He kind of threw a few of its legs over the barrel so that it was sitting on top of the liquid. Then he retreated to the shed and after much searching and fumbling came back with a spade. He eased the spade into the barrel and slotted the handle top into the underside of the spider. He looked over at Gracie and Marty, winked, and motioned to them to stand back.

“Right, then, let’s see if this baby works…”

As he clicked the switch, the barrel shuddered. Marty grimaced and looked away. Then the spidery legs seemed to grip onto the sides of the barrel and the spade clunked against the metal.

“Oh God,” said Gracie, backing away.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine!”

The tea stirrer started to turn. Slowly at first. Making a whooshing sound. Then faster and faster.

The smell was brilliant. As in brilliantly, throat-scratchingly disgusting. And every now and again bubbles of a gasoline-green fizz would rise to the surface and pop with rather impressive belches.

Grandad watched, his eyes shining with glee.

“Shall I turn her up?!” he asked.

“No!” cried Marty, who hadn’t forgotten his own mug of tea flying off sideways and spraying him with a scalding brew.

Slowly, the mixture started to boil down and get thicker. Darker. It changed in color from a weak yellow to red to brown to an almost black with a blue undertone. Grandad took a sniff of it as if he were a wine connoisseur checking his latest vintage. He turned off the Tea Stirrer 300 and scooped in one of his enamel mugs and looked at it. To Marty and Gracie’s horror he started to lift the mug to his lips …

“Grandad! Don’t!” shouted Marty.

Grandad’s face creased in laughter.

“I wasn’t going to! I wasn’t going to!”

He took a deep and satisfied sniff, then smiled.

“I think it’s ready, short stuffs!”

Grandad hauled the barrel off the fire, and Marty found some more wood to throw on it to keep it going for a while.

It was getting quieter on the allotment now. The sounds of doors closing. People shutting up for the evening. The barrel of pumpkin tea was steaming quietly in the evening air.

“You sure you don’t need to be home for supper?” Grandad asked Gracie. Gracie looked over at her house. It was dark. There was no one home.

“Nah, I’m all right.” She shrugged.

Grandad studied her through narrowed eyes for a moment before letting it go.

“Okay, well, you asked for it…”