Chapter 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, ‘Euan Forte!’
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.
‘Are you askin’?’ she replied with all her love for him showing in her eyes, and the pair kicked off their shoes before turning together to face the smouldering pyres, and they ran in the footsteps of Highlanders going back thousands of years, their bare feet drumming the earth, heartbeats and handclaps sounding in their ears and a great, rising yell burst from every throat as they reached the gap between the hot embers and they closed their eyes and jumped.
The whole town made their blessing leap that night, queuing up for their turn. One after the other, whole families, old couples, parents with babies in arms, even Finlay and Murray with their silly old dog tried their luck, hoping for a summer of abundance.
When the crowds at last had dispersed, and the band had packed away, and Cary Anderson had speared the very last piece of litter, and the sellers had left their stalls to dismantle tomorrow when the headaches would set in and no one would rise until late, the green field of the Knowe was silent.
From the town came two people, dressed from head to toe in their finest Beltane robes, far too late for the party but not minding one bit.
They’d forgotten all about it when there was a new wedding anniversary ring upon Roz’s finger and a soft, devoted look in McIntyre’s eyes and they’d taken themselves off to bed, missing the whole wild rumpus on the other side of town.
Earlier, in the kitchen, Roz had confessed her secret that, in a fit of pique inspired by having to face the very real possibility that their marriage might be over, and the less dramatic realisation that it was simply time to address some neglected areas in her own life, she had filled in the application form for the job at the school, which Mrs Hoolit had been expecting, or so she’d said in her near-instant reply email.
A few days’ volunteering at the school was being arranged to see if she might like to accept the invitation to a formal interview with the chair of governors and everything.
McIntyre hadn’t seemed at all put out by this news; in fact, he was thrilled.
He’d told her she’d been a wonderful teacher and she’d be one again, and that’s when she’d dropped the bombshell about the online refresher course that was going to cost a fair bit and keep her away from the repair shop a few days a week, and she couldn’t say for sure, but if she was successful and got the job, she’d be gone, full time, from August, or at least during school hours and term times.
All of this inspired nothing but deep pride in McIntyre and a good deal of relief too.
‘I’ll be there to support you, I promise,’ he’d said, lifting her hand to his lips to kiss the silver band, and the pair of them had soon got lost in each other entirely.
Later, not wanting to miss their anniversary blessing, they’d woken and dressed, just as the lazy May sun was thinking about coming up, and they’d wandered hand in hand down the river path, Wayward running ahead and making the geese hiss, like always, to where the bonfires smoked and the dewdrops gleamed like jewels on each blade of grass, and they danced a slow waltz, even though there was no music, and they held hands as they walked between the need fires, even though there were no flames, and they kissed so much and said so many gentle things into each other’s ears they completely forgot about going home until the sun was high in the sky and the town was alive with traffic and chatter, and the Beltane spell had dispersed for another year.