Sunny Days and Sea Breezes

by Carole Matthews

  As I stand back and admire our achievement, Ida throws some cushions on the ground in front of the tents and, when Ned returns, he cracks open a bottle of white wine, ready-chilled.

  ‘Might as well get this party started,’ Neds says as he pours out our wine into plastic wine glasses before flicking the top off a beer for himself.

  We clink cheers with each other.

  ‘You’ve done this before,’ I note.

  ‘Just once or twice,’ Ned agrees. ‘I tend to spend the whole of the summer on the festival circuit.’

  ‘I used to,’ Ida says. ‘Mostly as Ned’s groupie.’

  They exchange an intimate look and, for a moment, I feel like the gooseberry here. Or a perhaps strawberry, if I was Marilyn. It’s clear that they’ve shared many happy times together.

  ‘Since I had had the café it’s been much more difficult. It was touch and go whether I could make it this year. As it is, I feel very guilty leaving it for the weekend. It’s worse than having a bloody baby.’

  I wince at that, taking the barb right to my heart, but I don’t think either of them notice. If I had a baby, I certainly wouldn’t be here. I take a slug of wine to help me regroup.

  ‘Who’s in charge?’ Ned asks.

  ‘My friend, Fern, is helping me out. She’s just back from London and between jobs. I’m hoping she’ll stick around for the summer. If she’s doesn’t I’ll have to put an ad out on social media.’

  For one mad moment, I think about volunteering to work in the café for the holiday season. But I’m not sure Ida would be thrilled with that idea and I know that Bill would go bonkers. He’s trying to play it down, but I know he’s desperate to have me back in the office. We’re a good team and I should get back to him as soon as I’m feeling able. And I do feel OK at the moment. Is that because I’m doing nothing much more than chilling out, filling my days with lots of nothing? I wonder if I could manage being thrust back into the hurly-burly of normal life again? I don’t know. Maybe it’s too soon to tell. My hormones still feel very unreliable and I can burst into tears at the drop of a hat.

  ‘I’m texting her every five minutes,’ Ida continues, ‘which must be driving her mad. She was a restaurant manager in London – real high-end place. I’m sure she can cope with knocking out a few cheese toasties. Though that coffee machine has a mind of its own and, generally, favours being an evil bastard.’

  As if prompted by the thought, she immediately texts her friend.

  We make use of the cushions to sit and watch the river of people, as colourful as a flock of parrots, meandering from the tents down to the festival field, everyone in high spirits. It’s as soothing as watching the waves roll in.

  Ned says, ‘Do you want to polish off that bottle and we’ll walk down to the festival? I need to have a word with the organisers and find out where I’m going to set up.’

  ‘I’m in,’ Ida agrees and knocks back the contents of her glass.

  As a novice, I say, ‘I have no idea what the score is, so I’ll just do as I’m told.’

  When we’ve finished the bottle, with a little help from Ned, we walk across the camping field until we come to the festival proper. As Marilyn said, it’s in a beautiful setting, but I still hadn’t expected anything as lovely as this.

  Just inside the entrance there’s a huge sculpture of a tree decorated with lights and spinners.

  ‘One of mine,’ Ned says. ‘I’ve got quite a few more pieces scattered around the site. They sit very well in the woods here and the organisers seem to be happy to keep buying them.’

  ‘You’ll have to show me.’

  ‘It would be my pleasure,’ he says. ‘We’ve got plenty of time.’

  In the main area that’s like a village green, there are dozens of food vans serving every kind of cuisine you can think of. I’d expected the usual burger vans and chips, but there’s Persian food, a Chinese noodle kitchen, curry, posh mac ‘n’ cheese and vegan food in many varieties. Alongside them are several bars – an Airstream caravan serving cocktails, a red London bus already busy doling out Pimms. So we pick up some food and a gin cocktail and avail ourselves of a stripey picnic bench while we eat.

  There are three music stages and one of the bands is already in full flow, filling the green with raunchy rock tunes played with raucous enthusiasm. The atmosphere is light, cheery and chilled.

  ‘There’s festival central.’ Ned points to the official tent. ‘That’s where I need to be. Can I leave you ladies to it?’

  ‘Sure,’ I say. ‘See you later.’

  ‘I’ll call when I’ve finished and we can meet up at one of the bars for a drink. You should take in the Lost Woods,’ he advises me. ‘There’s all kinds of quirky stuff goes on there. Just wander and see what you come across.’

  ‘Thanks. See you later.’

  So Ned heads off and I walk through the gathering crowds with Ida. We stop and watch fire-eaters, jugglers, men on giant bikes, people on tall stilts and festival-goers trying their hand at slacklining.

  ‘This is such a great vibe,’ Ida says. ‘Anything goes. Just let your hair down. What goes on at the festival, stays at the festival.’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’ I think we’re more comfortable in each other’s company though it may be due to a few glasses of reasonable Pinot and a fancy gin.

  She lights up a joint and takes a toke. ‘Start with this.’

  I hold up a hand. ‘Thanks, but I don’t . . . ’

  ‘Do it.’ She pushes it at me, so I take it and tentatively inhale. I go to hand it back.

  ‘Another one,’ she insists. ‘More deeply.’

  I do as I’m told.

  ‘More of that later,’ she says, having another puff herself.

  I wait for something to happen, but don’t feel any different. Then a peacock with its tail fanned out wanders in front of me and I do hope that it’s real.

  ‘There are parrots in the trees too,’ Ida says when she sees me gaping at it. I’m so relieved that I’m not imagining it.

  We carry on taking in the sights and sounds, sharing the odd puff which I do think is making me feeling mellow. When Ida stops to chat someone she knows, I decide that we need to part company.

  ‘I’ve got something I want to do,’ I say to her. ‘I’ll leave you with your friend and catch up with you later?’

  ‘Cool,’ Ida says. ‘Have fun.’

  If the rest of the festival is anything like what I’ve seen, then I’m sure that I will.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  When Ida turns back to her conversation, I wander away, rather aimlessly, just enjoying being here until I reach an area filled with stalls selling all manner of festival-type stuff. This is what I want. Each one of them is offering a range of floaty clothing in floral and tie-dye prints or hats, headbands, beaded sandals. There are sarongs, harem pants, ponchos, angel wings in all shapes and sizes. I’m going to splash some cash to get my festival swag on.

  I lose myself going from stall to stall, trying on dresses, skirts, strappy sandals, floppy hats and embroidered jackets to my heart’s content. If anyone tells you that shopping isn’t fabulous therapy, then don’t believe them. At the last stall, I slip into a curtained changing area and put it all on. I look in the mirror and a very different me stares back. This is a woman that I don’t know and I quite like the look of her. She looks young and carefree. I’ve chosen a pale blue chambray dress embroidered with flowers. It’s short, probably a bit too short, strappy and falls in tiers to mid-thigh. Each of the tiers is edged with white broderie anglaise. I’ve bought beaded, strappy sandals with blue and pink spangles all over them and a washed-out, vintage denim jacket. It takes ten years off me, I’m sure. That could also be due to the wine specs but I don’t care.

  Then I find a stall with a face-painter pedalling their skills and have some glittery daisies painted on my cheeks and set off the look with a floral headband. I’ve completely discarded my designer office-wear look and am now a fully signed-up fes
tival-goer so I consign the clothes I came in to a carrier bag. If I were bolder, I’d throw them in the nearest bin, but I can’t quite bring myself to do that. I think for my first attempt at this new style it isn’t half bad.

  As I’m wondering where to head next, Neds calls. ‘I’m at the Woodland bar. Do you want to make your way over here? There’ll be a cold and colourful cocktail waiting for you.’

  ‘I’m on my way,’ I tell him.

  So I head down to the woods, a spring in my step and flowers on my cheeks. I feel light, free and as colourful as one of the Oasis peacocks. It’s strange to remember what this felt like. Even before the baby, I haven’t been this happy for a very long time. Maybe I need to wear sparkly clothes and flowers all the time.

  The woods are spectacular, decorated with quirky yarn bombs – flowers, mandalas and pom-poms in the trees. As I head further in, there’s another area where the trees are adorned with musical instruments – trumpets, guitars, flutes and drums – that people play as they pass by.

  The Woodland bar is set in a clearing draped with natural garlands and blowsy paper flowers. Wooden benches surround fire pits, loaded with wood ready for the cooler evening. The bar itself is in a marquee and is already busy and I weave my way through the throng of drinkers. Ned is waiting at the bar, already halfway down his beer. He glances up and then does a double-take as he sees me.

  I sashay up to him and give him a twirl, flaring out the skirt of my dress. ‘I found my inner hippy! You like?’

  He looks me up and down and I flush under his intense scrutiny.

  ‘Wow.’ He seems genuinely stunned at my transformation and just continues to gape at me.

  ‘Say something. Too young? Too much?’

  ‘Just perfect,’ he eventually says. ‘You look fantastic!’

  Relief floods through me. ‘I do?’

  ‘Amazing,’ he says. ‘Do that twirly thing again.’

  I do and, call me shallow, but I like the way that Ned looks at me. When I’ve finished twirling, I stand still in front of him and our eyes meet.

  ‘Beautiful,’ he says softly.

  Then Ida crashes in, throwing herself on the stool next to Ned, and the moment is lost.

  She tosses her hat onto the bar. ‘Fuck,’ she puffs out. ‘This place is totally mad. I know everyone here. Get me a drink before I die.’

  Reluctantly, Ned’s eyes leave mine, but they say that we have unfinished business, and he turns to Ida. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Rum,’ she says. ‘Something with rum in it? And an umbrella.’

  ‘For you, Jodie?’

  I look at the list of cocktails chalked up on the board, but I can’t concentrate. I keep thinking of how Ned looked at me and I want, very much, to experience that again. ‘I don’t mind. You choose.’

  Then Ida seems to realise that I’m actually there and recoils slightly. Her eyes blink a lot as if she can’t quite believe them. ‘Blimey, look at you.’

  ‘I went shopping.’

  ‘And some. Wow. Seriously getting into the festival groove, girlfriend.’

  I feel self-conscious again. ‘If you can’t beat them, join them.’

  ‘Go girl,’ she concludes, though she sounds a little put out. ‘You look amazing.’

  Ned orders drinks for us all and passes them to us when they arrive. ‘Mojitos, ladies.’

  I sip the sharp, refreshing cocktail, enjoying the hit of rum, lime juice and cooling mint. ‘Delicious. Thanks.’

  ‘Glad you approve of my choice.’

  ‘Can’t stay long,’ Ida says. ‘Places to go, people to see.’

  She seems completely hyper, like an excited child.

  ‘I’ve got my first demo in an hour back at the Village Green,’ Ned says. ‘The band are on the Peacock stage tonight.’

  ‘That’s a great slot,’ Ida says. ‘You’ll ace it.’

  ‘Will you be joining us for a few numbers?’ Ned asks.

  ‘No. I’ll be there purely in the audience,’ Ida tells him. ‘I’m here just to chill out this weekend.

  This is likely to be my only time off until September, so I’m going to make the most of it.’ Ida downs her drink. ‘In fact, I’m outta here. I’ll catch you both later.’

  I don’t know if she feels in the way or if she’s just too animated to keep still, but she flits off again like a butterfly. Gratefully, I take the stool next to Ned. ‘I don’t know where she gets her energy. I’m exhausted just watching her.’

  ‘There are two ways to do festivals,’ Ned tells me. ‘You can run round like a headless chicken and try to fit everything in or you can kick back, accept that there’s too much to take in on one visit and vow to come back next year.’

  ‘I think I’ll go for the kicking back option.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan. When we’ve had our drinks we can take a slow stroll and I’ll show you some of the sights. But there’s no rush. Take your time.’

  ‘That sounds lovely,’ I say. Then I take his hand and squeeze it. ‘Thank you for making me come along. You and Ida have taken me under your wings and I do appreciate it.’

  ‘You’re easy company to be with, Jodie,’ he says and I’m glad to see that look in his eyes again.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  We finish our drinks and head out into the fray, walking round the festival site together. I’m sure I’d be totally lost and overwhelmed without him. I enjoy it when Ned takes my arm or touches my back as he steers me to look at this or that.

  Like Ida, he seems to have a lot of friends here and there’s a constant stream of hugs and high fives as we go. We take in an area of tents set deep into the woods offering various therapies – massage, reiki, tarot readings – and there’s an area with a hot tub and sauna. We drift in and out of the various music stages, relaxing as we watch a few bands who Ned knows.

  The range of experiences and workshops on offer is simply mind-blowing. I think I’d need a week to see them all. Besides all the other stuff, there’s a comedy tent, a craft corner and lots of activities for families. I’d like to try the aerial yoga and the gong sound bath, but I’m not sure that I’m ready for Shamic Spirit Trance Dance.

  On the Village Green, we both spot George. He’s standing on his plinth posing in a new costume of top hat with feathers in it and military-style frock coat. He looks very smart and we watch as he goes through his routine for his audience. When the crowd thins for a moment, we walk up to him and I say, ‘Hey, George.’

  ‘Oh, hiya!’ He waves enthusiastically, then remembers he’s supposed to be a statue and freezes again.

  ‘Business looks good?’

  ‘Brilliant,’ he says out of the corner of his mouth. ‘I’ve got some new moves today.’

  He leans right over to the side, defying gravity.

  ‘Wow.’ I give him an encouraging round of applause.

  ‘Poles that go up from my boots into my trouser legs,’ he confides. ‘Saw it on YouTube. Quite easy to do when you know how. You’ve got to have a little something extra. I’ve got strong competition here.’

  ‘Looks like you’re holding your own. Maybe you can catch up with us later for a drink when you’re off duty?’ I still wonder what he looks like under all that bronze paint. ‘Ida’s here too.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ he says. ‘I’ll try to find you.’

  ‘I’ve got a demo starting soon,’ Ned says. ‘We’ll catch you later.’

  ‘Good luck,’ George says and gives us a mechanical bow before resuming his pose.

  We leave George behind and head over to the area in the centre of the Village Green where Ned’s already set up earlier. Someone from the band has brought his wood and chainsaw so, while I hang round feeling like a spare part, he organises himself. Already a circle of people is forming to watch him and I take a place on the grass beside them.

  As soon as Ned starts his chainsaw, it attracts more people and, before long, there’s quite a crowd. A few minutes in and Ida sits down next to me.

&
nbsp; ‘He won’t forgive me if I don’t watch him once,’ she says. ‘Though I’ve seen him do this a thousand times, I still enjoy it.’

  ‘Me too.’

  He carves a bird for his first piece and then, as the sun warms up, he strips off his top

  showing his ripped abs with his trousers slung low on his hips. For some reason, even more people stop to watch. I think Marilyn would come up with some very colourful ways to describe him. As he works, I become mesmerised, paying far too much attention to how he moves, his body shifting as he manoeuvres his saw, how he coaxes the wood into shape. It’s hypnotic and Ned is very easy on the eye. Then I catch Ida giving me side-eye and check myself.

  ‘You should hook up with him,’ Ida says as nonchalantly as if we were talking about the weather. ‘He’s a great lover. Some of the best sex I’ve ever had is with Ned.’

  I’m not sure if she’s telling me this because she really wants me to know or because she wants me to know that she knows. If you know what I mean.

  ‘Just don’t give him your heart,’ Ida continues. ‘Ned likes variety and he loves to be loved. If you’re looking for commitment, he’s not the one.’

  ‘I’m not looking for anything,’ I tell her. ‘I want some time on my own.’

  She shrugs. ‘Just offering some friendly advice. It’s up to you whether you take it or not.’

  We both look over at Ned who is finishing his next piece – a carved wood sprite. Instantly, someone from the audience buys it from him and he fires up his chainsaw again to start another piece. The sun on my face is making me feel sleepy and the buzz of the saw begins to sound like a soothing background noise of bees.

  ‘I’m off again.’ Ida brushes grass from her clothes. ‘I’m sure I’ll catch up with you both later, at some point.’

  The next few sculptures Ned does are snapped up too. Then, the last piece that he carves is a small, oval-shaped statue of a mother and baby curled together. The figures are so entwined that the figures are merged and I’m unable to tell where one ends and the other begins. It’s beautiful and makes a lump come to my throat. Surprisingly, there are no takers for this one and, yet, I think it’s the best one he’s carved. Ned thanks the crowd for watching before packing up his chainsaw.