I notice Owen taking a picture of Hennie next to us with a view of The Warren behind her. It looks like an expensivecamera that a professional might use, with black dials and switches that baffle me just to look at them.
Elliot and I walk side by side, absorbing our surroundings in silence. He’s remained distant but is far more comfortable with his friends present, and I can understand why. Josh and Owen’s ability to converse is never-ending, constantly and effortlessly enveloping us into conversation and soothing my anxiety over the current situation. I suppose Elliot’s character surely can’t be that unpleasant if these men choose to spend their free time with him.
Everywhere I look, there are cute gathering spots tucked into corners welcoming weary festival-goers in. Hammocks swing almost in tandem under a canopy of trees, and a narrow, wooden staircase leads its guests up to a tiny structure built around the top of a tree signpostedTreehouse Bar.
Hennie is back by my side, looking as transfixed as I am by it all.
‘Sorry, am I hallucinating? What the fuck is that?’ she asks, pointing at a human-sized squirrel dashing from the treehouse platform to the cottage, hopping from foot to foot clumsily, its tail bouncing comically as it does so. The bar staff inside immediately object, shouting and hollering at it to scram, which garners several bemused stares.
Owen laughs. ‘That’s Sinbad the squirrel. Apparently he steals peoples’ food.’
We look at him with horror.
‘I think he just picks up litter though. I dunno. It’s his thing,’ he says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
We walk past a large tent with no signs or labels, but it must be popular. People are waiting patiently outside in a long, single-file queue, standing in bikinis and towels. I must look bewildered by their attire as Elliot leans closer to me to explain.
‘I think there’s a sauna in there.’
I grimace. ‘At a festival? Sounds safe.’
‘Must be.’ He snorts at my expression. ‘Not interested?’
‘Interested?’ I wrinkle my nose. ‘Why not just toss me into a vat of boiling hot oil?’
His lips twitch. ‘I’m guessing you’re generally against the idea of saunas, then.’
‘Who could possibly enjoy being in a sauna? It’s like sitting in an oven and waiting to die.’
‘I love saunas,’ he says mildly.
I cut him a sly look. ‘Of course you love saunas, you’re a psychopath.’
‘Right,’ he mutters with a smirk.
Behind us, a huff of laughter erupts from Owen, and he delicately pats Elliot’s shoulder. ‘Time to work on your comebacks, Walker.’
‘Why bother? We have Ham who is a never-ending compendium of comebacks. It’s easier to just let it go,’ Elliot argues.
Josh spins round, wide-eyed, at this acknowledgement. ‘Babydoll, I never knew you cared.’
‘See?’ He gestures at Josh. ‘What’s the comeback to that?’
‘Maybe just a simple “that’s quite right, Josh. You’re tremendously quick-witted and I have always admired you”,’ Josh replies, sounding quite serious.
Elliot snorts. ‘Well, my admiration might be in short supply today. You haven’t showered since we got here and we established that you brushed your teeth with anti-fungal cream last night.’
‘I told you that inconfidence; it was a mistake! It was dark!’ Josh says, indignant.
‘Still quite an achievement.’
‘Sure, fine. But you know what they say…’ Josh says, taking a slow, careful step towards Elliot.
‘No, what do they say?’ Elliot replies cautiously.
Josh reacts to this question by violently launching himself at Elliot and digging a fist into the top of his hair. I hide a laugh behind my hand when Elliot yelps with anguish trying to swat him away and I have to say… even though he still has his grip on the stick, it’s the best I’ve felt all day.
But when he successfully shoves Josh off he emerges with a boyish grin, giving him one last punishing swat on the arm with his free hand as he rejoins me.
