"That's because there hasn't been one here before," said Georgia. "I know what you mean about festivals, though. You're all together, and everyone's sort of the same kind of person; nobody sort of jars; it's really cool."

"Really cool! You look familiar; have I met you somewhere before?"

"Er ... don't think so," said Georgia. These small sudden signs of her fame, which had initially seemed so exciting, had become swiftly burdensome. She had imagined she would love it, being recognised, feeling important, but it was actually incredibly tedious; everyone asked the same questions: about the production, what various other people in it were like, how she'd got into acting, and-if the questioners were young-how she thought they might get into it.

She looked over at Merlin for help, but he was standing with Lila, talking to her rather intently. For some reason it annoyed her.

"Where's your tent?" she said to Anna. "I might set up near you."

"Oh, darling, do."

"Georgia!" It was Abi. Abi looking sensational in denim shorts, pink wellies, and a pink T-shirt. "How great is this? Listen, I need you to go and talk to that incredibly annoying girl from the local radio. She wants to interview you."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, you bloody well do. Georgia, you haven't done anything at all yet today. Emma's been here for hours and hours, and so has Barney; I could really have done with you ..."

"All right, all right. I was actually working, you know."

"Yes, I do know. You've told me at least six times. Go on, she's over there, in those rainbow-coloured wellies. Quickly, the first band's on in ten minutes-at least, I hope they are, if Health and Safety have finished their checks."

"Oh, doesn't that look lovely?" said Linda, taking Alex's hand. "So good the rain stopped. Smells so lovely too, the barbecues and ... what's that other smell? Oh, I know-candy floss. I love the smell of candy floss. In fact, I love the taste of candy floss. Amy, darling, go and buy us all some candy floss, would you?"

"Sure."

"Not all of us," said Alex. "I can't stand the stuff. E numbers on a stick. Terribly bad for you, give you a sugar rush."

"You're such a misery, Dad."

"My sentiments entirely," said Linda. "No, it's all wonderful. Even the music's not too bad."

"All right if you like folk," said Amy. "Still, it's early, isn't it? It'll get better. I still can't believe they've got BroadBand. I think I might go and find my friends. They're all here. And-"

"Hi, Linda." It was Abi. "So lovely of you to come. Not really your thing, I'm sure."

"Now, why should you think that?" said Linda. "I'm a veteran of the Reading festival. I've kept all the wristbands from the very first year."

"Really? That is so cool. You must be Amy, hi. Having a good time?"

"Not yet she's not," said Linda, "but she's about to go and find her friends."

"Yes, I was just saying I couldn't believe you'd got BroadBand."

"Nor can I, Amy. And you know, they're really quite nice."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Friendly. Chatty, even. Tell you what, if you come and find me about twenty minutes before they play if I'm still alive, I'll make sure you can be right at the front. You might be able to meet them. They said they wouldn't be rushing off."

"Oh. My. God." Amy's face went bright red. "That would be just sooo cool."

"Sure. And your friends. I'll be inside the arena; we've got a little base behind the bar."

"Wow. Well ... I'll see you then. God. So cool."

"I think you've impressed her," said Linda, laughing. "Not easy, is it, Alex?"

"Not terribly."

"It's so great you're here, Alex," said Abi. "I'm so glad."

"Abi, this is partly for my hospital; of course I'm here. I'm thrilled. Thrilled and grateful. We won't actually be camping, but-"

"We would have been," said Linda, "if it had been up to me."

"That is a filthy lie," said Alex. "This is the woman, Abi, who said she wouldn't so much as go inside a tent."

"It is not a lie. I love camping. At times like this."

"Well ... plenty of tents for sale," said Abi.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, course. Over there, look. Only fifteen quid."

"Well, we might," said Linda. "You never know."

"Go on. Let your hair down. Lord, I must go. Health and Safety are approaching. Pray they're happy. We've had one hiccup already; they let us start, but said they'd be back to check that we'd done what they said, and if we hadn't they'd pull the plug. We have, obviously, but ... bye for now."

"Gorgeous girl," said Alex, looking after her appreciatively.

"Gorgeous. Do you think I'd look good in shorts and wellies?"

"Possibly. Then again, possibly not. You're not really going to buy a tent, are you?"

"Yes. I think I might. Why not?"

"You're such a bloody hypocrite. All that fuss insisting on booking into a hotel ..."

"I'm not a hypocrite. I'm a spontaneous person. That's all. I suddenly realise it'd be really pathetic and ... and middle-aged to leave all this, go to a hotel."

"Well, we are middle-aged."

"You might be. I'm not. And if I may say so, you're acting more than middle-aged. More like old."

"Thanks. Well, you'll be sleeping in the tent on your own, let me tell you."

"Cool, as your daughter would say."

"Oh, this is lovely!"

"Isn't it? You're not cold, are you, Mary?" Maeve looked at her tenderly.

"Why on earth should I be cold? The sun's perfectly beautiful."

They were sitting, well wrapped up, for it was evening now, in picnic chairs, halfway up the hill facing the arena. There was a small metal road dividing the area where they were from the campsite, and the arena was beyond that; it was rather like being in the dress circle of a theatre, as Mary had said.

"Donald would have liked this," Mary added. "He loved folk music."

"And Russell?"

"Oh, now, Russell would have adored those two women. Really very, very good, they were. I heard her husband several times, you know; he was one of the greats. I remember one night he was on at Ronnie Scott's. I so wanted to go, but Donald hadn't been well. He always was inclined to chest trouble, you know. I think it was being in that prisoner-of-war camp in Italy for so long."

"I didn't know he was a prisoner of war."

"Oh, yes, he was. For over a year. Terrible conditions, they didn't get nearly enough to eat, and in the winter they were always cold. When he finally got home, he seemed to have shrunk, skin and bone and somehow shorter and this terrible cough. But ... we fed him up and the doctor told him he should spend as much time as possible in the fresh air. He got an allotment and it did him so much good. It works a kind of magic, gardening does."

"What a time you all had of it," said Maeve. "My grandparents got off pretty lightly, I think. My grandfather was too old to be called up."

"Yes, it was hard. But you know, it toughened us."

"Indeed it seems to have. And you'd never have met Russell without it."

"Indeed. And missed out on so much happiness. Oh, now, Georgia, dear, how lovely to see you."

"Abi said you were all here." Georgia bent and kissed her. "Enjoying yourself?"

"So much. Aren't we, Maeve?"

"Where are the boys?"

"On that carousel for the fourth or is it the fifth time," said Maeve, "and they've all had their faces painted, and Liam has made a fine willow basket. It's such a success, Georgia. I do congratulate you."

"I didn't do much. It's Abi who's made it happen. Is Tim around?"

"He certainly is," said Mary. "He and Lorraine brought me over. They think it's wonderful."

"You've got a grandstand seat up here, haven't you?"

"We have indeed," said Maeve. "And we're about to open our thermos of tea. Would you join us, Georgia?"

"Oh ... no. That'd be lovely, but I promised Abi I'd go back down. Some television company has turned up now-we've done so well for publicity-and they want to ... well to ..."

"To have you on, I'm sure," said Mary. "Of course. The festival celebrity."

"Mary, hardly. There are masses of celebrities here. Some really well-known musicians. Very small beer, I am."

"Somehow I don't think so," said Mary. "Very few who've been on TV at peak viewing time. I felt so proud of you, dear."

"Well ... that's very nice. Look ... I'll be back later. How long do you think you'll stay?"

"Well, certainly for another hour. And then we'll probably set out for home. They're all coming back to Tadwick for the night."

"Patrick has his fine new job now, you know ..."

"Really? I'm so pleased. I didn't know."

"Yes, he's office manager of a haulage company," said Maeve, "and even better, he's to be based in Reading, so that we can all see one another very much more easily, and Mary comes up most nearly every weekend at the moment, to help and to babysit, so that Patrick and I can go out for an hour or two now and again."

"That sounds lovely. I'm so pleased. Look, I must go, Abi's waving at me. I'll come back later, promise."

"Don't worry too much, dear. You've got a lot on your plate."

"I'm going down to find the boys," said Maeve. "They'll be sick if they have any more rides on that thing, on top of those burgers and the candy floss. Patrick has no idea how to refuse them anything. I won't be long, Mary."

"No hurry," said Mary. "I'm very happy."

And she was. She sat, looking down into the golden evening at the little families wandering about, smiling, holding hands; at the young couples, arms around one another; at the lights of the little roundabouts and the small old-fashioned carousel turning so tirelessly; at the stage with the small figures playing on it, beside their larger selves on the screens; at the hundreds of tents, snuggled down into the grass, barbecues smoking gently; at the lovely evening-blue July sky, a few clouds drifting across it streaked with the sunset; and she felt an immense gratitude all of a sudden, and thought how blessed she had been in her life, her long, mostly uneventful life, to have loved and been loved so much and known so much happiness, in spite of the sadness that she had had to bear. One could not ask more than this, she thought: to be in a beautiful place, on a beautiful evening, surrounded even now by people she loved and who cared for her, and with a head full of memories, wonderful, charmed memories, and not one of them bitter, or angry, or ugly in any way. If her two husbands-both of whom she had loved so much and been so happy with-could be aware of her happiness now, they would be well pleased. And somehow, this evening, looking at the sky and the dusk just beginning to appear above the sunset, she felt it was very possible they were.

Laura was sitting on the sofa with Daisy, watching the evening news, when the announcer suddenly said, "And now, as some properly seasonal weather seems finally to have arrived, and with more of the same promised for days to come, we take you over to one of those great icons of summer, a music festival. A rather special festival, one created for charity, in aid of the victims of the M4 crash late last summer, and for the hospital that cared for them. The brainchild of two of the people involved, although not hurt, in the crash, Abi Grainger and Georgia Linley-you may remember Georgia from Moving Away Moving Away, the haunting Channel Four drama early this spring-they conceived it, nurtured it, and brought it to life today. It is being held, indeed, on the farm of William Grainger, on whose land the air ambulance landed that day, and who, incidentally, married Abi just three months ago. Isn't that right, Abi?"

And there she was, Laura thought, waiting to feel all the ugly, angry things for this girl, this beautiful, sexy girl, in spite of her generosity towards her in the courtroom, this girl, smiling at the camera, laughing, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and hugging the arm of her husband and saying, "Yes, that's right, and none of this could have happened without the generosity of William and his parents in allowing it to be held on their land."

"I imagine it could all have been pretty alarming to someone not used to these things," said the interviewer, a rather uneasy-looking young man, dressed for some reason all in black.

"Oh, it was pretty alarming to all of us, used to them or not. Including William's cows. But it's all turned out brilliantly; we've earned shi-huge loads of money for the charity, and any minute now one of the newest, most exciting bands in the country is going to play So ... go, BroadBand, go. And anyone in the vicinity, it's not too late; come on down and join us. Thanks. Thank you so much."

And funnily enough, Laura didn't feel anything ugly at all, just a wave of relief that it was all finally over, the sadness and the bitterness, and a certain admiration for the new young Mrs. Grainger, who could so successfully turn tragedy into at least some kind of triumph.

"That looks fun," said Daisy, looking rather wistfully at the camera, which was weaving now among the crowds, the bizarrely dressed young, fairies, nuns, angels, all dancing in the semidarkness, the children dancing too in circles, in and out of the tents and the barbecues, holding hands, and, "Look, there's a whole family dancing there, and they've got sparklers, see? I wish we could go to a festival, Mummy; I'd really love that."

"We will go, darling. Together. I'd like it too."

It was Jonathan; he had come into the room and was standing beside the sofa, one hand on Laura's shoulder. "If Mummy would like that."

"Mummy would like it," said Laura, not looking at him. "Maybe not that one, but ..."

"No," he said, "not that one," and bent and kissed the top of her head. "All right?"

"Yes, I'm all right," said Laura. And realised that at last she was.

"You did a grand job with this, Abi."

Abi turned; it was Jazz, Merlin's hugely sexy friend. How they could be friends, she wasn't sure; she couldn't imagine two people more different, but then, people still kept saying that about her and William ...

"Thank you. Yes, I'm pretty pleased. It was Georgia's idea in the first place, you know."

"I do know. Now, there's a sweetheart. Too good for Merlin, I keep telling her."