Hennie nudges her shoulder against mine. ‘No matter what happens, we’ll be okay,’ she whispers to me, like it’s a secret.
A large part of me is tempted to tell her that she’s wrong and I actually might die when she blesses me with her wide grin, and I feel so lucky to know her.
‘Thank you, Hen,’ I say softly.
‘Stop thanking me.’ She taps my arm reproachfully. ‘Silly billy.’
I’m laughing and then there’s movement on the stage, and even though my eyes cannot fathom it, the band walk onto the stage in front of us. As if they are real people.
The crowd explodes with cheers and screams, a crescendo of noise that grows and grows. My body goes completely still in response as I wait for the telltale heat in my neck and adrenaline in my chest.
I close my eyes briefly to take in the deepest breath I can, attempting to fill my lungs to capacity before the breath shudders back out.
I don’t want to miss this.Please don’t miss this.
My eyes fly open. Teddy is sitting at the back of the stage on the drums, wearing his typical white t-shirt and black flannel combo. Martin and Aga are already holding their guitars and wave at the crowd with huge grins. Rosie steps up to the mic wearing an ethereal white silk dress, her silver hair long and curled to perfection.
Before I can register what is happening, Rosie is gesturing to someone to the left of the stage and pointing to her earpiece, and then Teddy hits the drums twice – and twice again – and I feel my body melt with relief as a riff I know so well howls over the speakers, and they start to play.
2
By the time we reach the sixth song, I am astonished to see that I’m still standing.
I yell the lyrics that I know backwards with every shred of air in my lungs until my throat aches, letting the music move through me in a way I’ve never experienced before. The drums are louder, harsher. The rhythm pounds under my feet and in the centre of my chest.
The songs feel like an old friend greeting me, wrapping their melodies around my shoulders and holding me steady.
I assumed I might find all the sounds of a gig overwhelming, but there’s something about my voice getting lost in the endless bed of noise that is oddly comforting. The fact that I possess a great lack of singing ability holds no weight here – what a blessing.
Hennie checks in with me regularly, and I wait for the tangled heat of my insides to turn into panic, but it never does. When a current of white hot energy races through me, I realise that it isn’t the familiar kind of adrenaline that I’m expecting. It doesn’t feel like fear.
If anything, I’ve never felt more awake or presentin my life.
As they round off their song ‘Guarantee’, the crowd choruses together in a frenzy. They’re approaching the end of their set, which means the crowd is increasingly desperate to be heard.
Rosie looks up with a shy smile, putting a hand over her eyes to shield them from the harsh sun. ‘How are you doing, Firecrest?’
The crowd roars in response, with several screams of ‘We love you!’ thrown in for good measure.
‘Is now the right time to propose marriage to Aga, do you think?’ Hennie asks, clutching my arm.
‘Marry me, Rosie!’ someone behind us shrieks.
The girl in front of us twists around to seek out the shouter with an expression of such deep disdain, I snort and give Hennie a look.
‘Terrible. How unrefined,’ she utters under her breath.
Rosie beams. ‘We never would have dreamed of playing a festival like this.’ She looks back at her bandmates who all grin in response. ‘So, we wanted to say thank you to every single person in this crowd. Whether you listened to us for the first time last week or a decade ago on an actual CD and you’re somehow still here.’
Despite myself, my eyes sting with tears remembering my three Queen Ego CDs piled on top of my dusty, clunky CD player on my desk. I wish I could hold up a sign, or scream, or wave my hands to get their attention and say:thank you for changing everything for me. Thank you for helping me escape.
But standing in a densely packed crowd, I just stare at them in my state of overwhelm and try to soak in the fact that they’re here. And so am I.
For now, that would have to be enough.
A rolling chorus of roars and shouts of delight hit the stage, and Rosie turns to the mic to address us one last time: ‘Okay, we have one last song for you. Sing along if you know it.’
I realise they’re rounding off their set with their biggest hit, as the chords of ‘Never Mind’ chime in time with Teddy’s drumsticks on the rim of his snare. And the crowd goes absolutely berserk.
