Jon’s eyes were fixed on a space on the table between them. He was running his finger absentmindedly over a spot Alfie had drawn on with felt-tip pen. Anna hadn’t managed to get it quite clean afterwards.
He looked up a fraction, but not far enough to meet Anna’s eyes. ‘I don’t know, Anna. This work thing has really knocked me for six. And it seemed like you were so consumed in the business, pouring all your energy and money into it, going away … I didn’t feel I could talk to you about what was going on.’
Anna took a deep breath. ‘Please don’t try and make this my fault. So, what, Mia … she had more time for you?’
‘She knows me,’ Jon said. ‘We’ve been through so much together, Anna. With the marriage, with Alfie. She felt like a safe harbour when I needed one.’
‘Look, I understand you needing to talk to someone,’ Anna said, her hurt and anger proving difficult to repress, ‘and I’m sorry you felt I wasn’t there for you. But Jon – did that mean you had to sleep with her?’
Jon looked away. ‘I know it was wrong, Anna. And I’m sorry.’
‘It certainly was wrong,’ Anna said, hot tears starting to gather at the corners of her eyes. ‘I
trusted
you, Jon. I’ve always trusted you, every time you’ve gone around to drop Alfie off, each time you’ve talked to her on the phone. That time we had to come back from the hotel because Alfie was ill – only, now I remember, he wasn’t … by the time you got there he was miraculously cured. Was there always something going on? Was any of it, you and me, ever real?’
Anna thought of Alfie, remembered when she’d held his hand playing crazy golf down by Brighton Pier the previous weekend. Would that be the last time? The last time she’d hear his warm laugh, once a tiny baby’s chuckle? She looked at Jon and thought of the future she’d dreamed of with him. Had it all been fiction?
‘Of course it was real,’ he said, sounding hurt. ‘And it
is
,’ he insisted. ‘Anna, I made a stupid mistake.’
She raised an eyebrow at his wording.
‘OK, mistakes, plural. But I’ve learned my lesson, Anna. I got confused about what I wanted, but now I know better than ever what matters to me. I’ve told Mia that what happened won’t be happening again. You’re the one I love – and I think part of why I did what I did was actually because I missed you. I know that sounds crazy, but I felt I was losing you to something that you cared about more than me. But you’re all I want.’
‘I love you, Anna,’ Jon said, looking her in the eyes now. ‘I knew all along that I loved you. Maybe it was too much for me to accept that I really deserved this good thing that we
have. I think I tried to destroy it. And Mia was the easiest way to do that. I’m an idiot, Anna. But I know now that what I did was wrong. Let me make things right again.’
He reached out a hand and covered hers. As angry as she still was, she let it rest there for a while.
Imogen shut the ice cream van at nine on Saturday night, and headed over to the Pyramid stage to catch the headline act. Pulling her cardigan around her, she looked out across the crowd: teenagers in cowboy hats, a Welsh flag flying high, the lights around the stage glaring brightly. She got her camera out of her bag, fixed on the lens, and, dancing along to the music, started to take photos. In the warm summer’s night she let the crowd, and the rhythm, carry her along.
‘What do you think of these guys?’ the girl next to her shouted over, above the sound of the music.
‘Amazing,’ Imogen replied with a smile. She let the music wash over her and enjoyed the feeling of being part of the crowd. Here she was, on her own, in the middle of a field – and she felt complete.
There was nothing around her but nature and people. The night was lit up by stars and the little lights of dance tents in the distance. She thought back to March, when she’d got the call from Anna. Back then she’d never anticipated staying in the UK as long as she had already. Even when she committed
to help start up the shop, she’d been sure she would use the return leg of her ticket and go back to Thailand within a few months. But at some point, she had mentally closed the door on going back to Asia. Why? So what if it hadn’t worked out with Luca. He wasn’t the reason she went out to the island in the first place, and he certainly wasn’t a reason for her to abandon her dreams. For all she knew, he and Santiana might have moved on by now anyway.
The island had made her feel alive and young, in a way that working in the shop never would. Yes, the van gave her a get-out, but if she stayed in Brighton the majority of her days would soon be routine, managing the business. She’d studied photography for three long years, and for what? To give up without even trying to make a go of it?
Bass throbbed through her body and she moved with it. She was pretty sure she wasn’t done with travel, and adventure. Not at all.
She kept dancing until 2 a.m., and then walked slowly back to the van through the stone circle, still buzzing with the excitement of the bands she’d seen.
‘Imogen!’
She turned at the sound of her name.
There, standing by the entrance to the wigwam camp, was Finn.
‘Imogen,’ he called out again, a smile brightening his eyes as he beckoned her over.
She made her way towards the field entrance.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked kindly.
‘I was about to ask you the same thing,’ she replied, smiling in surprise.
A fire was burning dimly beside him and he was surrounded by spacious tents. The whole scene looked much more inviting than the prospect of going back to hers to sleep in the van or her damp tent.
‘I’m helping a friend out with his stall,’ he said first. ‘And you – did you bring the van here?’
‘Yes,’ Imogen said proudly.
‘It made it all the way?’ he said, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.
‘Yes – and hardly complained at all,’ she laughed.
‘I’m pleased my botch-job held out. Couldn’t have coped with the guilt if you’d broken down before you were past Stonehenge.’
Imogen smiled, and then silence fell between them for a moment. In the distance, there were the sounds of people sitting around campfires talking, scrambling to find the zips on their tents and laughing, but in their tiny patch of field there was no sound at all.
‘And your friends?’ Imogen said finally.
‘Passed out now,’ Finn said. ‘I was just putting out the fire, and then I’m going to head inside myself.’
‘They look comfy, those wigwams,’ Imogen said. ‘Can I look inside?’
‘Go ahead,’ he said, lifting the white canvas flap of the one nearest them.
Imogen wolf-whistled as she spotted the fairy-lit interior
and camp beds. ‘Check you out, glamping all the way. Beats freezing your butt off in an ice cream van, I’d imagine.’
‘Yes, maybe. Andy was the one who organised it and I’m sharing this with him. Said he’s too much of an old man to deal with tents any more. We’ve even got proper toilets,’ he said, pointing over at a posh-looking mobile block of WCs.
‘And Andy’s where?’ Imogen said. ‘I thought you said everyone had gone to sleep?’
‘In the end he found a better offer,’ Finn laughed. ‘Met a nice girl this evening, and it turns out he didn’t mind roughing it for just one night after all.’
‘Lucky Andy.’ Imogen laughed.
‘I completely understand if you’re not interested,’ Finn said, pausing. ‘But Andy’s romantic success does mean that bed’s free. If you really would be freezing in the van. There’s a spare duvet and pillows you could use – and I’d be miles away on the other side of the tent, so you probably wouldn’t even have to put up with my snoring … ’
Imogen mulled it over. It was a crazy idea, really, she barely knew Finn. But then again – it did look comfortable in there.
‘OK,’ she said, lighting up at the thought of a good night’s sleep and a proper toilet to go to. She stepped inside the wigwam, and felt instantly warmer. ‘I’d like to take you up on that.’
‘Cocoa?’ Finn said, getting out a camping stove after he’d put out the dying embers of the fire. ‘Not very rock ’n’ roll, I know.’
‘I’d love some,’ Imogen said, getting settled on the bed. ‘How’ve you been enjoying the festival so far?’
‘It’s been great,’ Finn said. ‘Haven’t seen most of these guys for ages, and so it’s been brilliant to catch up over a few beers, see some good music. It’s funny, there was a time when we’d spend all our time together, but then – well, things change a bit, don’t they? Work, or people getting married.’
‘Yes,’ Imogen said. ‘I know what you mean. People settle down and forget to do anything interesting.’
‘That’s isn’t quite what I meant,’ Finn said, laughing.
‘Sorry,’ Imogen said. ‘I might be projecting a bit. I just remembered tonight, how important it is to keep doing the things that make you feel alive.’
‘And what is that, for you?’ Finn asked, curious.
‘This,’ Imogen said, patting the camera in her bag. ‘Taking photos.’
‘Have you taken many here?’
‘I’ve been working at the van a lot, but I did get to see some bands tonight,’ she said, taking the camera out. She flicked through the other photos on her memory card until she got to the most recent set. ‘Would you like to see?’
‘Sure,’ he said, moving over to sit next to her.
‘This one, well, the light show didn’t quite come out how I expected, but I actually really like the effect,’ she said. Finn nodded his agreement. ‘And then I got a nice close-up of this group of teenagers in the crowd.’
‘I like it,’ Finn said. ‘You can tell they’re going to be living off memories of that night for a long time, can’t you?’
‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘That was what I was trying to capture. And then there was … Oh, it’s skipped. This is just some stuff from Thailand.’
‘Hang on, don’t flick over them, go back,’ Finn said, steadying her hand. ‘Those look amazing. Are they underwater shots?’
‘Yes,’ Imogen said, feeling suddenly shy. ‘Those are from my other camera. Underwater photography is what I do. What I
did
.’
‘They’re stunning,’ he said, taking the camera she offered him and looking through the pictures slowly. ‘You should do something with these. Exhibit them, sell them … ’
‘Thanks. That’s the plan,’ Imogen said. ‘Although life has sort of got in the way lately.’
‘It can be a pain like that,’ Finn said with a smile.
Sipping at her hot chocolate as Finn continued to look at her photos, Imogen starting to get sleepy.
‘Thanks for showing them to me,’ he said, passing her camera back. ‘Brighton must seem pretty tame by comparison.’
‘There are things I miss, yes. Although getting out here for a break has been great.’
‘Talking of which, tomorrow, White Stripes or Arcade Fire?’ Finn said. ‘Which are you going to?’
‘Arcade Fire,’ Imogen said, ‘no doubt.’
‘What a waste,’ Finn said.
‘You really think so?’ Imogen said with a smile.
‘I could tell you, at length, my reasons,’ he said. ‘But you
look really tired, and it bums me out when my audience falls asleep.’
‘You’re right,’ Imogen said, cosying up underneath the thick duvet, ‘Let’s save that one for another time.’ She was grateful to be under a proper blanket on the cold night.
‘Do you want a T-shirt or anything to sleep in?’
‘I’m OK,’ she said, kicking off her shoes and bringing her legs up into the bed.
‘Do you think, when you’ve finished at work tomorrow, we could check out some of the festival together?’
Imogen thought sleepily of the money she’d made that first day, stashed away in a plastic bag in the bottom of one of the fridges. The wad of notes she’d got in one day was as much as she’d expect to make over the whole weekend.
She smiled up at Finn drowsily. ‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t have some fun.’
‘Great,’ Finn said.
Imogen’s eyelids grew heavier, and the last thing she noticed before they closed was the fairy lights in the tent still twinkling around her. And Finn’s voice, saying ‘Sweet dreams.’
‘Where did that smile come from?’ Anna asked Imogen the following Saturday. Imogen was sitting up at the counter, browsing through a magazine.
‘Nowhere,’ Imogen said. ‘Am I not allowed to be in a good mood these days?’
‘It’s been a while since I saw it, that’s all, and you’ve been glowing all week,’ Anna said, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the machine. ‘Did something happen at the festival?’ she asked. ‘I mean, I know you said you sold out of our ices, but surely even that can’t be the reason you’re grinning from ear to ear?’
‘It was good to have a change of scene,’ Imogen said. ‘Re-energising.’
‘OK,’ Anna said. A weekend’s camping certainly seemed to have done something to Imogen. The sun had lightened the streaks of gold in her hair, but it was her positivity that was the most obvious change.
‘Oh, and I have some good news to tell you,’ Imogen said brightly.
‘Fire away,’ Anna said. ‘I could do with some of that.’
‘Have you ever heard of Sarah Cavelli? Or Canelli?’
‘Canelli,’ Anna said. ‘Of course I have – everyone knows her. She’s on the front cover of
Heat
this week. What about her?’
‘She’s only our biggest fan,’ Imogen smiled. ‘I saw on Twitter this morning she was raving about the Earl Grey sorbet she had at Glastonbury from our “gorgeous vintage van”.’
‘You’re kidding!’ Anna said, her mood lifting.
‘I know. Nice bit of free publicity, eh?’
‘Just what we need,’ Anna agreed.
‘So why do you still look depressed, sis?’ Imogen asked. ‘Or tired, at least. Dark shadows. Late night?’
‘Yes, a late one,’ Anna said, wishing her lack of va-va-voom wasn’t so obvious. ‘Although not as rock ’n’ roll as you. Up till one making three new batches: Pimm’s sorbet, Wimbledon – which is a strawberries and cream ice cream – and a fresh-tasting cucumber sorbet.’
There was nothing like having a train wreck of a romantic life, Anna thought, to make you productive and focused in the kitchen. After her chat with Jon last week, she’d turned to cooking to give her space to think everything over. Jon had looked so pathetic and broken sitting there. Her mind was still in a fog – her trust in Jon, in
them
, had been shattered. None of that could be fixed overnight. But to just walk away, from what they had, from Alfie? She couldn’t bring herself to do it. She had to see if there was something there worth saving.