Lunasa is the date we pick to wake Aonghus. Once, there were four major festivals that marked the four cycles of the Celtic calendar. Nowadays, the only one that's well-known is Halloween, the beginning of the half-year of dark, when the nights draw in and the days grow cold. But the feast of Lunasa lingers in parts of Ireland and is celebrated on August 1st.

 It's Spike's suggestion because, according to local lore, Lunasa was supposed to be a time when the gods were well-disposed towards humanity and open to being asked favours. In the past, people would have begged the gods for a plentiful harvest and enough food to survive the long winter months. We have just three days to get ready.

"We should wear flowers, bring a picnic and play music," I say. "After all, Aonghus was the god of music."

"He was also the god of lovers," Spike adds, a malicious gleam in his eyes.

Tully's gaze lingers wistfully on me but I ignore his silent plea. Even though I'm growing fond of him, he's no Mac Whitehead.

"We'll have to get Len to come, so you and him can be the lovers," Spike says to Felice.

She rolls her eyes. "We can't really ask Len without inviting Mac too."

I glance away, not wanting any of them to notice how thrilled I am at this suggestion. In such a small group, I'll have a golden opportunity for Mac to notice me. My body still burns at the memory of his strong hands on my waist when he picked me up and threw me in the sea just after we first met.

Since then, there's been nothing.

This is the chance to change that.

10 pm August 1st (3 days later)

As darkness falls, the van pulls up on Felice's driveway, and it's a surprise when all of Black Death spill out of it, even Baz and Jenna.

"Wow, this is some gaff," Mac looks around him in appreciation. It strikes me this is the real reason he's come, not to wake Aonghus, but to check out Felice's house.

"Yeah, it's cool!" A pair of long legs in strappy silver heels and a head of blonde hair emerge from the van.

My heart bellyflops straight to my stomach as all my hopes of having Mac Whitehead to myself tonight crumble to dust.

Felice leads everyone into the kitchen where we assemble the picnic on Axel's granite counter-tops. It's not just me who's in bad form. The band scowl at each other as they unpack beer and crisps in sullen silence.

Jenna comes over to help me load a basket with sandwiches. She keeps her head bent to hide her red-rimmed eyes. There must have been yet another massive row about the ongoing issue of Baz.

As an offering to Aonghus, Felice has filled another basket with fruit and I raided my mother's garden for flowers this morning. The girls are going to wear them. At the time I thought that would just be me and Felice. So much for the best laid plans. 

My blood boils as I watch Mac adorn his date with my mother's finest roses. I'd imagined staring into his icy blue eyes, exactly as she's doing now, as he selected a perfect stem and placed it delicately behind my ear.

At last we're ready to go. It was meant to be a pilgrimage across the field, laden down with picnic baskets and musical instruments, but Mac's date can't hike in her heels. So the band pile into the van and the rest of us climb into Tully's car and we drive around by the road.

It's close to midnight when we arrive, but the sky is clear and the moon is bright. The passage grave is our place but we've never been there this late.

It should be fun, exciting, special.

Instead, climbing through the unlocked stile in single file, we could almost be a crowd of zealous tourists visiting for the first time.

I feel so stupid as Mac saunters up the path ahead of us, new girl giggling on his arm. How could I possibly have expected him to pay any attention to me? The only time he ever notices me is when there's no one else around, but that never happens.

There's always someone else, even tonight.

"I don't know what they see in him," Jenna mutters beside me. "He's such an asshole and he treats women like shit."

I'm so shocked I don't know what to say. "Don't you find him attractive?" I blurt out.

Jenna snorts. "Mac's all swagger and underneath he's totally selfish. It's all about Mac. He never thinks of anything else and just wants to control the people around him."

Could she be right? It's true we're all under his spell, but that's because he's Mac Whitehead, legend in the making, and we know how lucky we are to be part of his circle, even if we're only on the outer edge.

But controlling us?

In the light of the waxing moon, the scales fall from my eyes.

Mac is in front, date in tow, leading us all up the mound, even though none of this was his idea. He isn't even carrying a basket.

I think about his influence on Tully, how Tully runs to a rehearsal the second Mac whistles. On the odd occasion when he has a day shift and can't go, Mac is never slow to rub it in. Poor Tully is racked with guilt and feels terrible about letting his mentor down. 

And, as for me, all Mac has to do is glance in my direction and I melt into a puddle. It's never been spoken of but I feel sure he knows the power he has over me, over all the girls.

"It doesn't have to be a choice, you know, at least not yet," Jenna is saying. "I could stay in Ireland for another six months, so Baz gets his chance with the band. I know how much it means to him, but Mac won't compromise. It's all or nothing, his way or no way. I can't bear to see Baz conflicted like this ." 

She turns to me with tears in her eyes. "We can't go on like this. It's tearing our relationship apart."

"So what are you going to do?" My concern is genuine. Her troubles have taken my mind off my own.

"I'm going back," she says sadly. "There's no point staying. Mac has driven us to this and he doesn't even care."

For a moment, the air shifts around me, the atmosphere quickens, darkens, it passes like a shadow, a glimpse of Aonghus' presence.

"What was that?" Jenna asks at the same time Baz looks around.

Before he turns away I see the wound in his eyes. He loves her too.

I feel so sorry for them both. She and Baz are made for each other. It's obvious now that I am no longer blinded by the gloss Mac puts on everything, rearranging all our lives to his point of view.

In the moonlight, on top of the ancient mound, the night should be magical, a celebration of hope and dreams, but it isn't.

The atmosphere is strained and tension fills the air.

It's not just me, disappointed in Mac, or how Baz and Jenna can't meet each other's eyes, or the way Tully is acting hurt and avoiding me.

It's all of us.

It's the blonde girl who doesn't know the rest of us, it's Felice who doesn't believe in what we're doing but liked the idea of the midnight excursion, Spike, thrilled he got his first choice and a fresh start in Trinity, looking for any excuse to party, except the picnic has gone sour with smouldering resentment. 

The band are silent, the embers of the row they had earlier simmering as their instruments lie idle on the ground.

"So what's the story?" Mac's voice is too loud and sounds forced. "What do we do now?"

The mound is quiet, sleeping, nothing stirring.

If Aonghus is in there, he does not want to be woken.