by Annie Seaton
David stepped to the door as the sound of a woman singing softly drifted out through the window.
He raised his hand to knock but the door opened before his fingers touched the wood.
“Holy shit.” David closed his eyes and groaned.
Chapter Fourteen
Megan’s stomach grumbled as the aroma of cooking meat wafted over to her. The second band to play after the Bowie cover had just finished its set and she hadn’t heard of either of them. There must have been last-minute dropouts because none of the artists she’d been expecting to see had made an appearance. They must be playing later in the day. There was no sign of David and she bit her lip.
She had no idea what the deal was. Had he gotten what he’d been looking for the night before and now he’d taken off?
Stay here, Megan. I’m going to see the guys. Yeah, sure.
It might have been the most mind-blowing sex she’d ever had, but she was going to chalk that up to the music and the strange state she’d been in ever since she’d passed out in the field. After her Greg experience, she thought she’d learned her lesson. But one look at David and she’d lost control completely. Damn it, what came over me?
The only reason she was here was because she’d been worried about him when he’d disappeared behind the stone monument thing. And now, thanks to him, she had no shoes and no money.
David had told her to wait, but there was no way she was going to hang around for him to come back.
If he did.
She’d go back to the cottage, shower, change, grab her ticket and program, then get ready to listen to the bands and talk to music lovers in the crowd. She’d come over here to Glastonbury to work and she needed to get started.
Twisting around, she tried to get her bearings. She was sure she’d come across that field to the east but it was full of tents she hadn’t noticed earlier.
“You look hungry, love. Want some soup?”
A young woman standing behind a wooden table in the tent behind her waved a large spoon in her direction.
“Sorry.” She shook her head. “I haven’t got my wallet with me.”
The woman leaned forward, her long braids dangling over her shoulders down to her waist. She held on to a small child with one hand and pointed to a sign at the front of the table with the other. Free was emblazoned in large block letters.
“Love food here, free for all comers.”
“Free?” Megan sniffed appreciatively and looked over to the large pot bubbling on a gas ring at the back of the open-sided tent.
“Soup, mulled wine…and hash cookies. All in the name of peace and love.” The woman picked the child up and hoisted him onto her hip. “You give to the universe, you get back. Want some?”
Megan nodded and watched as the woman balanced the child on her hip while she ladled steaming vegetables and broth into a paper mug for her. “Do you do this at many festivals?”
“We came to the first festival last year, but because the villagers were so against us ‘hippies’ going to the cafés in the village, we decided to help out this year.”
Megan narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean the first one?”
“The first Glastonbury. Last year at the Worthy Farm they gave free milk, so we wanted to do our bit this year. Give and the universe gives back to you.”
“Last year?” She had no idea what the woman was talking about. She’d studied the Glastonbury phenomenon and it had run every year since 1978 after the first couple of festivals in 1970 and 1971. Since then it had been big business.
But this festival was nowhere like the commercial one she’d expected. A shiver ran down Megan’s back as a strange thought entered her mind. She rubbed her arms to dispel the goose bumps.
It’s almost as though I’m at one of the early festivals. It’s like a re-creation.
Megan looked down at her bare feet. “Can you point me in the direction of the village?” On the way back to the cottage, she’d call in at the little store and buy a pair of flip-flops and put them on the tab. And while she was there, she’d see if the library had Wi-Fi. She hadn’t thought of that the other day—and she had a feeling David had only taken her to Taunton as part of the get-to-know-me-I’m-a-nice-guy routine so he could get in her pants. Well, he had, but no more.
The woman stepped out from behind the table and led Megan to the other side of the wide pathway between the tents. “If you follow this path to the end of the big tents and then go through the stile, you’ll come to the road that goes to the village.”
Megan thanked the woman and headed down past the tents, sipping on the soup as she strolled through the crowd. The morning sun was warm and there were people lying on the grass sunbathing. A few called out a friendly greeting as she walked past and her fingers itched to start taking notes. The opportunity for research was amazing and everyone was happy and relaxed. She couldn’t believe the number of women with no tops on, breasts bared to the sun. A couple of the guys she passed had nothing on at all, and their white English skin was starting to burn. It was surreal; the seventies feel was all around her. Maybe it was just that England was old-fashioned and different from Australia? She shook her head as that frisson of uncertainty ran down her spine again. Music blared across the fields from the performance tents but she didn’t recognise any of the bands or songs. She kept her eyes peeled for David and his mates but there was no sign of any of them.
She threw the paper cup into a bin next to the stile and climbed through. As the woman had said there would be, a path led from the stile to a narrow road where a sign on the grass pointed the way to Glastonbury.
With a yawn, Megan set off for the village, keeping to the grass beneath the hedgerows to protect her bare feet.
Chapter Fifteen
“Davy? You’re back.” The woman opened the door wide and smiled until she looked at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Hello, Alice.” David’s breath hitched. He’d run the whole way across the field to the cottages, giving the stones a wide berth. “I’ve lost someone.”
Alice McLaren wiped her hands on a bright floral apron and held her arms out to him. “I’m surprised to see you. I thought you’d be immersed in the festival.”
David reached over and hugged her. Alice had grown her hair since he’d last seen her and she kept hold of his hands and looked at him. “Still looking good, Davy.” She tipped her head to the side. “You don’t change?”
“I know. I don’t understand it myself.” All he knew was, he stayed the same age whichever time he was in. “You’ve had no unexpected visitors this morning?”
“No. I haven’t seen anyone. What’s happened?”
David ran his fingers through his hair as he stood at the door. This was doing his head in.
“I’ve lost someone… a friend…a woman. It’s a long story and if I don’t find her, she won’t be able to find her way back.” He took another deep breath.
“Stay there, I’ll get you a cool drink. You look like you need it.”
When Alice returned, he took the tumbler of water gratefully. Closing his eyes, he drank deeply to soothe his parched throat. “Thanks.”
“I’m pleased to hear you have another friend.”
“It’s hard, Alice, so I spend most of my time in the twenty-first century when I’m not on tour with the band.
“Only the twenty-first century?” Alice stared at him, a frown marring her face. “You haven’t been exploring other times, have you? I warned you about that.”
“No, I listened to you.” David took another gulp. “Alice, apart from loving my music and performing, I hate the whole seventies scene. The drugs, the—pardon me, free sex—the groupies. The whole lack of privacy thing. And then dealing with Emma’s death while she was in our employ…” He stared out the window. “You know what a mess I was last year and I’ll be forever grateful to you for helping me get through it. It suits me very well to live in the twenty-first century. I get the best of both times without being a part of t
hat ghastly scene, and I don’t want to put my privacy in jeopardy.”
The morning light shimmered in the distance and a quiver of unease shot through him.
“I arrived in 2008, and I stayed there. The only time I come back to the seventies is to tour occasionally and to record with the band. That does my head in enough.”
“David, you must—”
He held up his hand as he interrupted her. “Sorry to be rude, but I have to get back to the festival and find Megan. If she discovers what’s happened to her, she’ll freak out. And I don’t want her to find out she’s gone back in time.”
“Listen to me.” Alice caught his hand between hers. “You have to stop taking responsibility for everyone. People make their own choices and you can’t protect everyone.”
“You are a wise lady, but I don’t think so, not in this case.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek and was immediately cocooned in the heady fragrance of sandalwood oil. “Now I have to go.”
Alice looked at him curiously. “Am I still around in 2008?”
“Yes, and you are the sweetest old lady.” David looked at her with a smile as he handed her the glass. “I have to go and find Megan.”
“Be happy, David.”
He set out across the field as the door closed softly behind him At least he didn’t have to tell Alice that 2008 was the year she’d passed away, and now three years later, the woman he was looking for was staying in her cottage.
***
Despite feeling a little bit lost, Megan fought the uncertainty tugging at her. She smiled as she strolled along the edge of the road in the softly dappled shade of the hedgerows and she took a deep breath of the fresh, clean air. The sweet twittering of tiny birds as they flitted in and out of the tangled vines gradually replaced the sound of the music fading behind her and calm filled her. The soft morning light and the gentle music of the birds were so different to home. Even in the city amid the traffic noises, the raucous sounds of kookaburras and crows filled the air around her apartment. As she thought of home, the calm disappeared and a sudden knot formed in her stomach. She really needed to get in touch with Tony and find out if he had made any progress in incriminating Greg, or there would be no point to all her research at the festival. If they threw her out of her job, it would apply to her doctoral study too.
Breathing deeply, she blocked the thoughts from her mind and concentrated on enjoying the walk to the village. Her visit to the festival was far from what she’d anticipated—including the tryst with David last night.
Turning into the main street, she crossed the village green to the shop and was taken aback to see a large sign in the window.
Bold black block letters proclaimed, hippies not welcome.
Strange. Not a term used for the Generation Xers and Yers of the twenty-first century. Not in Australia, anyway. The bucolic countryside of rural England was certainly still living in the past. And it was just what David had told her about the seventies festivals.
No, it was impossible.
If it was a dream, it was the longest, strangest dream she’d ever had.
More material for my thesis. She needed to get back to the cottage and get some of this down before she forgot half of it. Yawning, she rubbed her eyes. Her mind was still fuzzy around the edges and she needed to take a quick nap before she returned to the festival.
The bell on the door tinkled as she pushed it open and entered the dark shop.
“We haven’t got none.” A sharp voice came from behind the counter. Megan looked around to see who the woman was speaking to, but as far as she could see, she was the only customer in the shop.
A shopkeeper stood with her arms folded and a frown wrinkling her forehead.
“Ah, do you have any shoes here?” Megan pointed down to her bare feet. “Just a pair of rubber thongs—I mean flip-flops—will do.”
“No.” The woman scowled at her. “Go back to your hippie friends and share theirs. I don’t sell any.”
“There’s some up there. Just a medium-size pair, please.” Megan pointed to the shelf of flip-flops high above the woman’s head. “Oh, and I’ll have to put them on the McLaren cottage tab, please. Jules said to do that yesterday.”
“No tabs here, so I can’t sell you nothing.”
“But Jules said yesterday—”
“There ain’t no Jules works here.” The woman came from behind the counter and crossed to the door. “I’m closing for elevenses now so you’ll have to go.” Opening the door, she stood with her foot wedged against the bottom and stared at Megan.
Confused, Megan walked to the door. It was nowhere near eleven o’clock. Her gaze fell on the newspaper rack along the window. She leaned forward and picked up the Taunton Times and froze, ignoring the woman’s protests in the background.
“Put it down. I told you there’s no credit here.”
Megan caught her breath as the room spun. She reached for the door and held on with one hand as she scanned the newspaper. The lurid headline in bold black letters proclaimed Davy Morgan Drug Scandal. He Was With Her When She Died, and as she dropped her eyes to the other articles, disbelief crawled icily through her veins. On the bottom of the page was an article saying John Lennon had just gone into the Abbey Road Studios in London to record his new album called Imagine. Squinting in the dim interior she struggled to read the date at the top of the paper. She looked around at the shop. Maybe they were selling retro stuff to go with the festival? She was grasping at straws.
Maybe my suspicions are right, after all.
“What’s the date?” she demanded, turning to the unpleasant shopkeeper.
The woman shrank back as Megan’s voice rose, and she dropped the hand she’d held out for the newspaper. “It’s the 26th June.”
“What year?”
“What?”
Megan closed her eyes and dropped the newspaper onto the floor beside her as the woman stared at her.
“That’s why we don’t let hippies into the village. You’ve addled your brains with all that pot smoking and sex.” The woman almost spat the words at Megan as she bent to pick up the crumpled newspaper. “Now get out of my shop and don’t come back. You and your type aren’t welcome here.”
Megan opened her eyes and the room had stopped spinning. “Please, just tell me what year it is?” Her voice shook as she whispered softly.
The woman must have taken some pity on her and she answered gruffly, “It’s 1971, of course.”
***
David kept close to the low stone wall and gave the markers a wide berth as he crossed the fields back to Worthy Farm. The air was still and almost shimmering with expectation. Going through the time gates was always quickest at this time of day and especially during the solstice. Once, he’d slipped through accidentally without even lining the markers up. That was the last thing he needed today—to go back unintentionally and leave Megan here.
He took a deep breath to dispel the unease that had settled in his chest since he’d returned to the brook to find her missing. As he turned to cross the last field, the sound of a small truck travelling towards the village reached him. Glancing across, he paused and put his hand on the sun-warmed fence. It might be worth cutting across to the village; maybe she’d left the festival and decided to go back to the cottage through Glastonbury. Bracing himself on one hand, he climbed over the waist-high fence and turned east towards the buildings across the wide green field.
The main street was quiet and the store was closed. An elderly man digging in his garden scowled at him and turned away as he crossed to the pub.
The publican was at the side of the building rolling a keg of beer around to the side door. “Hey, Ken.” David called a greeting to the burly man.
Ken straightened and wiped his hands on his jeans before reaching his hand out to shake David’s hand.
“Davy, boy! Good to see you.” He pumped David’s hand vigorously. “What brings you into the village so early?”
“What time is it,
Ken?” He’d gotten to know Ken last year when he’d stayed at the pub with Emma when he’d come down from London. He’d brought her here to try to get her away from the fast crowd she’d been hanging with. He’d be forever grateful that Bear and Slim were having a drink there that lazy Sunday afternoon. They’d hooked up and Davy had joined them as lead singer of their band. Ken was good friends with Arabella Churchill, who was the main organiser of the festival, and he was one of the few villagers who welcomed the musicians and visitors. He’d told David about the vacant cottage next to Alice when he’d been looking for somewhere else to live.
“Almost nine. I thought you’d be sleeping in after that great performance the band put on last night. Great show, man.”
“Shit, I have to be back for our next set at ten.” David ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He’d lost track of the time in his concern for Megan. “I’m looking for a girl…a woman.”
“Who?” Ken winked at him. “Plenty over at the Worthy Farm.”
“A tall woman. Dark reddish hair. Red jeans, black T-shirt.”
Ken’s face lit up in a grin. “You’re in luck, Davy. Old Mrs. Carmichael just gave her short shrift at the village store and slammed the shop door behind her when she left. The old biddy was the first one to put the no hippies sign up.”
“Where did she go?” Relief coursed through David’s chest as he looked around.
“She headed down the high street towards the cottages. You’ve only just missed her. She went around the corner as I got the keg off the truck.”
“Thank you.” David ran down the street in the direction Ken pointed, his breath hitching by the time he got to the corner.
Megan was walking slowly along the edge of the road only a couple of hundred yards ahead of him.
“Megan!”
She lifted her head as his call reached her and stepped into the shadow of the hedgerow, waiting as he closed the distance between them.
His feelings were in conflict as he ran towards her. The relief at finding her safe in this time warred with a surging excitement. His body still hummed from the experience with her last night. Never in his life had he been filled with such pure joy when he’d been with a woman. It rivalled the emotion he got from his music and that frightened him. He let his gaze wander over her, from the line of her shoulders down her back where her auburn hair hung like a silk curtain.
