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I draw imaginary circles on his arm as I speak.
‘Are your parents still living further up north?’ Tom’s face reflects mine as he looks back at me with such a sense of pity. I remember hearing how he visited my home once with Matthew, and of how my mother had rolled out the red carpet as if it was The Beatles coming to visit.
Their band, Déjà Vu, had been offered a record deal at the time with a small label in Belfast and had popped by to see our folks en route to a meeting, which to Mam and Dad was like winning the lottery.
‘Yes, they’re still up in the little village we grew up in, which suits him, away from the city and all his reasons for giving up on everything,’ I tell Tom. Whatever happened between you guys, it shook him. I don’t think he ever got over it.’
Tom wears a deep frown and pinches his eyes.
‘How much do you know, Charlie?’ he asks me. ‘What did Tom tell you about why we all broke up?
They’d been going so well. Marketing plans were being discussed, recording studios lined up, even a fairly decent local tour all backed up by a label who believed in them and were just about to sign them up, but suddenly it was all over. It all went pear-shaped so quickly.
I lean up on one elbow now, mirroring him and take his hand from his face, holding it for reassurance.
‘He told us nothing more than the band broke up and it broke his heart,’ I say to Tom. ‘He wouldn’t say why, but I’m sure it wasn’t anyone’s fault in particular, was it?’
I say I’m sure, but then what would I know? Tom, on the other hand, doesn’t look so sure.
‘He just told me that bands break up, people break up. It happens,’ I continue. ‘He never wanted to tell me anything more than that, so I respected that. He’d put so much time and energy into the band and the break-up just rocked his whole world.’
Tom looks like he wants to say so much more but I put my finger on his lips.
‘Listen, Tom. My brother, as much as I adore him,’ I say, ‘can be very stubborn when he doesn’t get his own way, so you don’t need to tell me any more if you don’t want to. In fact, can we please talk about anything other than Matthew, just for now? We’ve had such a wonderful time. Let’s not ruin it.’
Tom looks relieved. We’ve had so much fun since we met up last night, laughing, singing and catching up. I really don’t want to dampen the mood.
‘OK,’ he sighs. ‘But I really hope that he finds his way again, Charlie, I really do. He’s one hell of a singer and a seriously good guy. He deserves so much more than how we all left things. He really did have big plans but it all just—’
‘Come on now, your turn,’ I interrupt him deliberately. There are tears in his eyes, which frighten me a little, but I don’t want to face up to this or question why just now. ‘You have to tell me more about you, something that doesn’t have anything to do with Matthew and Déjà Vu. How did a talented, gorgeous American boy like you end up in Ireland? I’m intrigued.’
He welcomes such a straightforward question, a timely diversion from the heavy cloud of memories that just triggered such emotion. Matthew’s depression has rocked our family, shaking us to the very core, and I’m not ready to confront Tom any more on the subject, not yet anyhow.
‘My mum is Irish, from Dublin originally,’ he says, tracing his finger along my cheek. ‘My dad is American but his people are English, hence the name Farley, so I’m a bit of a mixture.’
He takes a deep breath.
‘I grew up in Ohio, we moved here when I was seventeen and soon after that my dad disappeared with my mum’s cousin, so she went back Stateside and I just stayed here.’ He glances away and takes a deep breath. ‘The last I heard from my dad, he’d married the other woman and moved to London, so I’ve been drifting ever since, I guess.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Exactly,’ he says, looking away for a bit. ‘Shit happens, though, doesn’t it? As Matthew says, people break up, things change. We have to learn to move on and keep going, don’t we?’
The sadness in his eyes is back.
‘The band was probably the best thing that ever happened to me.’
The band. Matthew. We’re never going to get past this one, are we?
‘You could form your own band? Make a go of it again?’
I’m excited at my suggestion but Tom just laughs.
‘Nah,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘I tried but it will never be the same. That ship has sailed, and I’ve tried but failed, I’m afraid. I’ve also been in and out of jobs, everything from driving cabs in Belfast to selling my soul as a singing stripper for hen parties.’
‘No!’
He throws his head back in laughter now.
‘I thought you’d like that one,’ he says. ‘I’m joking! But I’ve nothing as fancy on my CV as having a degree and being as focused as you are.’
He keeps laughing at the look of shock on my face. I’m trying to be cool at the thought of him stripping for horny young women, even if it was a joke.
‘I get by playing the odd pub gig in a covers band,’ he says. ‘I have a day job and I share a flat here with a Russian guy called Peter who just left to drive to work in the snow, saying it was no big deal even though the whole country is virtually in shutdown. Pete’s really cool.’
My heartbeat has settled after the stripper revelation, and I want to know so much more, but most of all I want to hug this lonely boy who has been so lost for far too long. I imagine him as a teenager, abandoned by both his parents who couldn’t put him above their own needs.
‘You hungry?’ I ask him when I think I just heard his tummy rumble.
‘I’m starving,’ he says in relief, his eyes brightening at the thought of food. ‘That toast was good but I’m a growing boy, plus we still have our date today so don’t stand me up, Charlie Taylor.’
‘As if I would,’ I say, looking forward to it more than anything. ‘But I’ll need to go home first and get changed, which means braving the snow.’
He shakes his head, climbs off the bed and goes to a chest of drawers, which is the only other thing in the room apart from a battered guitar. He hands me a pair of pale blue jeans and a black Guns N’ Roses sweatshirt.
‘Cinderella, you shall go to the ball,’ he says with a heart-melting smile. ‘We won’t be going too far so don’t worry about being too glamorous. There’s a great wee pub that does bar food just a few miles away. It’s got sea views, an open fire and there’s always someone in the corner playing a tune so this will be just perfect.’
I lift the sweater.
‘The Ramones and Guns N’ Roses all in one day!’ I say to him in mock horror. ‘Whatever happened to me being a country girl at heart?’
He walks towards me and takes both of my hands.
‘Come on, let your hair down, country girl,’ he says, kissing me on the forehead. ‘It’s a brand-new day and life is for living, plus I think it will look pretty cool with your blue cowboy boots.’
I look at the offering and my heart skips a beat. My brother has the same sweatshirt. Stay present, be happy, I tell myself. Matthew would want me to be happy.
I’ve a feeling he would also have a lynch mob out for me now if he knew who I was with.
‘By the way, just so you know, I never, ever do this type of thing, ever,’ I say to Tom as I pull the sweatshirt over my head to try it on for size. The jeans fit well enough with the help of a belt tied really tight and, although this all feels a lot out of my comfort zone, it does make me feel a bit sexy knowing Tom wears these on his beautiful body.
‘You told me last night you’d say that,’ he says to me, handing me a towel now. ‘Shower is to the left.’
I take a deep breath and make my way out of the bedroom, feeling his eyes on me every step of the way.
It’s a snowy winter’s day in December, it’s the Christmas holidays, so I may as well have some fun with my rock star from Ohio who I’ve dreamed of for so long. I’ve waited forever for this moment and no one, not even my brother, is going to ruin it for me.
Chapter Three (#u3bef4420-0626-5735-b5de-5581cef46422)
We’re in the cosiest little pub by an angry winter sea, wrapped up like onions with an open fire by our feet, and I’m looking across the table at Tom Farley who still can’t take his eyes off me. And I can’t take mine off him.
I’m not sure what heaven is like, but I’m pretty sure this feeling is as good as it gets.
A smell of turf and damp clothes fills the air around us as an old man plays a slow air on a fiddle in the corner, followed by an almost unrecognizable rendition of ‘A Fairytale of New York’. It has us all singing along at the tops of our voices, giving the famous Pogues song the Christmas national anthem status it deserves.
I’ve a bellyful of oysters and Guinness, a heart that’s about to burst with joy and I don’t ever remember feeling so relaxed and at home in my whole life.
‘I think I’m in love with this place,’ I whisper to Tom. His sweater is soft on my skin and I’m so at ease, glad to be comfortable in these new but oh so welcoming surroundings. ‘I think I’ve fallen in love with Howth and all it means being here.’
I think I could very quickly fall deeply in love with him, too, and I’m sure he knows it.
‘It’s one of my favourite places, too,’ says Tom. His gravelly voice and rugged good looks make him the icing on the cake in this setting. ‘Do you have a favourite place, Charlie? I’d love to go there with you if you do.’
I swoon inside at the idea of us making plans like this together. He wants to do things, see places with me.
‘I’d love to go to Paris one day,’ I tell him. ‘It’s been on my bucket list since I was very little. I must be a romantic at heart, even though I’ve always believed I was a cynic. Something, or someone, must have changed my mind.’
He knows well that I’m referring to him. I never believed in the power of love until I met him.
‘We’ll go to Paris one day, then,’ he says, his eyes lighting up at the idea of it. ‘You and me, candlelit dinners overlooking the Seine, evening walks taking in the sights … Of course you’re romantic, Charlie! You’re a writer. Romance is bursting from you.’
I take what he says as a compliment. I suppose I couldn’t write country songs with heart-breaking themes if I wasn’t romantic.
‘I’d love to see Paris with you one day, Tom,’ I say to him. ‘But I’d also be happy to stay here forever.’
‘You’d be very welcome to stay here forever,’ he says, putting a strong arm around me, telling me the feeling is mutual. ‘We could live by the sea and watch the world go by, test-run our self-penned songs on the punters at our leisure before strolling home with the wind in our hair. Not the worst type of life if you ask me.’
My heart swells at the thought of it.
‘Imagine being able to make a living out of your own creations, being exactly the person you know you want to be instead of being a slave to mortgages and bills in some silly rat race in the city.’
I allow myself to dream of a life here in pretty Howth with its island views, writing songs and playing music, being who I am and not who I seem to have become.
‘That’s how I thought my life would be,’ sighs Tom. ‘Don’t you ever just wish you could make a living from your talent, your passion and your dreams instead of always going against the grain of who you really are, Charlie?’
He looks like a man with so many regrets as his mind drifts away again from the beautiful moment we have been sharing for the past couple of hours.
‘You’re too talented to be stuck in a job you hate,’ I tell him, sitting up straight. ‘You used to steal the show on stage with the band, even from behind the drum kit. Plus I’ve heard you singing so I know you’d make a great front man if you wanted to.’
He smiles lightly but I know he doesn’t believe me.
‘I’m thirty-two years old,’ he says to me. ‘Maybe it’s about time I stopped dreaming of being the next Bob Dylan and earned some money for a change.’
‘Maybe it’s time you stopped trying to be someone you’re not by working in an office,’ I say, knowing I’m talking to myself as well as him.
‘I’m a free spirit, Charlie,’ he says as if reading my mind. ‘So are you. We should both be earning a living doing what we love instead of where we both are now. But sometimes life gets in the way and we need to do what we need to do. Does that make sense?’
I nod slowly. Of course it makes sense.
I think of my job at the primary school and how much I love it, yet since Tom told me how talented I am five years ago, I’ve always feared I might be a square peg in a round hole, ticking boxes, robotically following systems I don’t even believe in just to keep a roof over my head and to have a career that gives me a steady income.
I think of Matthew, a truly tortured artist now working in a corner shop in the middle of nowhere and living with our parents as he battles with his mental health issues which have suffocated him when all his dreams folded. He couldn’t make his passion work, so why would it be any different for me?
Then there’s my friend Kirsty who wants nothing more than to be someone’s wife with two-point-four children, and my sister Emily who travelled to Australia with me and met the love of her life on the way. Always content with the simple things in life, Emily has forever been my role model and the one I look up to with her carefree attitude and happy-go-lucky ways.
I don’t know how I became who I am now on the outside, but on the inside I’m bursting to be different, to take risks, to follow my heart and soul instead of my head. Inside, I’m longing to be the real me and so far in my life the only one to recognize that is this man in front of me. He sees in me something that I have only ever seen myself. He believes in me so much that it’s almost catching my breath.
‘Do you mind if I call my sister really quickly?’ I say to Tom, needing a moment from this realization and perhaps some familiarity before I really am tempted to run away with him and pack in all that I’ve worked for. ‘It’s not that we need to know each other’s every move, but I did abandon them all last night so it might be good to see how they got on.’
Tom gladly gives the go-ahead then goes to the bar to get some drinks in, giving me time to check in with Emily. She misses the call then rings me straight back and I’m excited to tell her all about my very quaint surroundings here in this brand-new place where life seems so free and easy.
‘Happy school holidays, Miss Taylor!’ she sings down the phone when I pick up. ‘Are you still with that absolute ride Farley? Our Matthew will murder you, you do realize that? I get a feeling he hates him and everyone else who was in that band.’
I can hear Kevin, my brother-in-law, mutter in the background something along the lines of Matthew being all right if nothing falls on him.
‘I’m with him, yes, in a little pub in Howth,’ I tell her. ‘I think I’ve fallen in love with Howth, not to mention the company. Oh Emily, he is just the best. I’m feckin’ mad about him.’
Not that I need to tell her that as she’s listened to me go on about all the ‘what if’ scenarios and fantasizing I’ve done about Tom Farley over the years.
‘I swear,’ she says to me. ‘I can’t believe this, Charlotte, he’s a dream! He’s your dream! Did you tell him about the songs you wrote about him? Oh my God, it’s like a movie! Did you tell him how mad in the head you’ve been about him for five years now?’
For the first time ever, I want to gag my big sister as she states the obvious as if she’s on speed.
‘And did you ask him what happened with our Matthew and the band?’ she continues. ‘I’d so love to know the real story there. Like, why on earth would Matthew leave Dublin and go back to the sticks over a silly row? It must have been really bad for it all to get so messed up. Ask him, I dare you! You better ask him, Charlotte!’
I don’t want to ask him. In fact, I feel panicky at the very thought of knowing the truth in case it ruins everything. I know it must have been bad – we all know it must have been bad – but I don’t think I want to know any more than that. What if it was Tom’s fault? What if it was so bad that it meant we could never be together?
I glance across at Tom who is thankfully engrossed in conversation with the barman and can’t see the worry in my face.
‘He’s everything I hoped he would be,’ I whisper to Emily, feeling tears of fear prick my eyes at the thought of this all going wrong. ‘I really hope that Matthew can forgive him for whatever it was and see how good we are together.’
My sister gasps in a high-pitched tone.
‘Sorry, I’m just really happy for you,’ she says, getting emotional now, too. ‘I can’t believe you just bumped into him like that. Like, five long years later, too. Kevin, did you know that she has waited five years to find this man? Even the hunks Down Under couldn’t change her mind and believe me, I tried to distract her from him. But look, she was right. It’s fate!’
I wait as my sister and her husband update each other on what Kevin knows and doesn’t know about my five years of pining for Tom.
‘So, anyhow, I just thought I’d check in so that you knew I was alive,’ I say quickly, trying to divert the subject, ‘and to apologize again for abandoning ship last night. I hope Kirsty isn’t too mad.’
I say that with the ultimate tongue in cheek as we both know that Kirsty, as long as she has a man stuck to her face, couldn’t care less if any of us disappeared to Outer Mongolia.
‘She’s worried sick about you.’
‘I’m sure she is,’ I laugh.
Tom comes back to our seat and I feel slightly nervous. Not nervous to be with him in the slightest, but nervous that my sister will let me down by declaring my forever love to him not knowing he is beside me again and he might overhear her.
‘Last I heard from Kirsty, she was planning her wedding. Yes, another one,’ says Emily, while Kevin continues to commentate in the background. ‘I mean seriously, I don’t know how she does it. I’m still de-stressing from my wedding a year later, never mind contemplating another. She’s like, what do you call her? What’s the name of the actress with all the husbands?’
