Tupper and Roy were unwrapping the fireworks from their colorful Chinese paper wrappers and setting them up in the dark, grassy area at the foot of the garden near the brick wall. The empty lot behind Roy and Wendy’s house belonged to a church and was used for parking. It was almost possible they might get away with their Bonfire Night extravaganza without disturbing the neighborhood at all.

A torch, Tupper thought, feeling suddenly inspired. A real torch. He could start with a blowtorch and alter it. Dragons breathed fire, but that was too obvious. It might be more fun if it were something innocuous breathing the fire, like a ladybug or a panda or even a non-animal thing, like a fork or a shoe. A sock? He couldn’t wait to get back to his studio to try it out.

“What are we lighting these with?” Elizabeth demanded, crashing out of a rhododendron bush. She wished she had the wooden oar from her Adam and Eve series. A burning oar would be perfect.

In her stoned artist’s mind she’d already set off a volcanic eruption and interrupted the Icelandic weather patterns. They could track it via satellite. She’d have to get NASA or some government weather command center involved, which would have been easier if she’d been awarded a MacArthur, but that was where Tupper could be of use.

“I’ll make something we can work with,” Tupper offered. “A real torch.” He began to whittle a large stick with his Swiss Army knife and, using his belt and an old nail, fashioned it into a barbecue lighter that would stay permanently lit.

Tupper was so capable, Elizabeth thought. He just needed to stretch himself. Iceland called. It was calling them both.

Roy Clarke caught her eye and handed her an enormous firecracker. “You’re the resident criminal,” he joked. “If anyone comes to arrest us, we’ll just say it was you.”

“Don’t anyone get too close to the fire, because it’s very big and very hot,” Roy heard Wendy caution from the other side of the garden. Her voice sounded slow and hoarse, like a record put on at the wrong speed.

Roy ripped open another firework wrapper and stabbed the end into the dirt. She must have thought the new book was terrible. That was why she was avoiding him.

Elizabeth broke his train of thought. “Look.” She pointed up at Shy’s bedroom window. “Shadow puppets.”

Wendy couldn’t leave her own party, especially not before the fireworks had even been lit, and Dr. Conway “had business to attend to,” so Peaches had offered to walk Mandy home. Wendy took methodical, stoned sips of her white wine and stumbled deliberately around the fire toward Roy. She didn’t know if she could talk to him or anyone else right now, but she needed to be near him.