Page 45 of Our Song

The day after his break-up with Jess, I met Tadhg as usual at Front Arch to get the bus out to Brian’s garage. He looked like he hadn’t slept much. Or shaved.

‘You okay?’ I said.

He nodded. ‘More or less.’

We started walking towards the bus stop.

‘Have you talked to Jess?’ I said. ‘Since yesterday, I mean?’

‘I rang her this morning,’ he said. ‘She’s … not great.’

We walked in silence for a moment.

‘You know,’ I said, ‘if you’re not up for playing the Ball, we don’t have to do it.’

But to my relief he said, ‘God, no, of course I want to do it.’ He smiled down at me. ‘I want to end this college year with something good.’

I smiled back at him. Inside my heart, the hope started to rise. And something else. Determination.

‘So do I,’ I said.

Tadhg and I were still determined to follow Jo and Brian’s wishes and keep the band going somehow when I got back from my New York summer, even though we weren’t going to be in the same college anymore.

‘We can’t stop now, Lol,’ he said. ‘We’re only getting started.’

‘We should record something,’ I said. My mind raced with possibilities. ‘We could release an EP.’

‘We could do everything ,’ said Tadhg.

Now he wasn’t with Jess I was starting to regret my plan to go to America for three months. What if he met someone new while I was away? A fellow teacher on that summer camp, someone even hotter and cooler than Jess?

If I wanted something to happen with him, I was going to have to make sure it happened soon.

I had just left the library in the Arts Block one sunny afternoon a week later when I got the bad news. Joanna was coming through the door from Fellows’ Square, a miserable expression on her face.

‘Hey,’ I said, hurrying down the steps to join her. ‘What’s happened?’

She took a deep breath. ‘The Ball’s been cancelled.’

‘The Trinity Ball?’ I said ridiculously, as if there were some other ball going on around here. ‘But it’s on Friday!’

‘The security guards are going on strike,’ she said. ‘The whole thing’s been called off.’

‘But that means …’ The full devastating extent of Jo’s words was dawning on me. ‘We won’t get to play.’

Joanna nodded miserably.

‘But … fuck !’ I said. ‘That’s our last gig!’

An hour later, we were sitting on the grass outside the college’s Pavilion Bar with Tadhg and Brian, the four of us drowning our sorrows with cheap cans. Everyone was too miserable to talk much.

‘Maybe we can organise another gig,’ I said, without conviction. But I knew we wouldn’t. We were all under exam pressure. None of us had the time or mental energy to start ringing around venues, trying to put on a gig at the last minute. This was it. We’d never play on stage together again.

Then Ruairí was standing in front of us.

‘I suppose you’ve heard the shit news?’ he said. ‘Well, I might have something that’ll cheer you up.’

‘The strike’s off?’ Joanna’s face lit up.

‘What? Oh no, that’s still happening. And rightly so. Up the workers! No, the official ball is off. But …’ He paused for dramatic effect.

‘Spit it out, Ru,’ I said. I wasn’t in the mood.

‘The Alternative Ball is on.’ He was grinning from ear to ear. ‘This Friday. BYOB and black tie. And at this ball, you won’t be the opening act. You’ll be the headliner.’

We gawped at him.

‘So, you know Paul from Shatner?’ We all nodded. ‘He and his mates live in this massive old ruin of a house on the North Circular Road. Seriously, it’s huge. We can have bands and DJs in there. His housemate knows somewhere we can rent a sound system for fuck all.’

‘Can they sort that out by this Friday?’ said Tadhg.

‘They’ve already booked the sound system,’ said Ruairí. ‘It’s happening, lads. Ah, look at your happy little faces!’

And so the Alternative Ball was born.

I wore the seventies maxi dress. If there was ever a time to wear it, it was that night: the last hurrah before the exams and New York and, after that, a whole new life.

I’d got a conditional offer from DCU, so unless I really messed up my finals, I’d be starting my master’s there in October.

This night was going to be my goodbye to Trinity, to my full college experience.

And it was, we all knew, goodbye to The Band Laura’s In.

Our last gig was going to be special. It had to be special.

I spent longer doing my hair and make-up than I ever had before, and I must have done something right because when I was leaving, wearing a fake fur jacket over the maxi dress, Annie stuck her head out of her room and said, ‘Wow. You don’t look that bad.’

Praise indeed.

College was closed early because of the security-guard strike, but Tadhg and I arranged to meet at the locked Front Gate.

I didn’t know it would be the last time he’d ever wait for me there.

It was a sunny evening with a hint of chill, and I was glad of the fake fur jacket as I walked along the curve of the college railings towards the gate.

And there he was, in the golden early-evening light.

Carrying his guitar case and wearing a perfectly fitting tux.

Fucking hell.

‘Hey!’ he said.

‘Hey yourself,’ I said. ‘What charity shop did you get that in?’

‘Shit, does it look too ridiculous?’ he said.

‘Not at all,’ I said.

‘It’s actually my dad’s,’ said Tadhg. ‘He needed it for my cousin’s wedding years ago. Her family have notions. Hence the black tie.’

‘It’s great,’ I said truthfully.

‘What are you wearing?’ he said. ‘Is that the dress you bought with me?’

‘I figured our last gig was worth wearing it for,’ I said.

‘Definitely.’ He looked down at me and grinned. ‘Right, Ms McDermott. Shall we go to the ball?’

We got the number 10 bus out to the North Circular.

It was just the two of us; Brian and Joanna were getting lifts from the southside.

People stared at us when we got on the bus and went upstairs, Tadhg in his tux and me in my floor-length floral frock and fur jacket, both of us carrying guitar cases.

‘Do you think this is how REM are getting to their Glastonbury headline slot next month?’ said Tadhg, as we sat down in the upstairs front seats.

‘Definitely,’ I said. ‘They’re getting paid in cans of Dutch Gold and Scrumpy Jack too.’

‘Who else is playing tonight, by the way?’ said Tadhg. ‘Sorry, I’ve been kind of distracted all week.’

‘Sourpuss and Shatner, obviously,’ I said. ‘And a hip-hop band called Astroturf. And then Fiachra and some other people are DJing.’ I hadn’t seen Fiachra since that last encounter in his house ten days earlier, but we’d been texting each other.

‘Oh, right,’ said Tadhg. ‘Cool.’

‘Fiachra said Ruairí’s going to be on the door checking people’s names off the list,’ I said.

In case the house got swamped, Ruairí had come up with a scheme: anyone who wanted to attend the Alternative Ball had to email him and get added to a list, and if your name wasn’t on it on the night, you weren’t coming in. ‘But I don’t know how long that’s going to last.’

Tadhg laughed. ‘I can’t imagine anyone involved in this ball being a very effective bouncer. Myself included.’

‘Oh well,’ I said. ‘We just have to worry about playing the set. Our last-ever set,’ I added morosely.

‘Come on,’ said Tadhg. ‘You and me will still be a band next year, remember? We’re going to record an EP! And I know it won’t be the same, but we’ll find people to fill in for Brian and Jo.’

‘We won’t have the garage,’ I said.

‘We’ll find somewhere,’ said Tadhg. ‘I believe in us.’

I smiled at him, his beautiful face golden in the evening sunlight that was streaming into the bus. ‘I do too.’

We knew we had the right house as soon as we saw it.

‘Wow,’ I said. ‘Ruairí’s actually put some work into this.’

An extension lead was coming out of the open fanlight above the front door, and into it were plugged multiple strings of fairy lights, which were strung up over the porch of the large three-storey house.

We were walking up the steps when the door opened and Fiachra appeared, looking extremely handsome in black tie. I had never seen him in a suit before.

‘Hey!’ he cried. He gave me a big hug and raised a hand in greeting to Tadhg. ‘The stars of the show! Very cool dress, Laura.’

‘Thanks very much,’ I said.

‘I’m just going to the shop to get some Rizlas while everything’s being set up,’ said Fiachra. ‘Do you want anything?’

‘I’m good,’ I said.

‘How about you, Tim?’

‘I’m fine,’ said Tadhg. ‘Thanks.’

‘Then I’ll see you later!’ Fiachra kissed me on the cheek and bounced down the steps, and Tadhg and I went inside.

‘What do you think?’ said Ruairí, when we found him in what was officially the dining room at the back of the enormous house.

He hadn’t been exaggerating about the size.

It was in rag order – plaster peeling from the walls, damp stains on ceilings – but it was huge.

‘We all raided our folks’ Christmas decorations. My mum’s going to kill me in December.’

Every room on the ground floor was strewn with fairy lights and the effect, while definitely a fire hazard, was also totally magical.

‘It’s amazing,’ I said, and I meant it.

By nine o’clock the house was rammed. Brian and Jo had arrived just in time for us to do a quick soundcheck, and then Katie turned up with a gang of our mates.

‘Oh my God,’ she said when she saw me. ‘That dress is fantastic.’

I had taken off the fake fur jacket by now and put it in the scullery that was serving as a dressing room.

‘It’s not too …’ I gestured at my chest.

‘It’s just the right amount of …’ She gestured back.

‘Oh,’ I said. There were butterflies in my stomach. I just knew something big was going to happen tonight. I was going to make sure of it. ‘Good.’