Page 8 of The Last Love Song
‘Who’s next?’ Mairead offered the bottle as she dabbed at her eyes.
The three girls looked at each other uncertainly.
‘Jesus, well, you three are full of the spirit of adventure, aren’t you!’ Mairead shook her head and rolled her eyes.
‘Give it here.’ Sorcha grabbed the bottle and took a sip. ‘You next, Katherine.’
Katherine closed her eyes and took a healthy slug. Her eyes shone as she passed the bottle to Maureen. ‘I like it.’
‘Do you now?’ laughed Maureen, taking a swig. She had to be slapped hard on the back as she coughed and spluttered helplessly.
‘Right, are we ready?’ asked Mairead.
The other three nodded solemnly.
‘Then we’ll put on our coats, get on our bicycles and go.’
‘What if we see anyone we know?’ asked Katherine.
‘We wave at them and smile. We’re only out to enjoy an evening bicycle ride.’ Mairead shrugged.
‘What, in the dark?’ giggled Sorcha.
‘Come on, let’s go.’
The four girls filed out of the bedroom.
It was a fifteen-minute cycle ride up to the GAA hall. Breathing a collective sigh of relief that most folks were huddled inside by the fire on this cold January night, the girls hid their bicycles around the back of the hall and went to take their places in the short queue that had formed outside.
‘Give me your money and I’ll pay for all of us,’ said Mairead.
Sorcha turned around and saw a handful of boys studying them appreciatively. She nudged Katherine and winked. Mairead paid for the tickets and the four girls filed into the ladies’ for a quick repair job.
As Sorcha carefully replenished her lipstick, she could hear the band warming up in the hall next door. A shiver of excitement ran through her.
‘You’re growing up at last,’ she whispered to her reflection.
By nine o’clock, the hall was full to bursting.
‘See, they’ve come from other villages. It’s so crowded we’ll never be spotted,’ Mairead reassured the others as they pushed their way over to the bar. ‘Now, what’ll we order?’
‘Lemonade.’
‘Shall I make that four?’
There was a collective nod.
An amplified voice echoed across the crowd. ‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, will you all give a big hand for Con Daly and his band!’
The announcer left the stage. The girls stood on tiptoe to watch as the five members took their places. Con Daly strolled casually forward to the microphone.
‘Evening, all, and a big welcome from me and the boys. We hope you’ll enjoy yourselves. Let’s rock!’
Con turned around, counted his band in, and suddenly the hall was filled with the sound of a rich, deep voice, backed by a languorous guitar rhythm.
The girls stood watching him.
‘You know, I would hardly recognise him. He’s handsome when he cleans himself up, isn’t he?’ whispered Mairead.
