‘Not there!’ April shouts out, strutting over to the double doors into the quad.

On either side of the stage, a stack of PA speakers has appeared. A guy in an Ebbswick Sound & Light T-shirt wires them. It feels unreal to Will that in six hours this hall will be packed out with close on a thousand kids. And, at some point during the evening, he’ll be DJing for them. Sure, there’s other people sharing the gig, but he’s doing the proper nineties rave stuff, mixed live on vinyl – the music the whole event’s been built around. He watches as a bass bin the size of a water butt is extracted from its flight case. And it’s going to be loud. Very loud indeed.

‘Thanks,’ Will says to the guy, ‘for, you know, offering to support this.’

The man grabs a reel of cable off his shoulder. ‘Don’t thank me. Management’s decision. Something for the community. I’m just the lackey.’

‘It’s good of you, whatever. This is awesome kit.’

‘This old shite? Hardly. They ain’t lending you the good stuff for free.’

‘Bet it sounds good, though.’

‘Oh, it’ll sound OK. Too old to be rented out, mind. They’ll probably bin the lot when you’re done with it.’ He points at a red sticker on the amplifier he’s wiring. ‘See?’

Portable Appliance Test: Fail, it says. Do Not Use.

‘And that was, what –’ he studies the label up close – ‘four years ago?’

‘Works OK, though?’ Will asks.

‘Tried it all out this morning. Half of it’s been in the back of a shipping container since fuck knows when, see.’

Will looks across the hall at April, running around, getting everything just so. ‘It’s not gonna pack up halfway through the night, is it? Be a total disaster if it does.’

‘It’ll be fine. These tests are fussy. Nanny state, innit? Besides, size of this system, if anything packs up, just turn the stuff that still works up a bit. Be sweet.’ He thumps a heavy palm on the speaker cab. ‘Vintage!’

The word puts Will instantly at ease.

‘It really is starting to look like a festival,’ Kris Tring says, taking a break from fiddling with his backdrop. He sits with his legs over the front of the stage. ‘I had my reservations, I must admit.’

‘She’s incredible.’

‘Bless.’

‘I mean she’s done an incredible job.’

‘Just need a massive bag of pills to sell the kiddies and we’ll have completed the effect.’

Will laughs vaguely, his eyes not leaving April as she stands on a chair, directing various caterers outside in the quad.

‘Shame Alfie isn’t around. He’d serve up to a bunch of twelve-year-olds without a second thought.’

Will spins round. ‘What are you saying?’

‘Drug dealer, wasn’t he?’ Kris’s assured demeanour looks shaken.