Dangerous to Know (18 page)

And then there was a knock on the door. I think I was one of the few people that actually heard it; the buzz of voices was getting seriously loud by that point as the corpses downed their cocktails.

“Yes, so what we’d probably do is maybe send you one title a month, no pressure, but it’d be great to know your thoughts, and obviously it’ll look great on your CV,” the
Guardian
journalist was saying. Her breath smelt of salmon canapés and fizzy wine.

“Sounds brilliant.” I grinned at her. “I’m really sorry but I think I just heard the doorbell.”

I glanced around the room. Dad had his back to me, deep in conversation with Alicia and the wrinkly old dude from Sony. The Labrador was nowhere to be seen. The coast was clear. I made for the door, terrified that at any moment someone would grab my arm and I’d be “introduced” to another old crone with halitosis.

I let the library door close behind me. If I could just make the last train to Castle Cary I’d still be there in time. There had to be a way. The doorbell rang again and I broke into a run. If anyone else heard it I was screwed. This was my only chance.

I skidded to a halt on the marble tiles by the front door and heaved on the brass handle.

“Evening.”

I stood and stared. Owen was standing on the doorstep with Natasha. Once again she was all red hair, shiny teeth and legs. She was wearing a billowy top this time; she looked much more pregnant. I couldn’t believe Owen was going to have a kid.

“Hello, Jack,” Natasha said. “Are you OK? You look a bit stressed.”

They swept inside, smelling of woodsmoke and something expensive and burnt-sugary (that was Natasha).

“Is the old man all right?” Owen asked, as if it was perfectly normal to find me here. “Whenever Herod decides to turn up, I’m going to kill him. Dad’s been going round every homeless shelter in London. Christ, the amount of hassle this has caused everyone you wouldn’t believe.”

“Oh, no.” I stepped back, letting them past. “I can believe it all right.” I wondered if Owen knew about Mum and Dad being called to identify a corpse. I fought off a mental image of Herod lying cold and white in a hospital morgue, a nurse going through his pockets, trying to find a wallet, ID.

Owen raised his eyebrows at me. “I need a drink.”

“We can’t stay long.” Natasha smiled at me again. “But O really wanted to make sure your dad was OK. He’s really worried, isn’t he?” It was weird: the way she spoke about my father was kind of familiar, as if she knew him pretty well.

“Really worried.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “So worried he’s having a lovely party.”

I moved towards the door. It was ten to nine according to the hall clock. The last train south was just before half nine. If I left now, I might still make it to the station.

Quick as a falling stone, Owen put out one hand, barring the way with his arm.

“Wait.”

Surely
Owen
wasn’t part of my Dad’s scary entourage? Back-up for the Labrador and Alicia?

I had no choice but to lay out every single one of my cards. “Please,” I hissed. “I haven’t got time. I’m trying to get to bloody Glastonbury. He’s come over all heavy and won’t let me go. He’s being a complete cock. The last train’s in half an hour. Seriously.”

Owen and Natasha looked at each other, speaking without words.

“Please,” I said again. “This has nothing to do with you. I need to meet my girlfriend there. I haven’t even seen Dad for nearly two years and now he’s trying to control my life.”

“You’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?” Owen said, still leaning against the door. “You’re going to try getting there one way or another?”

I glanced at the clock. It was nearly nine. I was running out of time. “What do you think I’m going to do? I’ll hitch if I have to.”

“Owen?” Natasha was looking uneasy.

Owen sighed. “Oh, God. When he finds out, he’ll kill me. Listen, we’re driving down tonight. Natasha’s sister lives in Pilton – she gets free tickets.”

I stared at him, not even daring to hope. They were going to Glastonbury. Of course they were.

“O?” said Natasha. “I don’t want to be a spanner in the works, but isn’t this just going to make things even worse for Ed? He’s in an utter state already about Herod.”

Owen rested his hand on her arm. “True,” he said, “but you don’t know Jack. If we don’t take him, he’ll go anyway.”

Natasha shrugged. “Oh, you’re all the same. OK, he’s probably better with us. I just feel sorry for your dad, that’s all.”

I stared at them both; I hardly dared believe it.

Owen laughed at me. “Look, do you want a lift or not?”

Fifty miles outside Oxford, we stopped at a garage. A safe enough distance, Owen said, but to be honest I felt like even the moon wasn’t a safe enough distance from my father after what I’d done. Owen filled up with diesel, thirty quid’s worth at least, and stopped inside to use the phone. I’ve often wondered where Owen gets his money – surely he was too proud to take it from Dad? Had he broken the pact? I’ve never asked. He was inside for a few minutes, then Natasha and I watched him run back across the forecourt with a bulging carrier bag. I could hardly breathe. What if Dad threatened to call the police? What if he tried to follow us? I wouldn’t put anything past him.

He wasn’t going to take this lying down.

I shut my eyes, dreading the moment Owen got back into the van.

Natasha turned to me. “She must be a pretty amazing girl. I hope this is worth it.” She wasn’t just trying to be a bitch, either. She meant it.

“So do I.” I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Quarter past ten. Bethany would still be expecting me to meet her at the Veggie Café. What would she do if I wasn’t there?

What if Dad had talked Owen into turning around and driving back again?

Owen swung himself up into the driver’s seat and tipped the contents of the bag into Natasha’s lap. Prawn cocktail crisps, cans of Coke, a Ginsters pasty. M & Ms. Road food, basically. We were going.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Owen said. “He’s furious. But it’s cool, don’t worry.”

I took one of the Coke cans and drank it in gulps, cold sweetness pouring down my throat. “What did he say?” I managed to croak, once I’d recovered the power of speech.

Owen was already pulling away across the forecourt. They’re so alike, Dad and Owen. Both totally ruthless. “Nothing.” He flipped on the indicator, hauled the Sprinter out onto the slip road. “According to that poodle-boy assistant of his, he was too busy to talk to me. He said to call back tomorrow. Must have guessed what happened, that I took you with me.”

We were being frozen out.

Owen laughed. “Oh, well, looks like that’s me out of the will, then.”

I held the Coke can to my forehead, leaning back against the seat, staring at the snaking line of lights before us, the road slipping away and away every second.

We’d won and Dad knew it. He wasn’t going to destroy his dignity by chasing after us through the night.

I wondered if I would ever see him again. A man with three sons, and all were gone.

Eleven came and went; the night slipped past the windscreen and I wondered what Bethany was thinking. Was she annoyed? Hurt? Waiting for me? Her dad was dying: I should have been there for her.

We left the van and Natasha at her sister’s house, a huge converted barn in a pear orchard just outside Pilton. The sister, Louisa, was like an older, posher version of Natasha, only her hair was more washed out – peachy rather than bright red – and she wore a nasty fake velvet headband and a girls’ rugby shirt with a turned-up collar.

“You must be Jack!” She smiled at me. “Wow, you all look so alike. So much like Ed.”

What? Natasha’s sister knew my dad?

I glanced at Owen but he just shrugged. “Jack’s a bit fazed,” he said. “Had a long day. Thanks for having us, Lou.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s lovely you came. Real shame you missed the headliners, though.” Louisa didn’t appear to have noticed the shockwave that passed through the kitchen when she mentioned Dad’s name. She smiled, offering round glasses of red wine. “Who was it, anyway? I’m glad the tickets are being put to good use this year. Rob and I just can’t be bothered with it! Owen, are you really going down there tonight? Aren’t you just absolutely shattered? Natty, you look dreadful. You should have a bath and go to bed.”

“Thanks,” Natasha said, winking at me.

Owen gave Louisa the full-wattage smile. He’s always been like that with women, he’s like a bloody hypnotist. “All the more reason to stretch my legs. Coming, Jack?”

He kissed Natasha; we left the warm, wine-filled house and went out into the lanes, Owen and I. He rolled a joint and we smoked it; I wondered how many times Owen and Herod had been out on the prowl like this, side by side, when I was just a kid, not part of it. Now I was there and Herod was gone, but it was like I could feel him there with us, another person, only just behind, just out of sight, hidden.

“You’re quiet,” Owen said. I could see the fence through some trees now, battered corrugated iron. The night was filled with music, light. One hundred thousand people and more. The biggest party on earth.

“Yeah.” I couldn’t stop thinking about what Louisa had said:
So much like Ed.

“Not all of their friends took Mum’s side,” Owen said. He shares Dad’s creepy ability to see what you’re thinking sometimes. “Tash and Louisa’s old man was friends with Dad from their first day at uni. He and Mary never liked the way Mum made it so difficult for Dad to see us once he’d left.”

“Did she?”

Owen shrugged. “It was a nightmare. Don’t you remember? When we went down to London, it was because she’d kept thinking of reasons why we couldn’t see him. OK, so Dad was the one shagging around – it was his fault they broke up – but even though he was meant to be able to see us whenever he was back in the UK, Mum always had some excuse. He nearly took her to court, but everyone said it would be pointless because of his job. We wouldn’t have been living with him anyway, just away at school.” He blew out a cloud of smoke, shrugging. “It was a mess, really. I don’t know if I blame Mum or not. Lou is Dad’s god-daughter – that’s how I met Tash. She was travelling after uni and stayed with him a couple of weeks in San Francisco. In that amazing house with the pool – do you remember it?”

“What?” I demanded. “So while you were away, you saw Dad the whole time?” I couldn’t get my head around it. Over the past five years, Dad, Owen – and Herod, too – had retreated out of my life, sticking around in my brain like faded photographs of themselves. In the meantime, Owen and Dad had been seeing each other. Just getting on with it. I suppose the truth is I was jealous.

Owen shrugged. “Not the whole time. But once we went to Burning Man and afterwards he said there was a girl he wanted me to meet, an English girl who was staying with him—”

“What?” I said. “You went to Burning Man with
Dad
?”

“Yep. He’s good friends with the guy who started it back in the eighties.”

I stared, trying not to imagine my father off his face at a crazed festival in the Nevada desert. Gross.

“Anyway,” Owen said, “so afterwards I went back to San Francisco with Dad. I hadn’t seen Tash in thirteen years.” He smiled. I understood about that.

What more was there to say?

“Come on,” I told him. “Let’s go.” But when I turned to look at him, it was as if he didn’t see me but someone else, a long time ago.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “I know all this is my fault. Herod couldn’t take it. I knew but I didn’t want to know. I was having too much of a good time. Simple as that. It was my fault: I didn’t look out for him. I should have opened my eyes. I was the only one who could have stopped him, and I didn’t.” He sighed. “I don’t even know if it would have made any difference – whether he would have got ill, anyway – but at least I would’ve tried. Not just let it happen, like a complete idiot. He was meant to go to art school – he’s a total genius, and instead, he’s been hanging around in that creepy retreat for the last few years. Wasted.”

And then I said what I’d been thinking since the moment I knew Herod had left the Peace Centre. “What if he never comes back? What if he’s dead?”

Owen stopped, leaning on the corrugated-iron fence with one hand. “I first came here with him in 1990. We saw Pop Will Eat Itself and I threw up about nine pints of cider. Couldn’t drink it for years after that. We lost each other about five times but we always used to meet up at the Stone Circle and mess ourselves up on hash brownies. It feels like such a long time ago.”

Owen sighed. “Herod’s not dead. He’s still here. I just don’t know where.” He shook his head. “Come on, man. Let’s go.”

I followed him.

“Family Camping.” Owen nodded at the nearest signpost. “Where are you heading?”

“Green Fields.” I looked around at the sea of tents, the glowing lights. I could just see what must have been the Pyramid Stage through a bank of trees, and a helter-skelter. Silk flags fluttered. It was a temporary city, a crazy place. Wild excitement shot through my veins.

“Other side of the site,” Owen told me. “I’ll come with you. There’ll be a load of people up at the Stone Circle. There’s still the same lot coming here.” He laughed. “You go away for five years and nothing changes. It’s where we always meet. Green Fields is on the way.”

And so we walked through the city of cities, past campfires, middle-aged women dancing by a hedge with no clothes on, hordes of people completely out of their minds, grinning, laughing. The main acts had finished but there was music everywhere still, the night was bursting with it. The smell of weed and sewage. Lights pulsing through night-black tree branches. Silk flags flapping hard in the wind. Dried mud beneath our feet. Strings of coloured bulbs lit up stalls selling pancakes, chips, garlic mushrooms, noodles, dodgy tie-died clothes, smoking kit, camping gear for the unprepared. It was uphill to the Green Fields and I followed Owen; I’d have been lost without him. He seemed to know where to go without looking at any of the hand-painted signposts. It was twelve-thirty when we reached the Veggie Café – a bigger set-up than before. Old rugs laid out on the floor, people sitting at low wooden tables outside the main tent. Moroccan lamps flickering everywhere. There was a queue.