The children had been fed.

The weary elders had their tea.

The vicarage party took a few moments' rest in the shade of a clump of firs some distance away from the marquee.
Behind the screen lay Paul, his eyes on his goddess, his heels in the air, a buttercup-stalk between his teeth.

He felt the comforting knot beneath his thigh.

For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he knew utter happiness.