The Once and Future Camelot Page 7

  “Sorry,” she said. “I just thought I saw a …” Her mind went blank. “A ladybird.” It was the first thing that popped into her head.

  Dru grinned. “And I bet you told it to fly away home cos its house was on fire and its children all gone?”

  He must think me such a child! Morgan’s face flamed with embarrassment.

  “I’m done here. Let’s go.” Dru made no further comment as he walked to the van and climbed in. Morgan was glad to leave. She was sure now that he’d seen nothing untoward; she only wished she hadn’t seen anything either. Two things she was resolved on: she wouldn’t visit Bride’s Mound again, not even if her life depended on it. Dru could stick his well wherever he liked, she wanted no further part of his plans. And she wouldn’t tell Merlin about her visions either; she wouldn’t even think about them in his presence. The whole thing was just creeping her out.

  To her relief, at the end of the day Dru pronounced himself pleased with her progress. If he was puzzled by her behavior, he’d didn’t say so. Instead, he made her a formal offer of employment, at the same time ratifying her rate of pay. It didn’t sound like all that much, but she didn’t say so lest it lead to awkward questions – like what she’d been living on in the past. Her stepfather had paid her an allowance – obviously quite a generous one, she thought now, although it didn’t make her feel any warmer towards him. And Dru was quite right; she’d spent most of her life in an expensive boarding school. She’d never had to work for her living before. There was some sadness in the thought that she wouldn’t finish school now, nor go on to university either, as she’d hoped. Her life had changed forever, and she’d just have to make the best of it. So she thanked Dru and accepted his offer, knowing it was the answer to her predicament, at least until the baby was born. She was sure she could come up with some excuse not to go back to Bride’s Mound if it was suggested.

  As she walked back to Merlin’s shop, she decided to stop off at one of the op-shops along the way to pick up a cheap pair of jeans and a couple more loose-fitting tops. She’d need some changes of clothing now that she was officially a working girl.

  *

  Both Merlin and Elspeth were at home when she finally got back to their place, and they welcomed her in. “I hear you bought a dress,” Elspeth greeted her. “You can wear it to the music festival next week.”

  “I still have to get a ticket for it.”

  Both Merlin and Elspeth laughed. “No chance of that! The tickets went on sale last year, in October – and they’re always sold out immediately.”

  “Oh.” The Glastonbury music festival was famous and Morgan had now set her heart on going to it. “In that case, I can pay you for the dress.” She pulled her wallet out of her backpack.

  “Don’t look so disappointed. We have a spare ticket.” Smiling broadly, Elspeth walked over to a small bureau set under the window, opened a drawer and pulled it out. “We wondered if you would like this? I reckon you look enough like our daughter to get away with it – if you want to take the chance?”

  Morgan took the ticket from Elspeth and studied it. It was in the name of Saffy Wallis and there was a photograph on it of a girl with short dark hair. Maybe slightly older than me, Morgan thought, but the photo wasn’t terribly clear. “We bought the ticket for Saffy last year,” Merlin said, “but she’s gone backpacking around Australia now, so …”

  “I’d love to buy it from you. That would be awesome!” With difficulty, Morgan restrained herself from throwing her arms around them in gratitude. Merlin gave her a broad grin. She suspected he knew what she was thinking.

  “You might need to reconsider the pink streaks?” Elspeth said. “I can give you a rinse to darken your hair, if you like, and we can maybe give it a bit of a trim as well, tidy it up a little? You need to look as much like the photograph as possible.”

  “Sure.” Morgan was happy to do anything, so long as she could go to the festival.

  “And you can stay with us at least until after the festival. But if you’re enjoying your job with Dru, you can stay on longer, if you like.” A wistful expression crossed Elspeth’s face. “Truth to tell, the place seems too quiet without Saffy. We miss her, you know.”

  Morgan didn’t know. She didn’t think her mother was missing her at all. But she just smiled, and told Elspeth yet again how grateful she was to both of them.

  *

  To Morgan’s relief, Dru agreed that she could take Friday as well as the weekend off to go to the music festival. “But you won’t be paid for those days,” he warned.

  “No worries.” Morgan was far too excited to care. The whole town was buzzy now, as people streamed in from all over the country and also from overseas to experience the famous festival at Glastonbury, although there were loud complaints from those visitors who’d expected to be able to buy tickets at the last minute only to find that they were sold out.

  “There’s a whole lot of different venues for all sorts of things as well as music, so you’ll need a map and also a program. They’ll give that to you when you go in. Just remember that you’re registered as Saffy Wallis.” Merlin had given Morgan a lift out to Worthy Farm, promising to drop her off at one of the gates. He looked at her anxiously. “By rights you should be accompanied by an adult, but Saffy’s nearly twenty-one so hopefully they won’t question you about your age. If they do, remember that you’re at least eighteen. Elspeth and I will probably pop in tomorrow, and maybe Sunday too, if we can get away, so if there are any problems, look out for us. But there are stewards, and medical tents, and all sorts of other places where you can go for advice and help if you need it.”

  “I’ll be fine. Please don’t worry about me.” They’d lent her a tent, a sort of tepee that Morgan suspected might have come originally from Merlin’s Cave. It was small, but it would provide shelter and, anyway, she thought, she’d only be in it to sleep – if she slept at all.

  “Make sure you keep any valuables on you,” Merlin warned. “Most of the people here are just out to have a good time, but there are easy pickings to be had and some people know it. And don’t take any drugs either!”

  The sort of thing any father would tell his daughter, Morgan thought sadly, and knew that Merlin had heard her.

  “I’m not your father; I’m just giving you good advice,” he told her. “Have you got something warm to wear? And an umbrella or a mac? There’s already been a heap of rain and the forecast is for more to come.”

  Morgan looked up at the gray sky banked with clouds. She had a jumper, but she hadn’t brought any rain gear. She didn’t even own such things anymore. “I’m okay. Truly,” she told him.

  “And you’ll call us if there are any problems? Or you can always get the bus back to Glastonbury if you’ve had enough.”

  “Sure.” Morgan pulled her backpack and the bundled tent out of the van. “Thank you. I’ve got everything I need, and I know you’re keen to get back to the shop, so please, go.” She flapped her hands at him. “Go!”

  “You look great in that dress, by the way,” he said over his shoulder, as he climbed back into the van. “Enjoy yourself!”

  She watched him drive off, comforted that he still cared enough to give her advice; things had become a little strained between them since he’d questioned her about Bride’s Mound. She thought Dru must have mentioned her odd behavior to him because he’d asked some probing questions which she’d brushed aside with a laugh. She’d discovered that she could block Merlin quite effectively if she chose to do so; he wasn’t as attuned to her thoughts as she’d feared. But she’d heard his frustration over her evasive answers about Bride’s Mound, and knew she’d hurt his feelings. But the whole weird experience there had so unsettled her she was determined to push it from her memory and not think of it again. Least of all would she share it with Merlin, nor would she show him the bag of strange objects that, after all, she’d decided to keep. She hadn’t forgotten how he’d first greeted her: So you’ve come at last. Do you know why you’re
here, why you’ve been sent? Hearing his thoughts, it seemed he didn’t know either, but there were enough weird things going on in her life right now. She couldn’t cope with any more, and so was determined neither to encourage him, nor give him the opportunity to explore possibilities, either with or without her help.

  Taking care to keep the hem of her gown out of the muddy ruts on the road, Morgan set off towards the entrance gate. She wasn’t used to wearing a long dress, but she knew she looked good in it. She felt almost like a princess swishing about. The thought came to her: no one knew her here in Glastonbury. She could reinvent herself, become someone else. A goddess of Avalon, perhaps? Her mother had told her all about Avalon, and Arthur and Camelot – and also the magical Morgan le Fay, after whom she’d been named. With a shudder, Morgan remembered her vision of the woman in the field. Morgana?

  No! Giving herself a mental shake, she decided to find somewhere to set up her tent before sussing out the entertainment. Having presented her ticket at the gate, she was given an elastic security bracelet and a booklet containing info on the bands and on the venues, along with a map and a program detailing each day’s activities. Once through the gate, she gazed around in awe, amazed at how enormous the site was. It looked as big as a town, with tent and caravan sites stretching out into the distance on all sides, while in the center a huge pyramid dominated several other performance spaces that were scattered about. The festival was already in full swing; she could hear music even from here. She looked towards the brooding presence of the Tor, visible even from this distance away. What did those ancient spirits think about all this, she wondered. Impatient to get into it, she opened the program to show the map so she could work out the nearest site to erect her tent.

  It was already packed out, but a steward directed her to a space on the margin and, with some difficulty, she put up the tent. The field was already pooled with muddy holes and the rain was starting again, as Merlin had predicted. After checking the map for directions, Morgan left her backpack on top of her sleeping bag inside the tent and put her wallet into the pouch at her waist. Anxious not to waste any more time, she hurried towards the main entertainment area. The Pyramid Stage was the largest and most visible, and it obviously hosted the top bands, judging from the huge crowd listening to the band that was currently playing. Music thundered out, drowning out any sound from the other stages. She swayed to the beat for a while before deciding to push a little closer to the band. They were really getting into it now, and the crowd was too, dancing and joining in the chorus with an enthusiastic roar. Fascinated by it all, Morgan checked out a guy in a wolf costume among the audience who, every now and then, threw back his head and howled. Others sported painted faces and wore feathers, beads or glitter in their hair, all teamed with a variety of colorful clothing, including wizard and goddess outfits. A few brave souls had partially stripped down to their muddy underwear.

  Her gaze moved on, noting that the festival-goers comprised children as well as adults, but whatever their age, they were obviously enjoying the music. Undeterred by the rain, they danced either singly or in a group, while others just clapped and shouted their approval as the noise amped up and the movements on stage became more frenetic. A sea of hands held up banners, flags and balloons, and shook signs advertising everything from world peace to Dino’s Diner. A G-string fluttered from the hand of a young woman close to the stage. The crowd was growing by the moment, forming a solid heaving mass. As the band finished their last number the roars were deafening. But they quit the stage without responding to the shouts for more and the enthusiastic stamping of feet.

  As the crowd began to thin, Morgan saw that the area in front of the stage was already a muddy bog; people were either wearing rubber boots under their finery, or had taken off their shoes. She looked down, noting that her new dress was getting wetter by the minute, while the hem was already marked by several muddy splashes. She pulled a face, wishing she’d just worn her old jeans, but it was too late to worry about that now.

  She moved off towards a line of stalls, attracted by the brightly colored umbrellas opened behind a stall keeper, and the queue of soaked festival goers waiting to be served. After some deliberation she finally settled on a cheap plastic poncho, reluctantly passing over an enticing selection of decorated boots with matching umbrellas. Having donned the poncho, which clung unpleasantly to her skin, she moved on with a feeling of freedom and excitement, sussing out all the other venues and activities available in the different fields: theatre and circus, cabaret and dance, healing and meditation, yoga and reiki. There was a field devoted to children’s entertainment, and a craft village with exhibitions of sculpture and art, with workshops for people wanting to liberate their creativity. There were stands promoting WaterAid, Greenpeace and Oxfam among other charities. There were also shops and stalls selling clothes, jewellery, and a variety of food and drinks.

  There was so much to see and do that Morgan started to feel completely bewildered. She walked along in a daze, returning people’s smiles as she passed them; everyone seemed as excited and as happy as she was. There was a terrific lineup to choose from, and she spent time moving from stage to stage, or joining in with the dancers at the Dance Village, or experimenting with pottery and origami along with other craft enthusiasts. But she also kept an eye on the program to make sure she didn’t miss any gigs by her favorite bands and performers.

  Showers gave way to sun in the late afternoon, and Morgan shed her poncho with relief, hoping that was the end of the rain. Just in case, she tied it around her waist. A spectacular sunset brought the long summer night to an end, but light flares lit the sky, accompanied by loud explosions and puffs of colored smoke that drifted across the crowds in clouds of green, red, yellow and blue.

  Becoming conscious of the smell of pot and cigarette smoke, Morgan held her hand to her nose, afraid she might jeopardize the health of her baby. She became conscious of a cramping ache in her belly; she badly needed to pee. She headed for the nearest line of toilets, sloshing through the mud to get there. Her heart sank as she noted the queue outside, and sank further when she finally entered a cubicle to find herself perched on a seat over an open hole in the ground. The smell was already ferocious; she wondered how it would be by the end of the weekend.

  Feeling more comfortable, she turned her attention next to the food stalls, selecting a wrap with chargrilled vegetables and a bottle of water, both of which she consumed quickly before heading towards the Pyramid Stage once more, in time to catch the second last gig of the night before the headliner came on.

  The band was already well into it, judging by the screams of enthusiasm she could hear as she pushed closer. The noise was deafening, a constant roar of guitars, drums and voices, and she joined in with enthusiasm, punching her fist into the air while trying to avoid being clonked on the head by waving flags. With an arm curved protectively over her stomach, she pushed through the crowd until she finally found a small space close to the stage. The atmosphere was electric, with more people shoving in from every side.

  Finally the lights dimmed somewhat, and the last band came on stage to an enthusiastic roar. The lead singer sang the first few lines of the opening number. Morgan recognized the tune and, along with everyone else, joined in to finish the first verse, their voices accompanied only by the lead singer’s guitar. And then the lights flashed on full and the rest of the band picked up the next verse while the audience continued to sing along, still dancing and waving their flags. Caught up in the excitement of it all, Morgan knew a moment of pure happiness; she was determined to make the most of the weekend.

  The noise amped up. The drummer was really going off now, hair flying as he whacked and pounded his kit. The unrelenting beat was starting to do Morgan’s head in, while the strobe lights flashed bright to dark, bright to dark without pause. She dragged her gaze away, seeking relief, but all the lights around her now seemed to be pulsating. An image flashed into her mind of the woman she kept seeing, and ev
erything suddenly went silent around her.

  Go away, Morgana!

  Frightened, Morgan choked back a sob and turned once more to the stage, somewhat relieved to see the band still up there while their music blasted as loudly as ever. But the brilliance of the flashing lights hurt her eyes; the noise was so intense she shoved her fingers in her ears to block it out. Remembering that a folk singer would shortly be performing on the Other Stage, she decided to go there instead, thinking that the music and lighting wouldn’t be quite so frenetic.

  The ache in her stomach had returned. Morgan wondered if the wrap she’d eaten earlier had been off; she hadn’t thought to check its use-by date. She wrinkled her nose at the memory of the toilet block, then hurriedly checked her watch before pulling out the map to see how far she was from her campsite. If she hurried, she could ditch the poncho and change out of her wet, soiled dress into something more suited to the muddy conditions. At the same time she could also try the camp toilets in the hope of finding something better.

  Using her elbows, she shoved through the crowd, earning frowns and grumpy mutters as she went. She was close to her tent when another cramping pain made her gasp and double over for a few moments. When she could move again, she rushed into her tent, stripped off her wet dress, and pulled her jumper and a pair of leggings out of her backpack. It’s not a dodgy wrap, she thought as she hurriedly donned the dry clothes; something’s wrong with the baby. Choking back sobs, she crept into the old sleeping bag that Elspeth had found for her, and hugged her stomach to keep the baby safe. I’ll just stay here for a while, she thought. If I keep quiet and warm, the cramps will stop and everything will be all right.

  But the pains persisted. They were coming regularly now and Morgan knew, beyond a doubt, that if she didn’t help herself, no one else would either. It was enough to persuade her to get up and venture out into the night once more. The campsite seemed deserted, but she could hear the music in the distance and knew that while people were still up and about, the medical center would also be open.