhelpfully.

To my relief, I can see waiters bearing down on us with large platters of triangular sandwiches.

‘He was just my bandmate,’ I say.

And there’s one more lie.

I’m heading to the loo when I bump into Annie coming the other way.

I glare at her. ‘Thanks very much for that announcement earlier.’

‘I’m sorry!’ says Annie. She doesn’t look that sorry. ‘How was I to know you’d never told your fiancé about Tadhg?’

‘I never told him because the band was a million years ago!’ I say. ‘I can’t remember the last time I picked up my guitar. I don’t even know where my electric one is.’

‘It’s in the wardrobe of your old room with Mam’s bags and winter coats,’ says Annie.

‘Well, there you go. The fact that I didn’t know this shows what a serious musician I am these days.’

‘Dave should fully appreciate how cool you used to be,’ says Annie. ‘A very long time ago. Obviously you’re old and boring now.’

‘Obviously,’ I say.

But old and boring Laura isn’t doing too badly, I think, as Dave and I bid farewell to the assembled gathering a few hours later and start walking home, hand in hand, to our flat in Glasnevin.

‘I can’t believe you’re even more of a rock star than I thought you were,’ says Dave.

‘I should have told you I was in a band with Tadhg before now,’ I say.

‘Why didn’t you?’ says Dave.

He doesn’t sound angry. He very rarely gets annoyed about stuff. It’s one of the things I love about him.

‘I’ve never really told anyone,’ I say. ‘I suppose … I suppose it felt like boasting.’

‘If I’d been in a band with Tadhg Hennessy,’ says Dave, ‘I’d be boasting about it all the time. I don’t suppose this means you could get us VIP tickets to his Malahide Castle gig?’

I force a laugh. ‘I haven’t seen him since the band split up in 2003, so no, I don’t think so.’

‘Fair enough,’ says Dave. We cross the bridge over the Tolka and he says, ‘I hope your mum had a good day.’

‘She’s had a great day,’ I say. ‘She got to show off her perfect future son-in-law.’

‘Happy to be of service,’ he says. ‘I wish I could say my mum’s birthday next week will be as fun.’

‘It’ll be great!’ I lie.

‘It won’t,’ says Dave. ‘But I love you for saying that. And I apologise in advance for whatever offensive things she’s going to say about you being from the northside.’

I laugh. ‘Oh, I know I’m your bit of rough.’

‘You bet you are,’ says Dave with a grin, and kisses me. ‘So! Do you fancy going to that food-festival thing tomorrow?’

‘Are you not going to visit Joe?’ I say.

Dave’s oldest friend just finished his first round of chemotherapy.

‘Ah no,’ says Dave. ‘I don’t want to bother him.’

I sigh. Not this again.

‘Dave!’ I say. ‘You haven’t seen him in ages. You know he wants visitors, he said so.’

‘I don’t think he meant it,’ says Dave. ‘He’s still feeling shit.’

‘He did mean it!’ I say. ‘Come on, you need to show up for your friends at times like this.’

‘But I’m no good at that sort of thing!’ protests Dave. ‘I’d be no use. Seriously, Laura, me sitting in Joe’s house looking miserable isn’t going to help him.’

He looks genuinely upset so I say, ‘Okay, okay. But at least give him a ring.’

‘I will,’ says Dave.

It’s a mild evening, and as we head down Drumcondra Road we pass a couple pushing a buggy with a tiny newborn baby in it.

Dave squeezes my hand. ‘That’ll be us in a year or two.’

I quickly reach out my other hand and brush my fingers against a tree at the edge of the pavement. ‘Touch wood.’

His total confidence unsettles me, just a bit. We walk in silence for a moment and then I say, ‘You haven’t forgotten I’ve got that doctor’s appointment next week?’

‘Course not.’ Dave looks down at me and smiles. ‘Don’t look so worried, love. It’ll be grand.’

‘But what if it isn’t?’ I say. I wish I could be as breezy as he is. Whether it’s about health, or work, or the future in general, he always ignores the negative and focuses on the positive. ‘What’ll we do if it isn’t?’

‘But it will be!’ says Dave. ‘Seriously, Laura. There’s no need to worry. It’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.’

And like a fool, I believe him.