Page 5 of Two Hit Wonder

Glinna nodded slowly. She knew. She knew about all of it. The need for quiet, for control, for a space that was Maeve's own. The way that too many people in one place made Maeve's skin itch and her brain start calculating the nearest exit. They'd talked about it, in those early days. About how Maeve had spent years in chaos and now needed stillness like other people needed air.

"Alright," Glinna said. "We'll figure something out. There's time yet. The work won't start for another month or so."

Maeve nodded, but her heart was still hammering. This cottage was everything. Her sanctuary. Her safe place. She couldn’t think about leaving it yet. "While we're on the subject of things that need sorting," Maeve said, pushing down her panic with the ease of long practice, "that sheep of yours is back."

"Eejit?" Glinna grinned. "She's taken a real shine to you, hasn't she?"

"She's taken a real shine to biting me. And eating my vegetables. Could you, I don't know, fetch her? Relocate her? Perhaps to a different continent?"

"She's good company for you."

"She's a menace."

"Oh well," Glinna was still grinning. "A bit of a menace might do you good."

"She tried to kill me last Tuesday."

"Did she succeed?"

Maeve opened her mouth to argue, then realized she'd been outmaneuvered. "Is she a spy sheep? Is that what this is? Are you using her to keep tabs on me?"

"If I needed to spy on you, I'd just ask the postman. You're not exactly a woman of mystery, Maeve."

"I'll have you know I'm very mysterious. I'm enigmatic."

Glinna snorted and stood up, Charity gurgling happily against her shoulder. "Think about what I said, alright? About staying with us. Or we can find you somewhere else. But you can't stay here during the work. It'll be too disruptive."

After Glinna had collected her children and left, Maeve sat at the kitchen table and stared at nothing.

A few months. That's all it was. A temporary inconvenience. The cottage would still be here when she got back. Nothing had to change.

But even as she told herself that, she knew it was a lie. Change didn't ask permission. It just showed up, uninvited, like a sheep in your garden, and started eating everything you'd carefully cultivated.

Maeve dreaded the idea of not having the cottage. She glared out of the window. Eejit glared back. Maeve stuck her tongue out and she'd swear to any God you'd like that Eejit rolled her eyes.

On the other hand, a sheep-free holiday might not be the worst idea.

Chapter Three

The problem with being in a band, any band really, was that there had to be an unspoken understanding that everyone was at least passably good at their job. This, Iona thought, was not currently the case. Unfortunately.

"Sorry, sorry, that was me." Ellie stopped playing and shook her head, pressing a hand briefly against her temple. "I lost the rhythm. Let's go again."

They'd been at it for three hours now, holed up in the basement rehearsal studio that Cam had secured through someone she "knew from a thing." The studio smelled faintly of sweat and stale beer, the walls were covered in egg cartons that someone had optimistically labeled "soundproofing," and the heating was either off entirely or attempting to recreate the surface of the sun, depending, apparently, on the hour. Iona wondered if the place had been used as a torture chamber. Very possible, considering the kinds of people Cam generally knew.

She could feel sweat trickling down her back beneath her t-shirt.

"From the top?" Cam asked, sticks already raised.

"From the top," Iona agreed, positioning her fingers on the frets.

They made it through exactly eight bars before Cam started speeding up. She always did that when she got excited. The drums pushed faster and faster, like a runaway train, and Ellie scrambled to keep up, and Iona's guitar part started sounding less like melodic accompaniment and more like something being fed through a woodchipper.

"Cam!" Ellie called out.

"What? What did I do?"

"You're doing it again."