‘Wait,’ Charlie says as I squeeze past him a little too closely, but it’s not like I have a choice. This place is packed. Another man takes my seat like a vulture pouncing on his prey, so even if I wanted to change my mind, I couldn’t sit back down again.
I raise my eyebrows, wanting to stick to our arrangement as much as I can. Minimum communication.
‘Are you leaving already?’
‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘Getting tired. Thanks for the drink.’
‘I can walk with you?’ he says, looking up at me from where he sits. He glances over towards Billy, then back at me.
I am suddenly aware of every breath I’m taking, and every breath that he is taking too. I’m afraid I misheard him, so I lean down and put my ear in his direction. Oh my God he smells so good. His hair brushes the side of my face. He leans up slightly, touching my arm, and I feel his breath on my cheek.
‘I’ll walk with you if you want me to? It’s dark out there and I’m finished up now.’
I’ve stared at him more than I should have tonight. I’ve got lost in his kindness and lost in this music more than I should have. I’ve drunk too much wine, and I’m seeing him in an all too familiar light at this very moment. I’ve felt something every time he caught my eye. I also sensed him looking at me a little too often, even though I know he was trying not to.
But I am tipsy, tired and vulnerable. I fear he might be the same.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he says when I keep him waiting too long for a response. ‘You have George. But I’ll be a bit behind you. Bye, Rose.’
He lifts his glass and my stomach lifts too.
‘Bye, Charlie.’
I take my dog by the lead, apologising repeatedly as we push past everyone to reach the door. When I get outside, the rain has stopped and the sky is lit up with what looks like a navy blanket dotted with a million diamonds.
I keep walking, Charlie’s simple offer to accompany me echoing in my mind until I reach the bumpy lane that leads only to Seaview Cottage. I walk a bit up the lane, then I pause to admire the sky, my head tilted back in wonder. I must stand for longer than I realise because soon I hear footsteps which I know can only be his. No one else uses this lane.
‘You don’t get to see this in the city.’
I turn around to see him slowly approach.
‘The dark skies of rural Ireland,’ he continues. ‘It’s more than magical, isn’t it?’
‘It’s so pretty.’
‘No glow of streetlights to take away from the stars, no light pollution to block the view. Just raw, pure beauty, as if the sky is being itself here.’
My heart is beating a little bit faster than it should.
Maybe I’m like the sky when I’m here, dark but slowly peeling back the layers of life to try and be myself.
Maybe I’m just drunk.
‘Look,’ he says, pointing into the distance. ‘If you look way, way over there you’ll see the faint green glow of the aurora borealis, the northern lights. So beautiful. Yet so, so far away.’
He stares at me, as if he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. I follow where he points to and sure enough in the distance is an image I’ve only ever seen in photos or on the television.
‘That’s … that’s spectacular,’ I reply in a whisper. ‘I see pinks and purples too. It’s magical.’
We’re standing so close together, and for a split second I think I feel his arm around me, but it’s just my wine-fuelled imagination.
‘No interference, no artificial brightness, nothing to mask its true beauty,’ he whispers softly. ‘Sometimes we’re all too busy to stop and appreciate moments like this, and then we miss them entirely. Sometimes we run too fast and forget what it’s like just to walk a while. To take life in. To savour it. To enjoy it. God, I love it here.’
I take a deep breath and briefly close my eyes.
‘Me too.’
‘That guy in the bar,’ he asks, in a change of tone. ‘Was he coming on strong? Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you know him? If it’s none of my business, just say.’
