Page 7 of Happiness Under a Summer Skye

There was another knock on her dressing room door and when Meghan opened it this time it was Heath and Josh.

‘Well, look at you boys,’ Angelia said, grinning at the two suited men who looked about as comfortable as she felt.

‘I feel trussed up like a bloody Christmas turkey,’ Josh said, tugging at the collar of his shirt and grimacing. The tattoos that covered his entire upper body were only just visible, peeping out from where his hands emerged from his suit jacket sleeves.

‘Aye, we’re going to melt out there under the lights in this get-up,’ Heath said with a huff. ‘I don’t get it, they’ve paid to see Angel and the Fallen, not the New York Philharmonic, so I don’t get why we have to dress like this. Everyone knows what we usually wear for our shows.’

‘Oh, stop moaning and lighten up, you two,’ Meghan said. ‘It’s for charity, remember. And at least you can breathe. Take a moment to think about your lead singer.’ She gestured towards Angelia. ‘She’s been pretty much poured into that dress.’

Josh cringed as he looked her up and down. ‘Aye, it is tight, Angel.’

Heath whacked his arm and, without turning to face him, said to Angelia, ‘You look great though.’

Josh scowled and rubbed his arm. ‘I didn’t say she didn’t look great, did I?’

‘For goodness’ sake, it’s like being in the room with my little brothers,’ Meghan said with a deep sigh and a shake of her head as Angelia watched the whole thing unfolding with amusement. Meghan was like a mum chastising her children; a usual state of affairs.

Bear poked his head around the door, but his eyes were covered by his hand. ‘Are you decent?’

‘Have we ever been?’ Josh asked with a chuckle.

Bear removed his hand from his eyes and stepped into the room. ‘Oh, you guys are in here. I was just coming to ask Angel if she’d seen yous. Anyway, The Errant Brothers went down a storm. They’re done now, so we’re up.’

‘Right, folks, let’s get this road on the show,’ Heath said; he said it before every gig as if it was a lucky talisman of a phrase.

They walked out onto the stage to a loud applause, but it was much tamer than they were used to; no whistles or screams of ‘Dom! I want to have your babies!’

The band looked smart, if a little odd with their shaggy hair, stubbled chins and tattoos poking out from their sleeves and collars of their evening suits. Anouk wore a flowing black gown akin to something Stevie Nicks would wear, and Angelia quietly wondered, with no little envy, why the stylist had not put her in something similar.

She perched on the stool, as much as the tight fitting gown would allow, in the centre of the stage as the other band members either sat or stood around her and the spotlight shone down on her as the guys began to play their first song.

The start of the night went well, the audience were responsive and clearly having a great time, and soon the band appeared to have forgotten that they weren’t happy with their attire as they vibed along with each other, smiling and seemingly enjoying themselves. But as the night wore on, Angelia’s legs began to feel like lead and her eyelids were doing their best to close but she put it down to the bright lights overhead and the myriad late nights she’d had in recent months.

Determined not to let the audience down, she rallied as she looked out at the sea of people swaying in time with their number-one hit ballad that she had co-written called ‘Without You’, and she smiled. It was always surreal hearing her own lyrics being sung back to her and she loved it so much. She took a deep breath and aimed for the G5 in the finale but much to her concern she found the note, that she usually sang with ease, completely out of reach. It shocked her, and more than a little panicked, she turned to face Heath, who frowned briefly, clearly surprised too. He gave an infinitesimal head shake and smiled, clearly trying to ease her fear and encourage her to carry on. She quickly changed to the octave below and, thanks to the acoustic nature of the set, it sounded okay. Although not as good as Angelia was used to. She was nothing if not a perfectionist.

Worryingly, it happened a couple more times in other songs and she even resorted to holding the microphone towards the crowd for their participation, in the hope of disguising her struggle. Thankfully the audience seemed none the wiser and revelled in this and the band received a standing ovation at the end of the evening.

Once the show was over and the band were backstage, Angelia swiftly retreated to her private dressing room where Meghan helped her out of the dress and into a beautiful Japanese robe she had purchased on the Asian leg of one of their tours.

‘You were amazing as always, Angel,’ Meghan told her, as she hung the dress back on its hanger. ‘The change in “Without You” was unexpected but I liked it.’

Angelia chewed the inside of her cheek. ‘Hmm, it wasn’t intentional. I just couldn’t hit the note tonight.’ She shook her head and sighed as she rubbed her hand up and down her neck over her throat. It wasn’t particularly sore. ‘I’m not sure what’s going on. It felt weird… like there was a restriction on my vocal cords.’

‘I’m not surprised with how skintight that dress was. It’s like I said earlier, it’s a wonder you could breathe, let alone sing.’

Angelia sat and stared down at the array of creams and lotions on the desk before her. ‘I’m so wiped out, Meghan. It was a struggle to even hold the microphone up. What’s that all about?’

‘I don’t know but maybe…’ Meghan fell silent for a few moments, and Angelia turned to face her.

‘Maybe what?’

Meghan sighed. ‘Look, it’s none of my business… but… you’ve been tired a lot lately and of course the tour has been full on but maybe you should go see a doctor and get checked out. You might be anaemic or something. Or lacking some vitamin or other. I dunno.’

Before Angelia could answer with a protest there was a knock on her dressing-room door. Meghan answered it.

‘Hey, Angel, I just wanted to check you’re okay,’ Heath said as he stepped into the room. Like Josh’s accent, Heath’s Inverness twang had softened to the point he sounded more American than Scottish these days.

Angelia smiled at his reflection in her dressing table mirror as she wiped the makeup from her skin. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. I think I’m just coming down with a cold, that’s all.’