There were stalls all along the high street selling seasonal decorations with a pagan flair.People had dressed up for the event too: there was a higher-than-usual proportion of cloaks, weird headgear, and face paint.
Zig frowned.“Think we’re a bit underdressed.”In both senses of the word—as per usual, he was shivering in his black jeans and leather jacket.Still, it gave him an excuse to keep Si’s warm, solid form close.
He had a feeling Si might be planning to buy him a winter coat for Christmas.Zig hoped not.He’d probably be hurt if Zig kept accidentally leaving it at home so he’d have a reason to snuggle.
“These things are come-as-you-want,” Si said.“Not that you wouldn’t look good dressed up, mind.”
“Reckon I’d suit a cloak?”Zig asked, seeing a particularly swish one in green wool swoop on by.
Si laughed.“You can make anything look good.If I put on a cloak, I’d look like Father bloody Christmas.”
“No way.Santa’s much cooler little brother, maybe.”Zig grinned wickedly.“If I’m good, will you let me sit on your lap tonight and whisper what I want in your ear?”
The few square inches of Si’s face that were bare of beard turned a seasonal red.“Maybe,” he muttered.“But not if beinggoodmeans you keep on getting me hot and bothered while we’re out in public.”
He walked on briskly.Zig followed, laughing.
There were fire jugglers performing outside St.John’s Church, and further on, a band playing folk music.Zig watched them for a mo.Then, with a start, recognised the musicians he’d seen up the tor.Instead of a pom-pom hat, the bearded guitarist was wearing a sort of crown made of holly, with antlers sticking up from it.And the woman in the shapeless orange coat was transformed: in a flowing, form-fitting dress topped with a woollen cloak and a crown of ivy leaves and flowers, she looked like a medieval dryad.Next to them, a man in rough clothes of earthen colours used a short, double-ended stick to beat on what looked like a large tambourine without any bells.
Zig nudged Si.“Is that a bodhrán?”
“Yeah, that’s right.How’d you know that?”
“Saw them up on the tor.Hey, we should definitely go up there for the sunrise on solstice day.They’re gonna be there for the celebrations.”
Si smiled fondly.“On the twenty-first?Yeah, we can do that.Anything you want.”
Zig’s heart sang in time to the music as they ambled through the crowd.
As they reached Market Place, Zig tensed.A couple of uniformed coppers were standing on the corner—the first Zig had seen in Glastonbury.He told himself furiously that they didn’t know who he was, or what he’d done, and it was all in the past anyway.They wouldn’t take a blind bit of notice of him walking down the street with his boyfriend.
Then the bloke glanced their way and recognition showed in his face.Zig froze, but Si was striding forward with a grin.
“All right, mate?Haven’t seen you in a while.”He clapped the man on the shoulder.
“Been working county lines the last few months.How are you doing?Broken into any good houses lately?”The copper laughed.
Si laughed too.
Zig looked from one to the other, trying not to show his nerves.At least the young woman officer seemed as baffled as he was.
“Rob, this is Zig,” Si was saying.“He’s from London.”
“Good to meet you.”The copper held out a black-gloved hand.
Zig shook it disbelievingly.“A copper called Rob?That’s like calling a cat ‘Mouse.’”
Rob groaned.“And I’ve never heard that one before.Hope you’ve been keeping our lad here on the straight and narrow.”
“Uh...”It was painfully obvious the bloke didn’t know the first thing about Zig.
“Rob here nearly arrested me,” Si said with a grin.“Caught me bang to rights, breaking into a semidetached in broad daylight.And that, by the way, is why all my work shirts haveLOCKSMITHon the back of ’em in large, friendly letters.”
Rob nudged his colleague.“Thing is, he was wearing one at the time.And the neighbourstillcalled us in.”
“Well, like she said,” Si added, and they chorused together, “‘Anyone can buy a T-shirt!’”
They all cracked up, even Zig, although it felt a bit surreal.He’d learned from an early age that the filth were the enemy.It didn’t sit right, sharing a joke with them.Better get used to it, he told himself.
