Mid July, 199x

But when we get back to the house, Baz isn't there. We all traipse through to the garage at the back, now the band's practice space, filled with instruments and cases of sound equipment.

"Screw Jenna anyway," Mac snorts. "The whole point of moving down here was because we need to be together. Fuck's sake, Baz skiving off to Dublin the whole time is not going to work. How the hell are we supposed to rehearse?"

A tense twenty minutes pass, while Mac stomps around cursing, growling and kicking an over-sized case, but there's still no sign of Baz.

"Let the kid have a go," Len says. "He's up for it."

"Shit," Mac replies, slamming his fist against Len's drums. "Ok then. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Tully flushes. This is his chance to prove himself to Mac and the boys, but Mac clearly doesn't want him.

"Go on," Mac says, at last. "We haven't much choice, have we, thanks to that wanker, the stupid fuck." His voice rises again, and Len hits the drums. Mac laughs breaking the tension and Tully shoulders his guitar.

Felice and Spike want to stay to watch, though I wish with all my heart we could leave. Listening to Mac yell and glower every time Tully messes up a chord is excruciating. It makes Tully worse and I pretend not to notice him blush and fumble. Yet, as the rehearsal progresses, Tully starts to find his stride, or maybe Mac just lays off.

At the end, he comes over and claps Tully on the back. "Not bad for a rookie," he says. "You did well kid."

This time the glow that suffuses Tully's cheeks is one of pride.

The hot summer days take on a rhythm of their own, and before we know it July is almost over. At the weekends Black Death pack up their gear and travel the country, playing gigs all over Ireland, in Cork, Limerick and Belfast. As their fame spreads, the venues and the crowds get bigger.

Although we'd love to, we can't follow the band all over Ireland. Even Felice can't wangle that! Instead, we're out in hers for the weekend, lying in our spot, the hollow on top of the passage grave. It's the first time Tully's been up here with us, but I don't mind. 

He's more interesting now. Since he works the late shift in More Videos 4 U, he's free during the day and Mac has started calling on him at the last minute to fill in for Baz. Tully is getting to know the band, and their music, really well. 

"I can't believe nobody ever comes here." Tully stretches and surveys the view from the top of the mound, a patchwork of fields spreading out towards the river, shining glimpses of which appear through rush-studded banks as it snakes its way towards Drimshanra.

"They do, sometimes," Felice says, "but there's not much to see, since you can't go inside."

"Do you think the Office of Public Works will ever open it up?"

"I doubt it," Spike shrugs. "There's talk about it, every now and then, but nothing ever happens."

"Aonghus doesn't want to be disturbed," Felice says with a laugh.

A cloud passes over the sun, casting a shadow of darkness, and I shiver in spite of myself. Why does she joke about these things? The future is ahead, all around us, Black Death on the brink of fame, Spike on the cusp of leaving Drimshanra for university in Dublin. 

He's over the moon because the exam results are out and he got his first choice, English and History in Trinity College, Ireland's oldest university, a landmark building bang in the centre of the city. Everyone else has the whole world in front of them, while I'm doomed to Drimshanra.

A hand creeps through the grass and squeezes mine reassuringly. Tully. I don't look at him, but I feel his eyes watching me. "What's the matter?" he whispers softly.

The others haven't noticed, but Tully seems to sense when my mood switches from light to dark or vice versa.

"I don't want to follow the family tradition and be a solicitor," I say. "I feel like I'll be trapped here forever."

"You don't have to," Spike says. "You can just choose something else."

But that's where I hit a wall. I have no idea what I want to do. I like playing with thoughts and ideas, finding a way to express them, pin them down, put words to them to give them form and substance, to bring them to life, but it's not true creativity, not like Felice's talent for art or Spike's ready wit or Tully's gift for music.

Almost as if he could read my mind, Tully changes the subject.

"I feel sorry for Mac," he says. "This is their big moment. Black Death are on the brink of massive success, but Baz isn't playing his part."

"Why not?" Felice asks the question before I do.

"He always has an excuse," Tully shrugs, "he works on and off for his uncle, a builder in Dublin, and they're very busy at the moment. He says they need him up there."

"Hmm, I'd say Mac would prefer he prioritised the band," Spike murmurs.

"He would of course," Tully says.

"I thought Mac blamed Jenna," Felice says.

"Yeah, everyone thinks it's Jenna, really." Tully wriggles uncomfortably. "Baz was Mac's best friend growing up. The two of them started their first band at thirteen. Mac just wants him to be around for their success."

Even though I liked Jenna the one time I met her, I can understand why Mac gives out about her. I love how he remains loyal to Baz despite everything, the way he places such a high value on their friendship, even though Jenna has driven a wedge right into the heart of it.

"What happens if Baz misses a gig?" Spike asks.

"That's what everyone is afraid of," Tully replies,"but it hasn't happened yet. He always turns up for the shows. It's just when it comes to the day to day stuff, rehearsals, logistics, organising everything, that Baz can't be depended on any more."

"That must be so frustrating for Mac," I say.

"It is." Tully smiles at me and I realise we have something important in common, a shared sympathy for Mac Whitehead and his troubles with the band.

"I don't know," Felice says, "Mac can be a drama queen and Baz has a job and a girlfriend. Maybe the band was just a bit of craic for him, maybe he never wanted it to get serious."

"What are you talking about?" Spike and I round on her. "Black Death are at the top of the charts. Why on earth wouldn't Baz want to be part of that?"

"Hey, take it easy!" She throws up her hands in mock defence. "I'm only telling you what Len told me."

"Well, there you go!" Spike eyes Tully speculatively. "That could be your opportunity. You might get a chance to supplant Baz."

"Not gonna happen." Beside me Tully's voice gets quiet. "Jenna's going home to Kansas at the end of the summer and Baz will be back with the boys. Mac talks of nothing else."

"You know what we should do," Spike says. "We should ask Aonghus."

An electric shock runs through me. 

We all want something and we all know what it is. 

Spike is right. We could do it. We could make the wish.

"No. Not this again." Felice rolls over in the grass burying her head in her hands. "Why did I say his name? Really, I thought you guys were over all that."

"Who's Aonghus?" Tully asks.

"Aonghus is an ancient spirit sleeping below us in the passage grave," Felice rolls her eyes. "The three of us made up a story about him. Spike and Kit almost convinced themselves it was true."

"Aonghus was a Celtic god of music and love," I say. "The first part of our story was based on an old legend, which says he wandered all over Ireland, but this was his home. The second part was set in the present, where three kids decide to wake him."

"Did you really need to mention the second part?" Felice is doing her best to maintain her habitual cool and not show she's embarrassed.

"Three kids?" Tully's grinning broadly. "Two girls and a boy? And one of them just happens to live beside an ancient Celtic burial site?"

"Yes!" But Spike isn't paying attention to Tully. The idea has taken hold of him, exactly as it did at Halloween. "All we have to do is wake Aonghus!"

"Not listening," Felice says loudly, covering her hands with her ears.

"How do you do that?" Tully asks.

Author's Note

What do you think? Is it a good idea to wake Aonghus?

(a) Yes

(b) No 

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