‘You’re almost done.’ She nodded to the objects. They would leave the drawing and the consecrating of the circle until their members arrived. The rituals were undertaken at the beginning of every meeting, then they would celebrate with harvest foods and drinks, until it was time to return to their families. Some members tried to remain as part of the group even if their partners were laymen or affiliated to one of the organised religions, but they rarely lasted. It was always preferable if couples and families joined together because, after all, theirs was a way of life and not simply a nod to a nominal god every once in a while. They had deities, but theirs were visions of the seasons, witnessed on the breath of night and day. Rather like other forgotten indigenous practices all over the world, their rhythms were dictated by nature and her laws, and not those that suited man.

‘Did you see the article in the Gazette?’ Fred couldn’t hide his irritation from Mary. They were not a couple. It was forbidden for the High Priest and High Priestess to conjoin. Fred was married to Sandra, but Mary lived on her own after her husband had got himself into a spot of trouble with debt and left her high and dry years ago. She’d never remarried, coming close only once.

Fred was married in English civil law, but that meant little to them: what did matter was their hand-fasting in June, during the feast of the solstice; this was their true marriage, not recognised by English law, but the most important denotation of coupling for the group.

Mary nodded. ‘Typical naysayers. Ignoramuses, Fred. Don’t get your cingulum in a twist about it.’

‘Mary!’

The cingulum was a nine-foot belt and they each possessed one. They were used to measure out the magic circle. As High Priest, Fred’s was gold, and Mary’s was silver. Fred laughed and held his up to show Mary that it was untwisted, though inside, he continued to reel. ‘Articles like the one written by Carry Tomlin damage our reputation, Mary. She makes us sound like heathens practising devil worship.’

Mary nodded. She knew how passionate Fred was, and it was true: the occult was misunderstood. ‘She actually said that we sacrifice animals,’ Fred said, as he shook out his robes and laid out his cingulum.

‘Are you surprised? Look at the witch trials. We’ll always be on the back foot. The Church had us done for when they stole our festivals and burned our wisdom.’

Fred agreed.

‘Ah, Fred. Come on, we’ve got a lovely night of celebration ahead of us, give thanks for our small family. I’ve brought a pumpkin pie. Is Sandra coming along?’

‘Later. The pumpkin pie with marshmallows?’

‘The same.’

‘Jock said he was making mulled cider.’

‘Sometimes I think we’re just an excuse to get pissed.’ Mary laughed at her own observation.