Page 35 of Happiness Under a Summer Skye

‘It’s fine, Meghan, this is Ferris. He’s the one who helped me at the church.’

Meghan’s eyes widened and she raised her eyebrows at Angelia, giving a little wry smile that Angelia understood immediately to mean, He’s rather cute. ‘Ah. Okay. I’ll wait in the car with Scrappy.’

‘How are you doing?’ Ferris asked as Angelia bent to greet his canine companion. ‘By the way, this is Judy,’ he said, scratching the beautiful dog behind the ears.

‘Oh, she’s lovely,’ Angelia said as she stroked the silky back coat and the dog wagged her tail, her tongue lolling out and her brown eyes bright with evident happiness. ‘And I love the name.’

He grinned. ‘My mum named her after Judy Garland. She was a huge fan. You know, Meet Me in St Louis, Easter Parade, the whole lot. She loved them all.’

Angelia peered up at him. ‘Loved?’

He smiled and nodded. ‘Aye. She passed away around five years ago now. Judy was her dog but now she’s mine, aren’t you, lass?’ The dog gazed up at him and her tail continued to wag.

Angelia stood again. ‘I’m sorry to hear about your mum, Ferris.’

‘It’s fine. But thank you. So, how are you doing? Managing to avoid Scotland’s finest paparazzi?’

Angelia laughed. ‘So far, yes, and I’m good, thanks. You?’

Ferris narrowed his eyes. ‘Aye, not too bad. I’m glad you’ve had no more trouble. I’ve been keeping an eye out for strangers hanging around suspiciously,’ he said with a wink.

Angelia felt her face flush with heat that rose rapidly from her chest. ‘Thank you. It gets quite tiring seeing yourself in the tabloids. I feel like I’m always discovering new and delightful, although mostly untrue, things about myself, so I avoid reporters at all costs when I can. But thank you for asking.’

‘I was just about to go to the café for a cuppa and a slice of cake if you’re free? It’s our favourite spot, eh, Judy?’ When Angelia glanced over her shoulder at Meghan where she sat in the driver’s seat he added, ‘Your bodyguard can come, too, of course.’

Angelia giggled. ‘Her name’s Meghan and she’s actually my assistant, although I wouldn’t mess with her. She knows martial arts. Let me ask her.’ She wandered over to the car and Meghan opened the door. ‘Would you and Scrappy like to come for a coffee with me, Ferris, and Judy?’

Meghan peered at the curate through the windscreen and pursed her lips. ‘No thanks, I think I’ll leave you and the handsome curate to chat. I’m going to video call Ezra. He’s in London. I’ll be fine here with Scrappy.’

‘Are you sure?’ Angelia asked and Meghan nodded.

‘Absolutely, I don’t want to cramp your style, boss,’ she said with a wink.

Angelia rolled her eyes. ‘He’s a vicar,’ she whispered.

‘Yeah, but he’s not the celibate variety, is he?’

Angelia shook her head. ‘Incorrigible,’ she replied. ‘I’ll consider bringing you a cake.’

Meghan beamed. ‘Something with chocolate would be awesome. If I see any crazed crowds of fans I’ll call you,’ she said, teasing.

Angelia smiled. ‘Funny. This is Glentorrin, not some bustling metropolis, I think I’ll be fine.’

Meghan gave her a knowing look. ‘Says the woman who was chased into a church looking for sanctuary from a group of paparazzi only a couple of weeks ago.’

Angelia stuck out her tongue like a petulant toddler and Meghan snorted with laughter.

‘Right back at you. Now go and enjoy your coffee date with the hunky priest.’

Angelia crumpled her brow and whispered, ‘Erm, it’s not a date.’

Meghan grinned. ‘Sure thing, boss.’

Angelia turned and walked back to Ferris and Judy. ‘Okay, I’ve got time for a quick coffee,’ she said in the hope he would know this wasn’t a date, in case that’s what he was thinking, which she doubted anyway; did vicars even date? And maybe he was already married. She realised she had no clue.

Once in the café, Ferris pointed to a table in the corner. ‘Why don’t you take Judy and have a seat and I’ll order. What would you like?’

‘Coffee and a piece of cake would be good, thank you. Any kind is fine.’ She sat at the table Ferris had pointed out as he went to the counter. It was a pleasant café close to the bakery, with sage-green panelling halfway up the walls and very pretty artwork that showed local scenes Angelia recognised. They were similar to the ones Bella Donaldson had used in the designs she had seen on her website, and she absently wondered about the artist. The tables were covered with green gingham tablecloths and a healthy potted plant sat in the centre of each with lush, verdant leaves and a variety of coloured flowers. The sweet aroma of cakes and bread emanated from the direction of the kitchen and Angelia remembered she hadn’t eaten anything yet today.