Little by Little | Noel Gallagher

Chapter 14

Amy watched the big, fat raindrops roll down the car window. The weather accurately portrayed her mood. While she was glad the tour was resuming soon, she was wondering where she'd get the energy from to perform gig after gig. So much had happened in just a few months.

"Here you are," the driver said, pulling up to her flat in London. "Did you need help with your suitcase, ma'am?"

"No thanks, I got it," Amy said. She was keen to get inside, draw herself a warm bath and then get some sleep. She'd barely slept on the plane, thinking about the horrific, drunken phone call she'd made to Noel. She couldn't remember specifically what she'd said, but she remembered the general gist. She'd slagged him off about what he'd said about meeting Anais – and then she was pretty sure she'd said liked him. Oh god, it was torturously embarrassing.

She lugged her suitcase behind her up the short staircase to front door. She was barely inside when she got a call from the band's publicist. She winced, not feeling up to talking to anyone after a long-haul flight. No doubt it would to organise some interview or something, to tell everyone the tour was back, thank you for patience and understanding, blah blah. But she was the only one from the band back in London though, so she knew it'd have to be her.

"Hello," she said glumly into the phone.

"Amy, hi," came the smooth voice of their publicist, Amara. "I am sorry to call you not long after you've landed, but I have something to discuss."

Amy sighed. "Yep?"

"I don't know if you saw the email I sent you, but we've been made aware of article The Sun are planning to publish later tonight online, and tomorrow in print. The article includes several photos of you and Mr Gallagher together on several occasions. Some of the photos are ...intimate situations."

Amy felt her stomach drop. She thought she might throw up. No. No. This couldn't happen. Not after the phone call. Not right before the tour resuming.

"Where? When?" she stammered.

"They seem to be at a kind of bar. The photos aren't too bad honestly, but they show you two clearly together."

A bar? It must have been the place they'd frequented on those afternoons or late nights when they spent time together.

"Hang on," she said, putting Amara on speaker as she went to the email.

She saw photo after photo of all the times they'd been together. Arriving together, leaving together, holding hands. Sitting in dark corners, cuddling. Some were even of them kissing. Amy's heart twinged looking them. Those moments with Noel had been so easy, so carefree, so lovely. And private, she thought angrily. Those fuckers.

"This was ages ago. What do they want?"

"Just a comment to confirm the status of your relationship."

Amy gritted her teeth. "Say nothing. Don't respond."

"No problem. There is just one more thing – Mr Gallagher has requested a meeting with you tomorrow afternoon."

Amy put her hand against the wall to steady herself. What the fuck? "Why? Is it about the article? Oh god – does he think we orchestrated this?!" There was no other conceivable reason Noel would want to meet to her. He probably thought she'd sent out these photos on purpose to make him look bad or two-timing her or something, particularly since they'd had that mortifying phone call. Was he going to hit her with a cease-and-desist letter or something? She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

"I am afraid I don't know," Amara said. "But his publicist mentioned it was rather important. He'd like to meet you at Claridge's at 5pm. Shall I tell you will be there?"