Page 37 of Happiness Under a Summer Skye

She lifted her gaze to meet his and her chin trembled and for some bizarre reason, as if a gate had been opened, she began to talk, ‘The truth is… I’ve been diagnosed with something called myasthenia gravis. I think it might have permanently stolen my singing voice. I’ve been really struggling to hit certain notes for a while now, and I’ve had issues with swallowing, chewing, walking for long periods, and working out too. And there are times when my eyelids feel so heavy I can barely keep them up. To be honest, I’m terrified of what the future will look like for me now because singing is my passion. It’s all I’ve ever done. But my consultant has recommended a break from touring, and then a drastic reduction in it going forward, hence my return home. I feel like I’m letting the band down and that they would be better off replacing me but if they do that I don’t know what I’d do with myself. I feel completely lost. I love singing with all my heart, and I have no idea what else I’m capable of. I’ve been trying to keep it together because my folks are so worried and I want them to know I’m absolutely fine, but the truth is… I’m not.’ Her words came out in a rush and once she had finished her monologue, she placed a hand over her mouth, closed her eyes and let tears stream down her face. ‘I’m so sorry for dumping all that on you. It’s not giving a great impression, is it?’

Ferris reached out and placed a hand on her arm. ‘Hey, no apologies needed. You’ve had a lot of worrying things dumped on you all in one go. Here was I thinking it was the fact that you and Josh had split up. I got that totally wrong. What you’re dealing with is huge, Angelia, and you’re trying to deal with it alone. There’s no wonder you’re not sleeping.’

Angelia pulled a napkin out of the dispenser on the table and wiped the moisture from her face. ‘Josh and I aren’t a couple, we never have been,’ was all she could initially manage to say.

‘Oh! I got that wrong too. Maybe I don’t read people as well as I thought,’ he said, crumpling his brow.

Angelia shook her head. ‘Everyone thinks we’re having an affair. It’s always in the tabloids and it’s so draining. But he’s been in a long-term relationship for years with his childhood sweetheart, Nancy.’

Ferris nodded. ‘Right, I see. I’m so sorry for my misinterpretation. I’m just as bad as the papers for misconstruing things.’

She shook her head. ‘Don’t be sorry. It’s fine. And I did think I loved him at one point, as it happens. But that crush has been over for a while now. And anyway, he and I would never work.’

‘Look, I’m going to do some reading up on your condition. I’d like to understand more about it. And maybe you and I can try to come up with a plan?’

Angelia crumpled her brow and shook her head. ‘A plan for what?’

‘The future. You may be feeling like a lost cause just now, Angelia, but I can assure you that you are capable of so much more than you think.’

Angelia sighed. ‘But you don’t really know me, why would you go out of your way to help like this?’

He smiled. ‘Because I don’t like to be beaten and I sure as heck don’t like my friends to be beaten either.’

Angelia took a piece of Malteser traybake for Meghan and a sausage roll for Scrappy back to the car. Scrappy was so excited his whole body wagged and he drooled all over Meghan’s car upholstery, much to Angelia’s amusement.

‘So, how was your non-date with the vicar?’ Meghan asked as they travelled back to the north of the island.

Angelia couldn’t help smiling. But it wasn’t for the reasons Meghan might’ve thought. ‘Still definitely not a date, and it was nice. He’s a very kind man.’

‘Hot, too, if you like religious guys, which I have to say I kind of do if they all look like him. I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for folding his bible pages.’ She chuckled at her own joke.

Angelia couldn’t help laughing out loud. ‘Meghan! You’re taken. And he’s just a friend. Besides, I couldn’t date a vicar.’

Meghan turned her head briefly. ‘Why not? He’s human, not an angel, unlike you of course.’ She winked.

‘Because I’m not in the slightest bit religious and I think that’s probably a deal breaker. Not that I want to date him anyway.’

Meghan shrugged. ‘Nah, if you love someone you can make any scenario work.’

Angelia scoffed. ‘Love? I’ve known him five minutes and we’ve been for a coffee once. I wouldn’t go buying a hat just yet.’

‘I think he likes you. And I mean likes you, not just likes you in a vicary because-he-has-to kind of way. I can see it in his eyes.’

‘Oh, stop it, Meghan.’ Angelia laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘You’re reading way too much into this. Anyway, changing the subject, I think you should take tomorrow off. Go explore the isle on your own for a wee bit. I’ll be staying home to work on the mood board for Bella, so you won’t need to worry about me.’

‘Really? That’d be cool. I’d like to go back and see the Old Man of Storr and maybe take in the Quiraings this time. On photos I’ve seen online those mountains look like something out of a sci-fi flick. Dead creepy but in a good way, you know?’

Angelia almost giggled at her bizarrely elongated pronunciation of the name. ‘I do know. And FYI it’s pronounced the “kuh-rayng”, and it’s singular,’ Angelia said with a smile. ‘You should definitely go. Looking at the weather app, it should be a good day.’

After dinner that night, Angelia’s dad got his guitar out and began to play as her mum sat with a book and Meghan watched him with curiosity, swaying along and smiling.

He sang as he played and for a moment Angelia was taken back in time to the many occasions she would sing along with her parents instead of watching whatever rubbish sitcom was on the telly. Those days would always be special to her, and she was grateful that she’d had the kind of parents who didn’t insist she went out and looked for a ‘proper’ job. Instead, they had always encouraged her to follow her dreams, more concerned with her happiness than any kind of financial wealth. The fact that she’d ended up wealthy had been a bonus. They had always supported her and what she wanted to do rather than guiding her into a steady nine-to-five sort of career.

Angelia’s mum poured wine for everyone and soon her book was placed face down on the side table and she had picked up her bodhrán and joined in with her husband, tapping out the rhythm on its skin. The evening was filled with magic and wonderful music she hadn’t heard in years. It was clear Meghan was enjoying herself too as, encouraged by Angelia’s mum, she grabbed a set of bongos and tried her best to keep the beat. She laughed hysterically when she spontaneously decided to play a solo that turned out to be akin to something from a comedy show.

Her dad played the opening bars to one of Angelia’s favourites, ‘Wild Mountain Thyme’, and she couldn’t resist joining in. It was the first time she had sung properly in weeks and even though she was filled with trepidation it felt good. She didn’t do too much, however, and stopped when she felt her vocal muscles begin to tire.

The fact that she had sung filled her with joy and she went up to her room at bedtime with a smile on her face, reminiscing about some of the fun she’d had with the band. But she didn’t want to give herself false hope. Then out of the blue she began to think about the possibilities of the record shop and for the first time imagined herself as the one behind the counter. An unexpected flutter of excitement travelled through her body and she wondered if perhaps there was a good reason she had set her mind on the project.