Inside the house, a bumblebee had flown into the living room and two of Danielle’s friends were shrieking and laughing, trying to guide it back out the window. Simon was sitting at the kitchen table with Danielle’s cousin Gemma, who was holding in her lap the little girl who had been playing football earlier. And do you prefer school, Simon was saying, or do you prefer being on your holidays? Eileen was at the countertop splashing some vodka into a plastic cup, while the same man she had been talking with earlier said: It’s not that great, but it’s something to watch anyway. Felix and Alice came back in the patio door, Felix cutting himself a slice of the birthday cake, Alice putting on her cardigan, saying cheerfully: That’s a lovely big garden out there. She laid a hand absently, fondly, on Simon’s shoulder, and he looked up at her, curious, half-smiling, and neither of them spoke.
At ten o’clock, Danielle tapped a spoon on a glass and said they would have a few songs. Gradually the room fell quiet, conversations tailing off, people entering from the living room to listen. A cousin of Danielle’s began by singing ‘She Moved Through the Fair’. Some who knew the lyrics sang along, while others hummed the melody. From the doorway Eileen was watching Simon where he leaned against the fridge next to Alice, holding a glass of wine. Danielle asked Felix to sing something next. Give us
‘Carrickfergus’, said Gavin. Felix gave a nonchalant yawn. I’ll do ‘The Lass of Aughrim’, he said. He put down the paper plate he had been holding, cleared his throat
and began to sing. His voice was clear and tuneful, with a kind of tonal purity, rising to fill the quiet and then falling very low, so low it almost had the quality of silence. From across the room Alice watched him. He was standing against the counter, under the ceiling lamp, so that his hair and face and the slim slanting figure of his body were bathed in light, and his eyes were dark, and his mouth also. For some reason, because of the low rich quality of his voice, or because of the melancholy lyrics of the song, or perhaps because of some prior association the melody brought to her mind, Alice’s eyes filled with tears as she watched him. He caught sight of her for a moment and then looked away. His voice sounded strangely similar to his ordinary speaking voice, the pronunciations were the same, but with sudden resounding depths. Tears began to run from Alice’s eyes, and her nose was running also. She smiled as if at her own absurdity, but the tears went on streaming regardless, and she wiped her nose with her fingers. Her face was pink and gleaming wet. The song finished and into a single moment of silence spilled the sound of cheering and applause. Gavin put his fingers in his mouth to whistle approvingly. Felix leaned against the sink, looking at Alice, and she looked back at him, almost shrugging, embarrassed. She wiped her cheeks with her hands. He was smiling.
You made her cry, said Gavin. People looked around at Alice then, and she laughed, awkwardly, and the laugh seemed to catch in her throat. She was wiping her face again.
She’s alright, Felix said. Danielle asked for another song, but no one volunteered. A hard act to follow, someone said. Danielle’s cousin Gemma suggested ‘The Fields of Athenry’, and people began to talk amongst themselves. Felix had made his way around behind the table and was pouring wine into a plastic cup. Handing it to Alice he said: You’re okay, aren’t you? She nodded, and he rubbed her back consolingly. Don’t worry, he said. It’s usually the old ladies who cry at that one, but we’ll allow it. You
didn’t know I could sing, did you? Well, I used to be a lot better before I wrecked myself with smoking. He was talking lightly, almost inattentively, and stroking her back with his hand, as if he was not listening to himself. Look, Simon’s not crying, Felix said. He must not be impressed with me. Smiling, Simon answered in a low voice: Multi-talented. Alice gave another little laugh, sipping from her cup. Cheeky, said Felix.
From the living room doorway Eileen watched them, Felix with his hand on Alice’s back, Simon standing the other side of her, the three of them talking together. And out the windows the sky was still dimming, darkening, the vast earth turning slowly on its axis.
28
When they left Danielle’s house, it was pitch-dark, without streetlights, and Eileen lit the torch on her phone so they could find their way down the driveway. In the car, with the doors shut behind them, it was quiet and warm. Felix, you have a beautiful singing voice, Eileen said. He switched the headlights on and started to pull back out onto the road. Yeah, that was for you, he said. Well, for the pair of you, since you’re both from around there. Aughrim. Aren’t you? Not that I really know what the song is about, to be honest. I thought it was a man singing to a woman, but then in the chorus I think it’s a woman singing. Saying her babe lies cold in her arms. It’s probably one of those old songs that’s got a few different lyrics mixed up together. It’s a sad one anyway, whatever it’s about. Simon asked if he played music as well as singing, and Felix answered: A bit. Fiddle mainly. And I’d get by alright on guitar if I had to. Few friends of mine play together, like at weddings and that. I have done weddings before, but from the music side it’s not really my thing. You’re just doing Celine Dion all night or whatever. Alice said she’d had no idea he was so musical. Yeah, he said. Everyone around here would be like that, though. It’s only in Dublin you meet tone-deaf people.
No offence. Glancing at Alice before returning his attention to the road, he went on: So you’re thinking of buying the house, are you? I didn’t know that. From the back seat Eileen looked up. Sorry, what? she asked. Alice was putting on lip balm, pleased, a little drunk. Thinking about it, she said. Haven’t decided yet. Eileen burst out laughing then, and Alice turned around in her seat to face her. No, great, said Eileen. I’m happy for you. You’re moving to the countryside. Alice was looking at her with a puzzled frown.