Katy Perry’s ‘Firework’ blared from loudspeakers as the last straggling tail of the procession pushed through the gateway at the top of the sports fields. Dressed for the cold, most still carried lighted torches and sparklers from the walk down the high street. They mingled with the rest of the crowd, already collected in huddled groups around the various food vans. Josh scanned their faces for Alfie and Ben, but there was no sign of them. Their mum was always running late. He just hoped they’d get there in time for the fireworks.
The voice of the announcer cut through the music.
‘We’ll be lighting the bonfire any minute now. Make sure you stand well back behind the tape. Fireworks start in half an hour.’
The crowd swarmed across the pitch and down the adjoining field towards the dark row of trees. Josh ran forwards, trainers slipping in the mud as he threaded his way as quickly as he could to where the giant tepee of wood stood at the bottom of the slope, near the stream. He eventually managed to push his way through to a place at the front by the rope, next to a group of teenage girls eating hotdogs. The smell of fried onions and ketchup made him feel hungry and he wondered what he’d be having for his tea. His breath made a cloud on the icy air and he hugged himself, tucking his hands under his armpits as he stamped his feet, trying to get some warmth into his toes. He gazed up at the bonfire. It was way bigger than last year’s, made up of all sorts of things, from what he could see in the dim torchlight: planks, branches, pieces of furniture, and the gaps at the base stuffed with twigs and scrunched up newspaper. Looking up, he could just make out the bulky shape of the Guy, sitting like a king on top of it all, in an old red armchair.
‘Here we go,’ the announcer said cheerily. ‘Light him up, boys. Let him burn.’
A couple of sixth-formers from school stooped down in unison, holding their lit torches briefly to the edges of the bonfire before scuttling back behind the rope. For a moment nothing happened; the twigs seemed to catch alight before being blown out by the wind with little puffs of smoke. He caught the smell of damp, smouldering leaves as well as a strong whiff of petrol. It had been raining heavily the night before and he was just beginning to wonder how long it would take to get going when flames jetted up in several places from the base of the bonfire, as though someone had turned on a gas fire.
In the flickering light he could see the Guy more clearly. He’d been dressed in an old pinstriped suit, with a shirt and tie, and a pair of work boots on his dangling feet. A cowboy hat was jammed down on his head, above a leering mask for a face that made him look like The Joker. The flames took hold quickly. Before long, they were licking the Guy’s feet, catching the bottom of his trousers, then creeping like fingers up his bent legs. Josh could feel the heat on his cheeks and held out his hands, trying to blot out the music and the buzz of voices around him, until all he could see was the burning figure in the midst of the flames. A gust of wind sent a cloud of smoke and a shower of sparks over the onlookers but he stayed where he was, listening to the cracking and spitting of the wood as the flames leapt higher. The Guy’s hat was on fire now, the mask blistering away until it had all but disappeared, leaving just a black, featureless blob of a head.
The flames reached high into the sky, the Guy caught in the middle of the blaze. Josh stared deep into the heart of the fire, imagining shapes and faces from long ago, instruments of torture, the masked executioner and the screams of a man being burned alive. Remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder, treason and plot . . . As the words flowed rhythmically through his mind, the Guy’s head tipped forwards, lolling onto his chest. For a moment it looked as though he had gone to sleep. Then the head dropped into the fire. It bounced against something and rolled out onto the grass, coming to rest right by where Josh was standing. It lay there charred and smoking. Looking closer, it was amazingly lifelike, with a nose, dark sockets where the eyes should be, and a mouth. He even thought he could see teeth between the parted lips. Wondering if anyone else had noticed it, or if it was perhaps some sort of a joke left over from Halloween, he glanced around. Most people seemed to be busy talking amongst themselves, sipping their drinks, or watching the fire. He caught sight of a man standing on his own by the rope just a few feet away. He was looking right at Josh as though he had been watching him.
Then a woman screamed.