Escape to the Country

by Sherlock, Alison

  ‘Lovely,’ said Alex, nodding his head in approval. ‘But the skirt’s a bit long, don’t you think? We need something younger. More edgy.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Rose, putting the suit back again and bringing out a silver dress that shone in the afternoon sun coming through the window.

  ‘Wowsa,’ said Alex. ‘That’s hot.’

  ‘It’s got lots of material missing,’ said Annie, making a face as she reached out to feel the edge of the large round holes cut across the material.

  ‘Darling girl,’ said Rose, with a sigh. ‘It’s a classic cut-out dress. Very funky, as they said in those days. And perfect in your size.’

  ‘No way,’ said Annie, shaking her head. ‘I can’t wear that. Half of it’s missing.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ said Alex. ‘Put it on.’

  In the end, realising that they weren’t going to take no for an answer, Annie took the dress into the en-suite bathroom and changed.

  Meanwhile, Alex got up from the bed and headed over to an ornate dressing table. ‘Shall we?’ he asked, smiling at Rose.

  ‘Why not,’ replied Rose. ‘It’s never too early.’

  In reply, Alex opened up the cupboard of the dressing table, which was actually a drinks fridge stocked with mini bottles of champagne.

  ‘This was my little house-warming gift to Rose,’ said Alex, bringing out four mini bottles and matching chilled champagne glasses.

  ‘Which is why I love him so dearly,’ said Rose, blowing a kiss across the room.

  At that moment, Annie came out of the bathroom in the cut-out dress.

  Alex wolf-whistled. ‘Looking hot there, skinny jeans girl!’

  ‘It’s more draughty than hot,’ said Annie, looking at her reflection. ‘You can see my bra and knickers!’

  ‘There’s a simple solution to that,’ said Alex, with a wicked laugh.

  Rose too gurgled with laughter as she handed a glass of champagne to Annie. ‘Here, darling. Drink this.’

  ‘Where did this come from?’ asked Annie, looking around in surprise.

  ‘Never you mind,’ Rose told her. ‘It’s our little secret. And one must have champagne when one is in fashion heaven. Don’t you agree, Eleanor?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Eleanor, taking a sip of the drink that Alex had just given her. ‘By the way, Annie, I’d kill for your legs.’

  ‘I know,’ said Rose, nodding sadly. ‘Isn’t she beautiful? God gave me many talents and gifts, but, alas, stunning legs wasn’t among them.’

  ‘Take off your underwear,’ said Alex, holding up his phone. ‘Then I can send your photo to Sam.’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ said Annie, laughing.

  However, after she’d finished her champagne, Annie did as she had been told and almost immediately received a phone call from Sam.

  Eleanor smiled as she watched Annie blush at Sam’s hushed words down the line.

  ‘She’d better keep that dress,’ said Alex, also noting Annie’s soft expression. ‘Especially if we want to expand the family line in a few years.’

  They enjoyed a raucous afternoon with Eleanor, Annie and even Alex trying on various clothes from the 60s and 70s. Finally, they all slumped downstairs in the drawing room to watch the first night’s television coverage of Glastonbury with Arthur. Eleanor looked at the TV screen. The mud had increased hour by hour, thanks to the constant rain that week. The sun came out briefly but mostly it rained. A lot.

  ‘So Rose, did you ever go to Glastonbury?’ asked Eleanor, reaching for the bowl of peanuts that Annie had laid out for them.

  ‘Of course, sweetie,’ said Rose, with a wave of her manicured hand. ‘Naturally, I can’t remember most of it.’

  ‘Anyone for a drink?’ asked Arthur, obviously hoping to stop his sister’s story. But it was in vain.

  ‘The whole place was as high as a kite back in the early seventies,’ Rose carried on.

  ‘Gin? Anyone? Rose?’ said Arthur.

  ‘Everyone was naked,’ said Rose. ‘Hippies. God love them. It was marvellous. A total orgy.’ She beamed in memory.

  ‘Well, I definitely need something stronger after enjoying that mental image,’ drawled Arthur, heading across the room to the drinks globe.

  As they watched the programme, there was an interview with Tom who was headlining Sunday night on the Pyramid Stage. Eleanor found that she had to stop herself leaning forward to take him in. He was charming with the interviewer but reserved. Funny, but there was still a sense that he was holding back. That he wasn’t comfortable with the intrusion. She wondered how he would feel about her sleeping in his room whilst he was away. But it was only for Dylan, she was able to tell herself.

  *

  After the fashion catwalk in Rose’s bedroom, the following afternoon Eleanor and Megan took Annie into the nearest large town to try on some wedding dresses.

  They found some bridesmaid dresses almost immediately. Annie had decided on silver, to fit in with her wintry colour theme as the wedding was to be in December.

  ‘I thought silver would go with the red flowers I want,’ said Annie.

  Eleanor nodded her approval. ‘That will be lovely with touches of greenery everywhere.’

  ‘And hundreds of fairy lights,’ said Megan, spinning round in front of a mirror. ‘What do you think?’

  The long dresses were a subtle sheen of silver which suited both Eleanor’s dark colouring and Megan’s red hair.

  ‘I love them,’ said Annie, smiling.

  So did Eleanor. She just needed to sort out the patches of eczema on her neck and hands which would look horrible on the official photographs.

  So the bridesmaids’ dresses were sorted. But despite trying on quite a few wedding dresses, none were declared good enough to be ‘the one’.

  ‘I was hoping for something unique,’ said Annie, looking downcast. ‘I don’t know. Different perhaps.’

  ‘Don’t despair,’ Eleanor told her. ‘There’s plenty more time for dress shopping. You’ve got six months yet.’

  Afterwards, they went to Megan’s house to watch the second night of Glastonbury. Eleanor was surprised to find Megan snapping at Neal, especially as they’d had such a fun-filled day, but she didn’t say anything. Having three kids was stressful enough without being judged as well.

  Whilst they were there, Annie received a call from Sam. ‘I’m with the girls,’ she said. There was a pause and she smiled. ‘I miss you too.’

  Megan rolled her eyes and reached for the bottle of wine to top up their glasses.

  ‘What?’ shrieked Annie suddenly.

  ‘Shhh!’ said Megan, running to the door to listen out to see if the children had woken up.

  But Annie was looking wild-eyed at them. ‘Sam’s got us tickets!’ she said, breathlessly.

  ‘For what?’ Eleanor was confused.

  Annie pointed at the television. ‘Glastonbury!’

  Sam had got them passes for the whole of the last day, with VIP passes to gain backstage entry for Tom’s set, which was closing the whole festival. Then they all screamed so loudly that this time the children definitely woke up.

  ‘What will we do with Dylan?’ asked Eleanor, once everyone had settled down again.

  Annie frowned in thought. ‘We’ll be home late tomorrow night. I’m sure he’ll be okay until then with the family.’

  ‘Whee! We’re going to Glastonbury!’ shouted Megan.

  Eleanor was so excited. Even more so when she realised that she would be seeing Tom again the following day.

  Chapter 26

  Late on Sunday morning, the chauffeured car which Sam had arranged dropped them off at the gates to Worthy Farm. Eleanor couldn’t believe the scene in front of them. There was lots of mud, of course. And it was raining. But there was also talk of the sun coming out later. There were people everywhere, wearing a variety of mud-strewn rain macs and ponchos. A lot of people didn’t seem to care and weren’t bothered about being soaked to the skin. But everyone was happy. And the music
was very loud.

  Thank god they had decided to wear their wellington boots, thought Eleanor, spying quite a few abandoned flip-flops that were stuck in the mud.

  She couldn’t remember laughing as much as she did that afternoon with Annie and Megan. Their wellies were caked with mud. They each had a braid in their hair. They had sung along loudly and, quite possibly, very out of key. They had basically reverted back to being teenagers again or so it felt. No responsibilities. No careers or boyfriends to worry about. Just her and her girls, having a laugh. She felt free for the first time in a very long time.

  ‘I’ve missed this,’ she said, as Annie applied glitter to her cheeks.

  ‘You should come to my house when we’re doing a craft day,’ said Megan. But then she smiled. ‘It’s so nice to be silly and feel like a grown-up.’

  ‘I love my girls,’ said Annie, giving them both a hug.

  ‘Me too,’ said Eleanor.

  Things were definitely beginning to feel a little bit fuzzy as they’d had a few cocktails and very little to eat. She and her friends trudged through the mud towards the Pyramid Stage, giggling as they held on to each other.

  Feeling a tiny bit unsteady, Eleanor’s wellies slipped in the mud as she wandered backstage and she slammed straight into Tom who had just appeared nearby.

  ‘Hello!’ she said, feeling brave.

  He broke into a wide grin. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I see you’ve been enjoying the hospitality of Glastonbury.’

  ‘Just a little bit,’ she said, giggling.

  God but he was handsome, she thought.

  ‘How’s my dog?’ he asked.

  ‘Pining for you,’ she told him.

  He glanced over her shoulder to where the audience was stretched out. Eleanor turned and gasped. She had never seen so many people in once place.

  She looked back at Tom. ‘Aren’t you nervous?’ she asked him, wondering how it felt to go out and sing in front of that many people. It would frighten her to death.

  He nodded. ‘I am a little, I guess.’

  A small frown appeared on his brow and she had the urge to smooth it away with her fingers. Wanting him to stop fretting, she leaned forward and whispered, ‘I know what will help. Just imagine the audience is naked.’

  He briefly ran his eyes up and down her before they settled back on her face. ‘Well, it’s Glastonbury, so chances are some of them definitely will be.’

  She giggled again.

  He reached out and caught the braid in her hair with his fingers. ‘That’s new.’

  ‘Not exactly Mayfair,’ she told him, making a face. ‘But I don’t care. It doesn’t have any hay in it. Or goat hair, come to think of it.’

  ‘I like it. It’s more you,’ he said, nodding. ‘Anyway, thanks for the advice.’

  ‘You’re welcome. Knock ’em dead,’ she replied.

  She watched him head off to talk to his band.

  Knock ’em dead? She rolled her eyes so hard at herself, she nearly fell backwards. She was an idiot. It was as if she had never met a famous person before in her life. What the hell was the matter with her? She needed to sober up fast otherwise god knows what she would say or do next.

  *

  Despite his nerves at performing, Tom was enjoying Glastonbury. Sam had even arranged for him to stay in his own private yurt so he could hide out from the crowds.

  He had been to the festival once before, a few years previously when he was first starting out. The stage had been miniscule then. He smiled at the memory. The small audience must have thought one of the crew had wandered on stage by mistake.

  And yet, here he now was. Tommy King. A multi-platinum Grammy-award-winning artist.

  He had never expected anyone to buy his first album. And then everyone bought it and the awards and acclaim followed.

  But so had the fame and hassle.

  Only the previous evening, he had been approached by another manager.

  ‘Look,’ the agent had said, placing a chubby hand on Tom’s shoulder. ‘That Sam Harris is okay, but I can take you cosmic, yeah? I’m talking product placement. It’s all about the ker-ching, isn’t it, baby?’

  Tom had shrugged the hand off his shoulder and pulled on his leather jacket. ‘No, it’s not,’ he’d replied, before walking away.

  Why did everyone think he was in it for the money? He just wanted to write and play his music.

  The previous evening, he had crept backstage and looked out to the audience beyond. There were flags waving everywhere. Lights. Mobiles held up. And people. So many people. More people than he had ever seen in one place in his life.

  He gulped now, trying to keep confident about what kind of reception he would receive. Chances were that most of the audience would think he was some kind of washed-out addict, just arrived out of rehab. Luckily, his foot had finally stopped hurting which was something less to worry about when he finally made it onto the stage.

  In the far distance, as the day faded and night began, he could just make out the fields of tents. Everyone would probably be a bit jaded by now. But they needed one more party. One more singalong session. And he was going to make them forget about the mud and give them the rousing finish the great festival deserved.

  He was trying to keep his nerves in check. Trying to remember his set.

  And trying to ignore the feelings that Eleanor was stirring up inside. He glanced over to where she was chatting with Annie and Megan. Her short denim skirt showed off her fabulous legs, even though they were splattered with mud and she had wellies on. She wore a leather jacket with a Rolling Stones T-shirt underneath. She looked like every pop artist’s dream girl. He liked the braid and the lack of heavy make-up. It made her look less polished. More real.

  He shook his head. He needed to focus now. He took a deep breath and began to get into his zone. He looked out at the people jammed in front of the Pyramid tent. A sea of one hundred thousand people. An ocean of faces. There was mud everywhere. But now the rain had finally left the shire. A shaft of sunset peeped through the heavy clouds as they began to clear away, leaving clear skies above.

  The voice came over the tannoy announcing his name. His heart thumped. This was it.

  He took a deep breath and walked on, clutching onto his guitar.

  The crowd screamed and yelled as he appeared on stage. He managed to make it to the middle without falling over, which he figured was a good start.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, giving them a small wave. ‘You’ve been wet and cold, but are you miserable, Glastonbury?’

  ‘Noooo!’ shouted one thousand people in response.

  He grinned. ‘Let’s go then,’ he said, launching into the opening bars of one of his hit records. It was an up-tempo number and everyone was now jumping up and down to the beat.

  As he played and sang, he could feel himself relaxing. He could do this and do it well, he knew.

  He stared out, seeing the different colour anoraks and hats in the dusk. Everyone appeared to be caked in mud. There were pretty girls sitting on their boyfriend’s shoulders. And so many flags waving in front of him.

  He felt instantly at home.

  *

  Eleanor watched, amazed that this was the same person that she had met only a month ago. This was quiet ‘just call me Tom’ who had been playing with the dog and drinking tea on the patio at Willow Tree Hall?

  She had heard his songs on the radio so many times, of course. But here, on stage, he was a rock god. He played superbly, his voice strong and pure.

  He didn’t banter too much with the crowd. He just wanted to play his music for them. But during one of his many hits, he let them sing the main lyrics. Their voices soared as one and made him grin in response.

  ‘You sound great,’ he told them after the song had finished. ‘Better than I could have done. Ready for another?’

  She realised that he was giving the people what they wanted. The audience wanted to sing along. They wanted to jump up and down to the beat. They wanted to have
a good time.

  And he just wanted to entertain them.

  An hour into Tom’s set and darkness had begun to fall. Now the lights were twinkling all around the stage. Pyrotechnics and multi-coloured strobe lights spun across the crowd, adding to the party atmosphere.

  But then it quietened down as Tom sat at the piano. He was sweaty, hot, slightly out of breath. Eleanor felt a stab of pure lust. He was absolutely gorgeous. She tried to breathe normally. He had a natural chemistry with the audience. That was what she was reacting to. She had a temporary crush that was all. Once they were all back in Cranley, that would quickly fade again.

  But as he sat at the piano, Eleanor could feel the hairs stand up on her arms as he sang. There was no band, just him and the piano. The crowd went still, merely lighting up their phones and holding them aloft. It was magical.

  At the end, she shouted and screamed her response as well as everyone else in the field.

  She never wanted this evening to end.

  Tom stood up and grabbed his guitar once more. As he reached the microphone in the centre of the stage, he said, ‘I thought I’d sing a song in tribute to an amazing band who should have been here tonight instead of me. Coldplay.’

  He began to strum ‘The Scientist’ on his guitar. Eleanor was dumbstruck. She couldn’t believe that their brief conversation had ended up with him playing her nominated song at Glastonbury.

  It was just him, the guitar and the huge audience singing along. She quickly joined in, reminding herself to tell Dylan all about it when she got home later that night.

  Tom glanced up briefly at her at the end of the song and grinned. She found herself smiling straight back at him, lost in their own personal secret.

  *

  Tom was pleased to see Eleanor looking so pleased that her choice of song had made it into his set. He realised that now that the nerves had dissipated, he was having an amazing time. He loved playing his music to a crowd. Any crowd. They were singing along to his lyrics. Singing his melodies. Would that thrill ever fade? Probably not. He just wished his gran could have seen him. But he knew she was with him somewhere, cheering him along.