The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

Darcy’s singing voice. In fact, the man had rhapsodized about it. Trevor hadn’t put any stock in that issue. As his pet business was a recording company, he knew how often voices were praised through the roof when they deserved no more than polite applause.
    Listening now, watching now, Trevor admitted he should have given his scout more credit.
    When she came back into the chorus, Shawn leaned on the bar and matched his voice to hers. There was a laugh in the music of it as she wandered back toward the bar, and laying a casual hand on Trevor’s shoulder, sang straight to her brother.
    “I’ll tell me ma when I go home the boys won’t leave the girls alone.”
    No, Trevor imagined, the boys had never left this one alone. He had an urge to pull her hair himself, but not in the playful manner the song indicated. No, to fill his hands with it, pull it back, and feast on her.
    Thousands of men, he imagined, would react the same way. The notion appealed to his business side even as it irked on a personal level. Since jealousy made him feel ridiculous, he concentrated on the business angle.
    When the song was over, she reached over the bar to grab Shawn by the collar and haul him halfway across it for a loud kiss. “Moron,” she said, with obvious affection.
    “Shrew.”
    “Three fish and chips, two stews, and two portions of your porter cake. Now back into the kitchen where you belong.” She ran her hand absently across Trevor’s shoulder as she turned to Aidan. “Three pints each Guinness and Harp, a glass of Smithwick’s, and a pair of Cokes. The one Coke’s for Connor, so there’s no charge. Do you mind?” she said to Trevor, and picked up his pint for a small sip.
    “So, do you take requests?”
    “Hmm. I’m here to do nothing but.”
    “Sing another.”
    “Oh, it’s likely I will before the evening’s done.” She transferred the drinks that were poured onto her tray.
    “No, now.” He pulled a twenty-pound note out of his pocket, held it up between two fingers. “A ballad this time.”
    Her gaze shifted from his face to the bill, then back again. “That’s a considerable tip for a bit of a tune.”
    “I’m rich, remember?”
    “That’s something I haven’t forgotten.” She reached out for the twenty, narrowed her eyes when he jerked it away.
    “Sing it first.”
    She considered ignoring him on principle and perhaps a little spite. But it was twenty pounds, and singing wasn’t a trial to her. So she smiled at him, then lifted her voice as she lifted her tray.

Come all ye maidens young and fair / All you that are blooming in your prime / Always beware and keep your garden fair / Let no man steal away your thyme.

    Connor picked up the melody, flushing a bit when she winked at him and served his soft drink. She served the others as well, singing as she did a song of regret and the loss of innocence. Conversations hushed, and more than a few hearts sighed. Because he was paying for it, she looked at Trevor as she walked back to the bar. She gave the last lines to him.
    Satisfaction warmed her eyes when applause broke out. It gleamed there as she nipped the bill from his hand. “At twenty each, I’ll sing as many tunes as you like.” Then taking the Guinnesses Aidan had finished, she moved off to serve them.
    “Hell, I’ll do one for half that,” someone called out, and over a roar of laughter, began on “Biddy Mulligan.”
    “There’s formal music over the weekend,” Aidan told Trevor. “And Gallagher’s pays the band.”
    “I’ll check it out.” He watched Darcy go back behind the bar, into the kitchen. “Do the three of you ever play together?”
    “Shawn and Darcy and myself? At ceilis now and again, or in here for a bit of fun. I sang for my supper a time or two when I was traveling. It can be a hard life.”
    “Depends on the booking.”
    Trevor stayed another hour, nursing his pint, enjoying his stew, and listening to the apparently tireless Connor play tune after tune.
    He got up once to open the door for a couple who each had a sleeping child over a shoulder. It was families, he noted, who left for home, and a couple of men with weather-beaten faces. Fishermen, he imagined, who would be up before dawn to head out to sea.
    Food orders began to taper off after nine o’clock, but the taps ran steadily as he rose to go.
    “Are you calling it a night, boss?” Brenna called out.
    “Yeah. Until I find out what vitamins you’re taking that keep you going