A.N. To those of you who have read Lucky Star, I know it says in there how Dizzy and Finn get back together, but I had this idea before I read Lucky Star, and I didn't want to waste it! I didn't like Lucky Star much anyway.

P.S. My sister came up with the title.

Brightly coloured scarves wave from the tops of stalls. Tiny mirrors flash and cast little lights about, like disco lamps. People in long skirts, and neon greens and oranges yellows and blues move around me. The whole place is like a twisting rainbow, a fruit bowl with every kind of fruit possible in it.

I don't know what made me turn of the motorway on to a tiny country lane when I saw the sign. Festival this way. Simple. I guess there can't be that many of them around here. Why did I come? I left that part of my life behind a long time ago. Memories? Dreams? Both?

Oh, this brings it back. Images and sensations race each other through my mind: dancing under a starry sky with a boy with dreadlocks, a woman with purple hair, the smell of henna. A girl with a brightly painted face pulling at my hand. The look of disbelieve on a policeman's face as I say my name. Dizzy. I can still laugh about that one. The smell of the sea, the feel of a kiss. Sand beneath my toes. The smell of a bonfire- No, don't go there, I tell myself. I have avoided that part of my memories, the part that woke me up, sweating and shivering, every night for a least a month, and regularly for another year, before I managed to chase them away, or they just faded. But they are still there.

A realise I have been standing here for several minuets, lost in a daydream. A young girl standing behind a table stares at me. I shake my head clearing the thoughts, and walk over to her. Arranged on her table are pieces of home-made jewellery, bracelets of tiny glass beads, necklaces made of bits of wood, earrings. They look like a fairy made them.

"These are lovely" I say, smiling at her, and she smiles shyly. She cant be more than fourteen or fifteen.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Did you make them all yourself?"

"Oh, no. I made these, here, and my sisters made the others. We do it all together."

"How much?" I ask, picking up a beautiful necklace with pale blue beads and flower shaped charms, dangling. "Three-fifty" she says. "That's a bargain! I would get something like this in the city for ten pounds!" I exclaim.

"Do you want it? Would you like a bag?" she asks.

"Yes please", I say, handing over the money. "But no for the bag. I'll put it in my purse. Bye." She smiles and says goodbye too, and I walk away. Even if there is nothing else of interest here, it was worth it for that necklace. And seeing the girl. Something is naggingly familiar about her, but I can't place it. Oh, well, I shake my head. It must be just the general atmosphere.

I hear the music before I see where it is coming from. I follow it away from the main crowd, towards a figure sitting against a tree, strumming a guitar. I know that song. Oh, will every little thing I see here today remind me of that long-gone summer? Even a tune.

The young man is busking, a tattered cap at his feet half full of small change. It's a song I know. It's called Somewhere I Belong. Finn used to play it, and I'd sing along.

As I approach, he looks up and smiles. He is very good-looking with storm-blue eyes and shoulder- length brown dreadlocks, but that isn't the reason I pause. As with the girl, there is something familiar about him, the guitar, everything. As I fumble with my purse and toss fifty pence into the cap, he winks at me. I should move on, I know, but I hold back, until he has finished the song. He looks at my inquiringly.

"I love that song." I blurt out. Me and my big mouth. But I can't stop now.

"I used to know someone, who played it."

"Yeah? I've been playing it since I was about five!" He starts again, this time singing, and I join in, singing along to words I've half forgotten. When he's done, he looks at me impressed.

"You're good. Are you a singer?"

"Oh, no…just a choir, and I gave that up last year…" to avoid looking at his face, my eyes trace along the curve of the guitar, and come to rest on the battered blue guitar strap running round his shoulders. What on earth…

But before I can place it, the man is speaking again.

"I don't think I know you? And no offence, but you don't really look the festival type…" His blue-grey eyes rest on my smart white shirt, and nice jeans.

"No, you're right, I'm not." I admit. "Well, not any more. I was once… For one summer. The best summer… But anyway, I'd best be going… It was lovely talking to you." I treat him to my most dazzling smile before turning away.

But before I have gone twenty paces, I stop dead. No. It couldn't be… But…

I turn my mouth wide open. I must look a sight, standing in the middle of the green path, my mouth gaping, my eyes wild. But I don't care. I know why I recognised that guitar strap! For goodness sake I should… I made it!

I turn, running without meaning to, and as I round the bend I see that he is standing as well, facing after me. That is the last confirmation I need.

"Finn!" I run to him, hug him, and he grabs me by the shoulders and hugs me back, tight.

"Dizzy!" It is Finn. He is here. That's why I came? Did I hope to see him? I don't know, but now I know one thing. It really doesn't matter. He is here, I have found him. That's all that matters.