Little by Little | Noel Gallagher

Chapter 12

September 7

Amy was sitting in the dressing room before a gig for The Rising Sun. She could already hear the hum of the crowd – their anticipation and excitement. She, on the other hand, was feeling flat.

Since Noel had left her flat last week, she'd barely spoken to him. He'd messaged her to check she was feeling better after her "migraine". She'd managed to hold him off for a bit by saying she was still feeling unwell. Then she'd gradually spaced out her replies to his messages – no longer replying instantly, but hours later, sometimes even the next day. She'd fobbed off phone calls saying she was too tired from the gig to talk. But then earlier today she'd gotten another message.

Hope you have touched down safely in Ireland. When do you have a bit of a break? I am happy to come to you this time.

Amy had stared at the message for what seemed liked hours. She desperately wanted to reply, to tell him to come as soon as he could, so she could see and hold him once again. But she kept hearing his voice in her head: "I don't just let her meet anyone."

Every time she thought about those words, she felt like she was getting scalded. Or punched in the chest. Amy knew what she meant to Noel. She was just anyone. So she'd replied:

Don't think we will be able to see each other anytime soon. Things are so busy this part of the tour and a bit harder for you to get here now we're Ireland. Sorry. Hopefully catch up soon though.

It was a bullshit reply – she was no busier than when they'd been England and Noel could get to Ireland in an hour if he really wanted – so she knew he'd be able to read between the lines and see what she meant.

Tears filled Amy's eyes as she thought about the whole situation once more. She'd allowed herself to be swept off her feet by Noel and completely lost her head over him. She was hurt and upset, but also angry and embarrassed. Why she thought it would end up any differently she didn't know. Situations like this always end this way, she thought bitterly.

"We've got about 30 mins to go before the show – do you want to join us for a shot?" Sam and Michael walked into the room, Michael holding a bottle of Fireball Whiskey. What had started a shot of whiskey to ease their nerves before their first few gigs years ago had now become a tradition.

She exhaled and looked at herself in the mirror. "Come on, snap out of it," she thought to herself. She had to psych herself up for the show – she couldn't let down the boys, or let down the people who'd paid money and waited months – years even - to see them.

"Yeah, I will," she said, walking towards the boys and taking the shot glass from Michael. "Where's James?"

"He was outside having a smoke and then he took a call," Michael said. "He said to do it without him. Anyway – cheers! Let's smash it."

Amy downed the whiskey, feeling the warm, cinnamon-y liquid warm her insides. She heard another rumble of the crowd outside and she finally felt a ripple of excitement go through her. She could do this. The stage was her place, and she knew as soon as she got there, she'd feel better. Fuck Noel – she didn't need him.

"I might have one more – just tonight," she said. Michael raised his eyebrows at her, but began to pour another one out regardless.

"Hey mate, just pouring seconds. Did you want one?" He said to James as he walked in the room. He was quiet and looking down. Amy knew immediately his phone call outside hadn't brought good news.

"What is it? Who was on the phone?"

James exhaled shakily and looked up. He looked blank, numb even, and was blinking fast.