Page 4 of Happiness Under a Summer Skye

‘I’m back!’ Fiona rushed over. ‘What did I miss?’

Annoyance briefly swept across Ed’s face as he abruptly stepped away. ‘Oh, nothing much.’

‘Not nothing, Ed, you had something to say?’

He gave a dismissive wave and what appeared to be a disingenuous smile. ‘Nah, really, it’s nothing. I’m just being daft.’

Before Angelia could push Ed further, Heath arrived beside her. ‘I hate to do this to you, Angel, but we’re heading straight to the airport tonight, so you need to say your goodbyes for now.’

Angelia nodded and her throat tightened. ‘Okay. No worries.’

He walked away and Fiona grabbed her and hugged her again. ‘I’m not jealous of you being surrounded by all the hunky musos, honest.’ She giggled. ‘Go and be astounding, my gorgeous friend. You know we love you, right?’

Angelia sniffed and her eyes stung. ‘And I love you too.’

Ed hugged her next and whispered, ‘Sorry,’ before pulling away. ‘We’ll get going and let you speak to your folks.’ He smiled but his eyes were tinged with sadness again.

‘Okay, if you’re sure,’ she replied, very much aware, thanks to his crumpled expression, that there was something he’d very much wanted to say.

She watched them walk towards the exit, arms linked. Fiona rested her head on Ed, and he glanced back over his shoulder one last time.

2

TEN YEARS LATER – 2025

‘I don’t believe this, he’s dumped me by text message,’ Angelia said in disbelief as she stared at the screen on her phone and shook her head, her heart sinking. ‘Coward.’ She huffed as she crumpled her brow, willing away the tears stinging behind her eyes. Her chin trembled and she sniffed, biting the inside of her cheek as disappointment and hurt flooded her. At moments like these, the only thing she wanted was to bury her face in her little dog Scrappy’s fur, inhaling the sweet, familiar scent of home and make the whole world go away. Scrappy made everything feel better and she missed him terribly. Clearly, he had been a good judge of character too as he had growled the first time – and all subsequent times come to think of it – he had met her latest beau, Dane.

Don’t cry.

Do. Not. Cry.

The words – if you could call them that:

Dane

Its jst not wrkn out Angl but I wsh you all the bst 4 the future lv D

were followed by a sad face emoji shedding a single tear. It was an assault on her eyes – what does he have against vowels? And punctuation for that matter? It all felt a bit childish and patronising if she was honest. Or like she was being fired, or turned down for a job, by a teenage boss. The accompanying emoji, even though it appeared to show emotion, felt a little too light-hearted for the situation. Too comedic. But she wouldn’t cry. She absolutely wouldn’t. She had shed enough tears over men who didn’t stick around. She would simply chalk this up to yet another bullet dodged.

The tour bus was winding its way north on the I95 to New York where they would play a charity gig in memory of Lorelie and to raise money for the foundation she implemented before her death. It would be the last gig of the current tour and Angelia, and the others she guessed, were looking forward to a well-earned break. The scenery on the route from Philly, where their last gig had taken place, was a mixture of industrial landscapes, suburban districts and a smattering of historic locations. The architecture changed regularly, telling the story of the towns and cities they travelled through.

The band’s drummer, Josh, slid into the seat opposite. ‘He hasn’t! No way! You’re joking? What a piece of shit,’ he said as he placed a mug of coffee in front of her. ‘Sounds like you’re well rid of him, if that’s how he treats people.’

It was a dreary March day, and the gloomy grey clouds overhead matched Angelia’s plummeting mood. Why does this keep happening? she thought as she stared out at the endless expansive stream of concrete factories on this present chunk of road, the same washed-out shade as the sky, so it was hard to tell where the buildings ended, and it began.

‘How long were you guys seeing each other?’ Josh asked, his Glaswegian accent softened slightly after years of being on the road.

‘Six months,’ Angelia said with a sigh. ‘I really thought he was in it for the long haul. But of course, I was wrong… as always.’

Josh reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘He didn’t deserve you, you know. I’ve seen it time and again with the other guys. These outsiders all think they can hack it until they realise what fame can do to a couple.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Says the man with the perfect relationship.’

‘Aye, but me and Nancy were childhood sweethearts, Angel. I’ve been with her since I was fourteen. She knew me before all this,’ he said as he gestured around the luxurious vehicle they were travelling in. Its shiny black surfaces and chrome detailing screamed high-end man cave. ‘I’m just me to her. Just Joshy. I’m not Josh Baron, drummer for Angel and the Fallen,’ he said in a voice that mimicked the dramatic MC voiceover at one of their shows.

Angelia crumpled her brow as she glanced down at her lock screen at the image that showed her with her now ex-boyfriend, soccer player Dane Bakker. The epitome of handsomeness with his dark hair, chocolate-brown eyes and chiselled jaw. The centre back for the New Jersey Stallions had been at one of their shows around eight months earlier and had been introduced to her by a mutual friend. They had chatted for a while via WhatsApp and then had begun dating. In this particular photograph they had been at Disney World in Florida and were both wearing Mickey Mouse ears, grinning like idiots. On the face of it they seemed happy. She had certainly felt that way.

‘He’s famous too though, Josh,’ she said, ‘that’s what I don’t get. I felt sure that that fact would mean he understood.’