Gwen starts as Ted appears beside her. Having not seen him all evening she had presumed he had decided not to come and, to her shame, she had been relieved. He has dressed up for the occasion, though she sees the collar of his shirt is a little frayed. Detecting an uncharacteristic hint of cologne, she quickly turns her attention back to the dancers, drawing Tom closer to her side.

‘Oh no, my feet are killing me as it is.’

‘Do you want to find somewhere to sit down?’

He turns, searching the darkness, but what chairs have been brought out from the marquees are occupied.

‘No … no, honestly, it’s fine,’ Gwen assures him. Tom is resting heavily against her leg. ‘I hope they’re going to light the fireworks soon – this one can hardly keep his eyes open.’ She scoops Tom up, placing him on her hip. He offers Ted a sleepy grin.

‘Waiting to see the elephant, Tom?’ Ted smiles as the little boy nods before resting his forehead on Gwen’s cheek.

They stand in silence, watching the dancers twirl before them, tapping their feet to the irresistible rhythm of the band. There is a smattering of applause as the song draws to end. The trumpet player lowers his instrument.

‘Right, folks,’ he shouts, ‘I’ve just been told it’s time for the fireworks.’

There are cheers of excitement. The dancers drift away from the clearing before the stage, as a crowd gathers in the direction of the bonfire. A few men run behind the blaze, racing between objects on the ground, almost lost to the encroaching darkness. Gwen jiggles Tom on her hip until he rests more comfortably and has a good view. Ted stands beside her, patting his pockets for his cigarettes.

The first firework screams skywards. It explodes against the pitch-black, showering red sparks that fall and fade. It is closely followed by two more, whooshing and cracking, spurting colour across the sky, accompanied by an appreciative chorus of oohs and aahs. Tom bounces excitedly on Gwen’s hip and his exuberance delights her. On two posts planted either side of the bonfire, Catherine wheels whiz round firing a cascade of light as they go. Tom points in delight, imploring Gwen to watch. Ted chuckles beside her. Tom’s enthusiasm is contagious.

More rockets shoot into the night sky. The pricking stars pale in comparison to the triumphant display. Tom’s upturned face is illuminated in colour.

And then finally, the pièce de résistance. The crowd falls silent with anticipation. The large board looks innocuous. Gwen can just make out the vague outline of an elephant. There is a collected intake of breath, as a shadowed figure squats at the far side and strikes a match. Something fizzes as he hastily retreats. Tom is deathly still, spellbound in her arms.