“Oh my God,” she said, “you’re Odile O’Donnell.”
Jaz literally cringed. “Mum! Don’t embarrass me.”
I was pretty damned stressed with all the CRAPPstonbury chaos, but I glanced up at Oliver then, and we took a moment to share how much it meant that Jaz had got to the point where her mother was an embarrassment, instead of something lost and locked away from her.
Mum—who was looking more like Odile O’Donnell now than I’d ever seen her, with dark eyes and big hair that had come through the ditch experience looking intentionally dishevelled—patted Jaz on the shoulder. “Jas, you did not tell me your mother was a fan.”
Grinding one toe into the dirt, Jaz made didn’t-think-it-was-important noises.
It was weird, unsettlingly weird, seeing somebody interacting with my mum like she was an honest-to-shit famous person, but Maisie seemed straight-up starstruck. Looking slightly downwards, she said, “Welcome Ghostsgot me through a really hard time in my life.”
“That is a coincidence,” said Mum, “because it got me through a hard time in my life too. I am going to need to go and get ready for my set soon, but if you and Jas would like to come with me…”
“Mum,” I said, “child labour laws are a thing.”
She waved a hand. “Not when you are famous.”
“I think yes, even when you’re famous.”
“I’m fine,” said Jaz. “You want me to carry something?”
“Actually”—Maisie stuffed her hands in her pockets—“I might…I might bail.”
I’d sort of been expecting this. Maisie had been doing better recently, but there wasbetterand there wasable to cope with a festival crowd. Still, it hit Jaz hard, and, while she tried to hide her disappointment, she didn’t quite manage it.
“That’s completely understandable,” Oliver Olivered into the breach. “I’m finding it quite overwhelming myself, and it’s only going to get more hectic as the day goes on.”
Maisie shrugged. “Yeah.”
“And,” he added, “we’ll see you next week?”
“Yeah,” Jaz echoed. “Next week?”
“Of course,” replied Maisie. Who meant it every time and who was sticking to it a lot more these days. “And I’ll be okay for a bit longer. Just…not sure for how long.”
“You can go sit down in the refreshment tent if you need a breather,” I offered. “They know you’re with me, so it won’t be a problem.”
“I was actually going to head that way anyway.” Oliver gently brought Spud to heel. “If you’d like me and Spud to accompany you?”
Maisie nodded. “That’d probably be good. A bit of shade, you know.”
“Okay.” I did my best to appear cool, calm, and in control of the situation. “Civilians and Spud to the refreshment tent. Mum, head backstage. I’ll get someone to get the truck unloaded. Someone who isn’t a child.”
“Not a child,” muttered Jaz.
“Legally,” said Oliver, “you very much are.”
She half smiled in that way she got when she was gearing up to take on Oliver, like she wasn’t sure yet if she was baiting him or playing with him. “Legally, it’s okay for security blokes to put kids in handcuffs.”
“Fair point. Although I personally like to think I’d avoid exploiting underage workers even if it were legally permissible.”
I watched them wending through the gathering crowds, wishing I could join them. Because this was shaping up to be an okay festival, and it would have been nice to sit under the marquee, drinking craft beers on a summer afternoon and hanging out with my, y’know, my family. Except the okayness of the festival relied on me not doing that. And, instead, doing my job.
I activated the walkie-talkie I had clipped to my collar. “Alex, can you—”
“Twaddle here,” returned Alex. And then after a long enough pause that I was just about to reply, he added, “Over.”
I sighed. “One, you don’t have to do theoverthing. Two, you’re doing theoverthing wrong.”
