She laughed, not quite believing how he did it, not quite believing how the last few months had worked out. “You’re something else, Scott Maynard.”
He laughed, kissing her thoroughly. “As long as it’s a good thing that you think that.”
It was. It definitely was.
21
The midsummer festival brought tourists to the town for around three days. Severton had a stone circle that was considered important to certain groups and had always been a place of pilgrimage. The well was another one of those places, and the nearby monastery contained the relics of a saint. Scott had always bemoaned the fact that the monks who lived there – around five or six of them at any one time – didn’t brew beer, as that would’ve been an absolute treat for his business.
August first was a Saturday, and Lamas day. It was the halfway point between the summer and autumn equinox and another excuse for parties and gatherings, not that small towns needed much of an excuse. The field near to the well was full of tents and caravans, a couple of camper vans too, one painted with different characters from books and a few quotes. He wouldn’t be surprised to find the other one painted in a similar way by the end of the festival if the phantom artist got his way.
They’d been to view the house already, and it looked promising. It was big, bigger than what they needed at the moment, but if they had another child or two after Beanie, then more space would be good, and there’d still be room for a spare bedroom and a playroom, with more adult areas. And it was within his budget. His father and uncle were canny business men and had instilled that in their children. Scott wouldn’t need a mortgage for his half, in fact, he didn’t for any of it, but he wasn’t telling Keren that. As a matter of pride she would want to take on her part properly, but maybe in their future he could persuade her that her name would be on the deeds no matter what she contributed financially, because money wasn’t the point.
An area of the field had been set up for the annual ‘battle’, where residents from Severton and Underwood would take sides and mock fight with sticks. It was an old tradition where they were enacting out the struggle for the harvest between two gods, with one god guarding the grain and the other trying to seize it for mankind. Scott had taken part in it many times, but this year had opted not to, and was instead allocated to the first aid tent with Jonny and one or two others from the search and rescue team to give the proper first aiders a hand. There were inevitably injuries, although it had already been decided who would win with a toss of a coin: the side that represented the god helping mankind.
There was a stage erected for music, local bands and singers. Again, he’d played there himself, but this year he wanted to enjoy the festival without being busy, to take the time to see it with Keren. The well had been dressed and people had already been leaving offerings of food there. These would be collected at the end of each day and given to the local food bank in Astley, along with any donations. Any profit from the festival went to that and the homeless charity.
A makeshift wall with a gap in between for hand fasting had been built. The idea was that a couple could have their hands tied – literally tying the knot – and take on a trial marriage that would last a year and a day. At the end of that period they could continue or end the union. Mostly, the unions lasted just for the weekend – he’d seen Jake become hand fasted to a girl from Leeds one year. That had lasted a couple of nights. He hadn’t even taken her phone number. But that was Jake. Scott had wondered whether he would be in touch after finding out about the baby. He had with Keren, but they’d still not spoken, going out of their ways to avoid each other.
It was stupid he knew and he was at the point of contacting Jake, telling him to forget what had happened when they weren’t much more than kids and move on. But he wasn’t sure that Jake didn’t still feel something more for Keren than what qualified as just friends.
Food tents and a huge beer tent had been erected too, along with the usual line of Portaloos that he thankfully didn’t have to use. Local tradespeople were there, including Gran and her coven who were pimping their gin like it was from the well of eternal life itself, which knowing Gran it could be. Just spiked.
“I hated this for a couple of years as a kid.” He spread a blanket on the grass for them to sit on. The weather had been better than what an English summer usually afforded them: in fact, they were on for one of the hottest summers on record.
“Midsummer festival. Why?” Keren sat down and stretched out her long legs. She was wearing shorts that were not helping his focus. Her top was tight and exposed some of her growing bump, a bump he was proud of.
“Because I thought it was boring. Some stupid little town traditions. Now I like it.” Tomorrow there was the annual climb, where people would walk up one of the peaks and leave a stone on the cairn there, or something else, handful of corn or bread or even an item to remember someone who had passed.
“I like the smell of bread.” She lay back and sniffed like a dog scenting dinner. Bread was a key part of the celebrations, the idea of the harvest god being baked into it and then eaten. Morbid, but tasty.
“Do you want me to get you some bread? With salted butter?” He sat up, ready to leap if that was what she wanted.
“With jam? Lots of blackberry jam?” Her mouth looked as if it was about to water.
“I’m on it. Hang on,” he paused. “Sorrell and Zack are here. I’ll see if they want anything.”
He saw his brother and his girlfriend walking across the field, Zack’s arm flung across Sorrell’s shoulders. He liked seeing his brothers happy, just like he’d enjoyed seeing his dad the happiest he’d been in a long time. It wasn’t common knowledge yet that Iain’s partner was another man, but Alex and Zack now knew. They’d been a little stunned, to say the least, but none of them were entirely surprised. None of them were asking for details either, but they wouldn’t have been asking if his new partner had been female. Not something they needed to know. Ever.
“Is Alex off duty today?” Keren looked as if she would fall asleep at some point.
“As long as he hasn’t been called in. He’s on a day off.” Scott waved over to Zack, hoping he’d spot them through the rapidly building crowd.
“Is everyone coming today?”
He looked down at her and wondered how long they had to stay before they could go home and he could get her on a nice soft mattress and make her scream his name. He was enjoying this trimester. Pregnancy hormones were making her needy in all the right ways.
“Pretty much. Jonny’s bringing the kids so be warned that Sadie’s going to want to tell your bump stories again.” He put his hand on her protruding belly and felt a slight tap. Their baby was active, and responsive to their voices or pressure placed on it. “Did you feel that?”
“I did,” she said, almost sleepily. “I felt it at four this morning when I think your snoring disturbed her.”
“I don’t snore.”
She laughed, not even humouring him with an argument.
“Shall we be hand-fasted?” The words fell from absolutely nowhere. He hadn’t even thought about it until when he’d said it.
Keren turned onto her side and giggled. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
