Kit and Tully | Love or Music?

18 - Unlikely Friendship

The Aonghus I dreamed of in the past was a benevolent figure, a misunderstood misfit, who helped young lovers. The Aonghus who haunts the present is disillusioned and embittered, ancient and powerful, dangerous.

In my nightmares I'm trapped in the passage grave, crawling through an endless tunnel, with no way out. I wake up disoriented, my heart pounding in my chest.

Outside my window, the sun is high in the sky. It's late, nearly lunch time.

I make my way downstairs to get a glass of water. Voices are coming from the kitchen.

Could that be my mother?

Laughing?

Cautiously, I edge the door open.

"There she is." My mother's voice is warm, almost youthful.

I peep into the kitchen.

The sun streams through the window, bathing him in a golden light.

Oh my god.

I gasp and leap backwards.

Tully is in the kitchen.

Talking to my mother.

And I'm in my nightdress and haven't even brushed my hair.

I fly back upstairs and dress quickly, trying to catch my breath.

Tully is supposed to be working today.

Even if he wasn't, what is he doing here?

By the time I make my way back down to the kitchen, I'm more curious than anything else. Our last conversation was only yesterday morning, but it seems like another era. Aonghus might be haunting my dreams, but in my waking moments the events at the passage grave seem too surreal to be possible.

 Felice's explanation that it was all some kind of weird dream brought on by the full moon, and the otherworldly atmosphere of the site, is the only one that makes any sense.

A pot of tea is in the middle of the kitchen table. Tully is eating one of my mother's stale scones.

"This is delicious, Mrs Lawless," he says and my mother beams.

She likes him. My mother likes Tully.

The revelation shocks me to the core.

Mum doesn't like anyone.

Not even me.

"Well," she says to me. "Don't just stand there. Aren't you going to come in?"

In a daze, I sit down at the table and start picking at a blister in the chequered oilcloth.

My mother pushes the plate of scones towards me.

Mutely, I shake my head.

A flicker of disappointment crosses her face and I catch Tully's eye. His nod is almost imperceptible. Rolling my eyes, I decide to play along and reach for a scone, which I slather with butter and raspberry jam. When I bite into it, it's not as dry as I expected. "These are good, Mum."

She smiles with gratification.

"If it's alright with you, Mrs Lawless, I was hoping to drive Kit down to Galway today," Tully is saying. Could this morning get more surreal? "Some friends of ours are performing there tonight. Of course, I'll bring Kit straight back here afterwards, but it might be quite late."

"Galway?" My mother's voice is a little faint. To her, Galway is a a stop-off point on a holiday in the west of Ireland. We've had lunch there once or twice en route to Connemara, but the possibility of driving there and back in one day is something she would never contemplate.