There were sheep in the field, looking fluffy and weirdly clean for animals that slept outside.Thank God it wasn’t cows.Zig had seen cows close up on a school trip to a farm once, and they were big bastards.One of his mates had told him they trampled people to death given half a chance.Which, fair dues, ifhe’dbeen kept in a field and had half his family slaughtered for meat, Zig would probably want to kill a few people too.
The sheep didn’t look like they cared much, though, cos they kept chomping down grass as he carried on up the path.All except one bugger that stood and watched him all the way to the next gate, like it reckoned he had a butcher’s knife stashed in his jeans.
Zig shuddered as a familiar image flashed through his head: the old bloke from that last job.Chill, mate.No knives on me.Ever.
On the other side of the next gate was a tree, its branches bare except that the lower ones were strung with ribbons.Was that for Christmas?Zig trod closer, careful not to get his Converse covered in mud.The ribbons were all colours of the rainbow, some of them faded and well tattered, like they’d been up for months.So, not for Christmas.What then?
There weren’t any handy notice boards to tell him, so he shrugged and carried on up the path.It’d got even steeper, with steps cut into it.He was on the tor proper now, and he’d have said the end was in sight except the tower had disappeared somehow, so there was probably a fair way to climb yet.
Zig rounded a corner and stopped for a breather at a rough wooden bench.The wind had picked up with a vengeance, and his hair whipped into his face with stinging force.The air smelt damp and earthy, no trace here of the sweet incense that suffused the town.
He could literally see for miles.The red roofs of Glastonbury lay below him, huddling together as though they were as cold as he was.Then there were green fields, big as the town itself, with other towns visible beyond.It was like looking at Google Earth.It felt weird, knowing that the bloke with the wands and the girl with the cloak were down there somewhere.Si, too, doing his locksmithing.Fixing people’s stuff, or driving around between jobs, or whatever.
He took a last look at the view, his eyes starting to water from the wind, and hurried on up the path.The tower had come back into sight, and with it, a few other idiots who’d come up the tor on such a bollock-freezing day.Course, they had big coats and hats and scarves on.Lucky bastards.
Zig sped up his pace, and the exertion made him at least a little warmer by the time he reached the tower.It was a lonely thing—old as fuck, around three or four storeys high—and he could see right through the arched doorways in front and back.He guessed there had been a church or something it’d been attached to, back in the mists of time, but no trace of that remained.People in the Middle Ages or whatever must have been really desperate for building materials to trek up here and carry the stones all the way down.Zig stepped through the doorway, trailing his fingers along the rough surface of the arch, feeling the rasp against his skin.
Inside the tower, a bearded guy in a woollen hat with a long, trailing pom-pom leant against the wall, a guitar in his hands.A young woman, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of a bright, shapeless orange coat, stood beside him as he struck up a few chords.Zig halted.Was he intruding?
The man glanced over at him and smiled.“Hope we’re not disturbing you.”
Zig blinked.“Nah, carry on, mate.Although I gotta say, you ain’t gonna earn much busking up here.”
Both of them laughed.“We’re not here for money.It’s about connecting with the energies of the tor.”
Was this guy some kind of time traveller from the 1960s?
Saving Zig from having to find a reply, the guitarist launched into a tune.It sounded folksy—the sort of thing that would have got him laughed out of the pubs Zig knew in London.If the hat hadn’t done that already.Up here, though, there was nothing ridiculous about it.It sounded fitting, somehow.The woman began to sing along, her voice high and lilting, with lyrics Zig couldn’t quite understand.Something about a woman and her son, maybe, and...shapeshifters?It felt like the retelling of a tale all the listeners were supposed to know already, only Zig didn’t.
Maybe there were books on that kind of thing in town?
When the song finished, Zig wasn’t sure if he was supposed to applaud or not.Before he could make up his mind, a couple of people strode up to the couple and clapped them on the back.The newcomers were bundled up in scruffy padded jackets and hand-knitted hats.Zig hadn’t noticed them come into the tower.
“Classic, mate,” one of them said in an accent more like Zig’s than anything local.
The guitarist grinned in response.“Good to see you.How’s it going?Will you be coming up here for the solstice celebrations?”
“Course.Not gonna miss a chance to get me bodhrán out, now am I?”
Zig didn’t like to speculate what the bloke’s...boughron?...might be, or why he was so keen to whip it out on the top of the tor.He turned to go but felt a hand on his arm.
It was the singer.Close up, he could see she was older than he’d first thought, with fine lines around her mouth and eyes.“You should come too, if you’re around.Lots of music.It’s a great celebration of life and the cycles of nature.”
“Uh, thanks?”
“We’ll be up here to greet the rising sun.There’s a real sense of community.”
“Maybe I’ll give it a go.”Zig’s tone was uncertain, but she still gave him a blinding smile before turning back to her friends.
He wasn’t sure why she’d singled him out, as there were others around who’d presumably stood listening to the song.Still, solstice celebrations sounded cool, despite having to get up before sunrise.Better than Christmas, which was only about shops getting people to spend money they couldn’t afford.And solstice was earlier than Christmas, right?He had a vague memory of reading something about it somewhere, and got out his phone to check with numbed fingers.Right.Twenty-first December.Much better date, if you asked him.
Maybe he’d see if Si was free that day and fancied a pre-dawn trek up the tor.If not, he could always come on his own.Or with Kai, if they were interested.Feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves, Zig stood for a moment outside the tor, taking in the view, and then started out on the path back down.
Zig hadn’t noticed it on the way up the tor—he’d had his back to it—but someone had stuck large, hand-drawn letters on the fence of the sheep field readingGO WITH LOVE.Like, not even advertising something.Simply wishing love to random strangers.Zig’s stomach felt funny, looking at it.
He shook his head.Get a grip.It was probably hunger making him feel weird.It had to be lunchtime by now.
As if to prove it,Kai was eating their sandwich when he got down to the gate, and gave Zig a wave.Zig strolled over to them.“Not bad up there, innit?Got free entertainment and everything.”
