I didn't even have chance to accustom my eyes to the sunshine after a spell of sitting in the semi-darkness, before I heard my name called. I spun around in surprise, trying to locate the source of the greeting. When the watery sunspots faded, I saw it was Pete from Indigo Haze who was rushing up to join me.

"Daphne, are you all right?" he demanded, reaching to touch my shoulders with his fingertips, like I was made of bone china, and looking me up and down as if he expected to witness some injuries.

"Well of course I am!" I replied, a little grumpily. I didn't add that my world had just been turned upside down and I hadn't quite worked out how to deal with it.

"We've been looking all over for you!" insisted Pete, and fished in his pocket for his cellular phone. As I stood there, staring at him in confusion, he said into the receiver, "Michael! I've found her, she was just coming out of the dance tent ... yeah, see you in a minute."

It was about then, that the guilt started to kick in. I glanced at my watch and confirmed that I'd been missing in action for quite some time. Now my brother, and goodness only knew how many other people, had become involved in searching for me. Knowing how Niles panics in the best of circumstances, I realised I'd behaved completely selfishly. No doubt at that very moment, my boss's brother was arranging for my picture to appear on the side of milk cartons. Not that there's a huge market for milk at music festivals. Perhaps Niles was improvising, I considered; negotiating a deal to print my face on the side of Rizla packets.

It would certainly be the first time in a while that I'd have anything to do with 'the art of rolling' ...

Look, I was in a bit of a tiswas. My thoughts weren't at their most logical.

Thinking of Niles' ability to turn a church picnic into a disaster movie prompted yet another memory; it had been a similar display of thoughtlessness which had convinced Niles to separate from that awful ex-wife of his, after she'd disappeared to New York for a shopping trip without bothering to tell him. Seeing a parallel between the former Mrs Crane and myself, was an ugly, unpleasant feeling. I was thoroughly ashamed, in that instant.

Pete smiled encouragingly at me and gestured with his arm that we head back to the Jazz Stage together. I felt like I was twelve years old again; the time my school friend Alison had dared me to steal a Twix bar from the local newsagents. Mr McLaverty had turned away to measure out some dolly mixture and I'd reached for the chocolate from the display, only to be caught red-handed when he turned back round. I'd been marched home to face my parents, Mr McLaverty's hand heavy on my shoulder and Alison snivelling beside me.

Only now, I was old enough to know better. Pete's only comment as we walked was a compliment about the hat. I wondered what the hell I was going to tell Michael.

Maggie came racing out to greet me as we approached the embankment. She was clearly distressed, and as she hugged me, she knocked my hat off. A stream of words tumbled out. "Daphne, thank god you're okay, I thought you'd been mugged or something, I thought you'd seen me kiss Niles and you were angry about it and it doesn't matter, I know, I'm just sorry, okay? Okay?!"

When she finally relinquished her frantic hold, Michael came over and said softly that they'd have to get back to prepare for their set and he'd see me later. He handed me my fallen hat, leaned in to kiss me on the cheek and whispered, "It's good to see you have friends who care so much about you, sis," quite pointedly directing his gaze at Niles after the comment. Then he and Pete wandered off, Michael beginning to dial on his phone, presumably to contact the other members of the search party, perhaps also tell Rizla that the deal was off ...

That left Niles. He was standing in the middle of the blanket, looking straight at me, his face the colour of pale ash. I'd done that to him, and I felt rotten about it. I wasn't ready to explain the reasons for my little tantrum to him, not at that point, but I *could* offer an apology. So I stepped up to him, watching those blue eyes flicker all over my face.

"I'm really sorry," I said, then bit at my lip. "I needed to be alone for a while. I should have thought on."

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"I'm ..." I wasn't okay. I was far from okay. I'd fallen, and fallen hard, for a man with whom I couldn't possibly have a future. "Yes," I lied.

Niles made no move to touch me. It was strange, because I couldn't remember him ever turning down the chance for a hug before, and of course, I now knew the reason for his overt tactility. This new distance unnerved me. I must have really upset him with my thoughtlessness.

I decided I wanted to lose the distance. I wanted to touch *him*. I wanted to shrug aside all those complicating factors, just for a moment. So I dropped my hat beside the bag and stepped closer, slipping my arms around his middle and leaning in to rest my head against his shoulder. After a moment, his arms pulled me to him, and I felt a hand tentatively reaching up to touch my hair.

"Oh, Daphne," he whispered. His voice was close to my ear, and my arms were immediately covered with gooseflesh. "Don't *ever* do that to me again."

"I'm sorry," I repeated. And, confused and scared as I was, I began to cry.