Page 31 of Happiness Under a Summer Skye

‘Aye. It usually is. So—’ Before he could say anything further the chatter between the group at the front of the church became heated and loud.

‘I’m just saying there’s no point carrying on if we don’t have anyone to lead us,’ a woman aged around sixty, with badly dyed, very dark brown hair and wearing a flowery dress, said.

‘Well, you can away ’n boil yer heid, Gertrude McHugh,’ the purple-haired, rather feisty, woman told her, as the elderly men in the group stood by silently, seemingly a little gobsmacked.

‘Granny! That’s plenty!’ the blonde-haired woman – Arabella, was it? – said.

‘Sorry but she’s been a negative Nelly from day one. Am I the only one who remembers the Christmas concert rehearsals? It was all, “I don’t want to sing anything by Michael Bubbles, he’s no Frank Sinatra,”’ the purple-haired woman mimicked the McHugh woman. ‘And “Isla Guthrie, it’s round yon virgin, not Round John Bergin.” Honestly, you make one mistake,’ she chuntered and shook her head while patting her perfectly styled lavender hairdo.

‘That’s it! I’ve had enough. I’m going to go back to knitting club in Broadford,’ the McHugh woman said with a stamp of her foot. She wagged an index finger in the face of Lavender Haze. ‘And for the record, Isla Guthrie, the lyrics in “Dancing Queen” aren’t anything to do with feeding beef on a tangerine, nor is there any ABBA lyric that says “take your teeth out, tell me what’s wrong.”’ She grabbed her jacket. ‘I knew this was a waste of time, right from the get-go.’

‘Aye, well, you go and get gone then,’ the purple-haired granny said, and Angelia almost choked on a laugh that escaped.

‘Excuse me,’ Ferris, the curate, said as he stood. ‘I think they may be in need of a referee.’ He grimaced and turned to walk away but stopped. ‘Look, if you need to talk to someone while you’re here, I’m a great listener. I’m not quite as cute as your current confidante, admittedly, but unlike him I’ve been known to give out some pretty sound advice too. And I’m here most days.’ He smiled and then turned again to head hurriedly towards the chancel. ‘Ladies! Gentlemen! What seems to be the issue?’

Angelia watched as Ferris calmed the frayed tempers of those involved in the dispute.

When they had, not particularly quietly, explained their predicament, he said, ‘Well, I would be happy to play the music for you, temporarily, if that helps?’

As Ferris took a seat at the keyboard, which was situated off to the side, Angelia decided it was a good time to take her leave. Ferris played the opening bars to Katrina and the Waves’ ‘Love Shine a Light’ and as she reached the door, Angelia glanced back over her shoulder to see the keyboard-playing, friendly, rather handsome, curate nodding along with the sheet music as the group of people rearranged themselves now their number had decreased by one.

As Ferris had said, the coast was most definitely clear so Angelia and Scrappy wandered over to the shop. Once through the door, she flicked on the lights. They would definitely be the first order of business, she decided as she squinted around the space in the meagre amount of illumination they offered, as the sun had begun its descent. Now that she had recovered from the shock of the initial viewing of the place, and it had been cleaned up and cleared of the detritus, she felt better able to view it as a blank canvas, with an open mind. It was going to take some serious work, but she could see someone really making a go of a business here. She released Scrappy from his lead and the curious canine headed off, sniffing at every spot within his reach as he always did when they brought him.

As she stood in the same area she had only a couple of days earlier, armed on that occasion with a sweeping brush, she could now envisage racks of albums against the walls and in the centre. She could imagine music playing over a fancy sound system that would obviously be needed for such an establishment, and she could visualise people queueing up at the old cash register to pay for their unique finds. A smile spread across her face as she daydreamed about the place all decked out for Christmas too with fairy lights strewn from the ceiling and perhaps a tree in the corner with old CDs fashioned into ornaments.

Her heart skipped at the thought of creating something wonderfully different. Something no one would expect from either her, or from the little coastal village of Glentorrin. She understood what her mum and Fiona had said about making the place viable for a variety of business possibilities, but Meghan’s idea of a record shop just felt right. It was exciting and, of course, appealed to her passion for music and record collecting. All she had to do now was kit the place out and hope that someone would love her vision and Meghan’s idea.

14

After she had looked around the retail area of the ground floor, Angelia made her way up the stairs to the living accommodation, closely followed by her canine companion. It was quite a decent size and consisted of two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room and a bathroom straight out of the 1970s. It was devoid of taste, unless of course orange and brown were your kind of thing, and it was clear this part of the building hadn’t been touched since the age of flower power and Formica. It was ugly but almost liveable, she decided. Almost.

Her imagination ran riot on what this place could become. Someone would be so happy and at home here. Even in its current state there was something warm and cosy about the place. The whole apartment would fit, easily, into the open-plan living area of her place in London. But that wasn’t such a bad thing. Her London pad was vast and too echoey to be deemed cosy or homely. In fact, she had often felt it was far too big for just her and Scrappy.

As she stood there examining the damp patches on the walls that almost looked like part of the wallpaper pattern, her phone rang. She lifted it from her back pocket and saw Ed’s name flashing up on the screen.

Her heart skipped a little dance in her chest. ‘Hey, Ed. How are you doing?’ She hoped her tone wasn’t quite as needy to him as it sounded falling from her lips.

‘Hi, Angel. Yeah, I’m not too bad. I’ve been really busy so I’m sorry I’ve not had a chance to call again until now.’ To be fair, he had been messaging regularly to ask how she was. ‘I’m glad the meds are taking effect now but I was sorry to read your message about struggling to walk up the Storr earlier. That must have been frustrating. Are you okay now you’ve rested?’

She was so happy to hear his voice and leaned on the window ledge to give him her full attention. ‘I’m fine. It was silly of me to even attempt it knowing what I know of this condition. But I’m okay. I’ve decided to look at the positives in everything, rather than dwell on the negative.’

‘That’s the Angel I know and love,’ he said with a smile to his voice. She laughed.

‘Anyway, how are you really?’ she asked, happy to change the subject.

‘Yeah, honestly, I’m good. Exhausted but good.’

‘Fiona tells me you have a new girlfriend.’

There was a brief silence. ‘Oh, she told you about Ava.’ It was a statement rather than a question.

‘She did, ages ago actually. Seeing as you tell me nothing these days.’

‘Sorry, yeah, as I said⁠—’

‘You’re busy?’

‘I’m back in a couple of weeks and I thought I might come and visit you if you’re still at your mum and dad’s.’