‘If I’m honest, what I’d really like is to be airlifted out of here,’ I snort. ‘But I feel like I have to see this through, unfortunately.’
She casts me a reassuring grin. ‘Yes, you did fight terribly hard for these tickets. Most sought after event on the planet, famously.’
I wheeze a laugh. ‘You get some credit, too. Let’s not forget you briefly took up manifestation.’
‘I did. Well, if you deem a helicopter necessary, so be it,’ she says solemnly. ‘Just say the word, Harty.’
‘To be fair, if anyone could pull that off, it would be you,’ I tell her with a smile, before burying my face in my knees.
I focus on one of the breathing exercises that Daphne taught me. Breathe in for seven seconds, out for eleven. Although it has to be said, it does feel wildly different doing it with my therapist on a Zoom call in the safety of my bedroom compared to the centre of the manifestation of all my nightmares: Firecrest Festival.
One of the biggest festivals in the world and absolutely overflowing with my personal demons: loud noises, unfamiliar surroundings, wide open spaces, and of course, crowds. Monstrous ones. Picture the biggest crowd you’ve ever seen and multiply it by three. That’s your typical Firecrest crowd.
My breathing exercise stutters to a stop again as my thoughts overpower my body. At least I made it to four this time… did I? It’s difficult to concentrate when it feels like my air supply has been severed, but Hennie interrupts my spiralling anyway.
‘We don’t have to go straight to the front,’ her voice probes gently. ‘Maybe we can watch it from the back. Or if you need to, we can just skedaddle the fuck out of here.’
I know she’s doing everything in her power to help me feel as comfortable as possible and I feel such a fierce rush of love for her that my heart constricts.
‘Hey,’ I interrupt her with a forced smile, gesturing down at myself. ‘I’m fine, look at me.’
She does. With some concern.
I rest my head against the back of the fence. ‘I just need one second. I’ll be right with you.’
She casts me one last anxious glance before standing to stretch her legs. She studies the scene that stretches out before us, the sun encasing her in a golden halo, her white-blonde hair falling around her face in glistening threads of silver.
Firecrest Festival (or “Crest Fest” as it is lovingly referred to by enthusiasts) is, even I have to admit, a sight to behold. A magnificent sea of colour sprawls before us underneath a clear, blue sky; tents of every colour and size stretch across every patch of grass within sight, all the way to the top of the valley and eventually up to the fence that completely encircles the festival grounds. Circus tents and smaller stages nestle cosily amongst them, and tall, intricately painted flags billow everywhere you look.
Impossible to ignore, the Firecrest Stage stands proudly at the very centre of the site. It looks like half of an enormous sphere – like a freakish orb has been sliced down the centre and pulled apart to reveal a stage inside.
Every year, the festival organisers have a different artist design something to adorn the shell of it; this year a blue teddy bear walks across a tiny planet Earth and the wordsCrest Festin wobbly bubble writing hover above it. The bear’s cuteness does nothing to sway me. The stage is somehow bigger than I had imagined, and even the sight of it in the distance makes my knees shake.
I will be avoiding it at all costs.
Thankfully, Queen Ego are playing on a smaller stage, aptly named the Tower Stage, that looms directly ahead of us: an impressive structure made up of long pillars of wood and dozens of flags encircling the top of the stage like sunbeams.
I collect myself enough to pull my backpack from my shoulders and down half the contents of my water bottle.Grabbing my pocket mirror, I sigh when I open it to check my general state. There really is no hope for me at this point, but I adjust the glitter that has migrated down my face nonetheless. I scrub at my freckle-scattered nose to clear the golden flecks and attempt to ruffle my fringe to break up my red, frizzy waves. Unsurprisingly, my eyeliner has smudged beyond repair thanks to the roaring heat this summer has kindly bestowed onto us. Many thanks again, Mother Nature.
It’s now or never. I can’t procrastinate for any longer. I’ve workedsohard for this moment, which is why I force myself to my feet, despite the fact that my legs are possibly at baby Bambi levels of unsteady and my expression is probably so petrified that I resemble a small rodent that’s been spotted by a bird of prey.
I did this. I’m doing this.
‘I’m doing this,’ I repeat to Hennie.
‘Yes, you are, Harty. Can I feed you a fizzy cola bottle for strength?’ she offers.
‘No, no. No sugar,’ I say like a woman possessed. I’m successfully standing, which means that the next logical step is walking. Oh God.
‘Remember, since we putThe Plantogether, we’ve said that this was always going to be the worst part: the anticipation. And may I say, you’re doing fucking great. You look radiant as well. Bit unfair, actually.’
‘That’ll be the sweat,’ I point out.
‘Come on, you’ve got to let me applaud you once in a while,’ she adds. ‘This is wild. It’s incredible! Look at where we are!’ She gestures grandly at our surroundings.
My laugh comes out wobbly. ‘Let’s see if I hit the grass face-first before using words like incredible.’
‘What do you think I’m here for? Who else will catch you if you collapse?’ she quips.
