Kit and Tully | Love or Music?

19 - Lead Singer

The mature, spreading trees, heavy with the dark foliage of summer, give way to distorted hawthorns and stunted bushes as we make our way west. Meadows of cattle grazing lush grass turn into sheep nibbling on patches of sparser ground, hemmed in by the low dry stone walls scattered across a wild, windswept landscape. 

The salty tang of the sea changes the air as we approach the Atlantic, but for once we are not buffeted by wind and rain. The sun hasn't stopped shining since the beginning of July, since the night Spike got attacked and the new guy, Tully, entered our lives.

Galway, with its brightly painted houses, in blues, purples and yellows, looks as colourful and bright as any Mediterranean resort. The Blue Ball is near the university and, with a capacity of five thousand, is one of the biggest venues in the city.

After the bright sunlight, the interior is dark and dim. Even by day, the Blue Ball is a night time place. We almost collide with Mac at the door.

"Hey, Mac, I can collect Baz off the train, if you want?" Tully offers. "I've got the car."

"No!" Mac pushes his way through the door, shoving Tully aside. "The stupid bollix can get here himself. I can't spare anyone to go running around after him. Let him pay for a taxi with his own money. He should have come with us. There's loads to be done. Get inside, the pair of you!"

Now I understand why Mac has been so generous with lifts and putting names on guest lists. We're the unpaid staff.

As my vision adjusts, I make out figures scurrying in all directions.

"Hey," Len shouts from the stage, "give me a hand to get these amps in place."

"Sure!" Tully makes his way down to join him.

Felice and Spike are struggling with a mass of cables and extension leads. They wave when they see me.

"Do you guys have any idea what you're doing?" I ask.

"It doesn't matter," Spike grins. "Whatever way we do it, Mac will say it's wrong anyway!"

"They should have paid for a few roadies though, for a big gig like this," Felice mutters in a whisper to me.

I remember what Tully said about the band being broke. But surely an event like this should make them some money?

There's a subdued murmur of excitement as Mac takes the stage, a lanky figure beside him. "Guess who's here?" he calls out to us.

For an instant, my heart almost stops. In the purplish light, shoulders hunched in an overcoat, despite the heat outside, the newcomer with his skinny frame, longish hair and baseball cap pulled down to hide his face, looks exactly the way I've always imagined Aonghus to look, just like Felice's illustrations.

But Aonghus isn't real.

He's not.

I hear the deep whisper in my ear again. Music or love.

No.

It can't be.

"Kit, what's the matter?" Tully has concern written all over his face. "You're as white as a ghost."

"Hey!" Spike is almost hopping with glee. "Do you know who that is up there with Mac?"

Aonghus.  My mouth is so dry the word won't come out.

"Some big-shot talent scout from a record studio?" Felice says.

Yes, I start to breathe again. That must be it. They're often hanging around at the gigs. Tully has hinted that Mac has a had a few offers but none of them are big enough to tempt him. He's waiting for the one he can't refuse.