by Karen Swan
‘All right, all right, just break it up,’ Suzy said, wading in and separating the two happy couples. ‘This is supposed to be a hen night. If you’re going to snog anyone tonight, it definitely shouldn’t be your fiancé.’
Laird chuckled, putting Gem down.
Cassie hung back, pretending to look around at the site but really just trying not to catch either Amber or Luke’s eyes. She gripped the hula hoop on her shoulder.
The loss stung.
‘You girls all look very . . . colourful,’ Laird said, taking in their get-ups.
‘Amber dressed us,’ Gem said, striking a pose. ‘You like?’
‘Obviously,’ Laird winked, smacking her pert bottom. ‘I don’t think I’d have recognized you, Suzy.’
Suzy preened happily. It had been a while since she’d really given fashion a second thought and most of the time, these days, she dressed for comfort and practicality with Velvet.
‘Well, these girls hadn’t done any festivals before and I just thought . . . let’s do it right,’ said Amber proudly. ‘I mean, Gem’s been going to Glasto since she was fifteen, and we love Coachella, don’t we?’ Amber rolled herself into Luke’s body again, her back against his chest and holding his arm over her torso. ‘And I’ve been talking for a while about making the move into styling, haven’t I?’
Luke nodded.
‘Because you know, in my industry, life is short. It’s no different to being an athlete. This body can’t stay at this level indefinitely,’ she said with a dismissive gesture at her flawless physique. ‘I’ve only got another couple of years at the top and then I’ll have to diversify.’
‘Oh, I know just what you mean, Amber,’ said Suzy. ‘I was a model too before I went into wedding planning.’
There was a horrified silence before Amber realized she was joking. ‘You always get me!’ she laughed, jabbing a finger towards Suzy.
Cassie could tell from Suzy’s expression that Suzy didn’t like the way Amber had laughed so hard.
‘Anyway, where next?’ Laird asked.
‘I really want to get to the front by the stage. There’s no point being right at the back. You may as well watch it on TV,’ Gem said with a pout, which Laird immediately kissed.
Cassie rolled her eyes. The persistent coupledom was beginning to get to her.
‘Have you seen the size of the crowd already? That mosh pit is sixty-deep!’ Luke said. ‘We won’t see anything anyway.’
‘A mosh pit? Uh-uh. I am way too posh to mosh!’ Suzy said in an alarmed voice. ‘No way can I risk being trampled to death at a concert, especially for some unidentified band.’
‘The rumour is it’s Coldplay.’ Luke took his arm away from Amber so that he could swap hands for his pint. His eyes flickered towards Cassie, who had fallen quiet.
‘Coldplay? You’re kidding?’ Gem shrieked. Could her night get any better?
He shrugged. ‘That’s what people are saying, but what do they know, right?’
‘Oh my God, I can totally risk it,’ Suzy said, turning to Cassie, her eyes even wider than her little cousin’s. ‘Me and Chris Martin, it’s meant to be. Haven’t I always said it?’
Cassie smiled her assent.
‘And Arch knows that, does he?’ Laird asked, bemused.
‘Oh, totally!’ Suzy said, rearranging her kaftan and checking her legs. ‘He’s my freebie.’
‘Your what?’ Amber asked, looking for Luke’s arm again.
‘You know – if ever our paths were to cross and the opportunity came up, then I would totally be allowed to bonk him. Special pass. One-time-only deal.’
Everyone laughed, except Cassie, who had heard this before and knew Suzy was deadly serious.
‘Arch has got Heather Graham as his freebie,’ Suzy added, pinching the crease of her panama.
‘Oh. Who’s yours?’ Gem asked, looking behind her to ask Laird.
‘I’m allowed one?’
Gem shrugged. ‘Why not? Maybe that’s their secret to a happy marriage.’
‘Then I guess Ana Ivanovic?’
Gem frowned. ‘You said that way too quick! You didn’t even have to think about it!’
Laird’s face fell as he realized he’d ‘failed’ the test. ‘Well, what about you?’
‘Jared Leto,’ Gem said as fast as she could.
‘Amber?’ Laird asked.
‘My man,’ she said silkily, burrowing back into Luke again.
‘No! That’s cheating,’ Suzy said crossly, taking it all very seriously. ‘It cannot be him. You cannot cheat with your own husband slash boyfriend.’
‘Well, then I guess it would have to be . . .’ She strung the last word out in deep contemplation. ‘Bradley Cooper.’ The look on Amber’s face as she said his name suggested she expected Luke to now challenge the man to a duel.
Cassie stepped in. ‘I’m just going to put this hoop back in the tent. It’s really annoying,’ she said quickly, turning and darting off before anyone could remotely try to stop her. She didn’t want to listen to this. She didn’t want to hear Luke’s answer or have to give her own.
She wove through the crowds, feeling ridiculous in her clothes as she slipped past the rustle of anoraks. What grown woman thought knee socks with shorts was a good look anyway? She looked like a skater girl at a ramblers’ convention.
She was back at the yurt in minutes, throwing herself down on the bed with a groan of despair and almost winding herself as she landed on one of the empty champagne bottles that had been hidden beneath a pile of clothes. She reached for it and set it carefully on the floor, before dropping her head on the pillow again.
This was the worst hen night ever. Not only was the stag present, but she wasn’t even drunk – the best she had managed was a mild buzz before they’d left the tent, and now the combination of fresh air and losing to Amber had left her feeling flat and tetchy. She checked the bottle for remnants, but it had been emptied to the dregs.
‘Knock, knock.’
She twisted round in surprise to find Luke standing in the doorway.
‘Hey,’ he said with a bashful look, like a boy who knew he wasn’t allowed in the girls’ dorm. ‘Can I come in?’
She scrambled up to a sitting position, instantly on alert. ‘Luke, what are you doing here? Where’s everyone else?’
‘Apparently Amber’s met the band a couple of times. They’re going to try their luck with getting VIP backstage passes.’
‘So then what are you doing here? Why didn’t you go with them?’ she asked in bafflement. Who turned down the opportunity to go VIP with Coldplay?
‘You know why.’
The air sucked out of the room. What did he mean? He couldn’t—
‘Well, how else would you know where they all were?’ he shrugged. ‘I said I’d take you round to them.’
‘Oh.’ She nodded. Of course.
She got up from the bed and, embarrassed by the mess, feebly picked up some of the clothes and folded them in a pile.
Luke walked over and lifted them out of her hands. He stared down at her. ‘It’ll keep.’
They walked outside together. The food stalls were beginning to shut up shop, the lights of the domed main stage beginning to overpower the pale sky now that the sun was making its slow approach back to earth. There were fewer children running around, and several groups of lads in drag told her theirs weren’t the only hen and stag dos there.
‘You don’t have a drink.’
Cassie looked down at her empty hands. ‘No.’
He stopped walking. ‘You can’t be at a concert and not have a drink, Cass. There are rules about these things.’
‘Really?’ But before she could so much as arch an eyebrow, he had grabbed her hand.
‘Follow me.’
His touch was like fire and every instinct told her to break the contact, but his hand had firmly gripped hers as he pulled her through the crowds, which were growing denser as the other activities closed down, herding everyone by default
to the stage area. She heard ‘Coldplay’ in the crowd more than once before they ducked into a beer tent.
Half the festival seemed to have had the same idea and Luke practically had to scrummage his way through to the bar. When he finally got there, he ordered several drinks for each of them.
‘What?’ he asked, as she stared in astonishment at the sight of the eight beer bottles wedged between his fingers. ‘I’m not queuing again. Are you?’
She took three with an arch look. ‘Come on, then, let’s find the others,’ she said, beginning to turn and head out of the tent.
‘Can’t. You’ve got to drink up first. No glasses allowed anywhere but here.’
She looked back at him in disbelief. He expected her to drink four beers with him? They would be here for hours!
‘This is farmland, you know,’ he said earnestly before swigging his drink. ‘We have a duty to behave responsibly for the animals. I’ve become very partial to cows in the past week.’
‘You’re all heart,’ she said drily, clinking her bottle against his. ‘Cheers, then.’
She wished she could drink quickly, but she was famously slow – something he’d clearly forgotten, and as they swigged their beers, looking to the people around them like a regular couple, she wondered what else had slipped his mind about her. Maybe he really didn’t remember half of her peccadilloes or quirks; just because she recollected his preferred sleeping position and that breathing in his ear rendered him powerless didn’t mean he ever thought about the one time he had made her knees buckle or how she took her coffee.
‘You look great, by the way.’ His eyes flickered over her retro-chic outfit.
She shrugged. ‘Nothing to do with me. It’s all Amber’s handiwork.’
‘No it’s not. I was there when you sculpted those thighs, remember? When Kelly had you tower-running and doing early morning runs around the park?’ he laughed softly. ‘I had to massage you better, I do believe.’
Cassie couldn’t find her voice. She couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud, referenced something intimate between them that they could never – either of them – afford to refer to. She drank faster, confused by his behaviour. His touch just minutes earlier had felt electric, yet he treated her like a ‘mate’; he had followed her to the tent, but only to bring her back to the others. Was she imagining things, misreading signals tonight? Putting subtext into actions that wasn’t there? Reading innuendo in meanings that were perfectly clear? She turned away. It had to be the alcohol.
‘I hope it is Coldplay that’s on.’
He missed a beat and she knew he was staring. ‘It probably isn’t. Why would they do a little gig like this?’
‘Well, they are from Devon. That’s the next county to here, and people from the West Country stick together.’
‘Then it probably is them, then.’
She glanced at him, his tone too acquiescent, his mind clearly on something other than the line of conversation. ‘Yeah.’
He hesitated. ‘Do you remember when they played Madison Square Garden? We tried for hours to book online.’
‘Sold out in an hour,’ she murmured. ‘Yes, I remember.’
‘So then maybe tonight is . . . karma. Restoring what should have been ours all along.’
Oh, come on! She wasn’t imagining this! She looked at him, her heart pounding way too hard and fast again. What the hell kind of game was he playing here?
‘Hey! The universe owes us a Coldplay concert. Am I right?’
There it went again, the conversation taking a slippery bypass away from where she’d thought it was heading. Jeez. She laughed, a frown on her face as he slipped away from her suspicions again. She must be drunker than she thought; she was all over the place tonight.
‘Come on, drink up. These’ll go warm,’ Luke said, tapping the other beers. ‘Race you.’
‘Oh! Wait . . . !’
Chapter Twenty-Two
The sky rose above them like a phoenix, raging red, its fiery wings spread from one end of the world to the next, but even that couldn’t compare to the lightshow on the stage before them. Strobes pulsed like galactic sabres, the ground trembling beneath their feet as the bass began to boom and the crowd’s shouts rose to a towering crescendo. ‘Coldplay’ was on everyone’s lips now – God help the band coming out if it wasn’t them, Cassie thought, as Luke led her through the crowd again, the shock of his hand on hers dulled now by four beers and a couple of chasers.
Something in the way he held himself made people stand aside for him. Was it the white smile that contrasted so cleanly with his rough stubble? His expensive jacket? The self-assurance that came from success? Could they tell he came not just from another country but another world? Her other life?
She followed him, hoping they would at least get close enough to see the band on stage, even if they did have to watch the video screens to tell who was who. There were more people here than she could fathom, white lights of phone screens already held aloft, set to ‘pause’, as they waited for the band to come on. The warm-up acts had done their work with aplomb – the mood was electric – and with the sun almost set, what else was there to wait for?
Nothing.
In the next moment the lights went down and the crowd went wild. An explosion of white lights more like fireworks set the stage alight and suddenly a man with an elephant mask was singing at a mic, his head filling the hundred-foot screen.
The crowd erupted as Chris Martin’s distinctive voice carried over the field and down to the creek behind. Cassie threw her arms in the air with a scream, jumping up and down dementedly and whooping as loudly as she could.
She couldn’t believe it. They actually were here! Here she was, in a festival in Cornwall, listening to Coldplay – part of a scene. She felt the energy lift her up like a wave. Why had she never done this before? It was yet another thing she had missed out on in those lost years of her life. She looked across at Luke and was surprised to see he was already watching her, a quiet smile on his face as she overreacted for them both.
He leaned in. ‘Can you see them?’ he called across to her.
‘Sort of,’ she shouted back.
He dropped down to his knees. ‘Come on.’
She looked at him in horror. ‘Luke, what the hell are you doing?’
‘Get on my shoulders.’
‘No!’ she laughed.
He looked back at her. ‘Yes. You’ve always wanted to see them live. Do it.’
‘Luke—’
‘Cass! Do it before I get trampled to death!’
The crowd was tightly knit and moving by degrees. She threw one leg round his right shoulder, having to hold on to his head as she put her left leg over too. It seemed for a moment as though he couldn’t stand up with the weight of her on his shoulders, but then his hands found hers and moved them away from his eyes.
‘That’s better.’
‘Oh!’ she said nervously, as he started to get up and she felt like he might pitch forwards, throwing her into the backs of the people in front; but he smoothly rose to standing, sending her rocketing up to ten feet in the air.
Cassie gripped his head harder, convinced she was going to fall, but his arms folded round her socked calves, holding her tightly in place just as Chris Martin pulled off the elephant head and ran from one side of the stage to the other. Without even thinking about it, Cassie let go, her hands in the air as she whooped at the top of her voice, laughing as she made eye contact with the other girls enjoying this privileged vantage point.
The first organ chords of ‘Fix You’ rang out, a white laser beam sweeping over the crowd like a prison-yard spotlight. Cassie swayed to the beat, her head thrown back as she sang loud and proud, ‘When you try your best, but you don’t succeed; when you get what you want, but not what you need . . .’ She knew she was part of a collective moment that would stay forever with every person here. She felt transcendent, transported – so much so that when an image was beamed onto the huge screens, a
hundred feet high, of a beautiful woman with bright blue eyes and pinked cheeks, her mouth spread wide in an excited laugh and her sexy boyfriend between her thighs, it was a moment before she realized it was her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was quiet in the tent. Everyone was still sleeping, even though the new day was peeking belligerently through the gaps and demanding their attention. Cassie lay on her side, her back to them all, staring into the mirrored turquoise shawl that was draped down one wall. The hangover was fierce – champagne followed by beers followed by shots had been a really bad idea – and she felt so rotten she wasn’t sure she could move from this position, much less this bed.
But that wasn’t why she was awake. Beyond the throbbing pain of the hangover, her nervous system still seemed to be jangling from last night’s euphoria – a slightly elevated pulse, rapid eye movement, her senses seemingly set on a higher alert . . . Her body was inert, but her mind was racing, her stomach tight and fizzing. She had the impression of standing on a clifftop, her toes wiggling over the edge as a giddying wind whirled around her, lifting her hair, tickling her skin and making her laugh, making her careless . . .
‘You awake?’ Suzy’s voice was feather-light in the gloaming.
Cassie froze.
‘I know you’re awake. I can tell by your breathing.’
‘I’m just breathing,’ Cassie muttered after a moment, irritated that she couldn’t even doze in peace without Suzy knowing best.
But Suzy didn’t reply and a moment later Cassie rolled over reluctantly, keeping her eyes closed and resting her hands beneath her left cheek. ‘I’m dying,’ she said quietly, which was code for ‘Leave me alone.’
‘I’m not surprised. You were out of your tree by the time we caught up with you.’
‘That wasn’t my fault,’ Cassie protested, remembering Luke’s overzealous ordering in the beer tent.
‘It never is.’
Cassie refused to be provoked. ‘Did you get to go backstage?’ Specific memories of last night were murky – so much for the moment staying with her forever!