‘OK… well, I’ll most likely be there,’ I said, as indifferently as possible.
‘Right so. It starts at eight.’
I nodded. There was silence. Nick looked away, glancing awkwardly around the garden.
‘Do you want to sit down?’ I asked, moving my patchwork bag so that it didn’t separate us.
‘Sure.’ He leaned his guitar against the end of the bench.
‘Your mum was telling me you’re pretty good at guitar,’ I said, desperate to keep the conversation going.
‘I’m all right, I guess. I play lead in my band. We were playing a gig in Sligo last night. I’m just back from there now. Haven’t slept in ages, as if you couldn’t tell.’ He smiled, then yawned and looked as if he might collapse from exhaustion any second.
‘OK, so I won’t take that personally then,’ I joked. I wanted to add that I hadn’t really slept either. But I didn’t want to get into that. This was way too important. I was alone with Nick. I had to make the most of it, not start talking about supernatural nonsense. He didn’t seem the type to believe in that kind of thing.
‘What kind of guitar do you have?’ I asked, steering the conversation towards something we had in common.
‘An electric one, called a Fender Strat,’ he answered, punctuating each syllable as if he were talking to a two- year-old.
‘I have one of those too. I’ve been mainly playing acoustic lately though.’
Nick looked shocked. ‘You play guitar?’
‘A bit.’
‘How long have you been playing?’
‘Nearly five years now.’
‘Are you in a band?’
‘I’ve been in a few, but not at the moment.’
‘Concentrating on your solo career?’
‘I suppose I am,’ I said with a laugh. This was going well.
‘What’s your favourite band?’ he asked. He frowned and I knew a lot hinged on my answer.
‘Ooh, that’s a tough one…’ I knew what he was doing – he was testing me. It was a way of separating the actual music lovers from the posers, i.e. the people who wore Ramones T-shirts but couldn’t name any of their songs.
‘I guess Thin Lizzy would be pretty high on the list,’ I said.
‘Class.’
‘What about you? What’s your favourite band?’
‘Metallica,’ he said, without hesitation.
‘I’m not a hardcore fan,’ I said. ‘But they’re unreal live.’
‘You’ve seen them?’
‘Yeah, I saw them in Marlay Park a few years ago.’
‘Me too.’ He smiled again. A perfect smile, I decided. He had nice teeth. And I noticed he hadn’t shaved. I liked his rugged look. But I had to remind myself he was with Sarah.
What followed was an intense conversation about iconic rock stars and guitar amps and distortion pedals. I had talked about them with countless guys in the past, so the words just fell out of my mouth. All I was thinking was how adorable Nick looked in that T-shirt, and how cute his smile was, and how much I desperately wanted to touch his lips with mine. Over the past few days I’d tried my best to stop fixating on this guy, who I barely knew, but now I realized that I couldn’t fight it. It was official: he was just too perfect.
‘What are you doing down here by yourself anyway?’ he asked.
I had to force my thoughts back to the conversation.
‘I was just writing some lyrics.’
‘Really? Can I see them?’
‘No. I mean… they’re not finished yet… You can see them when they’re finished.’ I was reluctant to hand them over: they more than hinted at a sense of unrequited love. There was no way he was going to find out my true feelings, whether he recognized the inspiration or not.
‘OK…’ He yawned again and stood up. ‘Well, I hope you can make it tonight.’
He hoped I could make it. When I like a guy, I tend to examine every word that comes out of his mouth with the determination of a profiler interviewing a suspect. He hoped I could make it. Perhaps things were not as bleak as they had originally seemed. He gave me another irresistible smile and headed back down the path towards the gate. He looked back once, and I really hoped he didn’t catch me staring at him.
Once he’d left the garden I read the words of my new song again.
Yes. I’d definitely made the right decision not showing it to him.
It started to drizzle so I gathered my things and put them in my bag. I was glad the oak tree provided some shelter. I wanted this moment to last, so I closed my eyes.
It was just a slight summer shower, so when it was easing off I got up and followed the path round to the water fountain on the other side of the oak tree. I watched the raindrops splash into it, joining the water that trickled down through the grey stone. The sound of the water had a wonderfully calming effect. I noticed there was a little brass plaque at the bottom of the fountain. Stepping closer I could see that the engraving on it read:
There was that name again. If there was a fountain dedicated to her, she must have been very special.
Chapter 7
‘Jacki, will you come on? We’re going to be late,’ said Mum.
‘OK, OK, I’m nearly ready.’ Mum had got dressed in five minutes and looked perfect. She hardly spent any time on make-up whereas I couldn’t go outdoors without eyeliner I felt so bare without it. My eyeliner had gone missing
