Page 9 of Our Song

‘Or maybe,’ says Katie, ‘he wants to give you a proper songwriting credit.’

I get a flashback to sitting in a lecture theatre in college, imagining the credits of our first album.Maybe some girls imagined double-barrelling their names with the man of their dreams.The thought of changing my name when I got married has never crossed my mind.But I often found myself doodling ‘All songs: Hennessy/McDermott’ when I was meant to be taking lecture notes.

‘Look,’ says Jeanne.‘If you ignore this email, do you think you’ll regret it in a year’s time, when he has a new album out that could have had your song on it?’

‘Maybe,’ I admit.

‘And you were really good friends with him once,’ says Katie.‘Despite, you know, everything.’

‘True,’ I say.‘But he wasn’tthatgreat.’

There’s a long silence as I ponder their words.Finally Katie breaks it.

‘Well,’ she says.‘He was really, really hot.’

‘He still is,’ says Jeanne.‘And I don’t even fancy men.’So annoying that Tadhg’s appeal transcends gender preferences.

‘Fine, fine, I’ll admit that he was hot.Is hot,’ I say.‘Satisfied?’

‘No!’says Katie.‘Iknowyou want to do this.And more importantly, I think it’ll lay some ghosts to rest.Give you closure about everything that happened back then.I think you should tell this Tara person you’ll meet Tadhg for lunch.’

‘Just to see if he’s still hot in person,’ says Jeanne.

‘Exactly,’ says Katie.‘Just don’t reply now because I think you’re a little bit pissed.As am I.Wait until tomorrow and then do it.If you still want to.’

I give in.‘Fine, fine, fine.I’ll reply tomorrow.If I still want to.’

‘Laura, this is a good thing!’says Jeanne.‘You have a special relationship with Tadhg Hennessy!That’s pretty cool, no?’

I laugh.‘If you say so.’Jeanne hadn’t been there.My relationship, if that’s what I can even call it, with Tadhg Hennessy was definitely not cool.

Except, of course, for the moments when it really, really was.

Chapter Four

1999

By the time we were all bundled into the main hall of Coláiste Laoise for our official welcome by the staff, I had lost sight of Blues Explosion Boy.We were staying in a house called Tí Mhairéad, the closest house to thecoláiste, and were soon brought there by one of themúinteoirí(we called all the staffmúinteoirs, though they weren’t all teachers), a friendly young woman called Áine.Katie grabbed both my arms as soon as we closed the door of our bedroom.

‘Why is he here?!’she hissed.We had to keep our voices down so thebean an tíwouldn’t hear us speaking English.

‘It’s a miracle,’ I said reverently.And it really did feel like one.

We were the first group to arrive back at thecoláistefor the céilí on that first night.

‘Oh, look!’said Sarah.‘They have disco lights!’She said the last two words in English.It was all right to use the odd word ofBéarlaif it was clear you were genuinelytryingto speakas Gaeilge.No one could possibly expect us to know the Irish for ‘disco lights’.Then a gang of lads wearing rugby shirts turned up.Some of them started dancing in a piss-taking sort of way, swinging each other around.But one of them looked a little embarrassed by his friends’ antics.He caught our eyes and shrugged.

Katie and I looked at each other and laughed.

‘Poor creature,’ said Katie in Irish.‘He’s not … terrible, isn’t he not?’

I looked at her.‘Not terrible?’

‘I don’t know how to say’ – she lowered her voice and switched to English – ‘not bad-looking!’

I supposed he wasn’t bad-looking, in a fair-haired sort of way.But I didn’t have time to consider his charms because the room was filling up and there, coming through the door, wearing his actual Blues Explosion T-shirt (a sign, surely?) was Blues Explosion Boy and his pal.Then the music stopped and the voice of amúinteoircalled Pól blared out through the speakers.

‘Welcome to céilí number one!We’re going to start with the Walls of Limerick.If you don’t know it, don’t worry, you’ll learn quickly.You’ll be dancing in twos, and we know if we wait for you to ask each other, we’ll be here all night, so we’re going to pair you up.’

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