Chapter 29
I’m tearing through my belongings to search for something fresh to wear when Hennie steps in to get my opinion on her outfit.
My go-to method of approving her look is mostly acting like I’ve been utterly overwhelmed by her beauty and pretending to faint.
Today she’s sporting lime-green shimmery flared trousers and a baggy cropped shirt, with her enormous Doc Martens.
She steps out, pleased with my reaction, and I realise I don’t have much time to get dressed. I sit in my bra deciphering whether to wear a plain white cropped t-shirt or the same top that I wore yesterday. Unfortunately all of my clothes are starting to feel, for lack of a better term, rotten.
Going with the plain white tee, I shove the other option back in my bag when my tent is zipped open again.
Assuming it’s Hennie returning, my head whips round as Elliot’s head pops into view through the door.
Our gazes meet before his eyes frantically run over my state of undress and he quickly slams them shut with a throaty groan of ‘fuck.’ I feel my body prickle with heat as he quickly stands and flings the door closed.
His ragged voice pierces through the tent. ‘Nora, I’m so sorry, I’m an idiot. I just assumed you’d be dressed, I’m sorry!’
Hennie’s voice cuts over him, icy and biting. ‘What are you doing? We don’t need you perving around here.’
I look down at myself to double check what he just saw and make a note to mentally thank any and all the gods that I had put on my least comfortable but arguably most appealing white bra with blue lacy flowers today, due to the fact that my everyday bralette simply needs to go in a washing machine.
Feeling my cheeks burn scarlet, I note with a fresh dose of mortification that my nipples are absolutely visible through it. I repress a scream.
Why the fuck did I buy this?
I cover my face with my hands and let myself drop head first onto my sleeping bag. How will I ever summon the courage to leave this tent again?
Hennie is still berating Elliot outside, and I oddly can’t help but feel for him. She can be scary.
‘Hey, it’s fine!’ I call out, my voice tight. ‘Just give me a minute.’
‘Do you want me to kill him so he can learn some manners?’ Hennie shouts.
I bite back a laugh and reply, ‘No, he may live,’ just as Owen responds with a, ‘Yeah!’
‘You should sue him, Nora,’ Josh joins in.
Oh, good! Everyone is here to witness my humiliation.
I tug on the rest of my outfit and grab my backpack, heading outside to face them.
The second my head is outside, Elliot is already in front of me with an agonised expression.
His hair is sticking up so wildly that I can only assume he’s run his hands through it approximately eighty times in the last minute.
Or he’s finally run out of hair gel. Good.
‘I’m so, so sorry. I left my belt in there,’ he says quietly. ‘I should have checked, I swear it won’t happen again.’ He seems so earnest and horrified that I soften.
‘It’s okay,’ I say brightly, trying to meet his eyes and failing. ‘Just erase the imagery from your brain and everyone will be well.’
He falters for a second, and I just catch a glimpse of his reddening cheeks as he quickly ducks inside my tent to retrieve his belt. Hennie’s eyes are scalding when he emerges.
‘I’ve got my eye on you,’ she warns.
‘He’s fine,’ I murmur, casting her a reassuring smile.
‘Well, as much as I’d like to photograph Elliot’s very red face… maybe we should head out,’ Owen says.
Josh nods with eagerness, his halo of sandy hair even more messy than usual today. He’s wearing the same t-shirt as when we met him two days ago, but it’s now ten times more creased. ‘So, what’s the plan? Where’s the next clue at?’
Elliot and I exchange a quick glance. ‘We hit a dead end and were actually planning to ask you,’ he says. ‘So, if you were to see a scribbled drawing of a lobster and a clock pointing to five o’clock, would that mean anything to you?’
The group is silent.
‘Is that a serious question?’ Hennie prompts.
‘It is,’ I confirm. ‘We’ve got nothing but lobster. And five o’clock.’
‘Right,’ Hennie replies, looking crestfallen. ‘I’m afraid my lobster intel is minimal.’
‘Me too, I’ve got nothing,’ Josh says.
Owen’s eyes sweep across the group. ‘It’s not much, but you know Tantrum has that song? What’s it called, Ham? Something about a crustacean?’
‘Oh, yeah! “Big Crustacean”. An immortal banger.’
‘Sounds like a hit,’ Hen mutters.
‘They’re playing on the Kiss Stage today,’ Owen offers.
‘It’s something!’ I reply, grateful for the morsel of hope. At this point, I’ll take anything.
‘Our lead is “Big Crustacean”?’ Hennie asks with a grimace.
Elliot crosses his arms. ‘Looks like it’s all we have. Apart from a food truck that sells crab,’ he adds, throwing a teasing look my way.
‘No,’ I insist, suppressing the urge to give him playful nudge. Stop touching him!
‘Are they playing at five?’ I ask Owen.
He pulls out his phone to check the app and eventually shakes his head.
‘Nope, they’re on at six. Sorry, sweet,’ Owen said, shooting me a gentle smile which I can’t help but return. I can’t help but envy his ability to radiate positivity with such ease.
‘So, we just wait until six to see Tantrum?’ Elliot asks.
‘I guess we do,’ I say. ‘Unless anyone has any other ideas.’
‘Lovely, I was keen to see them anyway,’ Josh declares, accompanied by a beaming grin.
‘And until then?’ Elliot asks.
Josh loops an arm around his shoulder. ‘We enjoy the festivities that Crest Fest has to offer, my fine feathered friend.’
‘I’m sure there’s a lot we still haven’t seen,’ Hennie muses.
‘There’s always stuff you haven’t seen at Firecrest; it’s impossible to do it all. Part of the reason you keep coming back.’
The idea of waiting until six isn’t hugely appealing but we’ve run out of options.
No one has any other ideas; we are officially stuck.
In the meantime, if someone does overtake us and wins the tickets, I’ll have no choice but to admit defeat.
As much as I wish I could have them for myself, the only other option is aimlessly wandering around the festival, wasting the others’ time and almost certainly coming up with nothing.
I look around my small circle and feel a pang of gratitude. I would rather spend my last day here with them, anyway.
We make a loose plan to wander around the festival and pursue anything that takes our fancy, whether it’s an area, stage or musician (provided it isn’t on the Firecrest stage, in which case I will pursue a different dream).
The drumstick remains unmentioned and stored safely in my backpack, but its very existence is what keeps Elliot and I tethered. And by extension, this whole group tethered. Saying that, it looks like Hennie has become very fast friends with Josh and Owen. But she always was the friendlier one.
Even with the drumstick stowed away, I stay close to Elliot’s side as we begin to weave through the slow-moving morning crowd.
I hadn’t realised that I’d grown so accustomed to the feeling of him next to me; walking with him genuinely feels like second nature.
He falls back into familiar habits like placing a hand on my shoulder or back to help me move through denser areas.
I’m trying my best to not think about the way Elliot’s eyes ran over the state of me this morning. As well as Hennie’s theory. And any unwelcome feelings that I might now have for him.
I’m starting to feel mentally fatigued from it all. But I address him anyway, determined to start the day with a regular conversation.
‘Good sleep?’
‘Uh, yeah – fine,’ he says, his voice a little short.
I persist through the awkwardness. ‘Did you get a shower or was the queue too hideous?’
‘I’ll answer your question with a question. Do I smell like lake anymore?’ he asks.
He most definitely never did but I decide to humour him none-the-less. ‘Yes, you reek. Get away,’ I flutter a hand at him, and he chuckles in response.
‘Oh, fuck you, Tim!’ Josh erupts from behind us, scowling at his phone screen.
‘Fuck you, Tim,’ Owen echoes bitterly.
‘They’re not fixing your shower?’ Elliot asks.
‘They’re not fixing fucking anything. There are probably rats in my mattress and Tim and Brenda are too busy sunning themselves in the Canaries to give a single fuck.’
‘Your landlords, I’m guessing?’ Hen asks.
‘Correct,’ Owen says.
‘It would take a house fire for them to get off their backsides and do anything. Maybe not even then,’ Josh complains.
I turn to him and shoot him a loyal nod. ‘Fuck Tim!’
Hennie skips next to me. ‘And fuck Brenda!’
A chorus of fond fuck Tim and fuck Brendas follow from the boys as we continue on the path, drawing a couple of curious looks.
‘I still don’t understand why you can’t just sue them for us,’ Josh says to Elliot.
‘Not what my job is,’ Elliot replies in a tone that gives me the impression he has said this many times.
‘We’re probably going to die in there, Elliot,’ Josh moans. ‘And you call yourself my friend.’
Elliot just casts him a dull look.
‘I’ll have to move back in with Cassie,’ Josh adds desperately. ‘And then she’ll murder me.’
I briefly wonder if ‘Cassie’ might be a girlfriend, and he must see the question written on my face.
‘My sister,’ he explains. ‘She has a dating column, so she obviously dates a lot. It’s petrifying. Random men appear in her bathroom and it gives me the fright of my life every time; I can’t keep going there. I can’t make conversation with them anymore. I’ll die.’
‘If you don’t want to live with her, I will. Cassie’s awesome,’ Owen remarks.
‘Yes, yes.’ Josh rolls his eyes. ‘My entire family is immensely lovable. I know.’
‘Are you from a big family?’ I ask him, because I get the feeling he is.
‘Yep,’ he says proudly. ‘Cassie is my big sis and we have two younger sisters as well, who are twins. Surrounded by women my whole life. I’m a ladies man for a reason.’