Chapter 24 #2
Part way through the piece, with everyone in rapt awe of Ed’s playing and the chosen music, Fiona came over and slipped her arm around Angelia’s shoulder. ‘He adores you, you know. Always has,’ she whispered.
Angelia smiled. ‘Josh?’ she asked.
Fiona shook her head. ‘No, you wee dafty, Ed.’
‘I adore him too,’ Angelia replied.
‘No, I mean he really adores you,’ Fiona said.
Angelia turned her head to stare at Fiona and widened her eyes as her heart tripped over itself. ‘What do you mean?’
‘He arranged all this,’ Fiona told her.
‘Yes but… he adores me as a friend, right?’
As Fiona was about to answer, Ed’s piece ended and the pub erupted in raucous applause. And from that moment Angelia was whisked away, handed gifts and left wondering.
Ed had arranged a taxi to take them back to Portree at the end of the night and Marcus and Fiona accompanied them. Meghan and Ezra were staying at Morag’s B perhaps the breakup had hurt him more than he had let on.
Although she felt sure he’d talk about things when he felt ready.
And in any case, she was in no hurry to send him away.
She wasn’t exactly sure what she would do when he did leave.
Having him around had been both reassuring and reaffirming.
The only problem was her feelings for him had been rekindled in the process.
During the evenings that followed her surprise party, they sat and watched TV on the sofa together or read in that same companionable silence they had shared on their camping trip.
She found herself watching him surreptitiously.
She adored the way he played with his hair and chewed his bottom lip while concentrating.
She loved the way he threw his head back and guffawed unabashedly at Last One Laughing, especially when his comedy hero, Bob Mortimer, was on the screen.
Why did all the men she liked have to be hung up on someone else?
* * *
It was Friday, the day before the summer concert, and Angelia and Ed made the journey down to Glentorrin to check on progress at the shop.
The team of people Bella had arranged had been amazing.
They had all been introduced to her and asked to sign non-disclosure agreements about what was going on and who they were working for.
This had been handled by Den, and they had all signed without protest. Now every time she called in, they greeted her like an old friend.
They walked in through the front door of the shop and were met by the smell of fresh paint and wood stain which caused Scrappy to sneeze.
A radio somewhere towards the back was playing The Darkness; a band Angelia had toured with and loved like brothers.
Someone in the building was singing along, out of tune, to ‘I Hate Myself’, the falsetto parts were particularly cringeworthy, and Angelia made a mental note to email Justin Hawkins and joke with him that he had competition on a little island off the coast of Scotland.
Walking into the shop was like walking back in time. There were dark oak shelves to all the walls that reached two thirds towards the ceiling. The top third had been left for posters, and several cabinets had been built on the floor with slots ready for whatever albums would be stocked.
The carved oak counter was now situated towards the back of the shop floor and acted as a barrier which cut off the entrance to the private dwelling from the rest of the sales area, and the ornate old till was positioned atop it, so it was visible to everyone as an integral part of the shop’s history.
There was a modern point of sale system on order which was to be incorporated into a tablet positioned in a specially created pull-out drawer on the cashier’s side, to keep the illusion of the ‘olde worlde’ feel.
The walls were currently being given their second coat of burgundy, and the shelves were being edged in gold paint.
The stunning chandelier that Bella had sourced had been hung in a central position, but smaller lights had been hung on almost invisible wires to create enough light for browsing the records.
Over to the right was a block of three listening booths.
These were small, soundproofed cubicles, each containing a turntable, a set of headphones and a chair.
The idea was that people could try before they bought like they used to in the fifties, sixties and seventies.
These had been one of the things Angelia was most excited about and seeing them come to fruition was mind-blowing. This place was so incredibly special.
Angelia was in awe of how much work had been carried out in less than three weeks and had already made a start on ordering stock from vintage and second-hand wholesalers online.
Ed had loved being part of the stock sourcing for the shop and he had managed to locate an online vintage music poster site in the USA.
His virtual cart was full in readiness for Angelia to give the go-ahead.
All she had to do now was decide who would run the place.
And the more she saw, the more she wanted that dream for herself.
She had fallen in love with Skye all over again but most importantly, she had fallen in love with Glentorrin.
Its people had hearts as big as boats, and they had accepted her and treated her like one of their own and it meant so much.
Bella arrived, tablet in hand, to do her own check on progress. ‘Hi, Angelia,’ she said with an air of giddy excitement. ‘What are you thinking of the place now? I bet you’re going to struggle to let it go. My money’s on you staying and running it yourself.’
Angelia shook her head. ‘I have to say, it’s very tempting. It’s incredible, Bella. The team have worked wonders, and I can’t quite believe how quickly it’s all coming together.’
Bella beamed at her in response. ‘I know, Noel is a star when it comes to getting things done.’
A middle-aged man with greying hair walked into the room from the direction of the flat entrance. ‘Did I hear my name mentioned?’ His white coveralls were spattered with the same burgundy paint, and he was wiping his hands on a cloth that was hooked into one of the belt loops at the waist.
‘You did, Noel,’ Bella said. ‘And it was all good, I can assure you.’
‘You’re happy then, Miss MacAuley?’ he asked.