Page 25 of Our Song

It was a miracle.

From the moment Tadhg stepped into that scruffy garage in Stillorgan, the four of us were a unit. He fit right in as if he’d been playing with us for years, and more than that, he made us complete. Beforehand, we’d been three friends playing music together. After Tadhg arrived, we were a band.

We’d always gone into town for drinks after band practices, and after Tadhg’s first session with us, we took him to the Stag’s Head and found a free table in the snug, right under the stuffed fox.

‘So, um, did I pass the audition?’ said Tadhg.

He had.

‘Then I’m getting a round,’ said Tadhg. ‘What’s everyone drinking?’

‘You can’t get the first round,’ said Joanna. ‘You’re our guest.’

‘No he’s not,’ I said. ‘He’s one of us now. Whether he likes it or not.’

I caught Tadhg’s eye and we smiled at each other.

We’d arranged to meet Katie in the pub, and she arrived a few minutes after Tadhg had returned from the bar with the drinks.

‘Hey!’ she said. ‘I hear they’re deigning to allow you in the band. Which is more than they’ve done for me.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ I said good-naturedly. ‘You chose the paper over us.’

‘And I regret it every day,’ said Katie in mock sadness.

‘It’s just as well, though,’ said Brian affectionately. ‘What with our torrid romantic history, Cáit.’

‘Nothing worse than bandmates hooking up,’ said Joanna, with the thousand-yard stare of someone who’d survived more than one messy band implosion in her time.

‘Really, nothing?’ I tried to keep my voice light. ‘Not plague, war, famine?’

‘ Nothing ,’ said Joanna. ‘Things get way too complicated.’

I could hardly start arguing in favour of bandmates hooking up in front of Tadhg so I said, ‘Fair enough. We wouldn’t want things to get complicated.’

‘To keeping it pure and simple!’ said Tadhg, raising his pint, and we all clinked our glasses together.

We got ham and cheese toasties for dinner and stayed in the snug for the rest of the night.

Tadhg was squashed next to me in the corner, and at around half ten, when Jo, Brian and Katie were getting into an argument over whether Buffy the Vampire Slayer would ever get good again, he turned to me and said, ‘Thanks for this.’

‘Oh, there’s no need to thank me,’ I said.

‘Nah, there is,’ he said. ‘Today’s been brilliant.’

I smiled back at him. ‘It has, hasn’t it?

‘I think,’ said Tadhg, ‘we could make a pretty good team.’

I couldn’t look away from him.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I think we could too.’

‘And obviously,’ said Tadhg, ‘the next step is fame and fortune and world domination.’

‘Well, of course,’ I said. ‘It’ll be all private jets and fur coats by Christmas. Bags first go on the jet.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said. ‘We’ll have a jet each.’

‘Lol!’ Katie was tapping me on the shoulder. ‘Doesn’t the Buffy musical episode make up for that awful episode in the fast-food place?’

‘What?’ I said. ‘Um, yeah, I suppose so.’

Katie turned back to Brian. ‘See? Lol agrees with me.’

Tadhg and I didn’t talk alone again for the rest of the night.

But the hope began to grow.

I didn’t only see Tadhg at band practices, of course. On the Monday after our first practice, he texted me to see if I wanted to go for lunch. I met him on the Arts Block ramp, and when I got there he was talking to a very pretty, tall blonde girl in a sheepskin-lined denim jacket.

‘Hey!’ he said when he saw me. ‘Laura, this is Jess from my class. Jess, this is Laura.’

‘Oh, your new bandmate!’ Jess’s smile was warm and friendly. ‘Tim was just telling me about the band. It sounds great.’

It felt weird hearing her call him Tim.

‘Oh, we’ve only had one practice so far,’ I said, ‘so I’m not sure how great we are!’ I immediately wanted to kick myself for being self-deprecating. ‘Um, so you’re a music person too?’

‘Yeah, but mostly experimental stuff, you know? A lot of hitting found objects with sticks and things like that.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Wow. Well, that sounds pretty cool.’

I suddenly felt like an ignoramus, even though Jess’s manner hadn’t been in any way patronising.

‘Anyway!’ she said. ‘I’ll let you go. Lovely to meet you, Laura. Bye, Tim!’

‘See you later,’ said Tadhg.

Jess waved and went into the Arts Block.

‘She seems nice,’ I said honestly.

‘Yeah, she’s great,’ said Tadhg.

‘Does everyone in your class call you Tim?’ I said.

‘Well, yeah,’ he said.

‘Would you prefer if I called you Tim?’ I said.

He smiled and said, ‘Absolutely not.’

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ he said. ‘I’ll always be Tadhg in the glamorous world of rock and roll.’

‘Okay then,’ I said, smiling back at him. ‘Tadhg it is.’

That was the beginning of what became our routine for the rest of the college year.

Every Saturday I’d meet Tadhg outside college and we’d get the bus out to Stillorgan.

From the start I loved those bus journeys, chatting about his course (he loved it but it was very intense), about my course (not very intense, in retrospect – I seemed to have endless time for just hanging around with my friends), about books and films and music and life in general. The journeys always felt too short.

When we got to the garage we’d practise the old songs and write new ones.

Or rather, Tadhg and I wrote them. Sometimes we’d bring each other ideas, like little offerings – a chord sequence or a bassline from me, a melody or a riff from him – and create something new together.

Sometimes we’d give each other songs that were almost complete.

When I did that, he never added much to my songs, but whenever he brought me a song, he’d say, ‘I know it needs something else, Laura. I just don’t know what. ’

But I always knew.

Afterwards we’d all go into town and get a drink in the Stag’s or Doyle’s, where we’d plan our future musical triumphs, more often than not joined by Katie.

One night in November we were sitting in the Stag’s and Katie said, ‘At this stage I feel like an honorary member of the … you still don’t have a band name, do you?’

We didn’t.

‘You should let me pick a name,’ said Katie. ‘I’ve got loads of band-name ideas. I’ve been thinking of imaginary band names since I was in school.’

‘No way,’ said Brian. ‘I’m not trusting you to name our band.’

Katie looked at Joanna and Tadhg hopefully. ‘Jo? Timothy?’

‘Hmm, I’m not sure,’ said Joanna.

‘Maybe if you hadn’t called me Timothy,’ said Tadhg.

‘Curses,’ said Katie, shaking her fist.

‘Anyway, there’s no hurry with finding a name,’ I said.

‘Actually,’ said Katie, ‘maybe there is. I have news.’

She paused for dramatic effect and Tadhg said, ‘Go on then, Cáit !’

‘All right,’ said Katie. ‘You know Ruairí, right? Well, Tadhg and Laura do. I bumped into him on my way here. He’s organising a gig for his friend’s band, Sourpuss, the week before Christmas. And they’ve decided they need a second support act! So I said I’d ask you lot.’

We all looked at each other.

‘We’ve got a month,’ said Brian. ‘We’ll be good enough to play a gig by then, right?’

‘Probably?’ I said.

‘I think we can do it,’ said Joanna.

‘Of course we can,’ said Tadhg. ‘Thanks, Katie.’ He grinned at her. ‘Maybe you should name the band after all.’

Katie rubbed her hands together in glee.

On a Wednesday evening in late November, I was crossing Front Square when I saw Tadhg with a group of his classmates.

Including Jess. I’d met her a few times on nights out, and she was always lovely to me, but I couldn’t help being weirdly intimidated by her.

She was so tall and blonde and cool. Tadhg waved at me, said something to his friends and made his way over to me as they set off in the direction of the Arts Block.

‘Hey!’ he said.

‘Hey yourself,’ I said. ‘Where are you off to?’

‘I’m actually going home,’ said Tadhg. ‘I think I might need to eat some food that isn’t chips.’

‘Is that possible?’ I said.

‘I’m pretty sure there’s something containing vegetables in my parents’ fridge. What about you?’

‘I was just about to go to the library to check if anyone was around to get dinner,’ I said.

‘Oh,’ said Tadhg. ‘Um, will I do? If you fancy going somewhere that serves veg, of course.’

I smiled up at him. ‘I know just the place.’

Ten minutes later we were sitting on some battered armchairs in the wood-panelled basement of Gruel on Dame Street, a place where they served wine in tumblers and you could get a delicious dinner for a tenner.

Over the last two months we’d had plenty of tête-à-tête lunches and cups of tea in college, talking and laughing and eating terrible Buttery food, but we’d never gone out alone in the evening before.

We’d certainly never, like, gone out for dinner. It almost felt like … a date.

‘This is brilliant,’ said Tadhg, leaning back in his Naugahyde-covered armchair, a tumbler of red wine in one hand. ‘I had no idea there was anywhere like this in Dublin.’

‘I know!’ I said. ‘I can’t afford to come here too often but I love it. And they do green things and everything.’

‘Amazing,’ said Tadhg. ‘Maybe I won’t die of scurvy after all.’

‘You were never going to die of scurvy, Tadhg,’ I said. ‘There’s vitamin C in chips.’

Later, when we were on our second glass of wine and eating vegetable tagine (Tadhg) and risotto (me), he said, ‘So, listen, how are you feeling about this gig? You’re definitely okay about playing it, right?’

‘Definitely,’ I said. And I really was. Nervous, sure, but also excited.

‘And, like, we’ll only be playing about six songs,’ said Tadhg. ‘We can finish with ‘Midnight Feast’. It has all the words.’ He softly sings the chorus. ‘Couldn’t make it work / no matter how you tried / It’s a midnight feast / but I’m not satisfied.’

And because I’d had two glasses of wine, I unthinkingly said, ‘I hope Dan’s not in the audience to hear it.’

‘Dan?’ said Tadhg. ‘Is that the guy you went out with last year?’

I groaned. ‘Forget I said anything.’

‘Is the song about him?’

‘No! I mean, it doesn’t matter!’ I could feel myself blushing.

‘I’m starting to think,’ said Tadhg, ‘that this whole midnight-feast thing isn’t actually about food.’

I hid my face in my hands. ‘Oh God!’

‘Well, if Dan is listening in the audience,’ said Tadhg, ‘it’ll serve him right for, um, not trying harder.’

‘Shut up!’ But I laughed, despite myself. ‘So go on, who are your lyrics about? What about ‘Anyone But You’?’

‘Unlike you, Lol,’ said Tadhg with a grin, ‘I’m a gentleman. I’m saying nothing.’

He’d never called me Lol before.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’m no gentleman.’

We’d finished our second glasses of wine. I couldn’t really afford another one. (I couldn’t technically afford this dinner.) I actually had an essay due on Friday. I really should go home.

But shit, I didn’t want to. I really, really didn’t want to. I wanted to stay with him. I wanted to hear him call me Lol again in that fond, familiar way.

Then for some reason I suddenly thought of Tadhg’s cool classmate Jess.

Would she tipsily urge Tadhg to stay out for one more drink that neither of them could afford on a Wednesday night, when both of them had early starts the next day?

If she wanted to spend more time with him, would she be so blatant about it? Probably not.

So I sighed and said, ‘We should probably head.’

‘Really?’ said Tadhg. He looked at his watch. ‘Oh. Yeah. I suppose you’re right. I have a psychoacoustics class first thing in the morning. You’d want to be awake for that.’

He didn’t exactly seem like he was dying to leave, and for a moment I considered saying, Fuck it, let’s go to the Buttery and get a cheap drink . But reason prevailed.

‘Let’s get the bill,’ I said.

A few minutes later, we were walking past the Bank of Ireland on College Green.

‘Thanks,’ said Tadhg, ‘for introducing me to that place. We should go there again.’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘We should.’

We walked in companionable silence for a moment and then Tadhg said, ‘Have I said how glad I am that we’ve found each other again?’

‘Not in so many words,’ I said.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I am.’

We reached my bus stop. And suddenly the atmosphere was different. Now there was something crackling between us, something that had always been there but was now charged with electricity.

‘Yeah?’ I said.

‘Yeah,’ said Tadhg. ‘Very glad.’ He took a step closer towards me.

For a moment I was sure he was going to kiss me. For a moment I thought I might even kiss him first.

Then a voice went, ‘All right, lads?’

I turned around and Ruairí was strolling towards us, his hand raised in greeting.

‘Ruairí!’ said Tadhg, stepping back from me. ‘Hey!’

‘You on your way to the bus?’ said Ruairí. ‘I’ll walk with you.’

‘Um, yeah, sure,’ said Tadhg. He turned to me. ‘You’ll be okay on your own, Lol?’

‘Course I will,’ I said brightly.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I might see you before practice on Saturday.’

‘Sure!’ I said. ‘See you soon.’

Perfect timing, Ruairí, I thought as they walked towards O’Connell Bridge. Thanks a bloody bunch. But the hope was growing blossoms now. There’ll be another moment like that, I thought. We’ll have another chance soon.

That’s what I thought. That’s really what I thought.

And then the gig happened.