Page 9 of The Last Love Song
‘Now I look at him, he is a fine figure of a man. That blackhair and those big blue eyes remind me of Elvis. Don’t you think, Sorcha?’ said Katherine.
Sorcha didn’t answer. She was staring, transfixed, at Con Daly.
‘What a grand voice,’ put in Maureen. ‘It’s as good as anything you hear on the radio.’
‘Sorcha, take your lemonade. Sorcha!’ Mairead nudged her.
‘Yes, sorry.’ Sorcha took the bottle, put the straw in her mouth and sucked without taking her eyes off the stage.
‘Er, I...would you be wanting to dance, Katherine O’Mahoney?’
A tall, painfully thin young man with a bad case of acne was standing behind Katherine. They all knew him. He was in the same year as Johnny, Mairead’s brother.
‘Well now, I might want to dance,’ nodded Katherine, turning around, ‘but not with you, Ryan O’Sullivan.’
The girls giggled as Ryan slunk away, his head bowed in embarrassment.
‘Ah, now, you shouldn’t be so cruel,’ admonished Maureen.
‘Maybe I’m waiting for Johnny to come over and ask me,’ smiled Katherine.
The girls found an empty table on one side of the hall and sat down. They watched the band and those who had begun to dance. Sorcha could hardly drag her eyes away from Con Daly.
The group finished a lively number to rapturous applause, and Con spoke gently into the microphone.
‘You’re a grand audience, thank you. Now, we’ll lower the tempo. Take your partners, girls and boys. This is a ballad I wrote as I was looking over the beautiful bay of Ballymore.’
Johnny sidled up to the table.
‘Do you fancy a dance, Katherine?’ he enquired confidently.
Katherine blushed and nodded. She stood up and took Johnny’s outstretched hand.
‘And you, Sorcha, would you have a dance with me?’
It was Angus Hurley, a young man whom Sorcha had known since childhood. His parents ran the cotton factory outside the village.
Sorcha nodded and Angus led her onto the floor. He put his arms loosely round her waist and Sorcha hooked hers over his shoulders. They swayed awkwardly to the music.
‘I’m surprised your parents let your group come tonight,’ he said.
‘They don’t know we’re here. And if you breathe a word, Angus Hurley, none of us will ever speak to you again.’
‘I’ll say nothing, Sorcha, you know I won’t.’
Sorcha put her head back over Angus’s shoulder and watched Con Daly. As she looked at him, his eyes seemed to focus on her. For a good ten seconds the two of them stared at one another. She reluctantly dragged her gaze away.
‘Sorry, Angus. I was miles away. What was it that you were saying?’
‘I...well, I was asking you...That is, I...’ Angus blushed. ‘I was thinking maybe we could go to the flicks in Bandon next week. You...you look beautiful this evening, Sorcha. And I’ve always liked you, as I’m sure you know.’
‘It’s kind of you to ask me. Could I think about it and let you know?’
‘Okay,’ Angus nodded.
The ballad finished and Sorcha returned to the table. Maureen was sitting there alone, looking dejected.
‘Where’s Mairead?’
