6Julia Stone, Marcus Tatum and Jim McElland trudge despondently off the tour bus idling in front of the Glasgow Hilton, then watch silently as the doors hiss closed and the big coach pulls away into the night.
Julia has tears in her eyes, and the guitar case in her hand feels like it's full of broken bricks. She turns to her two bandmates, but Marcus is staring fixedly at the ground, and Jim's already walking away, angrily pushing through the doors into the hotel lobby. “Jim…” she calls after him, wanting to say something.
“I need a fuckin drink,” he snaps without looking back at her.
“C'mon, Jules,” Marcus says softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. “A drink's probably a good idea.”
Julia wipes her eyes. “Aye,” she mumbles, and follows her bass player into the hotel.
She doesn't und
