Chapter Thirty-Nine
At the next book group, everyone was still buzzing with the success of the event.
Tybalt seemed to sense the excitement in the air, winding around everyone’s ankles, instead of settling in his usual spot on Joe’s lap.
Unable to keep her elation inside any longer, Erin said, ‘I can still hardly believe it but, with ticket money, bar receipts and donations on the JustGiving page Gavin set up, we’ve raised twenty-seven thousand pounds. ’
Riley whooped and Adam clapped so hard she was sure his palms must sting.
‘That’s enough to keep going, right?’ said Hafsa, her fingers curling and uncurling on her thighs.
‘And some,’ said Erin, ‘But let’s talk about that later.
We agreed that tonight is about our last pages.
’ Erin was bursting to tell them the outcome of her and Adam’s meeting with Julian Fengrove the day before, but she didn’t want to detract from the work they’d all done on what their futures held.
An air of gravitas fell over the room. It felt like an important day.
She regarded her friends in turn, her heart full of love for each and every one.
Hafsa was dressed in a hot-pink jacket with matching wide-legged trousers, and she looked as stylish as ever.
Other than Susan, who’d already shared her last pages, she was the only one without a notebook on her lap.
Mercy was scanning an open A4 pad, her lips moving as if practising the lines of a play.
‘I’ve got an apology to make,’ said Erin. ‘I haven’t quite finished my last pages yet. I’m working on them, though, and I promise they’ll be ready soon.’
‘Me neither,’ said Hafsa. ‘Sorry.’
‘No need to apologise,’ said Joe. ‘You’re busy people. Not like me, with all the time in the world to put pen to paper.’
‘Why don’t you start us off?’ said Adam. His iPad sat on the table beside him, and Erin warmed at the memory of the words in his document.
Joe glanced around the group. ‘I’m nervous. You’d think an old goat like me would be past that, especially when you think how many performances I’ve done over the years, but reading something out feels different.’
‘You don’t have to,’ said Erin. ‘You could just give us the gist, if you like?’
Joe took his reading glasses out of his shirt pocket, put them on and opened his notebook.
‘No, we’re all friends here,’ he said. ‘Here goes nothing.’ He took a breath and started to read.
‘I was wearing my wellies when I first met Nuala.’ He glanced up with a glint in his eyes before focusing back on his pad.
‘It was a Friday night in May, the date of the monthly dance in Killybegs, and I was running late after helping my dad gut the day’s catch, so I probably smelled of fish too.
Can you imagine a more alluring combination?
’ He paused as they laughed along with him.
‘I decided no one would notice my footwear or my questionable aroma since I was in the band, sitting at the back with my double bass between my legs. But someone did notice. She noticed me, at least, just as I noticed her. You couldn’t not, with hair the colour of flames and lips to match.
She was a cousin of my friend, Archie, and she was visiting from a town a few miles away and from the minute I set eyes on her that was it for me. ’
He sighed. ‘She was only seventy-one when she passed. Back when we met, that would have sounded ancient. I would probably have said, “She had a good innings” and expected a man my age to be satisfied at having enjoyed a long and happy marriage. And I am. Truly, I know how blessed I was to have a woman like Nuala at my side for as long as I did. I said to Erin, a while ago—’ he glanced up at Erin, his eyes full of gratitude ‘—that it’s because of how lucky I was that I want to try my hand at the love game again.
Because I’m not dead yet. In here—’ he put his hand to his chest ‘—I’m still that boy in wellies stinking of fish.
My hands might not be able to pluck the bass strings like they used to, but the music is still in my heart and my soul.
And I want to share what is left of this joyful life with someone else who still dances, even if it is just in their mind. ’
He coughed and lowered his voice. ‘That person will not be Pat.’ He looked up and wiggled his grey eyebrows.
‘Pat was my first foray into the mature person’s dating scene, and I discovered over a coffee that seemed to last several lifetimes, that she does not have music in her soul.
She does, however, have grumbling gallstones, a dicky hip and an irritable bowel.
The delight she took in regaling me with the irregularity of her movements suggested this was her favourite topic of conversation.
Possibly her only topic of conversation.
I will not be repeating the experience to find out.
’ He lifted a finger and paused as Tybalt finally decided to take his usual spot on his knee.
When the cat was settled, he continued, ‘But, as you know, I was not deterred by Pat’s unpredictable bowel movements, off-putting as they were.
You’ve all met Julia now, and I think I’m right in saying she got the book group seal of approval?
’ He glanced up as they all agreed wholeheartedly.
He smiled. ‘That’s good, because this exercise has reminded me that life is for living, and my last pages will be filled with me trying to make the best of every day with all that is left in me.
The end.’ He gave a firm nod with the final words, then smiled as the group gave him a delighted round of applause.