by Anna Bell
The problem is, she’s been trying for more years than I think she cares to remember, and if she doesn’t make the move soon I think she’ll be stuck in local news for ever. Not that that would be a bad thing. She’s brilliant at keeping her finger on the pulse of the city and I think she’d miss the community buzz and the relationships she’s established if she left.
‘Surely even if you got the job, you could commute for a few months whilst you finished your rental? You can’t keep your life on hold indefinitely – your housemates are going to drive you round the bend before that.’
‘I know, it’s a risk that I might flip out and kill them, becoming the subject of the very headline I’d love to write.’
‘It’s a shame I don’t have a spare room here,’ I say. That would solve her housemate problems and some of my money worries too. But although my bank balance might be healthier, my liver certainly would not. Sian and I lived with each other for a year at uni and I think I was in a perpetual state of hair of the dog.
‘I know. Right, well enough with all that, let’s talk about tonight,’ she says before downing the wine that I’ve just given her.
‘So where do you fancy? The White Horse? Barley Mow?’ I say thinking of quiet-night-approved pubs in the vicinity.
‘Actually, I’ve got something that’s going to make you happy.’
She pulls open her handbag.
‘I’ve got us tickets,’ she says, smiling.
‘What are they for?’ I ask, hoping that they’re for the cinema, as there aren’t many other types of tickets that scream early night.
‘I’m helping with your bucket list. You’ve got Glastonbury on your list, yes?’
‘Uh-huh,’ I say, very confused. Glastonbury isn’t for another couple of months or so and it’s sold out.
‘Well, they’re having a festival over on the common tonight, and I got us free tickets.’
She pulls out two brightly coloured passes hanging on neon pink lanyards and waves them around.
‘Great,’ I say through gritted teeth.
I can’t be mad, as it’s actually really sweet and supportive.
‘You don’t have to drink a lot. We can just bop about to the bands and it’s practically on your doorstep so you can come home when you want.’
I’m not convinced.
‘I know it’s not a camping type of festival, but there’s a number of different bands on, and there’ll be Portaloos, so that has to count for something, right? And the passes cover tomorrow too, so if you fancy it after the bike ride . . .’
‘Um . . .’
‘Come on, Abs. When else are you going to get free festival tickets? Plus, they’re VIP.’
My eyes shoot up and meet Sian’s. She knows I’m a sucker for the word VIP. I’m still yet to spot an actual celeb at one of these events, but VIP isn’t only synonymous with famous peeps, it usually means freebies.
‘Do I need to change?’ I say, sighing. I can’t be arsed to change out of my jeans and vest top.
‘No, just grab a hoodie. It’s bound to get cold later on.’
At least that’s a result – no dressing up required.
‘So, get your stuff and we’ll go.’
‘What? Now?’
‘Uh-huh. It started at three, so we’re already a bit late.’
I groan. ‘OK, but if I go out now, I’m coming back early. I need to get some proper sleep before tomorrow.’
‘Deal,’ says Sian, as I rock myself up from my chair and go in search of a hoodie from my bedroom.
I reappear moments later having found one, and tie it round my waist. I look in the mirror and I can still see remnants of today’s mascara and I figure that will be good enough make-up for standing around outside.
I notice Sian’s eyes are lined with dark and broody liquid eyeliner, and she’s wearing denim shorts over leggings. Much more festival-ready than I am. If only I could be arsed to do the same.
‘So what time are you setting off tomorrow, then?’ asks Sian.
I open my back door and the faint sound of rock music drifts over to us.
‘We’re catching the seven-fifteen hovercraft.’
‘Ooh, the hovercraft. You are being brave.’
‘I know,’ I say, wincing.
The hovercraft alone would usually be enough to keep me this side of the water. Yet tomorrow that’s going to be just the start of my pain.
I try to block the thought of the ride out of my mind. At least I know from last week with the downhill riding that I can actually ride a bike now, and my muscles have finally recovered from the windsurfing. I’ve also just worked out that with tonight’s cheat festival and tomorrow’s cycle ride, I’m going to be halfway through the list. We’ll just gloss over the fact that I still can’t speak much Spanish other than saying hola. I’m still going to the classes, so I am at least trying to learn a language – that counts, right?
Halfway through the list. That’s halfway to getting Joseph back. Or halfway to failing to get Joseph back. I’ve been posting my pictures up on Facebook, and attracting lots of likes from my friends, but Joseph hasn’t been one of them. You’d think nowadays Facebook would be able to tell you who’s viewed your profile page. What if he’s blocked me from his newsfeed? What if he never sees that I’ve done any of these amazing things? What if it’s all for nothing?
I sigh loudly at the thought.
‘What was that for?’ asks Sian.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I’d almost forgotten she was there. For a moment I wonder if I should be honest and tell her about my true motivation behind completing the list. After all, she is my best friend, and I’ve felt crappy lying to her, but I don’t want her to be mad.
‘Just nerves about tomorrow,’ I say, lying again.
‘You’ll be fine. You’ve got that Ben guy to help you. You said you’d been making progress in your practice rides, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but my fifteen-minute rides to work are a tad different to a ten-hour bike ride. I mean, what if I don’t have the stamina to do it?’
‘I’m sure you’ll be fine.’
I start to feel my breathing getting more strained. ‘What if I get halfway round and I’m too knackered to get back?’
‘Then you’ll get the train or the bus back. And you’ll try again another day. I don’t know why you’re in such a desperate hurry to get this list done so quickly.’
So I get Joseph back before he gets another girlfriend.
‘If it was me then I’d be spreading it over the year. What are you going to do with yourself when it all comes to an end?’ asks Sian.
Spend my days with Joseph who’s going to come back to me of course. Duh.
‘I’m sure I’ll think of other things to do. It’s just I need to push myself to do the tasks or they’ll just stay on the list for ever.’
We cross the road and enter the common. The festival itself is easy to spot as there’s a large fenced-off area in one corner. I know Sian said it’s a pretty small festival, but it doesn’t look it from here.
As we approach the music gets louder and I begin to feel quite excited. I can’t remember the last time I went to a gig and I’ve never really been to anything like this. I’m a true festival virgin.
We have our passes scanned, our bags searched and ourselves patted down as we enter. All the while the burly security lady gives me an evil eye and I can’t help feeling I’m guilty of something. She slaps a wristband on my wrist so tight that I think it’s going to cut off my circulation, but she’s way too scary to ask to get it loosened.
‘Blimey, she wasn’t taking any prisoners, was she?’ I say as we walk away.
‘She certainly wasn’t.’
I pull off my lanyard and flip through the attached cards, looking at the line-up.
‘Who shall we watch first? In the dance tent is some dance DJ that I’ve never heard of, on the local stage there’s a band called the Passion Peaches who I’ve never heard of and on the
main stage there’s a band called the Stay who again, shockingly, I’ve never heard of.’
‘Sorry that it’s not quite the Glasto line-up, but the Flaming Lips are headlining here tonight.’
‘Another band I’ve never heard of.’
‘What? You must have. They were big when we were at uni.’
‘What did they sing?’
‘Well . . . I don’t know,’ says Sian, practically scratching her head in recollection. ‘But they’re supposed to be really good live.’
I look around the common that’s been transformed into a festival. It’s packed with people wandering about drinking from oversized paper cups. There’s a tent in one corner that looks like it would be at home at a circus, a white beer tent in the opposite corner, and a large open stage at the front.
I glance longingly at the giant paper cups.
‘How about we get a drink first?’ I say pointing to a bar next to us.
‘Great idea,’ says Sian, linking her arm through mine and pulling me towards it.
‘This will be my only drink.’
It’s probably all right to have a couple of beers now as it’s still early. I can sober up later on and still get an early night.
‘Yeah, whatever,’ says Sian, as we shuffle round the queue. When we finally make it to one of the many bar people she orders us the double-pint cups. She pays and we walk back into the throng of people.
‘So, who are we going to go and see first?’ I say.
‘How about we check out the VIP area at the main stage?’
‘Sounds good.’
We follow the signs for the VIP area and find ourselves in a small tent to the left of the main stage. Not only do we have a brilliant view of the band, but there is also a quiet-looking bar in the corner. It’s sponsored by my favourite fruit cider company, and it has signs saying it’s a free cider bar.
‘Oh, my God, look,’ I say pointing at the sign and salivating.
‘I wish I’d known that before I spent fifteen pounds on crappy, flat beer.’
‘I wish I’d known that before I agreed to come. What a test of willpower.’
They could have been sponsored by any alcohol brand, but oh, no, they had to be sponsored by them.
I pop my cardboard cup down and go and get myself some strawberry-flavoured cider. I decide that I’m only going to have this one, but as I sip it I know I’m kidding myself.
The VIP tent is quite busy, yet it’s small enough to have an intimate feel. It’s got high tables scattered throughout to lean on/park the copious amounts of free drink, and it’s decorated with twinkly fairy lights.
I look round at the other VIPs and I suddenly feel woefully underdressed. Whilst my no-make-up, teenager-in-a-hoodie look was perfect for the rest of the festival, the women in here are more rock chick trendy. They’re all dolled up in mini-skirts and shorts, cropped leather jackets and T-shirts with band logos.
I look down at the plain black vest top that I think I bought during my weekly shop at Tesco and stand further back against the black canvas in the hope that I blend into the background.
At least from here we’ve got a very good vantage point of the band and they’re actually pretty good, even though we’ve never heard of them.
Sian has managed to perch herself up against a table and she’s exhibiting all the signs of meerkatting around the tent. It’s a classic Sian move where she scans the room for potential men. She’ll already have identified if there are any eligible bachelors and has probably started to make eyes at them.
I can’t imagine who she would have picked. Everyone’s a bit too young and hipster for my liking.
‘This cider is so good,’ says Sian, downing the rest of her bottle.
‘Whoa, slow down, appreciate the flavour,’ I say, taking another tiny sip. My resolve weakening with each one.
I watch Sian as she suddenly stands up a little straighter, and shakes her hair back. I follow her gaze towards the man that’s just walked into the tent.
My heart starts to beat faster as I realise it’s Joseph’s best friend Marcus. I brace myself in case Joseph walks in behind him, but he seems to be alone. He scans the room briefly before seeing a woman standing at one of the tables in the middle, and he goes and brushes her cheek with a gentle kiss.
‘Typical,’ says Sian, shaking her head. ‘The good ones are always taken.’
I purse my lips. As Sian wasn’t Joseph’s biggest fan, we’d never mixed our friends so she’s not met Marcus before.
‘I don’t think he’s necessarily a good one,’ I say, sighing. ‘He’s Joseph’s best friend.’
‘What?’ says Sian, her head snapping round for another look. ‘Why an earth didn’t you introduce me to him before? He’s gorgeous.’
‘He’s also a bit of a player. Changes his girlfriends more than most people change their knickers.’
‘I wouldn’t mind him changing my knickers.’
How much cider has she had?
I see Marcus looking round the tent and I try and hide behind Sian. It’s so small in here that it would be almost impossible for him not to see me. I instinctively reach for my bottle and down it. So much for self-restraint. Seeing him has unnerved me and I need some Dutch courage. There’s no way that Marcus won’t mention to Joseph that he’s seen me. And it would be bloody typical that I’m here dressed in a plain top with jeans, looking like I’ve made zero effort. Although I guess it could be worse – Joseph could be here too.
‘Slow down, aren’t you supposed to taste it,’ says Sian, mocking me.
‘Very funny,’ I say. ‘I was thirsty.’
I honestly couldn’t tell her what I’ve just drunk – my mouth was numb to the taste.
‘Do you want to go perch at that table?’ says Sian, pointing to one that some people have vacated closer to the stage.
‘No,’ I say rather too quickly. ‘I’m happy here.’
The black canvas of the tent and the shadows are my friend at the moment.
‘But we’d have a much better view of the band over there. And we’d be more part of the action.’
I’m about to protest that it’s not the proximity to the band that’s putting me off, it’s the fact that we’d only be one table away from Marcus and his friend, but before I get a chance, Sian has swanned off towards it.
I have no real choice but to follow her. I try to keep my head down, hiding my face with the side of my hair.
Sian is already in conversation with a man before I get there. He’s not her usual type. He’s young, and wearing a faded Led-Zeppelin T-shirt and skinny jeans. He’s got his curly hair tamed in a hairband and a checked shirt round his waist. He looks like he could be auditioning for One Direction.
‘So tell me about the rationale behind the festival,’ says Sian.
Ah, that explains it. She’s in work mode rather than cougar mode. Her iPhone is out and she’s nodding away as the young man starts talking about local talent and promoting the city.
I start to relax as I look around and realise that perhaps my boring outfit has done me some favours. I simply blend into the background whether I’m at the edge of the tent or in the centre, which means maybe I’ll be able to hide from Marcus in plain sight.
I’ve turned my attention to the band and I’m tapping away with my foot when I hear my name.
‘Abi,’ he says in his familiar commanding voice.
I look up and our eyes meet.
‘Marcus,’ I say, downing Sian’s bottle of cider that she’d put down to conduct her interview, my shaking hand just about allowing me.
‘I saw the photos of your new hair on Facebook – it really suits you.’
I instinctively raise a hand to my hair before jolting at the mention of Facebook. I’d forgotten I was friends with him. A flutter of an idea flies through my mind – if he’s seen the photos of me with new hair doing the challenges, does that mean that Joseph has seen them too?
‘Thanks. And how are you?’
&nbs
p; ‘Good, thanks,’ he replies. ‘What brings you to the VIP area then?’
‘My friend Sian is a local journalist,’ I say, pointing to her interviewing the Harry Styles wannabe. ‘How about you?’
There’s a loud cough to our left and Marcus’s companion seems to have been doing the hacking. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, turning towards her before looking back at me. ‘You know Bianca, don’t you? Joseph’s sister. She’s the one that got us the tickets. She was involved with the PR for the festival.’
I’m really glad that the table is high up as I manage to grab hold of it to steady myself.
I hadn’t recognised her. Her hair is a completely different colour from when we were at the Ritz and it’s plaited round the top of her head, with the rest of it spilling out in surfer waves that hang halfway down her back. From her pretty white dress, teamed with faded denim jacket and cowboy boots, you’d think she was attending Coachella rather than a tiny festival in Portsmouth.
‘We never actually met,’ I say, weakly, feeling a bit pathetic that I dated Joseph for practically a whole year and I never met his sister. ‘I’m Abi, pleased to meet you.’
‘Abi,’ she says as if running it through a mental Rolodex. ‘Joseph’s Abi?’
I feel my heart pang at the description. It sounds so right, so perfect.
She looks at Marcus who nods at her in confirmation before she snaps her head back to me, cocking it to the side, studying me curiously as if I am an exhibit in a museum.
‘Well, well, well,’ she says in her uber-posh voice. ‘It’s nice to finally meet you.’
‘Likewise,’ I say, searching for one of the women with the trays of drinks.
‘Joseph’s always so secretive when it comes to his girlfriends. He seems to think me and my mother will scare them off. I mean, it’s preposterous, how could little old me intimidate anyone?’
She laughs with a cackle and Marcus politely joins in, but even though she means it light-heartedly there’s a seriousness to her voice. Despite the cider fog that’s descending on my brain, it hasn’t gone unnoticed that she’s been eyeing me up and down suspiciously and even glancing at the handbag I have over my shoulder. From the Fendi that’s dangling off hers, something tells me that she wouldn’t be impressed with my New Look accessory.
