Tom walked carefully back downstairs, having changed into his cargo shorts in preparation for what was likely to be a wet bath for him, as well as Dylan.
His foot was a bit sore having been pulled and prodded, but he definitely felt far more clear-headed for taking himself off the painkillers.
He still felt guilty about the moonwalk and had apologised again to Annie earlier that morning.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she had told him. ‘Honestly. I think we still raised a ton of money.’
He asked for the details of the hospital from her, intending to add his own personal contribution later to the other donations.
‘Hey,’ said Sam, heading across the hall to see him as he reached the bottom of the stairs. ‘We’ve just had the most amazing news. It turns out that Chris Martin has contracted some kind of virus, unfortunately.’
Tom raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m not sure that’s amazing news, especially for Chris.’
But he could sense the excitement bubbling away at Sam. ‘Yeah, I know. But that was Emily Eavis and they’d like you to do the Sunday night gig instead of Coldplay.’
Tom hadn’t had much sleep, thanks to Dylan howling the house down until he had brought him upstairs to sleep next to his bed. ‘What are you talking about?’ he said, dragging a hand through his hair.
‘Glastonbury, mate. I’m talking about you headlining a week on Sunday at Glastonbury!’
Tom was shocked. ‘Me?’ He immediately began to shake his head. ‘I don’t know if I’m up to that. What about my foot?’
‘Nobody’s asking you to dance.’
Tom’s gut reaction was that he really didn’t want to play Glastonbury. Which was ridiculous, he told himself. It was the ultimate festival. The most famous one in the world. It was likely to be a once-in-a-lifetime offer. But he had just taken himself away from all the pressure and crowds. His massive world tour had just finished. He really just wanted some peace. However, he could sense Sam’s excitement. And after all the recent bad publicity, it would probably help smooth things over with the record company.
‘Come on,’ urged Sam. ‘You know you want to. And you’ll be my first ever artist to headline at Glastonbury!’
The reviews would probably be awful, thought Tom. The press were likely to have the knives out for him. And he’d end up doing his foot more harm than good.
But after looking once more at Sam’s excited face, he finally nodded his agreement. He owed his friend so much that he should do this one big favour for Sam.
‘Fantastic!’ said Sam, whooping with delight. ‘I’ll get back to them.’
Tom took a deep breath, still somewhat in shock. He was therefore pleased to see Eleanor playing with Dylan on the back lawn and went out to them, thankful of the distraction.
Dylan leapt up to greet him.
‘Hey, boy,’ he said, crouching down on one knee to stroke the dog’s head. Dylan wagged his tail in response.
‘Is he ready for his bath?’ asked Eleanor.
‘He might not be,’ said Tom. ‘But it was pretty smelly in my bedroom this morning so, yes, definitely.’
Dylan was less than impressed about his bath but he stood relatively still whilst Tom hosed him down with water near the outside tap on the patio. The dog almost seemed to enjoy the rub-down when Eleanor used the mild dog wash that her mum had given her.
‘He’s going to need at least another bath before he’s fully clean,’ she said, rubbing his back into a frothy, foamy cloud. ‘And a clip. Mum knows someone who could give him a decent haircut.’
Tom began to rinse Dylan down with the hose. At least he was beginning to look and smell better. ‘He might have to wait for the next bath,’ he said. ‘I won’t be around at the weekend.’ He paused. ‘I’ve been asked to step in to replace Coldplay at Glastonbury at Sunday.’
Eleanor looked up at him. ‘That’s amazing,’ she told him. ‘You must be thrilled.’
He nodded. Was he thrilled? He wasn’t sure.
Tom had just finished giving Dylan his final rinse down when the dog gave himself a good shake, causing water to shower over them both.
‘Eewww!’ cried Eleanor, now dripping with water.
‘Here,’ said Tom, lobbing a tennis ball across the lawn for Dylan to chase. ‘That should dry him out.’
He glanced over at Eleanor who was wringing out her wet top. He noted that it was expensive-looking material, probably designer. However, he had a feeling that the real Eleanor had been the one he had seen at The Forge.
He could understand why she was quite defensive about the messy house. Perhaps that was why she always liked to look so smart. Maybe she was trying to be the complete opposite of her mum. She had seemed fake and unreal when he had first met her and yet he was certain there was real pain there.
‘I was going to stretch my legs and take a short walk around the grounds,’ he said. ‘Hopefully Dylan will dry out at the same time. Want to join us?’
She looked pleased. ‘Of course. Maybe I’ll dry out too.’
They both watched the dog rush ahead of them across the overgrown back lawn, trying to chase the butterflies which were fluttering over the weeds that were flowering everywhere.
‘I checked with the vets,’ she told him as they walked. ‘Nobody’s claimed him yet.’
Tom felt secretly glad. He had never had a pet growing up. He had had enough trouble trying to feed himself, let alone anyone else. But Dylan came with no pressure. He had spent the last part of the night curled up on a huge mound of old duvets that Annie had produced. No barking, no whining. Just happy to be there with him. Tom wasn’t sure how many people had ever felt like that about him personally.
Dylan came bounding up to them, covered in grass and flower seeds.
‘I don’t believe it. Eleanor’s just taken an extra splashing to get you clean,’ he told the dog before turning to smile at her.
They locked eyes for a moment before Tom closed his eyes and held his face up to the sun. The warmth was flooding his body, helping the aches and pains fade somewhat. At least he was sleeping well. In fact, even though he hadn’t taken any painkillers for a couple of days, he was sleeping more soundly than he could remember. It must have been all the country air.
They followed Dylan towards the west side of the grounds. Tom glanced over at the recording studio and then quickly turned away. He’d pretended to spend the previous afternoon there for Sam’s sake, but nothing was happening. The words were still far out of reach. But at least he had finally come clean with Sam. Maybe together they could face his writer’s block.
They continued walking in silence towards the side of the house and onwards so that they were facing the front lawn. Rose and Arthur were getting into the car with Annie. They all waved before they headed off down the driveway.
After his minor meltdown the previous evening, Tom had to admit that he was starting to enjoy being around the family. He liked watching them interact. The love, warmth and humour they shared was in stark contrast to the scattered pieces of his own family. Not that he counted any of them as family.
Apart from his beloved gran, of course. Nothing had been the same since she had passed away during the winter. That was when the writing block had begun, because he felt as if he had nobody else to write for. Nobody to impress. Nobody to listen who knew the real him. He still couldn’t shift the feeling of loneliness that surrounded him all the time.
Eleanor had found a stick and had thrown it across the front lawn for Dylan to retrieve. However, he picked it up and rushed off towards the willow tree.
‘You’re supposed to retrieve it, you fool,’ said Eleanor, chasing after the dog.
He watched her rush through the knee-length grass, anxious that Dylan shouldn’t get into any more trouble. It gave him a brief moment to enjoy her lithe figure, especially as he himself wasn’t up to running at the moment. She was soon at the boughs of the great willow tree and disappeared through the leaves.
However, she was gone for such a long time that Tom started to worry and made his cautious way through the tangle of grass. He couldn’t wait until his foot was fully mended and he felt fit and healthy once more.
Once he had reached the tree, he pulled the curtain of greenery to one side and found Eleanor having a tug of war on the ground with Dylan. Her jeans were now grass-stained and wet. Her top was crumpled and splattered with mud.
Eleanor looked up and blushed when she found him watching her. ‘Sorry,’ she said, with a rueful smile. ‘I was trying to get back to you but Dylan here had other ideas.’
‘No worries,’ he replied.
In fact, he was enjoying watching her play with the dog. Her dark hair was flying around her face and she looked relaxed for the first time since he had met her. As if this was the true Eleanor.
Suddenly, a line of a song came to him from nowhere. ‘Suddenly I see the real you,’ it whispered into his head. ‘As if the stars have come out at night.’
He continued to watch her play with the dog, her green eyes flashing as she laughed and tried to wrestle the stick from the dog.
And he realised he was definitely not in a hurry to leave Willow Tree Hall any more.