Penny Vincenzi - The Best Of Times

“Hi, Abi. Lovely day.”

“Shit, isn’t it?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve seen worse. Good thing we persuaded William to put down that stone. You’ll need this…” She wrapped a brilliant green plastic strap round Abi’s wrist. “Being Mrs. Farmer won’t get you far today. Green is all areas, for people like us and the bands, yellow for all the stall holders, red for the punters; don’t take it off whatever you do. Security doesn’t take prisoners. They’ve arrived too; they’re in the other hut.”

“OK, thanks. What time did you get here?”

“Four,” said Rosie cheerfully. “So much to do.”

“Four!” said Abi. “I hope we’re not paying you overtime.”

“Course you are. No, it’s fine. My big worry now is Health and Safety; you know they come to do their final inspection an hour before the first band plays…”

“Yeah.”

“They called late last night to say they might be late, got another to do the other side of the M 4. Which is a total bugger; it could hold us up for hours if they find a cable they’re not happy with or something.”

“Yeah, William’s friend who does one of these every year said they once held them up till ten thirty. Oh, God. You’d think there’d be enough of them to go round, wouldn’t you?”

“No,” said Rosie. “And… oh, look, here comes food. I said they could come anytime after seven. They won’t mind the rain; they sell more.”

A small armada of trailer-towing vans was moving down the hill, into the site. “I’ll have to go, tell them where to park. Still happy with what we agreed?”

“Course,” Abi said.

She wondered what on earth Mrs. Grainger might be doing, sent up a small but fervent prayer for a brief, violent, and nonfatal illness, and walked across to a desperate-looking girl at the entrance who said she was in charge of what she called the kiddie roundabouts; one of the trailers had driven into the farmyard by mistake and been unable to turn round, and a very unhelpful woman had refused to move her Land Rover, which would make things much easier. No violent illnesses yet, then, Abi thought, and told the girl to follow her back up the track.

Emma and Barney arrived at eleven, just as a very large white van got hopelessly stuck in the mud.

“What are we going to do?” wailed Abi. “It’s going to block the way for everyone else; half the stalls aren’t here yet and-”

“Abi, I’m no farmer,” said Barney, “but a tractor’d sort that out in no time. Where’s William?”

“He’s trying to sort out some problem with the power leads. The supply isn’t enough, apparently; now they tell us-Over there, look…”

“I’ll go and ask him,” said Barney.

He came back grinning.

“He says he can’t stop what he’s doing, but if I could get his dad or the cowman they’d bring a tractor down. Where do I find either of those people?”

“No idea where his dad is. Strangling his mother, I hope. But the cowman-Ted, he’s called-he’ll almost certainly be up in the cowshed. There’s a cow calving; apparently she’s in real trouble; they’re getting the vet; he won’t be able to leave her just to drive the tractor. Oh, God…”

“I can drive a tractor,” said Barney unexpectedly, “if it’s OK with William.”

“God, I don’t know. He loves those tractors. Far more than he loves me.”

“Do you know where I might find one?”

“Well… yes. There’s one parked outside the lambing shed. I saw it as I came down.”

“Take me to it. I’ll risk William’s wrath.”

“But, Barney… Oh, shit. What a nightmare. Can you really drive a tractor? I mean really?”

“I really can. Chap I was at school with, his dad had a farm; we used to drive the tractors all over the place whenever I went to stay with him.”

“But-”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t say he could drive a tractor if he couldn’t, Abi,” said Emma. “He’s awfully clever.”

“Emma, you’d think Barney could drive a rocket into space. I’ve never known love to make anyone so blind.”

“Yes, OK. But-”

“Look, we’ve got to do something,” said Barney. He pointed at the van; the driver had got out and was squaring up to the security guard, calling him an evil nancy boy. The security guard pulled his radio out of his belt and started alternately talking into it and shouting at the van driver.

“Oh, OK. I’ll drive you up there. Emma, you stay here and tell William some lie if he comes over.”

“OK,” said Emma cheerfully.

She looked around her. It all looked-stuck van aside-extremely organised.

The food trailers were all in place and putting up their shutters, revealing signs that said things like, Best burgers and Finest fries . A couple of girls were standing by a small children’s roundabout, giving a child a ride; two rainbow-coloured tents side by side announced that they were face painting and willow weaving; someone clearly with a sense of humour was hoisting a large hot-air balloon over the loos that read, In Good Company. A St. John’s ambulance tent was going up; a girl and a man were constructing a large barbecue under a pagoda tent, with a sign that said, Paella: Biggest portions , and a small but determined-looking queue was forming across the valley where the punters’ entrance was.

Everyone seemed to know exactly what they were supposed to be doing and getting on with it. The air was thick with the crackle of walkie-talkies, the hurdy-gurdy music of the roundabouts, and the occasional burst of rock music as someone checked a sound system. And all the time the picture grew: more vans, more tents, more colour, more stalls. It was astonishing, rather like watching someone doing a giant jigsaw. God, Abi was a wonder. She’d masterminded all of this without any of the histrionics Georgia had brought to it, just got on and done it. William was a lucky chap; she hoped he knew it.

“Oh… William!” she said, realising he was behind her. “Hi.”

“Hi. Everything all right? Abi gone to find Ted?”

“Yes. I… think so.”

“Great. Sorry I can’t look after you properly, Emma. If you want a coffee, the site manager’s cabin’s got a kettle and stuff…”

“William, I don’t need looking after. Did you get the power problem sorted?”

“No, not yet. And that van’s causing chaos. God. If only this bloody rain would stop…”

“I think it is stopping,” said Emma, “actually. Well, it’s much lighter, more of a sort of drizzle, don’t you think?”

“No,” said William, looking up at the lowering sky, “I don’t. Oh, good, here comes Ted now. No, it’s not… it’s Barney. What the hell is he doing driving my tractor? Barney, you wanker, get out of that, for God’s sake; you’ll do the most terrible damage…”

“Piss off, William,” Abi shouted above the din. “Barney’s fine; he can drive this perfectly well, and you’d better get up to the cowshed-that calf’s a breach, and the vet needs help.”

“Where’s Ted?”

“Seeing to another calf. Go on, William, for God’s sake.”

William roared up the track in the Land Rover, with another agonised yell at Barney of, “You break my tractor, Fraser, I’ll have your goolies off.”

“You know what they say,” Abi said, grinning at Emma. “You wait ages for a calf and then they all come at once.”

“You’d think they might have waited another day,” said Emma. “So inconsiderate-they must have known what was going on. Abi, would you agree with me that the rain’s much lighter? Almost stopped?”

“Mmm. Not sure,” said Abi, and then, “God, good old Barney, he’s doing wonders with that thing. I hope that cow’s all right; we lost one last week; can’t afford another.”