‘Will you be okay while I’m gone, Fergal?’ Alfredo asked.
Antonio and Rocco threw their arms around Fergal, raising their glasses. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll make sure he has a good time! You’re only eighteen once, no?’ Fergal laughed.
‘I’ll be back as quickly as I can,’ Alfredo assured him, then left to join his damp sister in the taxi.
Sofia and her friends had taken to the dance floor. Sofia moved to the music with her back to the Moretti table so Dina could give her a running commentary on Fergal’s activities. Antonio, Rocco and Fergal had ordered a round of shots and swallowed them in one gulp. Now they had their arms around one another and were singing along to Kool and the Gang.
‘Come on,’ Luisa called to Sofia, pulling her towards the toilets. Once inside, they reapplied their thick red lipstick and hatched a plan of action. On their way back to their table, they’d have to pass the handsome trio.
As soon as they were outside the toilet door, they formed a chain. Right on cue, ‘Dancing in the Street’ by Martha and the Vandellas came on. The girls almost ran Antonio over. He took the bait and clamped his hands around the tiny waist that was offered, shouting to Rocco and Fergal to join in. The chain grew and grew, travelling in circles around the tables and chairs and onto the dance floor, faster and faster. Fergal was drunk and the room was already rotating, but he felt great.
When the song ended, they were all soaking wet with sweat. They flopped down together at the nearest table, out of breath and light-headed, and introduced themselves.
The pace changed all of a sudden. Madonna’s voice filled the smoky air with the opening bars of her romantic hit, ‘Crazy for You’. Rocco and Antonio took their cue and stood up, offering their outstretched arms to Dina and Luisa, who accepted instantly. Antonio looked at Fergal, who looked at Rocco, who kicked him on the ankle, so Fergal stood up and offered his hand to Sofia, mimicking what they had done.
The dance floor was transformed into a windswept cornfield of swaying couples and they got lost in the tide of lovers and lovers-to-be. Sofia had to dance on her tiptoes to rest her head on Fergal’s shoulder. He felt embarrassed and awkward at first - he had never really danced with anyone before - but he had a natural sense of rhythm.
Sofia had already decided not to admit that she knew anything about him. She stroked his back and said, ‘Your suit is beautiful, Fergal.’
He laughed nervously. ‘It was a birthday present.’
‘Your accent is beautiful. Where are you from?’
Fergal was only too glad to talk about something he knew, so he set about describing Belfast and the church where he used to sing before Father Mac and Alfredo saved him.
‘Oh, you’re a singer? How exciting! But what do you mean when you say that these men saved you?’
‘Just that there was a lot of danger on the streets, that’s all.’ Sofia was almost cross-eyed with the romance of it all, not to mention the drink. ‘What do you do?’ Fergal asked.
‘Oh, I work in the fashion industry. And I do a bit of modelling.’ She thought that would impress him.
The song finished and one in Italian came on. Rocco and Antonio found a table and Fergal and Sofia joined them. The next thing Fergal knew, the two other couples were kissing as if their lives depended on it.
Fergal panicked. He was frantically trying to think of something to talk about when Sofia put her hand on his shoulder and planted her lips on his. Her breath was warm and sweet, and the first thing he thought was how soft her face was compared to Father Mac’s rough, bearded touch.
She leaned towards him and he caught her. She grabbed him more tightly and pushed her tongue into his mouth. Fergal felt strange, as if he were watching himself from another part of the room. Sofia pushed her chest against his and squeezed his hand. Fergal was so drunk that he had no idea what to do. Somewhere inside himself, he decided to be a passenger and let Sofia do the driving. They opened their mouths wider and kissed more passionately. Fergal shot a glance at Rocco and saw that his hand was buried somewhere in the folds of Dina’s outfit. He started to harden just watching Rocco’s groin getting fuller in his tight black trousers.
Antonio knew that Alfredo would be back at any second. He whispered to Luisa, who consulted Dina; they nodded, giggling. The two girls grabbed Sofia as she was still kissing Fergal and made for the toilets, shrieking with laughter.
Rocco and Antonio leaned in on either side of Fergal, like a rugby squad discussing tactics. ‘Listen,’ Antonio said. ‘My uncle has this house up in the hills and I look after it for him - he’s always away on business. We’re going there.’
‘Dina and Luisa are asking Sofia if she wants to go,’ Rocco said, grinning. ‘Less crowded, more private...’
Fergal was still a little disorientated. ‘Shouldn’t we wait for Alfredo to get back?’
Antonio laughed and slapped him on the back. ‘Alfredo isn’t your fucking father, is he? There’s nothing to worry about. Come on, Fergal, you’re eighteen now. You’re a fucking man, not some boy hanging off Alfredo’s coat-tails. Do you do everything he tells you?’
‘No, it’s just.. .God, I’m drunk! We won’t be long, will we?’
‘I dunno; about seven and a half inches, on a good night!’
They burst out laughing.
Luisa gave Antonio a thumbs-up from the toilet door. They gathered up their coats and bags and bribed a taxi driver who was hovering near the entrance to take the six of them. Sofia was glad to claim Fergal’s lap. She put her arm around his shoulders, silently praying that he didn’t think she was too heavy, although she weighed almost nothing.
Fergal was too drunk to understand the directions Antonio gave the driver. He was dizzy and too warm. He opened the window, and the cold fresh air felt wonderful. They careered around a fountain and out to an unfamiliar road that led up into the hills. Rocco asked Fergal to sing something, but it was one of the rare moments when that was the last thing he felt like doing, so he refused, saying that he only knew laments and classical pieces. But the three girls needed no encouragement - they sang a song that they’d learned at school, and the chorus made them screech so hard with laughter that they were unable to finish it, much to the driver’s relief.
The taxi wound its way higher and higher, off the main road, and finally halted outside a wooden house in complete darkness. Rocco paid the inflated fare and Antonio went to a hanging basket of flowers and began groping for the front door key in the moonlight.
The fire in the grate was set. They only had to touch a match to it and the room began to warm quickly. Antonio found one of his uncle’s favourite Sinatra albums, Songs for Swinging Lovers, and Rocco went into the kitchen and found six glasses to hold the thick amaretto liqueur that was always kept in the top cupboard. Antonio poured more than double measures and began dancing with Luisa. Rocco kissed Dina as she sat side-saddle on his lap. Fergal looked at Sofia and she took his gaze as encouragement. She climbed on top of him, relieving him of his glass, and kissed him. Fergal couldn’t find the right words to tell her to stop.
Antonio and Luisa moved out of the room and up the stairs, to the one bedroom. Rocco’s shirt was undone and Dina’s shoes were off. After another few songs they picked up a candle and retreated behind the closed door of the kitchen, leaving just the firelight for Fergal and Sofia.
Alfredo arrived back at the club later than he had expected. He had tried to convince Arianna to change her outfit and return to the party, but she had told him she was exhausted and made him stay for a nightcap.
They had ended up talking about Fergal, of course. They agreed that he seemed restless and tense, especially when the subject of his family arose.
Arianna shook her head. ‘Alfredo, I can’t imagine how awful it would be if we didn’t get on with each other, or if we’d had a bad relationship with our parents. He told me his mother has written to him, though. At least that’s something. But he seems so sad sometimes, and there’s nothing I can do.’
&
nbsp; ‘He’s the same in his lessons. He’s exceptional in some ways - his natural voice is extraordinary, and you heard for yourself today how well he’s coming on technically - but I just can’t help feeling that he’s holding back so much. It must be exhausting for him. In some ways it’s to be expected, when he’s so young, but he must learn to let go. I’m teaching him as much as I can and he responds well to advice and criticism, but there’s something missing, and I’m not sure I know what it is yet.’
‘What about his exam? Will he be all right?’
‘I’m not so worried about that. His technical ability is growing all the time. He needs to do some serious growing to really own his voice, but...it’s his heart I’m talking about. He seems so unreachable sometimes.’
‘Yes, that’s what it is. Sometimes when I talk to him he responds like he’s listening, but there’s a part of him that seems.. .impenetrable.’
‘Exactly. That’s a good word for it.’
Alfredo glanced at his watch and realised he had stayed longer than he’d meant to. He asked Arianna again to come back to the club in a fresh outfit, but she insisted on sending him on his way without her. Truth be told, she was glad to be back at home; she had felt old, all of a sudden, amongst so many young people.
When Alfredo didn’t see Fergal anywhere in the club, he started to get worried. He called out Fergal’s name again and again, but finally he had to concede defeat to the now-deafening music. He spotted the waiter who had been looking after their table and gladly hurried over to him.
‘Have you seen my friend, the young Irishman?’
The waiter shrugged. ‘He was here a few minutes ago. He was dancing with the other two young men and some girls. I think they left.’ Alfredo tried not to look too angry. ‘They had better be taking good care of him,’ he muttered. ‘And he had better be protecting his voice.’
Sofia placed a bundle of sticks in the heart of the open fire and the flames ate them hungrily, throwing more light into the room. Then she turned around and opened the buttons of her blouse, one by one, to reveal her cleavage, almost bursting the banks of her tiny bra. Fergal tried to speak, but she quickly crossed the room and put her finger to her lips to hush him. She unhooked her bra with the other hand and her bare breasts hung inches from his puzzled face, like ripe fruit.
They could hear the low moans of Antonio and Luisa upstairs as the bed began to knock against the wall. Closer still, in the kitchen, Rocco’s muffled voice repeated, ‘Si, si, Dina...si, baby.’ It was like an epidemic.
Sofia pressed one of her breasts to Fergal’s lips, and again he was struck by how soft her skin was. The soundtrack of what Rocco and Antonio were doing to the other girls was making him hard. He closed his eyes and imagined it was one of their nipples he was sucking on. Sofia’s hand dropped suddenly to his trouser zip, and she giggled approval at the tent that had started to appear. Before he could say anything, she had unzipped him, taken hold of his hardness and started pulling at him, faster and faster.
‘Did you bring...anything?’ Sofia whispered.
Fergal shook his head.
She nodded. She began kissing him, all the way down to his belly button, opening his shirt buttons as she went. Fergal was distracted by Rocco’s guttural moans in the next room, but when Sofia took the tip of his erection in her mouth, he gasped back to reality. Father Mac’s face floated in front of him in the poor light of the fading flames. He wanted to tell her to stop, but he couldn’t find the words to do it without hurting her.
When Sofia looked up at him, with his erection still in her mouth, she didn’t expect to see such an unhappy face. She stopped. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.
Fergal looked away. ‘I - I’m just drunk.’ He tried to stand up, but the room began to spin. Sofia put her arms around him, helping him regain his balance. Then she kissed his nipples, and Fergal felt powerless to do anything as she continued her tender journey downwards. His trousers fell to the floor in a heap. Sofia took him in her mouth again, more earnestly this time, and began sucking.
Fergal put his hand on her head and tried to move her away, but she held on to his buttocks and took him deeper still. He thought about the one-sided sex he’d had with Riccardo that very same day, and he started to hate himself even more.
He lost his balance and they tumbled to the floor. Sofia laughed drunkenly. When Fergal opened his eyes, he saw that she had taken her knickers off and was standing over him in the half-light. He could only stare at her in bewilderment. He could see that her naked body was beautiful, but in his heart of hearts he was somewhere else, with someone else.
She straddled his traitor erection in a single gymnastic movement and lowered herself onto it. Fergal gasped as she ground her hips wildly. He knew he didn’t care about her, he shouldn’t be inside her; he just wanted it to be over. He tried to sit up and lift her off, but she just moved faster and faster, moaning and calling his name, her eyes firmly shut. In sudden lucid desperation, Fergal heaved himself up and turned onto one side, making her fall off.
The silent room started to spin again. The Sinatra record was at the end of its vinyl groove, turning and hiccup-scratching pointlessly. Fergal felt sick.
Sofia, out of breath, thought he was being careful not to get her pregnant. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘It’ll be okay as long as you pull out of me before—’
Fergal shook his head, and Sofia saw that he looked terribly sad. ‘It’s okay if it’s your first time,’ she said gently. ‘I’ll take care of you.’
The fact that she was being so lovely made Fergal feel even worse. He looked at the floor. ‘No, Sofia. It’s not that.’
‘What, then? You’ve had too much to drink?’
He couldn’t find the words to answer. She turned away. ‘You don’t like me enough. That’s it, isn’t it? You think I’m ugly.’
Fergal clamped his eyes shut in frustration. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Sofia! Sure, look at you - you’re fucking gorgeous! Any man would...I mean, it’s not you. It’s me. It’s just...’
She looked at him as his explanation evaporated, and then she finished the sentence for him. ‘You don’t like girls, do you, Fergal?’
He was shocked that she’d been brave enough to say it - braver than he was. He started to say something, but Sofia beat him to it. It had taken a lot for her to give herself to someone again, after years of mourning her lost love, and she was furious that Fergal had made a fool of her and her desire. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ Her voice started to rise. ‘Why the fuck didn’t you say something before? Do you think I offer myself to just anyone? No wonder I had to do everything. I thought you were just nervous and shy, I thought you were a virgin.. .Oh my God, why did I pick you? You bastard, you let me make a fool of myself!’
She burst into tears of fury and embarrassment, slapping the dimly lit wall in search of the light switch. One of her bare feet came down on the sharp heel of her shoe and she screamed in shock. She started getting dressed as quickly as she could.
The other four had heard the commotion, and Dina stuck her head around the door. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘I want to go home,’ Sofia shouted through her sobs. ‘Now!’ As Luisa helped Sofia find the remainder of her clothes and a bewildered Antonio phoned for a taxi, Fergal heard the low hum of a diesel engine cursing the climb of the hill. He thought he recognised the sound of Alfredo’s car, but by the time he ran out onto the dirt road, the car had sped off, and all he could see was the embers of the taillights vanishing around a bend.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ he swore at himself. He was convinced that Sofia would tell everyone what she suspected. He hadn’t confirmed it in words, but he had in his behaviour. On top of all that, Alfredo would be furious with him for leaving the club. Unsurprisingly, Fergal suddenly felt a lot more sober.
Rocco and Antonio weren’t too pleased with him, either. They had both been at a fairly critical point when Luisa and Dina had gone to see what was wrong with Sofia. Sofia calmed down once
the taxi had been telephoned, but she was still saying nothing, so Rocco and Antonio went outside to have a cigarette and ask Fergal what was going on.
‘What the hell happened there?’ Antonio asked. Fergal shrugged.
Rocco said, ‘From what I could hear, it sounded like it was going great - unless you moan your own name when you’re fucking someone?’
He and Antonio sniggered, but they stopped when they saw Fergal’s pained expression. Then a thought occurred to Antonio. ‘Fergal, did you ask her to do something...you know, disgusting? You didn’t try and park the train in the back tunnel, did you? A lot of girls hate that.’
The incredulous look on Fergal’s face told them that wasn’t the answer. ‘It’s natural to be nervous the first time,’ Rocco tried, but Fergal stayed mute.
Finally two taxis arrived to take them home - the girls in one car, Fergal in the other. He was deeply relieved not to have to share a car with them. As the taxi pulled away, he felt a flash of jealousy that Antonio and Rocco had decided to stay the night in the house by themselves.
Moretti’s was in total darkness when Fergal’s taxi trembled to a stop outside. Luckily he still had some money left over from the club. He paid the driver and stood in the moonlight, looking at the sleeping restaurant.
Arianna was an insomniac at the best of times, and there was no way she could have slept when she knew Fergal was still out. Alfredo had come back from his fruitless search in Club Hollywood and had flown into a rage, cursing Antonio and Rocco, when his sister told him Fergal still hadn’t come home. Arianna had tried to calm her brother, reminding him that they had all been young once, but Alfredo had insisted on taking his car out to look for Fergal again, even though he wasn’t sure where to start. ‘If one hair on his head has been harmed in any way, I’ll kill Antonio and Rocco - 1 swear it, Arianna!’With that, he had sped off.
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