While the band played, the Mayor, the aldermen and the newspapermen arrayed themselves before the manor house, ready for the unveiling.

Newsprint has its uses, Ambrose, but stone is stone. Think of it like a barricade. Should hold them back another thirty-seven years, don’t you think? Look at all these witnesses.

As I swept my hand round, I caught sight of an old enemy, lately of the water board, also in attendance. His black hat and the scowl beneath it. Here to watch us lay the stone. What had he come for? Spectre at the feast.

The Mayor took presidence of the ceremony. After a speech of welcome, and of praise for the band, he called me forward, and I ascended the steps to the platform. I related the history of the Lammas Lands, from King Alfred’s time to now, and how on Lammas Day in 1892 the people of Leyton went on to the marshes and pulled away the fencing and the metals.

With that, I pulled the cord and unveiled the tablet. A cheer rose up and the trumpets sounded in triumph. I waved to the crowd and quickly climbed down again and retook my place. The people clapped and cheered again, and once more the Mayor gave a speech, full of nods to the pressmen.

The Deputy Mayor took the floor and proposed a vote of thanks to the Mayor, for playing such a prominent part in the decision to commemorate the acquisition of the lands.

Ambrose coughed loudly and prolongedly. My apologies, my apologies, merely the wheezing of an old man. Do go on.

Acquisition, I muttered. Defence.

Kingaby stepped forward then to second the vote of thanks, remarking in passing that had it not been for the ratepayers’ association, the Mayor might never have taken such a keen interest in the commoners’ rights.

Ambrose nudged me and pointed at the inscription. They’ve forgotten the apostrophe.

Both apostrophes, I said. There should be two. Do you think anyone will notice?

No.

I exhaled heavily. Will the young people carry on our work, do you think?

One never knows. It’s all an act of faith, isn’t it? Ironically. Perhaps they’ll come up with something of their own that we haven’t had the wit to think of yet.

The Mayor concluded his speech accepting the thanks, nodded to the bandleader, who struck up a formal air, and looked to me. I picked the flowers up and laid them on the platform against the building in front of the stone, as at a war memorial. Everyone followed my lead – the willow wands too, and the sticks and reed grasses. The child laid down her posy.