Free Driving Home for Christmas by A. L. Michael Page B

Estelle.
    ‘They’re still playing music here?’ she asked as she put the wine down, pouring the rosè into the two oversized glasses.
    ‘Always,’ Estelle grinned, ‘it ranges from the awful to the awesome. A couple of the Year Tens have started a band called The Illusionists. They keep trying to pull scarves out of their guitars whilst they play. It’s awful. They might play tonight and we can boo them!’ She paused. ‘Nothing quite lives up to Megan and the Boys though.’
    ‘You knew about that?’
    ‘I was a fan. Came to every gig you guys played here. Your little one got the musical talent?’ Estelle looked at something over Megan’s shoulder, briefly alarmed, and then returned her gaze to Megan.
    ‘No idea. She’s more interested in becoming a secret detective. Which I worry about because it means she’s terribly good at lying when she wants to. Luckily she’s too moral to use it on me. Seems to be working well at getting extra slices of cake from her grandparents though,’ she shrugged.
    They talked about Skye for a little more, and about the school, the changes in the town over the last few years, until the microphone buzzed, and Tom was there, addressing the crowd, looking up at them in the back of the room.
    ‘Well, unfortunately, our Friday regulars Cludbucket couldn’t perform tonight, probably due to some sort of rock and roll reason, like hangovers, or the clap’ – here the audience hooted and laughed – ‘but they’re rubbish anyway. I’m pleased to present the Nag’s Head’s favourite band…No Education!’
    The crowd cheered, teenage girls scooted to the front, but Estelle grabbed her hand. ‘Megan, I’m sorry, they weren’t supposed to be on tonight.’
    Megan turned to her, laughing. ‘Don’t worry about it, if they’re better than Cludbucket, and how couldn’t they be with a name like that…’
    Megan’s voice faded as she turned to the stage and saw that same boy she’d stood on stage with all those years ago, adjusting his mic and tuning his guitar.
    ‘I’m Lucas,’ the dark-haired man said, ‘and we’re No Education.’
    His eyes scanned the crowd, smiling, and his gaze found hers. His eyes widened for the longest moment, standing in silence, looking as if someone had just taken a frying pan to his face. Then he launched into his set, and didn’t make eye contact again.

Chapter Four
    October 2003
    ‘I think I’m going to throw up.’ Megan sat on the stage at the Nag’s Head, breathing deeply. Lucas came up behind her, putting his arms around her.
    ‘You’re going to be fine. Better than fine, amazing.’ He gave her a squeeze. ‘Come on Angel, pretend it’s just you and me playing in my bedroom.’
    She turned her head to look at him. ‘So I should play in my underwear.’
    Lucas grinned. ‘If that’ll make you feel more comfortable, I have no complaints.’
    She leaned back into his arms and closed her eyes. Life was perfect. She had the perfect guy, a great band, good grades, and was on track to get out of this stifling little village. Except she hadn’t realised she’d be this nervous.
    ‘Come on, up we get.’ Lucas grabbed her hand and pulled her up. ‘Me and the guys can deal with the set up, why don’t you see if Linda will make you a cuppa, and do some deep breathing in the corner?’
    She swept his hair across his head, to stop it from constantly falling into his eyes. She knew it would end up in his face again the minute he started playing, throwing his head about and fixing the audience with a solid gaze from beneath dark lashes. She liked his hair better before he’d dyed it. Then again, he said the same thing about her. The sacrifices they made for rock and roll. She smudged the eyeliner he’d applied earlier, making him look more tired and mysterious, and less like an irritated panda with a musical agenda.
    ‘This is gonna be great, Meg, really.’ He pulled her in for a kiss, as always his arms warm around her, his kisses