‘Home, please,’ I said.‘And thanks, Fee.’
‘Any time, Laura,’ he said.‘Any time.’
Chapter Thirty
2019
Two hours after we leave the restaurant, I’m standing in the middle of Tadhg’s studio bringing a plectrum down on the Danelectro’s strings to play a massive power chord.Tadhg is behind the drum kit and we’re playing what’s by far the loudest, hardest song we’ve written over the last week.I gather all my misery, all my frustration, all my rage at Dave and Hugo and the internet and all the vultures who started texting me, and I throw it into the guitar, getting louder and sharper and more ferocious.We end with one final chord and one last mighty roll across the drum kit and look at each other, dishevelled with the sheer physical effort of playing – you forget how physical it is, properly rocking out – and grinning.
‘That,’ I say, ‘was exactly what I needed.’
‘Want to take a break?’says Tadhg.
‘What I really want,’ I say, ‘is some of that wine we abandoned in the restaurant.’
‘How about the next best thing?’says Tadhg.
The next best thing, it turns out, is a fruity red wine that, to my unsophisticated palate, tastes even better than the fancy Fleurie in the restaurant.I should have known Tadhg would have a wine cellar.(‘It’s not a cellar, Lol!’he protested.‘More like a wine cupboard.’)
‘I hope you know,’ I say, as we sit on the floor of the studio some time later, him leaning against the sofa, me leaning against one of the armchairs, the half-empty bottle between us, ‘that I don’t make a habit of drowning my sorrows.If I did, I’d have been permanently pissed since last Thursday night.’
‘I think the odd bender is allowed,’ says Tadhg.‘This has been some week.’
‘It sure has.’I take a sip of wine and look over at him.‘Today has helped, though.’
He raises his eyebrows.‘Seriously?I feel I just threw money at the problem.I know a fancy lunch and some wine can’t cure everything.’
‘It wasn’t just the lunch,’ I say.‘Katie and Jeanne and my other friends … they’re sympathetic and lovely, of course, but they don’t get what it’s like.And you do.The being written about in the tabloids bit,’ I add, ‘not the finding out your ex is having a baby with someone else bit.’
‘Well,’ he says, ‘I’m glad I helped.’
‘You did,’ I say.‘And this’ – I gesture in the vague direction of the instruments – ‘this helps too.And this.’I point at the wine.‘Just hanging out, having a drink.All this stuff is fun.’
‘Yeah,’ says Tadhg.‘It is.’
We sit in contented silence for a moment.Then Tadhg says, ‘Would it bother you if I rolled a joint?’
‘It a hundred per cent would not,’ I say.
He scrambles to his feet, goes over to the drawers under the mixing desk and takes out a small wooden box.Inside is a packet of Rizlas, a packet of filters and a little plastic bag full of weed.
‘I hope those drugs are ethically sourced,’ I say.
‘They are, actually,’ says Tadhg, rejoining me on the floor.‘A friend of mine in Carlow grows it.And it’s nice and mellow.Not too strong.’
‘Good,’ I say.‘Last thing I need is some skunk-fuelled paranoia.’
Tadhg laughs.‘Seriously, don’t worry, it’s nothing like that.’He sets to work.
I watch him expertly roll a neat little joint.‘You’re pretty good at this.’
‘Well, I don’t do it every day.’He runs his tongue along the edge of the paper to seal it.‘I’ve seen enough people fuck themselves up and become extremely boring by self-medicating with weed.But sometimes it’s just a nice way to chill out.’
‘Sounds like just what I need.’I look around the studio.‘We’re not going to smoke in here, though, are we?I should get my coat.’
He looks up from his task and grins.‘Don’t worry, Lol.We won’t freeze.’
A few minutes later, we’re stretched out on a pair of astonishingly comfortable sun loungers in front of the studio, wrapped in cosy swimming robes.
