Page 16 of Wish You Once More
“Where will you be?” Callie asked.
“I’m looking after the information point, which will be on the left as soon as you come into the fenced off area.” I plucked at my bright orange t-shirt. “Plus, you’ll be able to spot me in this.”
She laughed. “Yeah, you won’t be missed wearing that fashion delight.”
I shrugged. “Didn’t get any choice in the colour scheme, you know these are festival colours and they don’t get messed with.” There were some traditions the festival committee were reluctant to change, the branding being one of them.
“It’s not exactly your colour, Bree. Totally drains you.”
Given how I felt that morning, it probably fitted my mood.
On the walk over to the park, I began to feel a little better. Who wouldn’t when the sun shone on a glorious summer morning?
The small crowd in the centre of the fenced off area turned to watch as I arrived.
Darla tapped her watch. “What time do you call this?” she huffed.
“I’m only quarter of an hour late.” I shrugged.
“Late is late, Bree. We need everyone to pull together this weekend and if you can’t be here on time…” She left the unspoken threat hanging.
The eyes of the others bored into me, clearly expecting an apology. While I didn’t really think I had anything to be sorry for, we obviously weren’t going to be able to move on until I did.
“Sorry, Darla,” I sighed. “Won’t happen again.”
Given the festival was only two days and I had every intention of being there on time the following morning, there was little chance of that.
“I do hope not. Now, Bryan, is everything set up on the stage?” She moved onto someone else, my moment in the spotlight done.
While Darla went through the final details for the day, I tuned out. The park, usually frequented by dog walkers, kids playing football, and picnickers, had been transformed into a miniature open-air music concert. At one side, a stage had been erected in front of the tennis courts, around the edges were a few stalls selling food and drink, and the whole area had been sectioned off to create a bubble. Portable toilets had also been set up at the back of the field for convenience. Like a scaled-down version of Glastonbury or Reading, before long it would be rammed. My gaze wandered over to the information point. I really needed to get over there and check out who was doing which shift. I’d volunteered to do the majority of them, partly because it meant I got to see the bands, and partly because it was an easy job. Selling programmes and merchandise and answering a few questions was a small price to pay for free music and, occasionally, free beer.
The group dispersed to take up their various posts, and Darla headed towards me again. I plastered on a fake smile, hoping my tequila breath had abated somewhat.
“Did you ever hear from Mat Redmond?” she asked.
My heart jumped into my throat. Our message exchange had been polite, but even having that sort of conversation burned. A part of me wished he hadn’t come back, even for the weekend, then I wouldn’t have to deal with him. I knew he’d been home for various holidays and family celebrations, but I’d successfully avoided him each time. This was different. I was expected to interact with him, pretend everything was fine between us. Darla couldn’t know what had happened between us, she was only doing her duty as the chair of the festival. She wasn’t deliberately trying to stir anything up.
“Um, yeah. Everything was fine. He’d spoken to Jonny and got everything he needed to know from him.” I paused. “He said he’d contact me if he had any other questions.”
Darla nodded. “Good, good. He will be a bit of a draw for tomorrow, assuming word has got out he’s here. Can you keep an eye on any social media activity? Check whether there’s likely to be an influx tomorrow afternoon?”
“Sure. I’ll let you know if I spot anything.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Bree. Now, do you want to get over to the info point? People will start to arrive soon.”
I did as she asked, the relative cool sanctuary of the small marquee providing respite from the climbing temperature. The rota pinned up on the wall reassured me I’d have a chance to get something to eat and drink mid-afternoon. I regretted not trying to eat something before I left home earlier. Killing time until the festival officially started, I business myself organising the tent and checked I had everything I needed.
As the town clock struck midday, Darla strode onto the stage, microphone in one hand. Her own orange polo shirt suited her slightly olive skin tone much better. She clapped her hands, bringing the attention of the rapidly expanding audience.
“Good afternoon! Thank you for joining us for another fabulous weekend of music from our local bands and travelling musicians alike. It looks like the weather will be kind to us this year.” A loud cheer met her words. “Now, sit back and enjoy yourselves, eat, drink, be merry and buy merchandise!” She pointed in my direction. “T-shirts are available from the information point, so make sure you get one before they sell out. Have a great afternoon!”
Applause and wolf whistles greeted her announcement and I took an exaggerated bow, playing up to Darla. Behind her, the first band started playing and the Dart Sundowner was underway.
Three hours later, I was practically melting with boredom. All I seemed to have done was point people in the direction of the portable toilets and tell people where the nearest cash machine was. I’d sold about four t-shirts and my stomach was in danger of embarrassing me every time someone came up to talk to me.
Bryan approached the information point, ready to do his stint.
“Oh, thank God,” I said, clutching his arm over-dramatically. “I’m dying for a drink.”
