Chapter 11
The following morning, Angelia stood on the doorstep, ready to say an emotional goodbye to Fiona after a pep talk in which Angelia was reminded ‘who the heck she was and how tough she could be’.
Fiona had clung to her and with a wavering voice had said, ‘You may not be able to beat this thing completely, Angelia, but it sure as hell won’t beat you, okay? We won’t let it.’
Angelia had nodded through the fog of tears. ‘Thank you again for coming all this way. I do appreciate it.’
Fiona’s chin had trembled. ‘Stop thanking me, you wee dafty. I’ll come up again before you leave and Ed has said he’ll come and see you too.’
‘I don’t want you to all go out of your way, though. It’s not like I’m on my last legs or anything,’ Angelia had said, forcing a giggle.
‘Hey, it’s what besties do. Now you take care and keep me posted of any changes.’
‘I will. Drive safe and let me know when you get home.’
Fiona climbed in her car and drove away, Angelia standing at the door until she could no longer see her best friend’s little blue car.
After dinner that evening, her mum and dad were introducing Meghan to the delights of their favourite reality TV show, Dance Yourself Dizzy, in which non-dancing famous people paired up with members of the public and were sent to a sort of dance bootcamp where they learned specific dances and then performed in front of a panel of judges.
It was like a more chaotic version of Strictly Come Dancing, and according to Angelia’s mum and dad it was totally addictive.
Angelia went through to the garden room and picked up one of the guitars from its stand.
She began to pluck the strings and reminisce about the songwriting sessions she had enjoyed with the lads from the band.
But in the back of her mind, the whole time, were the plans for the shop she had bought.
What else could she do with it if Meghan’s suggestion wasn’t viable?
Her phone pinged with a WhatsApp message. It was from Ruby.
Ruby
Hey, lovely lady! I’m just teaching a class but wondered if you fancied meeting me at the Coxswain for a drink after? It would be great to catch up. R xx
She checked her watch and saw that it was only six o’clock. Maybe she could sneak out and head down to Glentorrin by herself? Maybe she could chat with Ruby and get her opinion on the shop. She hit reply.
Angel
Hi, Rubes! Would love to! Will be driving so no alcohol for me but that doesn’t stop you from partaking! Will head down now and visit the shop while I wait for you. Angel xx
She tiptoed through to the door of the living room and could hear Meghan and her parents talking about an actress from some daytime sitcom show who had just danced the bossa nova with a butcher from Epping Forest, and how she was too wooden and he really did look like Bambi on ice, and that they were sure they were going to be kicked off the show.
Hearing them engrossed so deeply in what they were doing, Angelia decided to risk driving herself down to the little coastal village without letting them talk her out of it.
No one knew she was here, after all, and the chances of anyone coming all the way to Skye to find her on a whim were pretty non-existent.
She scribbled a brief note explaining she had gone to Glentorrin to meet Ruby and wouldn’t be too late back, grabbed the shop keys from the kitchen counter and her mum’s car keys from the rack by the front door.
It had been a while since she had driven but she always kept her insurance up to date in case she needed to drive.
And technically it wasn’t car theft because after she had passed her test her mum had bought her the car she now used as her own; no point it standing unused on the driveway while she was on tour.
She carefully opened the front door and held her breath as it creaked, waiting for Meghan, with her superhuman hearing, to come rushing out. But when nothing happened, she made a dash for it.
Driving south on the island was a journey she had made often when she had first found the freedom that came with passing her driving test, aged seventeen.
The sky overhead was still bright and even though the temperature had dropped slightly she wound down the window a little to breathe in the fresh Scottish air.
As she listened to Queen’s A Day at the Races, the CD her mum had clearly been listening to the last time she had driven the car, the road wound its way past familiar, pretty little villages and fields filled with crops; she saw people sitting in their gardens making the most of the pleasant early-evening weather, dog walkers, children playing, and was reminded why she loved her home so much.
And why London would never replace it in her heart.
The road that extended south from Portree eventually skirted the coast and a glance to the left out of the passenger window gave the spectacular vista of the evening sun glinting on the water of Loch na Cairidh.
The view was clear right across to the peaceful, uninhabited Isle of Scalpay and its sunny carpet of yellow gorse and pink sea thrift.
Spring had very much sprung and the air smelled fresh with salt, and she knew this view would only get more and more beautiful on the approach to summer – the time of year the island was at its most picturesque in Angelia’s opinion.
An eagle was flying just off the coast as if purposefully keeping up with the car and Angelia smiled as it glided to a stop on a tree by the side of the road.
Once again, the sense of home washed over her as she drove and enjoyed the stunning scenery that surrounded her.
Around fifty minutes after she had set off from home she pulled into Glentorrin and parked in the spaces adjacent to the village hall, beside a minibus that had a college logo emblazoned on its side panel.
When she climbed out of her car, she could hear music coming from inside and over the top of that she heard Ruby’s Yorkshire accent as she shouted instructions to her class of dance students.
‘And one, two, three, four, pow, pow, step, step, that’s it, guys! Brilliant! The audience at the summer concert are going to love this!’
A few teenagers were gathered at the museum side of the inlet taking selfies as a man with a clipboard chatted to his female companion close by.
Angelia guessed they were the people from the minibus and that they were on a school trip.
She walked across the road to stand at the railing that surrounded the inlet in front of her newly acquired building and admired the view for a few moments.
The bakery was closed but the sweet aroma of fresh baking still travelled through the air to tantalise her senses.
The lights were on, and Angelia could imagine the baker in there preparing bread and cakes for the following day’s trade.
The pub seemed to be busy with locals wandering in and out, chatting and laughing.
Angelia had been completely oblivious to the fact that people were watching her so when she felt a tap on her arm her heart leapt and she almost jumped out of her skin.
She turned to find herself surrounded by another small group of older teens and guessed they must have been the remainder of the school party.
‘Excuse me. Sorry to bother you but aren’t you Angel from Angel and the Fallen?
’ a female member of the group asked. She was wearing a T-shirt that had been on sale as the band’s merchandise a couple of years earlier.
Angelia hadn’t anticipated meeting anyone who would recognise her at this time on an Easter Monday evening, and certainly not in this location, so was a little thrown.
She considered lying and saying something along the lines of, ‘Sorry, I get that a lot but I’m not her, just a lookalike,’ but immediately felt guilty.
It was people like this girl who bought their records and supported the band by buying concert tickets, so she couldn’t, in good conscience at least, lie to them. It wouldn’t be right.
Angelia opened her mouth to speak but then another of the group pointed at her and talked about her as if she couldn’t hear him. ‘Yeah, it’s her. I told you it was her. You wouldnae listen when I said but I’m telling yous, it’s definitely her.’
‘Are you her?’ the first girl asked. ‘I’m a really big fan.’ She was wide-eyed and her eyes appeared glassy with tears.
Angelia had hoped to remain undiscovered for a little while longer but evidently that hope had been dashed. She inhaled a deep breath and smiled. ‘Yes, yes, I’m Angel. Nice to meet you.’ She held out her hand.
A collective gasp travelled through the group, and was followed by excited mutterings as they closed in on her.
The first girl covered her mouth with her hand for a moment before grasping Angelia’s offered one and saying, ‘I knew it was you! I love your music. I think I might be your biggest fan. You’re the best singer in the world and I’m so happy to meet you.
I can’t believe this is happening. Please can I have a selfie?
’ Her words came out in an emotional rush.
Angelia noticed that the rest of the group from the other side of the inlet had now joined them and their teachers had walked across to see what was going on. She smiled and nodded. ‘Sure, a selfie is fine.’
For the next ten minutes, Angelia posed and smiled at phone cameras, signed arms, T-shirts and bits of paper and chatted to the teenagers and their teachers who, it transpired, were also fans of the band.
She discovered that there were fourteen of them plus the two adults, and they were indeed on a college geology trip.
They were from a campus near Inverness and were travelling north on Skye to a camping pod site near the Quiraing, planning to study the rock formation of the landslip.