21. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
‘Oh, hi.’ Cillian carried his guitar into Nick’s living room and found May sitting cross-legged on the floor, building a Lego model with a little girl. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to be here.’
‘Kitty’s got some paperwork to do today, so I get to hang out with Emily while you guys are doing whatever it is you do.’
‘Hi.’ The little girl peeked up from beneath her curls to smile at Cillian.
Nick wandered in and handed Cillian a coffee. ‘I see you’ve met my daughter,’ he said.
‘Thanks.’ Cillian placed his mug on the coffee table, rested his guitar case against the wall, and joined Emily and May on the floor. ‘I’m Cillian. Very nice to meet you, Emily.’
Emily stared at Cillian’s outstretched hand and laughed, shaking it anyway.
‘What are you making? I used to love Lego when I was your age.’
‘A castle.’
‘For a princess?’
Emily’s forehead creased, and she frowned at Cillian as if he were mad.
‘No, princesses are stupid. My castle is for a king who has to protect his land and needs somewhere for his army to sleep. They have swords and bows and arrows and keep watch on the battlements so the king can get some rest when he’s not preparing for battle. ’
‘Wow.’ Cillian sought help from May and found her eyes glistening as she tried not to laugh. ‘I guess that told me. Can I do anything to help?’
Emily grabbed one of Cillian’s hands and studied his fingers. ‘No, your fingers are too fat.’
‘Emily!’ scolded Nick. ‘Don’t be so rude!’
May snorted, and Cillian scowled at her.
‘I didn’t mean fat,’ said Emily, studying Cillian’s hands once more. ‘I meant long. Your fingers are too long for Lego. You won’t be able to add the delicate pieces.’
‘That’s fair enough.’ Cillian joined in the examination of his fingers. ‘Mam always said I should have been a piano player, but I’ve always preferred guitar.’
‘Speaking of which,’ said Nick, nodding towards Cillian’s unopened guitar case.
‘Oh, yes.’ Cillian jumped to his feet. ‘I forgot why I was here for a minute.’
‘I hope it’s OK,’ said Nick, once they were out on the decking. ‘I asked Alice if she’d like to join us. She’s an amazing pianist.’
‘That sounds great,’ said Cillian. ‘The more the merrier as far as I’m concerned.’
‘Do you know what time Alice is getting here?’ Nick called inside to May.
‘She said half past,’ shouted May.
‘In that case,’ said Nick, turning to Cillian, ‘why don’t we run through some of the songs we tried last time, then we’ll be good to go by the time Alice gets here.’
‘Good plan. “Black is the Colour”? I was thinking we could have an instrumental break in the middle with maybe a guitar solo or even piano, if Alice is up for it?’
‘I love that idea. Also, I’ve been working on some more interesting harmony parts I’d like to try out.’
Cillian picked up his guitar and couldn’t help smiling when Nick’s voice rang out.
There was something about the pair of them together that just worked.
Cillian had played with lots of musicians over the years, and only occasionally had he come across the chemistry he was experiencing now.
It was an intangible magic, impossible to name, an innate understanding that could be translated by a simple nod, a breath, a blink.
‘That’s coming along so well,’ said Nick after letting the last chord ring out. ‘What do you suggest we try next? Something a bit more upbeat?’
‘I know plenty of upbeat songs,’ said Cillian. ‘Before we do that, though, can we have a try at “The Parting Glass”? It’s got a similar vibe to “Black is the Colour” and could sound amazing with harmonies and keys.’
‘I’m not sure I know it.’
Cillian set down his guitar. ‘In that case, I’ll teach it to you Irish-style. We can add the guitars once we’ve nailed the melody.’ He stood, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply.
With shoulders pushed back, Cillian tilted his face to the sky and sang.
As the lyrics poured out, he was no longer standing in Nick’s garden.
He was in his uncle’s crowded sitting room, with all the family gathered around.
It was the first time he’d ever sung on his own in public, and if it weren’t for his dad’s whisky-filled insistence he got to his feet, Cillian wondered if he would ever have become the star he was today.
‘Oh and all the harm I’ve ever done,
Alas it was to none but me …’
All the chattering and bickering had stopped as his prepubescent voice filled the small room. He kept waiting for an interruption or someone to giggle. It never came.
‘So fill to me the parting glass …’
His da’s voice was the first to join in, and Cillian remembered his eyes flickering open in surprise. Then, one by one, all the uncles took a part until the room was filled with the voices of the McDonaugh men.
‘Good night and joy be with you all …’
An eruption of cheers and applause had greeted the close of the song.
His Uncle Jim clapped Cillian so hard on the back he stumbled into a coffee table, knocking a glass of wine into Aunt Mary’s lap.
No one minded. It was Cillian’s first experience of the buzz of performing.
More than that, it was his first experience of making music with other people, and he was completely and utterly hooked.
‘Wow.’ Nick’s voice hummed with admiration as the song ended.
Cillian blinked, bringing himself back into the present and coughing away the lump in his throat. ‘You like it?’
‘Love it.’ Nick cocked his head and grinned. ‘And your voice isn’t half bad when not buried beneath all those effects and auto-tune.’
‘What an outrageous accusation!’ Cillian pretended indignation. ‘An Irishman using auto-tune?’ He was only partly joking. How had he let himself be drowned out by trends and the latest gadgets?
‘Nick, Emily would like you to come and admire her model if you’ve got time,’ called May.
‘I’ll be there in a minute,’ said Nick.
Cillian picked up his guitar and strummed a few chords. When he looked up, May was watching him from the doorway, arms crossed.
‘Don’t stop,’ she said. ‘From what I’ve heard, teenage girls shell out their entire college funds to hear you play, so I want to make the most of this freebie.’
‘You like my playing?’
‘I didn’t say that. I said I was enjoying a freebie.’ She uncrossed her arms and wrinkled her nose. ‘Though I will admit the stuff I’ve heard you play today is way better than the usual rubbish you churn out.’
‘Thanks, I think?’
‘Better get back to Emily,’ said May, winking at Cillian before turning back into the house.