‘I’ll get the cauldron on,’ says Chris, kneeling up.

He takes a stick and rakes some of the glowing logs to the edge of the firepit, then stands the stockpot on them, balancing it with stones and poking in grasses for kindling. From the kitbag he unpacks a bunch of dried lavender, a tub full of small clay cups, a ladle and several corked glass bottles of straw-coloured liquid.

He empties two of the bottles carefully into the cauldron.

‘Is that a wand?’ he says to Pete.

Pete hands him the wand, and he uses it to stir the liquid.

‘Thanks,’ he says, and hands it back.

He crumbles lavender on top and replaces the lid at an angle.

Taking up his crown again, he laces it with apple blossom and rowan, with the oxeye daisies – but not the elder – Mel has discarded. He has a self-made tattoo, possibly an occult symbol, on the back of his hand.

The circle widens a little to admit newcomers, amongst them the three maypole boys. Now they are sitting together it’s clear they are brothers. Some kind of genius has matched their costumes to the colours of their eyes.

The eldest has taken off his jerkin again. His lawn shirt is open at the throat, his throat almost pale as the shirt.

Turquoise Boy’s face is freckled and ruddier than the others. There’s something more knowing in his look as he meets Mel’s now. She stretches and turns away.

Chris has finished his crown and is wearing it. The white and pink of the blossom sets off the blond of his hair. He smiles at her.

He opens the cauldron again and stirs it, dredging up a ladleful and letting it pour back in. The liquid is beginning to smoke. He takes a clay cup and ladles out a measure, then tips it into the fire, which flares bright green. He refills the cup and offers it to Pete.

‘Driving,’ says Pete.

Mel accepts the drink. It’s sweet and thick and heady. The clay of the cup is fired but unglazed, still bearing fingerprints of the maker.

Chris carries on filling cups and passing them round the circle. Nearly everyone takes one, including the teenagers. He uncorks another two bottles and tips them into the cauldron, sprinkling in lavender and stirring again with the wand.

He stokes the bonfire, seriously now, untying bundles of sticks, retying them in small bunches and stacking them against the flames, burning his fingers. Turquoise Boy helps build the fire and pack in kindling.