Abe Powell did not sit, refusing Reuben Springer’s encouraging pat of the bench space beside him, choosing to stand instead, cradling a lukewarm cup of tea. The coycrock girl was seen arriving stony-faced with her dog, unwilling to insert herself in the throng. She was avoiding the doctor, everyone knew, was overdue a medical examination, and that was likely why she took a seat, off to one side, on top of the stocks. Only the younger Signal boy, Michael, made a move on her, leaping up from his spot beside his mother, Martha, to sit on that splintery top board too, the girl edging away, creating an appropriate gap between them.

Saul Cooper observed all this from the Customs House, leaning against the white render of the building, smoking a cigarette. In the last moments before curtain-up, as the Cedars women arrived – Susannah and Leah, perching at the very end of one of the empty back rows on the left – Saul strode over decisively and took his seat on the right, next to Diana Crane.

‘Ladies and gentlemen of Lark!’ Benjamin Hailey was confident in his ringmaster’s voice. Though, dressed as he was, in a pair of shiny, pointed shoes, slim-fitting trousers and a pink shirt – of all colours! – the gathered agreed he had more the appearance of a clown. ‘I know you are used to seeing a story of fairies and mechanicals and love in the woods at these celebrations every year, but as our lovely Eldest Girls will also be the Eldest Girls in 2019, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until then to see them put on that particular show. This year we have been working on, well, a pet project of ours, something a little bit different …’

There was an uneasy rumble along the benches, turning to yelps when, on the snatching back of the red curtains, the play began with a literal bang – a blast of fire and a puff of coloured smoke – the science teacher’s obvious influence. The residual haze cleared to reveal Jade-Marie in a white ruffled shirt, brown hair scraped back, a moustache drawn on, sitting at a desk of conical flasks, concoctions and books. She spoke in a language not unlike Shakespeare, her English laced with Latin.

‘The reward of sin is death. That’s hard,’ she began nervously. ‘If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and there’s no truth in us.’

Murmurs of agreement came back from the benches – this phrase was familiar, coming as it did from the First Epistle General of John.

Jade-Marie was granted the confidence to be bolder.

‘Why then belike we must sin, and so consequently die.’ She looked out across the faces below her, as if expecting an answer. There was silence, except for one infant asking noisily of her mother why the girl had pen on her lip.