Lifting the Lid(18)

‘Quite right,’ said Sandra. ‘I’ll tell him when I see him, shall I?’



* * *



Trevor was happy to be back behind the wheel of his camper van once again and by the look of her, so too was Milly, who lay curled up asleep on the passenger seat beside him.

He had arrived at the garage to find his van raised high up on a hoist, and the mechanic he had spoken to the previous afternoon was tinkering away at the underside with a large spanner.

‘You’re in luck,’ the mechanic had said. ‘The part arrived earlier than I’d expected. Few more minutes and you should be on your way. What time did you say your brother’s funeral was?’

‘What?’ Trevor had completely forgotten the lie he had told in an attempt to get the van repaired as quickly as possible.

‘Newcastle, wasn’t it?’

‘Oh, er… yes, that’s right, Newcastle. Brother’s funeral, yes. Er… three-thirty, I think.’

‘Don’t you know?’

‘Er, well… we weren’t that close really.’

The mechanic had stopped what he was doing and given him a look before resuming his work.

A little less than an hour later, the van was rolling along at a steady forty-five miles per hour. Trevor’s wallet was almost £200 lighter as a result, and with the hotel on top, he had already spent nearly £300 on unforeseen expenses.

‘We might have to cut down on your dog food at this rate, Mill,’ he said.

Milly lazily opened one eye and then immediately went back to sleep.

The traffic began to increase as Trevor looked out for signs to Bramham Park and the Leeds Festival. He still wasn’t convinced this was a good idea, but he’d realised when he’d got to the garage that he’d forgotten to hand in the ticket and the index cards at the hotel reception. Returning to the hotel had not been an option, and at first, dropping them all into the nearest litter bin had seemed to be the most sensible alternative. But wasn’t that part of the reason for this whole trip? To stop being sensible for once in his life and just go wherever his fancy took him? Be open to whatever might come his way, like Steppenwolf said in Born to be Wild?

Well, the ticket had come his way, so why not make use of it? What had he got to lose? It wasn’t as if he had any other plans for the day, and besides, he’d guessed from the index cards that there must be something in a locker at the festival site, and his curiosity nagged at him to find out what.

He eventually located the car park that was designated on his ticket, and after queuing for about twenty minutes, a young woman in a fluorescent yellow tabard approached his open window.

‘Can I see your ticket please?’

Trevor handed it to her, and she examined it before tearing off the perforated stub. Passing the larger portion back to him, she suddenly noticed Milly, who was now sitting bolt upright on the passenger seat and intently observing all the activity around her.

‘You do realise you can’t take dogs into the main arena, sir?’

Trevor glanced at Milly as if he had forgotten she was there. ‘Oh right. Of course.’

‘Unless it’s a guide dog or a hearing dog, that is.’

‘A what?’

‘Hearing dog. You know, for deaf people. Mind you, I don’t know why any deaf people would want to come to a thing like this.’

‘Quite,’ said Trevor and then followed the directions she gave him until he found a parking space.

‘I hadn’t thought about you not being allowed in,’ he said to Milly. ‘You’ll be all right here for a bit though, won’t you? I’ll probably only be gone for an hour. Two at most.’

The dog looked directly into his eyes and wistfully cocked her head to one side.

‘Oh Jesus, Milly. – Okay, half an hour tops.’

She cocked her head to the other side and gave a flick of her tail.



* * *



A thickset man with a shaven head and wearing one of the ubiquitous yellow stewards’ vests started to hold out his hand for Trevor’s ticket and then stopped. ‘Sorry, mate, but there’s no dogs allowed into the main arena.’

‘Pardon?’

‘I said there’s no dogs allowed into the main arena,’ the steward repeated but at a slightly increased volume.

Trevor responded with a faint shrug and tapped his right earlobe with his forefinger.

The steward gestured towards Milly and shook his head with exaggerated emphasis. ‘Dog. No. Not here,’ he shouted, and with a sweep of his arm he indicated the area beyond the ticket barrier behind him.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand. I’m very deaf, you see.’

‘Might be one of them hearing dogs,’ another steward chipped in.