Chapter 6
Annie nursed her wine, examining the room and everyone in it. It was a Friday night and there was a broad mix of people mingling amongst each other, obviously there to wind down after another long week.
The table behind her seemed to be a family; a mother and father with a young blond haired boy and a set grandparents. The young boy seemed to be having a conversation between his grandmother and his bunny teddy bear. Annie tried to guess his age but couldn’t put a number on it, she was awful with ages. He could be two, three or ten for all she knew.
Next to Annie a couple of workmen were leaning on the bar, still in their work gear and discussing next week's job. A group of teenagers had just entered, joining a table in the corner. Annie wondered how many of them were using fake IDs, or if the bar checked, or even cared.
The band had appeared and started tuning up next to her as she watched with interest. There were three of them; a guitarist, a fiddler, who also seemed to play the long necked instrument, and a drummer who played the flat drum.
The handsome barman appeared as they were settling down to start with a pint of Guinness for each of them. Watching the barman closely, he looked around forty, no more than a couple of years older than her. She couldn’t be sure though but she was better with adults than kids.
“Cheers, Tag,” she thought she heard one of them say.
“What a strange nickname,” she thought, mystified.
As ‘Tag’ returned to the bar he spotted Annie’s almost empty glass.
“Anything I can get you?” he asked, pointing at the glass.
“I really shouldn’t... but go on then,” Annie replied, “I’ll have a gin and tonic this time, please.”
“OK, we have Gordon’s or Bombay Sapphire”
“Bombay Sapphire, please,” she said, trying to smile naturally, but feeling like she was failing.
The barman returned quickly, gin and tonic in hand.
“Here we are,” he said as she handed over her card again.
Buoyed by a sudden rush of confidence Annie threw caution to the wind.
“I overheard the band talking to you,” she quickly, the words coming out almost as one “is your nickname ‘Tag’?”
“It’s my name,” he laughed, “you probably haven’t heard it before. It’s spelt T-A-D-H-G.”
Annie’s rush of confidence quickly evaporated into embarrassment as the red tinge reappeared in her cheeks. Meanwhile the band had burst into life beside her
“Oh…sorry!,” she said, accidentally shouting it out like some kind of declaration. She wasn’t sure what else to say.
“You don’t have any need to be sorry,” Tadhg replied with a reassuring smile, “most tourists haven’t heard of it before. Where are you staying around here?”
Annie had never been so happy for a change in topic of conversation.
“I’m just around the corner in the campsite,” she said, regaining her confidence
“It’s a rough night for camping,” Tadhg replied seriously, “haven’t you seen the forecast?”
Annie gestured to her clothes that were still wet.
“I’m wearing the forecast!” she exclaimed which drew another laugh from Tadhg.
Annie felt her heart stop when he laughed; she had caused that happiness.
“Well, if you get stuck let me know. We have a room upstairs we used to rent out; you can use it. It’s nothing fancy but it’s dry and warm enough,” Tadhg offered with genuine concern for her wellbeing, “warmer than outside at the very least.”
“Thank you, that’s kind. I’m sure I’ll survive in my tent though, as long as dies down a little outside.”
Annie didn’t dare dream. She tried not to think of spending the night in the same house as this handsome, rugged Irishman. What might happen then?
“Don’t,” she told herself, trying not to get her hopes up.
She shouldn’t. She probably wouldn’t, she thought.
The band had finished their jig and were receiving a round of applause, the long haired fiddle player toasting his pint to the crowd.
“Let me know when you need a top up,” Tadhg said as he left to attend a customer who was trying to catch his eye by waving vigorously from the other side of the bar.
Annie found the traditional band fascinating, mostly because they looked like such an odd mix of people. The fiddle player could have been a rock star with his long shaggy hair and stylish stubble, the guitarist looked like he should have been a builder with his short stocky frame and hairy, muscular forearms, whilst the drummer had the look of a maths student, even down to his formal shirt and pastel chino combination. It’s not often you see skinny drums, Annie noted.
“That’s called a bodhran,” Tadhg said from behind her, gesturing towards the drum. He pronounced it ‘bough-ron’.
“I was just wondering what I was,” Annie replied, “and what’s the guitar thing with the long neck?”
“It’s a bouzouki,” he said, “kind of like a big mandolin”
“They sound great.”
“They’re alright,” he said in a lower voice no one around Annie could her, “to be honest, the older generation are much better, these young guys are only in it for the money. When you get a group of older guys together in a session it’s heaven.”
“Oh, I wish I could hear that!” Annie replied, slightly more enthusiastically than she had intended.
He was taking time to talk to her, not like a customer but like someone you want to get to know.
“Maybe’s he’s feeling what I’m feeling,” she wondered as the band continued and Tadhg leaned on the bar opposite her, watching the music with her.
“We have a session every Sunday, if you’re still around you might get lucky with whoever drops in,” Tadhg said as the band finished off a tune.
“I might have to hang around then” she smiled.
“How’s about another drink?” Tadhg asked, “On the house”
“You don’t have to do that,” Annie replied
“I want to,” he replied, softly looking directly into her eyes.
“OK, but only if I can buy you one back. What do you drink?” Annie replied, feeling a tingle of hope rising in her stomach.
“Fair enough, I suppose,” Tadhg laughed, “I’ll get a Guinness. Gin and tonic again?”
Annie nodded as a wide smile crept across her face.
The band had set their instruments down as the fiddle player had nipped outside for a smoke. The crowd started to thin a little, taking the break as a sign to move on elsewhere; to home or to another pub or a nightclub, maybe.
The large group of teenagers in the corner were among those gathering their things and making moves towards the exit and into the rainy evening. Annie wondered if they would be heading to try their luck getting into a nightclub with their clutch of fake IDs or would they be heading to a parent-less house for a party.
Annie and her friends had always tried the nightclub option first with a fallback plan of a house party. She couldn’t remember ever getting turned away from a nightclub. It was easier to get in a teenage girl, the bouncers were too busy perving on their skimpy outfits to bother checking their ID at all. Checking the ID would only destroy their illusion.
The family behind her were also parting ways; the parents seemed to be staying while the grandparents made their way home with the young boy, who was now asleep in his grandfather's arms, clutching his bunny toy tightly.
“One gin and tonic and one pint of Guinness” Tadhg said reappearing and waving away her debit card when she tried to pay him for the Guinness, “don’t worry about it.”
“What shall we drink to?” Annie asked.
“To the weather?” Tadhg suggested with a drole tone and a wink.
Annie laughed.
“To the weather,” she replied.
“Do you know how to say cheers in Irish?” Tadhg asked.
“I don’t think I do,” Annie said.
“You say ‘slainte’” he said, mouthing out the syllables for Annie, “slawn-tia,”.
““Slawn-tia” Annie said, attempting not to sound like she was mimicking him.
“Close enough,” he winked again, raising his glass.
“Slainte,” they said in unison.