A Loving Light
Copyright© 2026 by Marc Nobbs
Chapter 3: Kayla’s Night
Vanessa replied to Imogen’s message. She said she didn’t mind if Lana used her room and that she was welcome to borrow some sleepwear, too. But as grateful as Lana was for the offer to use the bed, she drew the line at borrowing Vanessa’s clothes. So after she’d helped me fill the cabinet, I drove her back to Campus Heights so she could pack an overnight bag.
“You do know it’s just overnight,” I said, sitting in the chair at her desk. Judging by the pile of clothes on the bed, she was packing for a week—or maybe she had something more important to do on Monday than lectures.
She looked up at me and smirked. “A girl needs options. You don’t expect me to decide right now what to wear to lectures tomorrow, do you?”
I shrugged. “Jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. It’s not difficult.”
“Yes, but which T-shirt? Which hoodie?” She paused. “I would say which jeans, too, but I’ve packed my favourites, and they go with anything.”
I shook my head. “Just...” I smirked, then mimicked her whiny tone from the car the previous morning. “Hurry uuuuup!”
She picked up a small stuffed toy from her bedside table and threw it at me. I caught it and threw it right back.
“Hey!” she said in a mock-indignant tone. “How dare you throw Mr Flibbins!”
I stared at her. “Mr Flibbins? Really?”
She shrugged. “Nearly done,” she said. Then she looked at me and added, “You should text Carly.”
“Now?”
She nodded. “She’s probably already started getting ready, but she’ll probably still have her phone with her. I doubt they would take it off her until just before she’s ready to go on stage. You should wish her luck for tonight.” She paused. “In fact, don’t text. Call her. Do it now.”
“Call her? But that will cost—”
“Use the app, idiot. It’s free.”
“Oh, right. I never use it for that. Just texts.” I arched an eyebrow. “Wait, did you just call me an idiot?”
She shrugged again. “You were being an idiot. I mean, even if you had to pay for the call, it’s not like you can’t afford it, Paul. Is it?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I see your—”
“You’re stalling. Call her. Now. She’s about to give the biggest performance of her life. It will mean the world to her if she hears from you. Just wish her luck and let her know you believe in her. Tell her she’ll be amazing. Because you know she will be. She always is.”
I took a deep breath. “Yeah. I know she will. So...” I took my phone out of my pocket and stared at it. I knew I just had to press the green phone icon, but my thumb hovered over the screen.
One second. Two. Three.
Lana rolled her eyes. “Give it here. I’ll do it.”
Lana hit the phone icon, then put it on speaker before handing it back to me. After I took it, she went to sit on her bed, then tapped the space next to her with her hand.
By the time I’d moved from the chair to the bed, Carly had answered.
“Paul? You called!”
“Hi, Carly.”
“Oh, Paul!” She exhaled, and it sounded like she was letting go of several days of worry. “I’m so glad you called. I’m so nervous, and it’s just ... God, hearing your voice is like...” She sighed. “I wish you were here with me.”
So did I—but I couldn’t say that. Not now.
“I told you I’d get him to call, didn’t I?”
“Lana? You’re there too? Thank you! I knew you would. You said you would. Thank you!”
“I’ll give the two of you some privacy,” Lana said, standing up.
“No, there’s no need. It’s fine. I’m happy to talk to you, too.”
“So, what are you doing?” I asked. “How long before you have to leave to go to the ceremony? What time is it there?” I checked my watch. “It’s just gone eight here.”
“Eight? It’s only midday here. I’m just having a break for a light lunch. My glam squad’s been here since ten, and I’m still not completely ready. Hair and makeup are done, but I’m still in the hotel’s robe. The designer will be here shortly to help me with my dress. Guess who designed my dress? Go on, guess!”
“I have no idea,” I said, grinning at the phone. She sounded so excited, it was impossible not to get caught up in it.
“Well,” Lana said, “I reckon that Chloë arranged for her favourite designer to sort you out. Jacques Surmont?”
“Yes!” Carly practically screamed. “You should see it. It’s incredible. I mean, you will see it. You are going to be watching, aren’t you? If it’s already eight there, how late will you have to stay up to watch the show?”
“I think it will finish about four, but we’re definitely staying up to watch,” I said. “We’ll be watching. Watching and cheering you on.”
“Both of you?”
“I’m going over to Paul’s to watch it with him.”
“Oh, excellent. It’s amazing to know my two favourite people are watching together.”
“What time do you need to be there?” I asked.
“Well, Jacques is getting here at two. He’s coming to me first, then going to Chloë. I’ve got, like, photos to do for my socials and stuff. Then I’m leaving here at three, and I’ll walk the red carpet about half an hour after that. Are you going to watch the pre-show too? Look out for me on the carpet? I’ll give you a shout out.”
“We’ll be watching,” Lana said.
“And, you know that I’m opening the show, right? I mean, I’m opening the show! How fantastic is that? It’s because of the orchestra, really. They say that they can’t really get an orchestra onto the stage during the show, so I’m going on first, and then they can close the curtain and clear the stage. I can’t believe it. I really can’t.”
She was speaking so quickly I daren’t even try and get a word in and her delightful Alabama twang made me smile. I looked at Lana. She was grinning right back at me.
“And do you know who I’m performing with?”
“Who?” Lana said.
“It’s the Youth Orchestra of Los Angeles. I got that idea from you, Lana. Paul, do you remember when I visited the youth orchestra on campus with you? And I sang with them?”
“I remember,” I said.
“I loved that. It was such fun. So I figured, let’s get young people on stage with me, just like we did with you and your quartet in London, Lana. I loved that, too. Oh, I’m so excited. Can you tell? I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
I shook my head and smiled. Lana was still grinning.
“You’re fine,” Lana said. “You have every right to babble. Every right to be excited.”
“Absolutely,” I said. “And you’re going to smash it tonight. I know you will. Everyone’s going to love you.”
“Aw, thanks. That’s real kind. Hey, did you guys see me last night?”
“Last night?” I said.
“Yeah. I was on Kimmel. He’s been doing Oscar specials all week. Well, last night he invited me on, and I did the Nightmare Mix with my new band. They’re good, but they’re not Roxie and the guys. But they are good. But you don’t get Kimmel over there, do you? So no, you wouldn’t have seen it. And then after the show, I did ‘Always’ as, like, an online special, and there’s a big surprise in it. I didn’t know about it, but wow, what a surprise. It was amazing.”
“What surprise?”
“Well, I’m not telling you. It will spoil it. Look it up on YouTube. It’s unbelievable.”
“We’ll do it when we get back to my house,” I said.
“Guys, sorry, Glenn has just come in to tell me to hurry up and eat. There’s a reporter here for an interview or something, and I need to make myself presentable. Thanks for calling, though. It means so much. And I love that you’ll be watching together. I’ll be thinking of you both when I’m on stage.”
“Okay, well, good luck. I know you’ll be brilliant.”
“Aw, thanks.” She paused. “Paul?”
“Yes.”
“I love you.”
I didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t. My throat was suddenly dry, and I could hear my own heartbeat. Then I felt Lana staring at me from my right.
I glanced at her.
She gave me a small smile and nodded gently towards the phone.
I nodded back.
“Love you, too,” I said.
There was a pause.
“Always?”
I took a deep breath and recalled the note she’d written to me on the second CD of Alabama Sweetheart—the CD full of covers of her favourite songs.
There’s a reason part two is called ‘Always.’
And it wasn’t because that was the first song on the disc.
I hesitated another second. I glanced at Lana and then nodded to myself.
“Always.”
“I’ve found it,” Lana said.
“Didn’t take you long,” I said, glancing at her.
She was grinning. “It’s the first video that comes up when you search her name. It’s a trending video.”
We were driving back to my house, and Lana had been searching for the performance that Carly had mentioned on her phone.
“You’ve got one of those streaming stick things, right? With YouTube on it?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“So, we can watch it all together on the big telly in your living room?”
I nodded again.
“I can’t get over the size of that thing. It must be twice the size of the one we have at home.”
“I doubt it’s that big,” I said. “How big is yours at home?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I know Dad was so excited when we got it a couple of years ago. He bought it to watch the football tournament and the Olympics that summer. I think he said it was thirty-seven inches or something.”
“Well, mine’s fifty-five, so definitely not twice the size.”
“It’s still massive, though. Bet it was expensive.”
I shrugged.
Imogen and Mark were in the lounge watching my ‘massive’ TV when we arrived, but Imogen took Lana upstairs to Vanessa’s room, telling her she’d changed the bedsheets as they went up the stairs. She really was our little domestic goddess. God knows how Mark and I would be living without her to keep us in check.
I told Mark about Carly’s two YouTube performances, and he switched to the streaming stick and found the first one by the time the girls came back downstairs. He hit play once we were all settled—Imogen sitting on his lap in the armchair he’d made his own, while Lana and I were in the same spots on the sofa we’d been the night before.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the host said. “Tonight, we have the final performance of the songs nominated for this year’s Best Original Song award, and it’s the favourite to win by some distance.”
He went on to discuss the song and the movie, revealing that Chloë, the movie’s star, was among his other guests. I smiled when he said that—I hadn’t spoken to my friend (and business partner) for a few weeks.
“And here to sing it,” the host said, “is my new favourite Alabama Sweetheart—that’s the name of her new album—it’s Huntsville’s own, Miss Kayla Valentine!”
The camera panned over to Carly, who was standing in front of her new band, whose line-up echoed Blackfriars’ Nightmare— electric and acoustic guitars, bass, drummer, and someone who could play any other instrument they needed. Roxie’s lead guitar spot had been filled by a female guitarist, too.
And sitting at the back of the stage...
“They’ve got someone playing my part,” Lana said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
I glanced over at her. “Miss the limelight?”
“It wasn’t really the ‘limelight.’ I was at the back of the stage, but...” She grinned. “Hell, yeah! BAFTA night, when I was at the front of the stage with her, was awesome. But...” She shrugged. Then smiled warmly.
I refocused on the screen, where Carly had already begun singing. She was wearing the white dress I’d bought her in Birmingham and looked stunning. When the director provided a close-up of her as she sang, I noticed she was also wearing the necklace I’d got her from the city’s Jewellery Quarter.
She was extraordinary. She always was.
I’d honestly never seen her deliver anything less than an outstanding performance. But watching her on screen instead of in person felt ... different.
It felt wrong.
The purity and sweetness of her voice still gave me chills. And she was still able to convey the emotion of every lyric—joy, heartbreak, compassion, fear, her voice made you feel it all.
But less than a week ago, we were sharing a bed.
And now...
Now we’d never share a bed again.
After the song, the host conducted a brief interview and wished her luck for ‘tomorrow night,’ which, of course, was now only a few hours away. Then he informed the audience that Kayla would return to record an ‘online exclusive’ performance for the studio audience that would be available on their YouTube channel ‘later that evening.’
As he said that, the link to the next performance appeared on the screen, and Mark, who had the remote, clicked on it.
I held my breath for the few seconds it took for the video to load.
I recalled the first time I’d seen her perform this—when she joined Blackfriars’ Nightmare on stage in Porky’s. It wasn’t planned. There was no set list. They knew the song. She knew the song. And she’d kept looking down at me in front of the stage every time she sang the line, ‘I will love you, baby, always.”
The host appeared alone on screen again, introduced the ‘Online Exclusive,’ and talked briefly about Alabama Sweetheart.
“I actually have a copy of it right here.” He held up the CD case. “Freshly burned. So fresh, it doesn’t even have a cover.” He looked over to his right. “You only finished recording it last week, is that right?”
The camera cut to Carly, who was standing with the band again, ready to start singing. She was smiling.
No, smiling isn’t right. She was beaming. Her smile was wide, her eyes bright, and she seemed to have an inner light. “That’s right, Jimmy. Put the finishing touches to it on Monday.”
The camera swung back to Jimmy. “Amazing. I feel so privileged you’ve given me an advance copy.”
In exchange for his advance copy, he did his part by hyping up the album and some of its songs.
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