‘Good evening, good people of Ferrington!’

Everyone hooted and cheered.

‘I’d like to start by thanking you wholeheartedly for joining us on this historic day. I know how much it means for some of you to have come, given our history. For most of us, this is the first time we’ve attended a village event where all of us are welcome. I know that for those of you who remember the days before the feud, this is even harder. I’m so grateful that you’ve made the difficult choice to start healing the rift that’s blighted us for so long. I know this won’t be simple, or something that happens quickly, but together we took a step of faith in saying that it’s valuable enough to try.’

He walked over and took Hope from Billie’s arms, carrying her back to his original position. ‘We take this step in letting go of the past, not to diminish the hurt and the hardship that so many of us faced, but so that our children can have a better future.’

He might have had more to say, but there was no chance anyone would hear it. The roar of support and affirmation from the crowd was spontaneous, and heartfelt.

While the cheers continued, three men stepped forwards and set the bonfire alight. Daniel called Caris Smith and her four adult children forwards. They were each carrying a stick. Caris turned to face the onlookers, reading the word she’d written on her stick in a loud voice: ‘Loneliness.’ She threw the stick onto the flames.

Each of her children called out what they’d written on their branches:

‘Grief.’

‘Anger.’

‘Being broke.’

Into the flames they went.

One by one, various others stepped forwards with their sticks. They burned bitterness, hate and hunger. Sickness and sadness. Violence and vandalism. Hardship and loss. One person had written ‘self-service checkouts’, but we cheered them anyway.

When the last stick was ablaze, Frank and Eddie declared in a loud voice that the Ferrington Feud was officially dead. Some of the villagers embraced their neighbours from the other side of the river. Many of the men who had once pickaxed together deep below the ground held each other as they wept. Women who had once worried about their men together, shared gossip and advice and childrearing, until turning their backs on one another, gripped hands and began catching up on thirty-six missed years.

Not all of them. Some kept their distance, frowned and shifted uncomfortably but they were here, and that was an enormous step, to be celebrated not judged.

Daniel then called Becky forwards.

‘Crap!’ She glanced at me, holding tight to my hand. ‘I’m doing a speech.’

‘I’m not coming up there,’ I whispered, glancing over to where Nora was still engrossed in her phone.

Becky looked torn.

‘I’ll stand right here where you can see me. Look, Alice is just there. Go! I’ll be fine for two minutes.’

‘Three minutes and forty-five seconds.’

‘Go!’

It was Becky’s role to move our focus from the past onto the future. She spoke about the plans for the orchard, and the retreat, the opportunities to develop skills and forge relationships. She mentioned all those businesses and individuals who had helped get things off the ground, or promised their support in the future. She even floated an idea about converting the barn into a wedding and events venue, which had Daniel raising his eyebrows in my direction. I shrugged and managed a sort of smile. Maybe we would hold our wedding there one day.