A run of sparks races around the outline, magically transforming into a shimmering elephant. When it reaches the head a sparkling trunk lifts into the night sky, creating a breathtaking moment of awestruck delight. The crowd erupts into cheers. Tom bounces with sheer ecstasy in Gwen’s arms, gabbling wildly as he recounts the wonder just witnessed in case she had blinked and missed it.

People start to drift away once the elephant has faded. Gwen’s arms ache from holding Tom up. He is fully awake now, fired with enthusiasm and gusting along on a second wind. She is keen to walk him home while she can make the most of this renewed vitality – she doesn’t fancy carrying him all the way. She tells Ted that she needs to find Nora and fearing he will suggest escorting her, she walks away before he has a chance to process her words. She feels guilty and relieved in equal measure when he remains where he is, abandoned.

The band are reassembling on the stage and the dancers are waiting impatiently for the music to begin. Nora is amongst them, with a different partner this time, Gwen notes.

‘We’re going back,’ she calls out when Nora glances her way, but the Land Girl merely wiggles her fingers in farewell.

Tom yanks on her arm as he hops and skips, still full of the firework display. She sees Muriel clearing up in one of the marquees and feels guilty for not stopping to help, but then, she reasons, she has Tom. She must get him home. A few people call ‘Goodnight’ as she makes her way over the grass, her shoes tipping on the tussocks. The gate hangs open before them. The balloons attached to it have shrunk to woeful crinkled sacs that hang limply against the wooden bars.

Distracted by Tom and his endless monologue on the elephant, she does not notice the parked car alongside the church until they are almost upon it. A stooped chauffeur holds open the rear door for the two ladies – one young, one old – while two men stand by, discussing the Hall in cut-glass accents as they wait for the women to settle.

The Hall.

Blood hums in Gwen’s ears as her steps falter. The old man ducks inside the car and as he does so the younger one looks round, attracted by the sound of Tom’s high-pitched excitement.

Their eyes lock.

Gwen suddenly feels faint. Her grip on Tom’s hand becomes so fierce he calls out in complaint. She cannot breathe.

‘Do hurry up and get in, Gordon,’ the older man’s upper-class drawl drifts from the car, rallying his transfixed son.

‘Yes, of course,’ Gordon says at last, though he remains distracted. He slides into the car and even after the chauffeur has clicked the door shut behind him, he continues to watch her through the window.