‘Are we back on then?’ she asked softly, touching his cheek.
‘Do you want us to be?’
She nodded. They held each other in silence until the locksmith called gruffly from the foot of the stairs, reminding them that the night was young.
‘Sorry, emergency, got called away,’ he explained, striding up the aisles, past tables that looked like disaster areas, piled up with meat bones, crumby plates, wine spillages and half-eaten bread rolls. The villagers were merry enough, singing along to Kumbaya while the folk band strummed away.
‘You and Evie back together?’ somebody called out.
Evie turned to whoever it was and nodded gleefully, at which a barrage of banging knives and forks broke out, together with cheers.
Adam looked around for Julia, meaning to tell her that he was going to have her charged with assault, but she wasn’t there. Presumably she thought her work for the night was done.
He waited for the folk band to finish their set, then rose to give a speech of thanks and a final prayer. The villagers rose as one and streamed out of the hall, towards the green.
‘You coming, vicar?’ Evie pulled him up by the hand.
‘There’s a lot of clearing up to do,’ he said, waving at the scene of devastation.
‘Oh, nonsense. You go. You’ve worked so hard getting this organised,’ said Mrs Witts. ‘Go and dance with Evie. We’ll sort out this mess.’
‘Ta, aunty,’ said Evie, beaming as she ran with Adam towards the open doors. ‘Come and see what they’ve done to the green. There’s a band and dancing and all, and a big bonfire.’
‘A bonfire? Is that allowed?’
‘Course it is.’
Outside, the air was heavy with shouts and laughter. An accordion started up, then a fiddle joined in. As they wended up the path, Adam saw the golden flicker of the bonfire, sending orange sparks high into the darkness. It illuminated strange and unsettling shapes, a row of them, ranged behind the bonfire.
‘Are those the corn dollies?’ he asked, stopping at the lych gate to observe the scene.
‘Yeah. Dead clever, ain’t they? Take ages to make.’
‘They look – obscene.’
Each shape unmistakably depicted people in the act of intercourse.
‘They’re a bit primitive,’ admitted Evie. ‘But that’s tradition.’
‘What kind of tradition demands you make a corn dolly of … Of …’ He broke off, glaring at the stylised figures of two people engaged in fellatio.
‘It’s Saxonhurst,’ said Evie with a shrug. ‘Don’t let it get your knickers in a twist, lover. Come and dance with me.’
Looking around him at the towering tableaux of coitus, Adam allowed himself to be led by the hand into the heart of the action, joining the villagers in a rousing country dance. Joyful faces glowed in the firelight, heads thrown back, teeth revealed, eyes bright and wild. Swiftly a ring formed around Adam and Evie, who danced more slowly, swaying in each other’s arms.
‘They’re pleased for us,’ she whispered. ‘They want to celebrate. This is a big night for us.’
‘Harvest Festival?’
Evie smiled and nodded, but somet
hing in her eyes suggested that he had misunderstood her. The fire grew, sending out powerful waves of heat. Adam feared an errant spark might catch on a corn dolly and set light to it, but Evie forced his attention away from the looming statues, cupping his face in her hands so he could look only at her.
‘Are you happy, lover?’
Adam looked into her endless dark eyes, let the music coil around him, the fire burn his face, the scent of wood smoke creep into his soul.
‘I’ve never been happier.’