At the window was a large lumbering monster covered in straw. Staring right at her.
She laughed with relief; it was only Dylan.
But why was he here? On his own? She looked out at him, bemused, and lifted her hand in a tentative wave.
He didn’t respond. Imogen didn’t understand. She went to the door and let herself out but as she came onto the pavement, Dylan had gone.
ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR
Saturday 20 March
‘I can hear the band,’ said Tilly, clutching Rosie, her voice high with nervous excitement.
Rosie pulled her friend’s hands off her. ‘Shush,’ she said. They were watching from the shadows, away from the gathering crowd. Down a small bank, behind some trees. Up at the festival area the cafe was open, spilling light from its windows and selling hot drinks that sent steam into the cold evening air.
Underneath the yew tree, the Spring Queen’s throne was now in place. A grand wicker chair, woven with ivy, daffodils and sweet-smelling daphne. Beside it lay the sword, a willow twig that also had ivy twisted around it, interspersed with pale yellow primroses.
No one had noticed the carrot in the dark.
ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE
Saturday 20 March
Dylan was walking at speed down the road that led to Heron Water. He reached the car park; his costume was cumbersome and he stopped. Looked around. The procession was ahead of him but he wasn’t interested in that.
Christ, the bear thing was impossible to move in. Dylan pulled at the headpiece, then took off the wire frame body.
He dumped it next to a tree in the car park then strode onwards to the reservoir.
ONE HUNDRED AND SIX
Saturday 20 March
Lorna took the bucket from the collector, thanking him. She kept the light in her eyes dampened down – it wouldn’t do to let him see her excitement, for this bucket was the fullest so far and there were plenty of notes sticking out from underneath the coins.
She got into her car that she’d parked a short distance from the cafe. Once the interior light had gone off and it was dark again inside, she held the bucket on her lap, shook it around a bit. Good God, was that afiftyin there? She pulled out the pink-coloured note and stared at it. Someone had been especially generous. Looking back in the bucket, she also picked out some other notes. Then quickly took out the daisy print purse she had tucked at the bottom of her bag and went to put the money inside.
Just as the passenger door opened, flicking the light on.
Lorna gasped in fright.
James got into the car and closed the door. He looked across at her, his eyes suddenly resting on the fistful of notes in her hand.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
‘Just putting some of the money in a safe place,’ said Lorna quickly. She ventured a smile. ‘I like to take out the bigger notes from the buckets, keep them together. I think it’s safer, you know, good practice. Seems less chance of anything going missing.’Not missing, Jesus, that sounded so dodgy. And I’m talking far too much.
Lorna swallowed, tried to calm her racing heart, and changed the subject. ‘I didn’t know you were coming to the festival this year? Mum said you were staying in and watching the rugby.’
James looked around the car, including over to the back seat where the other buckets were stacked. ‘Those all full of money?’
‘Well, not full, exactly but—’
‘And you’re responsible for collecting it all?’
‘Yes.’ Lorna was beginning to get irritated by his interrogatory tone.
‘Is anyone supervising you?’ asked James.
