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Bear had glanced over at him and had shaken his head slightly, as if to say “don’t lose your cool,” but David had lost it anyway. Holly had opened her mouth to speak but he’d wrenched the paper from her hands and torn it in half.

“Get rid of it, and don’t encourage them. The only publicity I want is about how good our music is. None of that other gossip shite. Is that clear?” He’d glared at her and wasn’t aware he’d taken her arm until Slim came over and pulled her away from him. David dropped the torn pages onto the floor and kicked at them. “For Christ’s sake. They write lies, and all you can say is that it will pull the fucking crowds in?”

Holly had scurried away across the stage. “You want to sell records, Davy? You put up with it.” She’d looked at him defiantly as she stood at a safe distance, behind Bear and his drums. “Get over it. And all publicity is good. You want to make the big time or not?”

“I don’t care what they make up. It has nothing to do with our music.”

“Ah, a purist.” Holly’s voice was cynical. “You want truth and light, man. Maybe you’d better go and join a symphony orchestra and play classical music for the BBC.”

David shook his head and forgot all about Holly and her drivel as he moved across to the kitchen window to tip his coffee dregs into the sink. A movement next door caught his attention. His new neighbour was wandering around in her back garden. He’d dreamed about her all night. He’d been so wired, he’d gotten up early to do some writing. Rose-red lips, glorious hair, and a body begging to be loved; it was as if she’d bewitched him. The crazy dreams had stayed with him after he had woken up, dreams of touching her and his hands overflowing with her tears even as he held her breasts. She’d stared deep into his eyes and he’d felt as though his soul had been exposed to her. He’d still been thinking about her when she’d appeared on his porch this morning.

But she’d come back over to get her bag, not to connect with him. He’d forgotten all about it, or he would have put it on her porch last night. He’d gotten a jolt in his chest when he’d heard her out there. Despite the crumpled shirt and jeans she looked like something out of a fairytale. All that tumbling hair and those bright-red lips.

And she had attitude.

It was a shame he wasn’t interested. He frowned and shook his head.

I’m not.

After he’d strummed his guitar softly in the early hours, new words and notes had poured out of him and he’d written a great new song. The only reason he was unsettled was because of the rehearsal fiasco, nothing to do with his next-door neighbour. He was always on edge before a concert.

But to stay safe, he’d ignore her presence next door. His cottage had been private for the past few years; the one she was in wasn’t rented very often and the owners never came near it.

The phone rang and pulled him out of his thoughts.

Clive, his banker, greeted him and he moved back to the window and watched the girl as she stood in the backyard. She stared out across the fields, sipping from the mug he had handed her. He realised he didn’t even know her name, but damn it, he was intrigued. It was the dreams that were getting him wound up, not her.

“David, are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, I’m listening.”

“You’re going to have to come to the city today and sign some papers.”

“I can’t. Rehearsal got messed up yesterday. I can’t come to London until after the festival.”

He leaned his head on the window and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

Why was life always so bloody complicated?

“If you can’t come to London, I’ll meet you halfway. Or better still, I can try to get the documents expressed to a bank down where you are.”

“Send them to Taunton. I’ll drive across first thing in the morning. What’s so hell-fired urgent, Clive?”

“The latest transfer to the Caymans. There’s a new condition you have to initial before we can transfer the funds. I can’t do it for you.”

David sighed. “All right. If you can’t get it there by tomorrow, make sure you let me know. I don’t want to make a trip for nothing. We’re bloody short of time.”

“Yes, and I know what a perfectionist you are.” Clive ended the call and David glanced out the window again, but she was gone. It was time to head across to the farm for rehearsal. He’d spent more than enough time mooning around like a lovesick teenager.

Five minutes later, David had thrown on a T-shirt and grabbed his guitar. He opened the back gate, ignoring the woman who was now sitting in an alcove at the back of the cottage next door.

Shit. One of the reasons he stayed in this place for the festival was because it was so isolated. He could come and go as he pleased without being seen. If she made a habit of sitting there, he was going to have to be very careful.

Taking a different path than usual, he crossed the newly mown grass and walked along the path to the River Brue, before doubling back to the intersection of the ley lines to find the gate. The houses were in the distance and he raised one hand to shade his eyes and see if she was watching, but there was no sign of her. Finding the stone markers, he stepped to the line, and closed his eyes as the air shimmered around him.

***

Megan had tried to call Tony as soon as she woke up, before it was too late at night back home in Australia, but her phone had gone dead. She’d tried to charge it but she’d forgotten all about the different power outlets here. Hopefully, it wasn’t too far to the village because she’d need to buy an adapter. While she was there she would try to find a computer to check her e-mail because her laptop didn’t work either.