Page 148 of The Other Side

“He’s a great guy,” Drum said. “And he’s turned into a good friend.”

“Oh, bless you.”

The caller clapped her hands for attention. “Right then, everyone! Find your partners! I need groups of four. Adults will have to pair with children because you need to make an arch and some of us can’t bend that low.”

“Well,” Stephen said, offering May his arm, “that’s our cue.”

“It was lovely meeting you,” May said.

“You too.”

As they wandered towards the growing crowd, Stephen was already laughing as May reminded him not to muddle the steps.

Watching them go, Drum couldn’t help thinking how fortunate Will and Fi were. Their parents loved them with a quiet steadiness that asked for nothing in return. It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was simply there, woven into every glance, every touch, every hopeful plan for the future. It made him think about Oliver and Delfin. They’d never taken him anywhere, never wanted to spend time with him, never been proud of him.

It was hard not to have someone who cared. Osian had always had his parents, but Drum had wanted his own parents to hug him and say well done. Instead, he’d been beaten and punished and almost worse, ignored. He wished he didn’t remember that. But that was the price for remembering Osian, and that moment when all his memories had flooded back had been one of the best of his life.

A ripple of anticipation spread across the patio as people paired up. Some looked confidently towards the caller while others exchanged uncertain smiles. The kids were bouncing with excitement.

“This your first ceilidh?”

Drum turned to find Kit beside him.

“Is it that obvious?”

“You’ve got the look.”

“What look?”

“The one that says you’re wondering whether this ends with applause or a visit to A&E.”

Drum laughed.

“You’ll be fine. Just keep moving, smile when you get it wrong, and if everyone else is going the opposite way, follow them. That’s basically the secret.”

“Be like a sheep.”

“Exactly.”

The band struck up the first lively tune. Osian drew his bow across the violin strings, the bright notes soaring over the steady pulse of accordion, guitar and bodhrán. His foot tapped the beat, his face lit with easy concentration. Drum felt an unexpected swell of pride.

“Come on, sheep,” Kit said, catching Drum by the sleeve. “You don’t get to hide at the back.”

Before Drum could protest, he found himself swept into a line of smiling strangers as the caller’s voice rang out.

“Forward and back…and forward again!”

Within moments the neat rows dissolved into cheerful confusion, punctuated by laughter, apologies and people spinning enthusiastically in entirely the wrong direction.

Drum had absolutely no idea what he was doing. But, for once, it didn’t matter.

The evening drifted on in a warm blur. There was plenty to drink, more food than anyone could finish, and once the band paused for a break, a playlist took over, filling the stable yard with familiar songs. People danced between the tables or lingered in little groups, laughing beneath the strings of lights.

Osian slipped up beside Drum and rested a hand on the small of his back before letting it wander lower to his backside.

“Having fun?” he asked.

“I am now. Things have perked up. I don’t need them to perk up too much, though. Careful.”