uh oh.......

Candy floss pink swirls of cloud mingled with the vibrant orange and rosy fuchsia hues of the blissful evening. The sun, a fiery, golden sphere, was beginning to dip slowly behind the little silhouetted forest that stood, mounted on the turn of the road. Awkwardly, Seoda maneuvered her mother’s marine blue car around the tight corner. The small rustic village crept into view with the old Franciscan monastery standing proudly, right in the centre; its antique walls reflected stone for stone in the clear, viridian tide.

The heavenly scene passed her by. Frowning, she turned up the volume of the car stereo. Arguing with her mother always ruffled her, especially when she knew she was in the wrong. A little pocket of guilt was forming in the pit of her stomach, curdling slowly there-like rancid milk.
“And just where are you off to, missy?” inquired her mother.
“To see the gig Mam, you know, the one I told you about AGES ago” Seoda had snapped irritably, she was already late.
“What time will you be home exactly?”
“I don’t know, half past…” as she fumbled amongst the lipstick tubes and eye-shadow tubs for the car keys.
“Half past what? You have school in the morning-or have you forgotten?” her mother said crossly, dangling the sought after keys just out of Seoda’s reach.
“Whenever” mumbled Seoda, grabbing the keys and racing out the door.

Sighing, she sped over the pebbly, tree-lined road to Hannah’s. The car groaned as it turned up the steep driveway while Seoda rehearsed her apology for being late. As it turned out however, she wasn’t the only one having an off night. Greeted at the door by Hannah’s sister, Seoda had entered the house only to be met by shouts emitting from the general direction of her friends bedroom.
“Grace-have you seen my black top? I have NOTHING to wear…”
Half dressed, with a straightening iron in one hand and a bottle of instant tan in the other, Hannah emerged from the hallway-the plug of the ‘straightener’ trailing behind her forlornly.
“HELP!” she implored.
Seoda couldn’t believe it. Prickly from her previous altercation at home, she burst with impatience.
“Oh. Come. On. I was late coming here and you’re still not even dressed! We are going to miss it and it’s not going to be my fault. Come on”
“But, but; I have to do tan” Hannah cried, abandoning her hair for a torn, plastic glove which she was trying vainly to turn right side out.
“You look fabulous-now get your ass out into the car!”

One black top, two streaky, suspiciously orange arms and several minutes later the girls tumbled into the car and set off for town. The mood brightened as they began to discuss the band, excitement dispelling any animosity between them. They zipped along, trying to make up for lost time. However, Seoda, only on her provisional license, was the first to admit that she was no expert when she had to negotiate the windy back roads of the rural countryside. As the car rounded a sharp bend, she’d had to swerve dangerously to narrowly avoid two darkly-clad pedestrians that had appeared, seemingly out of thin air.
“Oh shitty-witty!” she cried, righting the car again and admonishing herself for such blatant carelessness. Hannah however, who had being applying eyeliner (and who now had a jagged, black, smudgy line extending out from her left eye), laughed uproariously and could barely draw breath with the height of giggling- “Shitty-witty” became the catchphrase of the night.

Abruptly, the laughter stopped. The car began to slow and tilt ominously. The gears grinded and Seoda felt the steering begin to sway as a ‘put-put’ sound came from underneath them.
“No…not now, please not tonight” she muttered as she brought the vehicle to a screeching halt. But she knew what had happened before the words even escaped her lips. “We’ve got a puncture.”
“But you do know how to change the tire, right?” asked Hannah, clinging to a desperate shred of sanguinity. Seoda shook her head miserably.
“Great…just bloody fantastic.” The optimism left her like air out of a burst balloon.
“What are we going to do? I can’t ring Mam. The miserable crow will be delighted to come and pick us up.”
A resentful silence ensued.
“You know, if you had given me five minutes extra on my hair this might never have happened…Patience is a virtue…”
“HANNAH”

The girls sat silently in the half light of dusk and stared at the glowing screens of their mobiles as they sighed continually and wondered who to call. Suddenly, there came a sharp rap on the driver’s side window. They both let out an involuntary yelp before turning fearfully to stare at the shadowy, thickset, bearded figure of a man who loomed outside the glass.
“What should we do?” Seoda whispered, her mouth suddenly dry and her heart beating as thought she’d just run a marathon.
Hannah gulped. “I don’t know-what if he’s like, an axe-murderer or something?” she whimpered.
When they didn’t move the man leaned over and stared at them though the pane. He was so close to the glass that the pair could make out the network of spittle that had lodged in his beard and the menacing slant to his slack nose. He opened his mouth to speak, baring his yellow teeth and then;
“How ye girls? Ye seem to have a small biteen of a puncture there. Do ye need any help at all?”
“Think of Spitfire, think of Spitfire” she repeated to herself. Hannah clutched her forearm as she slowly rolled down the window. Licking her lips and trying to smile politely she said;
“Um…yes I think we do. I don’t know what happened. Can you help us? Ah, please?”
Hannah tightened her vice-like grip as axe-murderer/Good Samaritan (they hadn’t decided yet) encircled the car, scratching his bald head as he surveyed the damage.
“Ah sure, we’ll have you fixed up in a jiffy,” he winked reassuringly.
In less than ten minutes they were away. The man had jacked up the car, removed the offending article and fitted the new tire with the dexterity of a Formula One pits stop mechanic. Amazingly enough, all without laying a finger on them as they stood on the side of the road, watching pathetically and shivering in their ‘going-out’ clothes.
“All right, you’re sucking diesel now” he boomed, slapping the boot and sending they on their merry way.
“Thank you” they shouted back, grateful and thrilled to be off. They might actually make it!

Seoda and Hannah exhaled a shared sigh of relief when finally they reached the town. Once again excitement reigned; the girls exchanging giddy smiles as they practically skipped up the street. The hazy orange lamp-lighted of the hushed street illuminated the painted fiddlers on the pub window while silent singers and musicians stared at them from the many posters which clambered for space on the old, crumbly wall. Seoda grabbed one of the handles and pulled open the door. A cacophony of laughter, eager chatter and mocking banter deafened them as they plunged into the abundant crowd who stood under the quaint pub’s low ceiling.
“Wow-I didn’t think that there’d be this many people. Thank heavens for the Good Samaritan!” Hannah tried to shout. It was lost on Seoda who could only see her mouth moving. She smiled anyway-this was what it was all about. All of a sudden the crowd began to surge forward. The doors of the main room were being opened. Scattered old men with tweed caps muttered disdainfully into their pints of ‘Murphy’s’; their quiet sup interrupted by the pushy, regretfully sweaty and tipsy mass which the girls found themselves in the midst of. Seoda didn’t care; despite of all their mishaps they had finally made it. The person in front of her could tread on her bare toes all night if she had to, at least they were here.

The band was, in Seoda and Hannah’s eyes, amazing. Spitfire more than lived up to there reputation and the gig exceeded even the crowd’s expectations. The girls sat mesmerized by Matthew, the lead singer, as he sang all of their favorites in his indescribable voice. The appreciative audience clapped, yelled, cheered and sang along. Cymbals crashed, guitars blazed and Donnacha played piano as though it was all he had to live for. All too soon it was over and the girls emerged, trancelike, to the modest little bar.
“Wow” whispered Hannah.
“Wow” Seoda agreed, “That was just…”
“Wow” they said in unison as they shuffled along with the multitude.

Hannah elbowed Seoda; a balding and bearded man was ambling jovially over to them, parting the crowd with his sizeable frame,
“Isn’t that…?”
“Wisha cailíní, how did ye get on? Did the little beauty go alright for you after that?” The Good Samaritan bellowed at them good naturedly. The man, whose actual name was Seamas, and who actually was a mechanic-garage owner to be specific- was a regular; one of the tweed cap brigade. In the well-lit pub he looked about as dangerous as a red-haired Santa.
“Hi! Thanks a mill…” Seoda was cut off by a shrill, incessant beeping noise. It took Hannah a few seconds to realize her phone was ringing and she smiled apologetically as she excused herself and dashed to a quiet corner of the pub.
“Hello” she answered, rather loudly. Her ears were still buzzing from the volume of the music; they had paid for their lateness by being planted right under an immense speaker. The vibrations had also caused the wooden bench on which they were sitting to pulsate violently, but in her euphoria Hannah hadn’t cared. She was paying for it now. Her head had begun to thump the very moment Seamas had opened his mouth.

“Oh, hi Grace! What a night we had-talk about trauma trying to get here! But look I’ll tell you about the later, it was all worth it; the band was fantastic!”
“Yeah, they sang that one and they sang ‘Burning Stairs’ as well. Amazing guitar solo in the middle of it. But Grace, Matthew is so gorgeous, divine like! For the voice alone you have to love him but he is absolutely handsome in real life!” she giggled. “I really have to go now though” as she spied Seoda struggling with Seamas (sure he had rescued them but that only covered the first ten seconds of conversation-Seoda wasn’t a great one for small talk), “I’ll tell u all about it when I get home. Bye!”

She turned away from the wall, staring down at her phone as she pressed the ‘End Call’ button. As she did so she collided with a tall, handsome figure. She looked up, an apology already forming on her lips, to his bemused smiling face.
“Hello there, I’m Matthew. From Spitfire.” He said, his eyes twinkling with laughter.
“Oh shitty-witty!” was all poor Hannah could reply.