“And now…” Hero pauses dramatically. “The feast BEGINS!” and with that she hurls the bowl into the fire where it cracks in two.

Her audience cheer loudly, though I can’t help but think it was a waste of a perfectly nice fruit bowl. Still, I suppose it all adds to the drama.

Great platters of chicken are passed around and we fall on the food, laughing and throwing the chicken bones into the flames as further evidence of our sacrifice.

When we have finished, Filomena stands and recites a poem in Latin. She’s much more convincing than Ben, when it comes to the drama; her voice is low, but compelling and I can just about understand the words.

“Da mi basia mille, deinde centum,

dein mille altera, dein secunda centum,

deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum.

dein, cum milia multa fecerimus,

conturbabimus illa, ne sciamus.”

“What is she saying?” Ben whispers, his voice warm on my neck.

“Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,” I begin, and then I turn to see him looking at me, the flames from the fire dancing in his eyes, and my mouth goes dry. I shake my head. “I-I’m not sure about the rest,” I finish weakly. The truth is that the parts that I do understand are so achingly romantic that I can’t bear to say them out loud, particularly to him.

The wine flows. They have brought out the wind-up gramophone and Hero puts on a record. The music sounds wilder out here, all shrieking brass and jangling piano. The crackle of the needle over the record echoes the sound of the flames, as though the music itself is burning. We dance barefoot around the fire, happy and dusty and raising our glasses over and over again to the God of thunderstorms. It feels a bit magical, this, a little like we really are in touch with the elements. As if anything could happen.

The flames twist higher and higher, sparks flashing in the air like pieces of copper foil falling around us. Klaus grasps my hands between his own and reels me round and round until I am doubled over, laughing and breathless. It’s feverishly hot now; the air is smothering, thick with the taste of smoke, and the stars have begun to disappear as clouds roll in across the sky.

A hand grabs mine and I spin around to find myself looking up at Ben. He takes me in his arms and the music slows down, a dreamy melody with a man singing about lovers and starlight. Ben’s hand is tight on my waist, and as I put my palm on his chest I can feel his heart beating as fast as my own. We come to a halt and when I look up I see his eyes are on mine.