Carenza unfolded one of the slips, which had been tied in a love knot, and tears began to roll down her cheeks as she read the first, inevitable, names. Of course, she thought. Of course it was them.
Still she made no announcement. She knew she must read all seven before the decision was reached. Her hands shook as she opened the second and saw the same pair of names in a scratchy hand.
She nodded to herself as it dawned on her that the elders really did understand everything, long before others who considered themselves wise had even the faintest idea.
The next four papers had the same names, excepting one, which she shoved into her pocket, before she unwrapped the last, and her whole frame shook with the happy tears she had no power of controlling.
‘The elders have decided,’ she tried to shout so everyone could hear. ‘And it makes me’ – her heart hurt as it grew inside her – ‘so happy to announce’ – she sniffed, and wiped at her face, not caring that she was a mess – ‘that the May Queen and her King are, this year… Peaches McDowell and Euan Sparks!’
Now the town erupted in happiness as the young pair were located and shoved to the front in a sea of clapping hands.
Carenza had her arms out ready to help them up the little hill and as soon as they stood at the top, she brought them both in for a hug. ‘Well done,’ she told them both. ‘I can’t think of a better choice,’ and she knew, deep within herself, that she was already learning to truly mean this.
The young couple presented themselves to the delight of the crowd, their joined hands held aloft, and that’s when Carenza felt herself suddenly tire of the spotlight she so often sought, and sometimes seized by force; attention she had craved like a neglected, petulant new bride craves the approval of the husband she hasn’t yet learned to detest. Carenza knew in that moment she was done taking centre stage. She had done too much on her own all these years. It was time to blend in with her town a little more.
‘Pauline?’ she shouted into the crowd, scanning the scene for the only remaining committee member, who she’d sidelined to such a degree she’d given her no official job to do.
A hand lifted at the far side of the crowd, and it held a paper crown.
29
Euan bent his head so Pauline from the Post Office could place the paper band upon it, then he took the second crown from her to place on Peaches’ head.
She beamed as he did so. Yellow poster paint on twisted newspaper rings never looked so beautiful as it did when it met Peaches’ pink hair. There were people applauding, and one or two laughingly calling out suggestive things they probably ought not to when there were kids present, but Euan couldn’t hear them at all. All his soul was bound up in the sight of Peaches having a lovely white cloak put over her shoulders.
He didn’t even notice how, only a few feet below where they stood, Shell and Jolyon mimed their own coronations, their faces pictures of delight, as Shell received her imaginary coronet from the Green Man, resplendent in his cloak of spring flowers from the repair shop garden, and she, in return, presented him with an airy crown of his own. He bowed his head to receive it, before the pair ran off squealing and laughing delightedly, a whole summer of play ahead of them and not a thought of school or summer’s end in their heads.
‘Welcome your May Queen,’ Pauline shouted as best she could, not used to public speaking. ‘Peaches McDowell!’
Peaches mugged a sort of regal curtsy, and laughed off the awkwardness, while love bloomed in Euan’s heart at the sight of her.
‘And her consort, the Green Man and King of Beltane, Euan Sparks.’
His name, spoken aloud like that, sounded somehow like a broken bell clanging. It didn’t sound right at all.
‘Are you all right?’ Peaches tried to ask, but his mind was whirring.
He stooped to speak into Pauline’s ear.
‘You sure, love?’ Pauline checked, and he nodded, absolutely sure.
‘Your Beltane King,’ Pauline corrected herself, ‘EuanForte!’
Peaches clasped her hands in delight and Euan didn’t have to look long amongst the crowd to spot his grandad.
‘Forte,’ Euan mouthed to him, thumbing his chest, and Clyde mirrored the action, pointing to himself.
‘Forte,’ he mouthed back at his grandson.
‘I was never a Sparks. That man, Mum’s ex, he doesn’t get to name me anything,’ Euan told Peaches as the applause turned to a steady and expectant slow handclap.
‘That’s right,’ she told him before sealing her approval with a kiss. ‘Euan Forte sounds exactly right to me.’
As the crowd was dispersing, still clapping in slow rhythm, building an ominous atmosphere over the Knowe. Euan led Peaches down the gentle slope and the town folk parted for them, lining the way towards two low bonfires, barely flaming now, but glowing hot and giving off sweet smoke.
‘It’s time for you to take your blessing leap between the need fires,’ Pauline said, patting their backs. ‘Everyone wants to see it.’
Euan looked to Peaches, and the handclaps picked up in pace. ‘Are you leapin’?’ he asked her, with a grin.
