Annie watched through the window as Lennox tried in vain to catch an apple in his teeth. Each time, he came up for air looking more frustrated. Gemma was trying to coax him away from the bowl, but he was determined. As Lennox plunged his head back into the water again, John shouted, “Hey, kids, is that a witch on her broomstick?” All eyes turned to the sky as John slipped his hand into the bowl and held an apple still below the water. Lennox, with his eyes tight shut, and none the wiser, found the apple and speared it. John surreptitiously removed his hand and wiped it on his cape. The children looked back in time to see Lennox flick his head up out of the water, an apple clamped in his teeth and a look of absolute triumph on his face. Everyone cheered. Gemma—with an expression of deep relief on her face—mouthed thank you to John, who smiled. Annie felt something unexpected bloom in her chest.

Pam and—to Annie’s surprise—Emily, minus her placard, had come prepared with towels and blankets and set to wrapping the children up like snug bugs in rugs. Bill came up to the counter.

“Annie love, we usually do the Willow Bay story outside, but since you’re open, we wondered if you’d mind us doing it in here?”

“Of course not, I’d love that!”

John overheard and came up behind Bill. “I’ll help you shift things about,” he said.

The two men moved chairs and tables to the sides of the café, and Maeve and Emily ushered the revelers back into the warm café. Ely wandered in then and pulled a chair out to sit in front of the counter. The children—knowing the drill—sat themselves down on the floor in a semicircle around him. Annie switched off all the lamps but one and turned the volume down on the music. The café was bathed in the orange glow of the fairy lights, and Annie noticed that someone had turned the jack-o’-lanterns around outside so that they shone into the café from out of the darkness. Annie was about to sit down on the floor when she spotted Alfred shuffling quietly into the café. She pulled two bags of potatoes out of the oven and took them over to him. He smiled at her and raised a hand in silent thanks.

“October 1502. It was a dark and stormy night; the rain was lashing against the windows, the wind had ripped tiles off roofs and the water poured in through the holes, soaking the folks within. Lightning streaked across the sky and the thunder crashed,” Ely began.