Some students looked relieved, some terrified, as the staff started moving around the hall.Then Áine came up to our group and grabbed my and Katie’s hands.
‘Come on!’she said cheerfully.‘We’ll get you dancing.’
To my horror, I realised she was leading us over towards the rugby-shirt boys.But she stopped in front of the fair-haired boy who had kept out of the shenanigans.
‘You,’ she said to him before turning to Katie, ‘and you.’
She led me away.I looked back to see Katie and the ‘not terrible’ boy standing side by side, looking deeply uncomfortable.
And when I turned to follow Áine, Blues Explosion Boy was standing right in front of us.His eyes widened when he saw me.
‘Okay,’ said Áine.‘You two.’
Then she walked away, leaving me and Blues Explosion Boy staring at each other.Were we just going to stare at each other all night?Eventually he cleared his throat, gave me the slightly embarrassed smile I recognised from when the Evil Twins had to deal with hecklers and said, ‘Hi.I’m, um, Tadhg.’Is mise Tadhg.
The first words he has ever said to me, I thought solemnly.
‘I’m Laura,’ I said.At mostcoláistesin those days, we had to use the Irish-language version of our names, if there was one.Those who already had Irish names, the Sorchas and Tadhgs and Caoilfhionns, were lucky because they didn’t get called something that, in many cases, bore only the most spuriousconnection to the name their parents had given them.But happily for me, there wasn’t really an Irish approximation of Laura, so I kept my usual name.
I wracked my brains frantically for something to say to Blues Explosion Boy that wouldn’t make me sound stupid or insane.But the staff were now urging us to take our places for the dance.Me and Blues Explosion Boy, I mean Tadhg, found ourselves at one end of a long line of pairs, facing each other in groups of four.
‘Take hands!’called Pól through the microphone.
Oh God.
Tadhg looked down at me.I had never realised quite how much taller than me he was.And then he took my hand.
His hand was warm but not hot or clammy; his grip was firm but not too tight.
It was perfect.It felt … right.
‘All right?’he said.Ceart go leor?That slightly lopsided smile again.He made the Irish words sound like music.
I swallowed and nodded.He looked back at me as if he were making up his mind to say something.
‘I think that I—’ he began, but then noisy fiddles blasted out of the speaker and the dance began.
If you’ve never danced the Walls of Limerick before, it’s pretty simple.You and your partner bounce towards the couple facing you, then back again, then you each dance over to the other side from where you started, twirl around and face the next couple.It’s quite fun, actually, when you’re not distractedby the fact that you’re holding the hand of the boy you’ve lusted after from afar for months.I was pretty sure he recognised me, given that I’d been standing in front of him every week since February.But if that was the case, he knew thatIrecognisedhim.I had to acknowledge that or things were going to get even more awkward.And I wanted to do this in a clever way that would make him think I was incredibly cool and funny.But I feared that was beyond me in Irish.Even the basics felt beyond me.How did you say ‘Oh, I think I recognise you’?The word for ‘I think’ was easy, that wasceapaim, but what was ‘recognise’ …?
We had reached the bit in the dance where we twirled each other around, and now his hand was on my waist, and mine was on his, and for a moment I couldn’t think of anything else at all.
Now we were facing Katie and Rugby Shirt Boy, who both looked quite cheerful.To my great relief, Katie didn’t give me any meaningful looks.She just grinned and said, ‘Hi!Brían, this is my friend Laura!’
Brían smiled and said, ‘Hi!’We danced towards each other and back again.
‘I’m Tadhg,’ said Tadhg, as it became clear I wasn’t going to do any introductions, because I had apparently lost my manners as well as my mind.Then he and I were crossing over to face the next couple.I was running out of time.The dance was going to be over soon.I had to say something to himnow.But how, in Irish?Wasn’t there an Irish proverb that basically meant ‘ittakes one to know one’ with the word for ‘recognise’ in it?Yes!There was!It literally meant ‘a beetle recognises another beetle’, but how did you say it in Irish?Come on, Laura, you did this in school, it’s in there somewhere …
‘Aithníonn ciaróg ciaróg eile!’
‘Excuse me?’said Tadhg.
He was looking at me in confusion and I realised, to my utter gut-wrenching horror, that I had just said – no, shouted – those unhinged words out loud.
And that was my first conversation with Tadhg Hennessy.
Chapter Five
2019
