Chapter Twenty-Six
The school hall was buzzing. People were everywhere, shouting and fixing and dressing and everything in between.
And Raven couldn’t help but grin. This might be a school fundraiser, but the backstage atmosphere was no different than a rock concert.
Desperately nervous and excited and pants-wettingly anticipatory.
She’d arrived at three, which was ridiculously early, but Annabelle had texted at two saying she was already there and could use help, and Raven had found herself throwing on clothes and walking over before she could talk herself out of it.
Now, two hours later, the place was a hive of activity.
Blossom was stringing fairy lights across the ceiling with the kind of efficiency that suggested she'd done this before.
Arty was on a ladder, adjusting the sound system while muttering about dodgy wiring.
Gloria stood center stage, directing a group of bewildered children through her interpretive dance about the importance of literacy.
And Annabelle was everywhere at once.
"The raffle tickets go there, not there, yes, perfect! Oh, could someone check on the biscuits in the staffroom? I think they might be burning. No, wait, that's fine, Nina's got it. Has anyone seen the programs? I printed two hundred but I can only find, oh, there they are. Brilliant!"
She was wearing a bright yellow dress and had a clipboard clutched in one hand, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail that was already coming loose. She looked exhausted and radiant and slightly unhinged.
Raven found herself smiling. Maybe optimism really did carry things through. Who’d have guessed it?
"Raven!" Daisy bounced over, carrying an armful of bunting. "Can you help me with this? I can't reach the hooks up there."
"Sure." Raven took one end of the fabric and climbed onto a chair, stretching to loop it over the hook on the wall.
"You're so tall," Daisy said admiringly. "I bet you never have trouble reaching things."
"Not generally," Raven said dryly.
"Oh, and later, could you sign some posters? For the raffle? People are so excited you're here. Mrs. Moore from the bakery brought extra cupcakes just because she heard you'd be performing tonight."
Raven paused, bunting in hand. "She did?"
"Oh yes! Everyone's been talking about it all week. You're properly famous, you know."
"I'm aware."
"Oh, I mean, I know you were famous before, like rockstar famous," Daisy continued, oblivious to Raven's discomfort. "I meant that now you’re village famous. You're Raven who helps with the school and Raven who teaches Jamie guitar. That’s what I meant. One of us, you know?"
One of us.
Raven secured the last bit of bunting and climbed down from the chair, unsure how to respond to that.
She'd spent the last decade being famous. Being recognized everywhere she went, never quite belonging anywhere because everyone either wanted something from her or wanted to be her. She'd learned to keep people at arm's length, to treat every interaction as a transaction.
But here in Bankton, it was different.
Blossom knew her coffee order and always had a table ready in the quiet corner.
The woman at the grocer’s asked how her songwriting was going.
The kids at school waved when they saw her walking past. And yesterday, when she'd gone to grab milk from the village shop, three different people had stopped to chat.
Not about her music, not about Alissa, just normal village gossip about whose garden was looking nice and whether the weather would hold for the fundraiser.
It was unsettling. And oddly… nice.
"Raven!" Annabelle appeared at her elbow, slightly out of breath. "Oh good, you're here. Could you possibly help Arty with the microphones? He's getting frustrated with the feedback and I think he might throw something expensive."
"On it." Raven handed the remaining bunting to Daisy and headed toward the stage.
Arty looked up as she approached, his expression caught somewhere between relief and murder.
"This bloody system," he muttered. "I've checked every connection twice and it's still…"
"Let me see." Raven climbed up beside him and examined the setup. "You've got the gain too high on channel three. And this cable's dodgy." She swapped it out for a spare, adjusted the levels, and flicked the switch. The feedback disappeared.
"Christ." Arty stared at her. "How did you…?"
"Years of touring with shit equipment in shit venues," Raven said. "You learn fast or you go deaf."
He laughed. "Fair enough. Thanks."
They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, testing each microphone and speaker in turn. Finally, satisfied that everything was working, Arty sat back on his heels and looked at her.
"You doing alright?" he asked.
Raven glanced at him. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because you've got that look."
"What look?"
"The one that says you're thinking too hard about something." He adjusted a cable unnecessarily, not quite meeting her eyes. "Nervous about tonight?"
"No." She paused. "Well, not about performing."
"About Annabelle, then."
It wasn't a question.
Raven sighed and sat down properly, letting her legs dangle off the edge of the stage. "Yeah."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not particularly."
"Going to anyway?"
She gave him a look, but there was no heat in it. Arty had become something like a friend over the past few weeks, someone who saw through her bullshit but didn't call her on it unless absolutely necessary.
"I have to leave," she said finally. "Soon. Maybe next week."
"Because of the media?"
"Partly. But also…" She gestured vaguely. "I came here to write. And I'm finally doing that again. Which means I need to actually do something with it. Record. Tour. All the things that come with being a solo artist instead of hiding in a cottage in the middle of nowhere."
"Is that what you want?"
"I don't know." The admission felt dangerous. "I thought I did. But now… I mean, yes, I do, of course I do. I love what I do. But…"
She trailed off, watching Annabelle across the hall as she helped a group of children into their costumes for the opening number.
One of them, a tiny girl with pigtails, was crying because her fairy wings were crooked.
Annabelle kneeled down, fixed the wings with gentle hands, and said something that made the girl giggle.
"She makes it look easy," Raven said quietly. "Caring about people. Being kind. I've never been good at that."
"I don't know," Arty said. "You're here, aren't you? Helping. Teaching Jamie. Dealing with Gloria's dramatics without murdering anyone."
"That's different."
"Is it?"
Raven didn't answer.
"Look," Arty said, "I'm not going to tell you what to do.
But you don't have to have everything figured out right this second.
You just have to choose what you want. And maybe…
" He stood, brushing dust off his jeans.
"Maybe it's not as binary as stay or go.
People do long distance relationships, you know.
Trains exist. Phones exist. It's not the bloody Victorian era. "
"Yeah," Raven said. "Maybe."
But even as she said it, she wasn't sure she believed it.
Long distance meant promises. Meant letting someone down when the tour ran late or the recording sessions dragged on or the exhaustion caught up with her. Meant asking Annabelle to wait while Raven disappeared back into the chaos of her real life.
And Annabelle deserved better than that.
Didn't she?
"Right," Arty said, clearly deciding the conversation was over. "I'm going to make sure the lighting rig doesn't fall on anyone's head. You good here?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
He squeezed her shoulder once, briefly, and walked off.
Raven sat there for another moment, watching the organized chaos swirl around her. Then she stood, shook herself, and went to see what else needed doing.
BY SEVEN O’CLOCK, the hall was packed.
Every seat was filled, with people standing along the back wall and sitting cross-legged in the aisles.
The raffle table was doing brisk business, and the cake table had nearly sold out.
The fairy lights twinkled overhead, and someone had hung paper stars from the ceiling that spun slowly in the warm air.
It looked, Raven had to admit, bloody magical.
She stood backstage with the other volunteers, watching through a gap in the curtain as Lily took the microphone.
"Good evening, everyone," Lily said, her voice calm and authoritative. "Thank you all so much for coming tonight. As you know, we're here to raise funds to keep our school library open, a space that means so much to our children and our community."
Applause rippled through the crowd.
"We have a wonderful evening planned," Lily continued.
"Performances from our talented students, a raffle with some truly amazing prizes, and a very special musical guest who's been kind enough to donate her time.
" She smiled. "But first, let's give our Year Two class a round of applause as they present their interpretation of The Very Hungry Caterpillar! "
The children tumbled onto the stage in their homemade costumes, construction paper wings, painted cardboard fruit, one very enthusiastic caterpillar made from what looked like green pool noodles taped together.
They were chaotic and adorable and slightly off-key, and the audience loved every second.
Raven found herself grinning despite the nerves coiling in her stomach.
The evening progressed smoothly. Year Four did a surprisingly decent rendition of a scene from Matilda. The raffle was drawn to much excitement. Gloria performed a dramatic monologue that went on approximately seven minutes too long but was met with polite applause.
And through it all, Annabelle darted around like a hummingbird, making sure everything ran on time, soothing nervous children, thanking volunteers. She caught Raven's eye once from across the room and smiled, tired but genuine, and something in Raven's chest went warm.
This was good. This was working.
Maybe everything really would be fine.
They were about to reach the half-way point when the lights went out.
For a split second, there was silence. Then chaos.
Children screamed. Parents called out, trying to find their kids in the darkness. Someone knocked over a chair. Gloria's voice rose above the din, shrieking something about health and safety.
"Everyone stay calm!" That was Lily, trying to project authority. "Don't move, just stay where you are until we figure out what's happened."
But panic was already spreading. Raven could hear it in the rising pitch of voices, the shuffle of movement as people tried to navigate in the pitch black.
She fumbled for her phone and turned on the torch, the small beam of light cutting through the darkness. Around her, others were doing the same, dozens of tiny lights flickering like fireflies.
"The fuse box," Arty was saying somewhere nearby. "Must've blown. I'll check…"
But Raven wasn't listening.
Because in the faint glow of phone lights, she could see Annabelle.
She was standing center stage, frozen, her face pale in the dim illumination. Her clipboard hung loosely in one hand. And her expression…
Raven had seen Annabelle tired. Overwhelmed. Stretched thin. But she'd never seen her look like this.
Defeated.
Shattered.
Like she was watching everything she'd worked for crumble to dust.
"Annabelle," Lily was saying, moving toward her. "It's okay. We'll fix this. We'll…"
But Annabelle just shook her head, silent.
And Raven understood.
This wasn't about the power. This was about everything. Weeks of planning, of organizing, of trying so damn hard to save the library and make everyone happy and fix everything that needed fixing. This was about Annabelle finally, finally reaching the end of what she could do.
She couldn't fix this.
And she didn't know how to exist in a world where she couldn't make things okay.
Around them, the chaos continued. Children crying. Parents demanding answers. Gloria still shrieking. The careful order of the evening dissolving into confusion and noise.
Raven's hand tightened around her phone.
Annabelle stood there, alone in the dark, looking like her heart was breaking.
And Raven realized, with absolute clarity, what she had to do.
For once, this wasn't something Annabelle could fix.
So Raven was going to have to fix it for her.