Chapter 13

 

Back at Felice’s house, Spike checks the calendar to confirm that Sunday is August 1st. Away from the passage grave, in Axel Carr’s immense kitchen with its sea of white marble worktop and gleaming appliances, the idea of a party for Lunasa seems ludicrous, but the others are still enthusiastic.

“Don’t forget to invite the band!” Kit and Felice chorus as I leave for the evening shift at work.

I don’t expect Mac will be remotely interested when I tell him about it at rehearsal next day, but I couldn’t be more wrong. There’s a girl he’s dying to impress and a party in Axel Carr’s mind-blowing house is exactly what he needs. He tells me to come round on Sunday night so I can show them how to get there. Although he loves the idea, he barely listens to any of the details, and I’m too embarrassed to get into the part about waking Aonghus.

 

Black Death have gigs to play down the country over the weekend so Baz and Jenna are at house when I arrive on Sunday.

“Why are you two still here?” Mac asks them as I follow Len into the overcrowded kitchen. “You can’t turn up for rehearsal but you can hang around for a party?”

“Jesus, Mac,” Baz’s frustrated sigh echoes around the space. “You can’t just expect us to read your mind. We’re trying to make an effort here.”

“Thanks so much,” Mac uses his most sarcastic drawl.

“You can’t win with you, Mac. You’re not happy whatever we do. If we’re here, you give out and say we’re taking advantage. If we’re not here, you say we don’t give a shit.”

“Why do you keep saying we?” Mac’s voice sizzles with anger. “This isn’t about her. This is about you. You have to choose!” He jabs his finger at Baz’s face. “It’s us or her. You can’t have both. Which is it to be?”

“Be reasonable, Mac! You know I want to be in the band and I’ve always supported you. But I told you there was no way I could make the move to Drimshanra work for me. It’s not about Jenna, it’s about my job. I need the money.”

“See, that’s your problem. You’re looking at the small picture. If you stick with us, you’ll make far more money than you ever would at that crappy job.”

“Mac,” Baz says evenly, “if the band is making so much money, how come you owe me nearly three hundred pounds?”

“Three hundred quid? No way. All I’ve borrowed is a twenty here and there.”

“And the occasional fifty to fill the van?”

I shift uncomfortably. I finally got my first pay cheque and I’ve already lent Mac money for diesel. I couldn’t really refuse when he asked me for thirty pounds for a refill. I didn’t even mind. I was pleased to help out and never questioned that Mac would pay me back, until now.

“What, you’d begrudge us a tank of diesel to go to a gig?” Mac shakes his head. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this shit.”

“I don’t begrudge it to you, but diesel is a band expense.”

“Hey, look, we all take our turns,” Mac says.

Baz’s silence in reply worries me.

That thirty pounds would buy groceries for Mam and I for a week, or pay the phone bill for the month, and I’m beginning to think I’ll never see it again. The next time Mac asks, I’ll have an excuse ready.

“We’re all in this together,” Mac goes on. “This is a team effort. You can’t pick and choose when you want to be here.”

“I’m doing my best, Mac,” Baz says softly. “I can’t do any more.”

“Yeah well, it’s not enough, is it?” The threat hangs in the air and Len glances at the clock on the wall.

“Hey, Mac,” he says, “it’s getting late. We need to go pick up your date.”

“Oh yeah,” Mac smiles at the thought. “She’s hot stuff.”

The band piles into the van. My thoughts are jumbled as I follow them out of the estate in the little grey Honda. I can’t help feeling things are reaching a climax. I like Baz and Jenna and I’d hate to be stuck in their situation, though if anyone told me I could have Kit as my girlfriend or be the guitarist in Black Death, I wouldn’t need to think twice. I’d choose Kit every time, but there’s no way she’d ever be interested in me unless I was in a band.

My car is behind the van so I only catch the barest glimpse of long hair and a short dress as Mac picks up his date. I haven’t seen Kit since, so I haven’t had a chance to warn her about Mac’s new girl. I wonder what she’ll think when she sees her.

I turn Mam’s car around and lead the way out of Drimshanra, deep into the countryside, Mac’s van close on my tail. Axel Carr’s house is spooky in the twilight, at the bottom of that endless lane. There’s something sinister about the sharp angles against the darkening sky, but then the front door opens in a blaze of light and Kit, Felice and Spike rush out to greet us. Kit’s face falls when she sees Mac help his date, all legs and blonde hair, out of the van, but she says nothing. The band follows Felice into the house and I try to shake off my misgivings as I go up the steps after them.

Inside there’s an air of excitement. Music is blaring and the kitchen is busy with preparation. The festive atmosphere turns sour as Kit watches, sullen and mute, while Mac, told what to do by Spike, carefully fixes a rose behind the blonde girl’s ear. Glaring at them both, Kit snatches one for herself. Neither of them notice. Her hand is shaking as she pushes it into her hair, where it immediately topples sideways. I want to help her, but I daren’t. Her lower lip is trembling and she’s close to tears. Nobody else notices her anguish.

Baz and Jenna avoid each other. Jenna’s eyes are rimmed with red as she helps the girls finish packing the baskets while the guys fill a cooler with beer. Mac cracks a few jokes that fall like lead in the tense silence. I wonder if he has succeeded in forcing Baz to choose.

The original plan was to walk up to the passage grave through the fields, like a procession, but Mac’s date has other ideas.

“I can’t walk through a field in these!” She points down at her stiletto heels.

“What size are your feet?” Felice asks. “There’s probably a a pair of rubber boots that would fit.”

“What kind of party is this?” The blonde looks at Mac in horror.

“Hey!” He puts his arm around her. “What’s this stupid shit about walking through the fields? We’ve got wheels. We’ll drive!”

As one, the band pile into the van with all the beer.

The rest of us get into my mother’s car. Kit is in the front with me while Spike and Felice are in the back, with baskets of food jammed in all around them.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” Kit says.

“Some of these baskets are heavy,” Felice replies. “Perhaps we’re better off driving.”

“Did you know Mac was bringing a date?” Kit asks then.

“No,” Felice replies, “but I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s kinda typical of Mac. Why?”

Kit just shakes her head.

“Lighten up, guys,” Spike calls from under the baskets that have him almost buried. “Everyone is here to party!”

None of us bother to reply. I park on the road beside the gate with the discreet Historic Monument sign and Mac’s van pulls up behind me. Barely visible behind the ditch, the mound disappears into the night, anything but a party destination.

“Is this it?” Mac looks across the field in disbelief.

Laden with baskets and instruments, we struggle through the unlocked stile in single file. Even though he’s never been there before, Mac leads the way up the path, his date giggling beside him. The rest of the band, Spike, Felice and I follow. Night has fallen and the basket I’m carrying is heavy in the close, humid air.

Kit and Jenna linger behind talking to each other. They’ve only met a couple of times, but I’ve noticed Jenna is someone Kit finds easy to talk to.

“I’m going back home to the US,” Jenna speaks quietly and I don’t want to eavesdrop, but her words drift towards me through the clammy night, “there's no point staying. Mac has driven us to this and he doesn’t even care.”

For a moment, the air shifts around me and the atmosphere quickens, darkens. It passes like a shadow, a glimpse of Aonghus’ presence.

“What was that?” Jenna asks at the same time Baz looks around.

Before he turns away, I see the hurt in his eyes. It’s tearing him apart. Mac may be his oldest friend but Jenna is the girl he loves.

In the hazy dark, on top of the ancient mound, the night should be magical, a celebration of hope and dreams, but it isn’t. The band is silent, the embers of the row they had earlier simmering as their instruments lie idle on the ground.

“So what’s the story?” Mac's voice is too loud and sounds forced. “What do we do now?”

The mound is quiet, sleeping, nothing stirring. If Aonghus is in there, he does not want to be woken. For a moment we all look at each other. I fumble with the case of my guitar. The undercurrent of tension is palpable. None of the band want to play, and without music, the flowers and picnic seem pointless. The night started out wrong. It was never going to be a success.

“This is bullshit!” Mac spits on the mound, quiet as a grave in the dark. “Why are we even here? This is no place for a party, let’s head back to the house.”

“Did you believe we could do it?” I ask Kit on the way down. “Wake Aonghus?”

She says nothing but her silence makes me wonder if she did believe it, sort of.

“It's nice to think there is something out there that can fix all your problems,” I go on when she doesn’t reply, “but it’s bullshit.”

“Yeah,” she says, after a slight hesitation, almost as if she’s trying to convince herself.

“Kit!” This is the moment to tell her how I feel.

“What?” Her voice is harsh, a rasp in the soft night air.

“Nothing.” I shake my head and move away, glad the darkness masks my hurt and disappointment. I’ve been blind, hoping to win over her, and refusing to see that she’s never given me any encouragement, never given me the slightest reason to think she likes me in any way other than as a friend and even then, not a particularly close friend, certainly not as close as Felice or Spike.

As we leave the passage grave, it starts to rain. First it’s just a couple of drops and we begin running. By the time we reach the gate, it’s lashing down and we’re soaked through. At one point, everyone was going to stay over for a party, but now we all just want to go home. With a sense of anticlimax, the band climb into the van and take off into the night in a cloud of dust.

“That was some disaster,” Spike says when we’ve all scrambled inside the car.

“You can stay over, if you want,” Felice offers as I pull up at her front door. The rain has turned into a deluge and pelts against the windscreen as though trying to force its way inside.

But I can’t stay here and face Kit, not when I know she’s not interested in me and never will be, so I shake my head. “I’m working tomorrow morning. Thanks anyway.”

I watch from my mother’s car as they bolt up the steps and dash inside. None of them look back to wave me off.

Defeated, I turn the Honda around and head into the storm.