Page 18 of Our Song

So the rehearsal began.

And we wereawful.

I had to start the whole song off and I was so nervous I kept getting the rhythm wrong.But it wasn’t just me.The drums were too loud.Then the keyboards were too quiet.Caoimhe’s Irish lyrics might have looked good on paper, but they didn’t always match the rhythm of the tune when she was actually singing them.Katie and Tadhg’s backing vocals clashed.Tadhg tried to do the elaborate guitar solo from the original and it totally fell apart.It was an absolute mess.By the time we had staggered to the end of the song, I wanted to give up.I’d wanted to play with a band for so long, and now it turned out I was terrible at it.We were all terrible at it.

Except maybe we weren’t.Because to my amazement, Tadhg said, ‘Not too bad for a first try!Let’s go again.’

So we did.And then we did it again.And again.And again.We played it for two hours.We only took breaks for the loo and to get water because it was hot and stuffy in that soundproofed practice room.And gradually, so gradually that for a while we weren’t aware of it, we started to get better.Caoimhe tweaked her lyrics so they scanned better with the tune.Katie started hammering out a bassline and a top note on the piano that added an extra layer of percussion.I stopped overthinking and just let myself channel that gorgeous choppy garage riff.After a while, we stopped looking at our hands and the lyric sheet and started looking at each other instead, nodding our heads in time to the steady beat.It didn’t matter that Tadhg was the boy I’d had a crush on for months because right now we were equals.We were part of a team.The five of us were in time now,we were in perfect sync, and when Tadhg finally played the solo perfectly, we all whooped and cheered.My right arm was aching, but I kept playing, slamming down each crunchy chord in perfect time with Brían’s drums and Katie’s bassline, and we were all joyfully singing our version of the final chorus and I didn’t care that I couldn’t sing, because now we weren’t just a bunch of people who happened to play music.We were a band, playing as one, shouting together in pure joy and exhilaration.

‘An t-am, an t-am ar fad!’

I smashed the last chord that finished the song and we all broke out into cheers and applause.Tadhg forgot we were meant to be speaking Irish and shouted, ‘That wasbrilliant!’And Caoimhe was so flushed with happy excitement she forgot to give out to him.

It was my first time hanging out with Tadhg Hennessy.

It was my first time playing in a band.

And I knew, as if I’d been hit by a thunderbolt, that I wanted to keep doing both of these things for the rest of my life.

Chapter Eight

2019

Tadhg looks famous, and it freaks me out.

I don’t mean he’s, like, bedecked in gold.He doesn’t look flashy.His vibe is understated and normal.But there’s something about people who are seriously successful that differentiates them from us ordinary mortals.He has a sort ofglow.And then there are his clothes.You cantellthe plain navy cardigan is cashmere, and not the M&S washable kind.Those jeans are from some obscure eco-friendly Japanese label.The materials of his Clark Kent glasses speak of a wildly expensive optician, not Specsavers.His boots are rich, polished brown leather.He doesn’t look like he still scours charity shops for what we used to call ‘old dead men’s suits’.He looks at home in this fancy restaurant.It feels a bit wrong.

And maybe it’s the money, maybe it’s clean living, maybe it’s just good genes, but up close and personal, when he stands up to greet me, it’s clear that the years have definitely been kind to him.His dark hair is still thick and wavy, cut short in theback and a little bit longer at the front, the way it always was.His skin is radiant, but with a few normal fine lines around his eyes.His face moves naturally.He doesn’t have that slightly embalmed, tanned look of some male rock stars over thirty-five.His excellent cheekbones and strong nose are as satisfying to behold as they were twenty years ago.Even with the cashmere and the expensive jeans, he still looks like himself.

He looks very, very good.

I silently thank Katie for the vintage recommendation.Most of my regular new clothes would look tatty next to Tadhg’s quiet luxury.And then I hate myself for caring so much about what he thinks of me.

We stand there by his table for a moment.He still looks pretty happy to see me, and for a moment I think he might be going to hug me and I’m not sure what I’d do if he did, but then he says, ‘Sorry, where are my manners?Take a seat.’

I slide into the booth and realise that, while a booth with leather seats might be good for a celebrity’s privacy, it’s quite difficult to get in and out of with elegance and grace.I have to keep pulling my skirts from under me as I make my way along the padded leather.

‘So …’ I say.I’m about to say it’s good to see him, because it is, despite everything it really is, but before I can say anything a smiling young woman with amazing hair and a dress I almost bought in Cos during the week but didn’t because, well, I’m unemployed and also six inches shorter than her, approaches and says, ‘Hi!You must be Laura.I’m Tara.’

‘Hi,’ I say, accepting her handshake before she sits down next to Tadhg.‘Nice to meet you.’A part of me is glad someone’s here to buffer any potential awkwardness between me and Tadhg.Another, shamefully bigger, part of me is disappointed that he and I can’t just talk on our own.

‘You too!Have you had a look at the menu yet?’

A server miraculously appears at her side and presents us with menus.

I feel slightly faint as I read the prices.Tadhg orders first, a starter and a main.So this is going to be a proper long lunch.He orders sparkling water for the table then says, ‘Sorry, do you want wine, Lol?I’m driving so I’ll give it a miss.’

Though not a boozy one, which is probably for the best.

‘No, thanks.’I need to keep a clear head.

Once we’ve ordered, silence descends on the table.I think of the days when Tadhg and I couldn’t stop talking to each other and feel a sharp twinge of sadness.Tadhg looks as awkward as I feel.Thankfully, Tara breaks the silence.

‘So, Laura,’ she says breezily.‘I suppose you’re wondering why we contacted you out of the blue.’

‘You said it’s about my song.’My voice sounds firm and controlled, to my own surprise, because I feel anything but.

‘Your andTadhg’ssong.’Tara’s voice is still bright but now it’s steely.

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