I turn away and run along the perimeter towards the stage. The ground is uneven underfoot as I track along the fence, but I can’t look at where I’m stepping at the same time as peering in through the wire mesh, trying to see if I can spot Jacob from afar, amongst the growing queues at the Pimm’s tent and the strawberries and cream kiosk.

I wonder what I’ll do if I spot him. Will I scream and shout, demanding to know what’s going on? Or will I just be so relieved to see him alive and well that I’ll want to hug him?

There’s a hub of activity behind the stage, as musicians, crew members and engineers make the final preparations before the show starts. I look for Leon among the melee, knowing this is most likely where he’ll be, but even if I spot him, he’s not who I need to find. It’s only Jacob who can save me.

The perimeter goes way beyond the stage, every step taking me further and further away from where I need to be; every second allowing more people through the gates. I should have gone in the opposite direction; perhaps I would have found a more affable security guard.

I’m just about to turn back along the fence, daunted and panicked by the length of it, unable to see an access point, when something catches my eye.

Over by the old stables, which are just visible through an opening in the trees, a flurry of pigeons flap and squawk out of a gaping hole in the moss-covered slate roof. It’s as if they’ve heard a shotgun, yet the only sound I can hear is the distant hum of the burgeoning crowd.

I’m momentarily rooted to the spot, my body waiting to catch up with the fanciful theories racing through my brain.

Without even acknowledging I’m going to do it, my feet are walking down the slope, away from the fence, and through the wildflowers towards the outbuildings. It’s as if something is pushing me, propelling me forwards, and I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. By the time the leaning flintstone stable block comes into full view, I’m almost running, desperately needing to quash the macabre movie that is playing out in my head.

As I squeeze through the barriers around the site, I can hear a loud clanging sound coming from inside. It may just be builders clearing the place up, but I don’t recall Leon saying he’d instructed anyone to start working on it seeing as they’re awaiting planning permission. Besides, I can’t imagine he’d choose this weekend to do so.