Page 22 of Best Mistake Ever
I slide my phone back into my pocket, still not entirely convinced this weekend will go the way any of them anticipate.
But it’s not my problem right now. The festival is. Speaking of which, I’d better get back there before Jonah finds me here and tears a strip off me for slacking off.
Ignoring a strange flip in my stomach at the thought of him, I stand up and take one long last look at the peaceful lake before making my way back towards the hotel.
Once back in the house, I wander into the kitchens to make sure everything’s ready and available for the festival’s catering crew.
Apparently, Pete’s not going to be able to come this weekend and I’ve decided not to introduce his partner, Jay, to Jonah, so as not to make things awkward or complicated for anyone.
I didn’t tell them that I’m posing as Dee this weekend because, firstly, I didn’t want to ask anyone to lie for me and secondly, I was afraid Jay might reconsider holding the festival here if he thought there was anything screwy with the set-up. We need this to work in order for Dee to pass her probation and it’s only a short amount of time I have to keep the ruse up. So, I’ve posed as Dee to do all the comms with Jay.
Thankfully, Jonah seems happy to let me just get on with the running of things.
In fact, he’s been really chill about the whole thing up till now, which has surprised me. I thought he’d want to micromanage the hell out of it, but he seems reluctant to do anything client-facing. For someone as famous as Jonah is, I’m amazed he’s not capitalising on it.
But then, from his grumpy manner, I get the feeling there’s more going on under the surface than he’s letting on.
There’s a tale to be told.
Not that I should be interested in uncovering it.
I’m fully aware that I mustn’t get emotionally involved with Jonah in any way.
Yet I can’t help but be intrigued by him.
8
JONAH
By Thursday lunchtime, the house and grounds have been fully transformed into the latest venue to host the Terra Firmer Festival.
There’s a real buzz about the place as the crew puts the finishing touches to the staging of it, as the first festival-goers begin to arrive and start setting up their tents and camper vans in the nearby fields. The crew have brought their own portacabin toilets and showers, so the house’s facilities shouldn’t get too much of a bashing. Dee tells me they’re expecting about two hundred and fifty people to be coming and they have their own security on hand to make sure we don’t get descended on by any gate-crashers. Not that that’s ever been a problem before, she assures me.
I’m impressed with how the guy who runs the festival has been able to divert all his staff and volunteers to a new venue at such short notice. The fact we’re only a few miles away from the venue he’d originally booked for it has benefited him and it seems his team, along with Dee, have been able to adapt the site plan to make it fit with our grounds and the layout of the house.
When I questioned whether people actually enjoyed going to a festival outside the summer months, she seemed to think it was actually a good idea. ‘To ward off the winter blues.’ Which makes some kind of sense, I suppose? I’ve definitely suffered with SAD before in the cold, mostly sunless months of an English winter, so I can see the logic behind it. We have to do something to naturally raise those depleted serotonin levels.
I have to admit, I’m a little nervous about how this weekend is going to go, though. But I can’t worry about that now. It’s a well-oiled train, fully in motion and there’s no way to call a halt to it now that people have started arriving.
You know what? I’ve never seen so many people in leggings before in one place – both men and women. Most of the festival-goers I’ve seen arriving are wearing outfits in a kaleidoscope of colours, in every sort of fabric imaginable. There’s an awful lot of fake fur, flowers and sequins on show. And the glitter – which I’ve been assured is strictly bio-degradable – is everywhere.
It’s wild.
I’m already starting to regret my decision to stay hidden away. This long weekend looks like it’s going to be a blast. There’s a palpable feeling of excitement and purpose in the air and it’s really brought it home to me how long it’s been since I had any kind of fun.
I wander over to where the hot tubs have been set up and, from the sounds of it, are already thronged with people. I can definitely see the appeal of this feature in such cool weather. Even though it’s been a fairly mild winter, there’s still a nip in the air.
What I’m not prepared for, as I surreptitiously peek through the hedge that shields them from the house, is the nudity.
It’s the most incredible thing. The people jumping in and out of the hot tubs seem not to be wearing a stitch and appear entirely comfortable with it.
In fact, no-one’s batting an eyelid – except me. And that’s only because I’m taken aback by the complete lack of self-consciousness in evidence.
It’s actually really inspiring to see.
Freeing.
I’m half tempted to join in, but I know that would be a terrible idea. It only took one person to get out their phone and film the humiliating end to my relationship last year to make it the most watched meme on the internet for a while. Just when I was starting to slip out of the news cycle too. I thought moving here and maintaining a low profile would keep me out of the sight line of all those ‘social commentators’ who love to tear anyone with any kind of celebrity down.
