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“It’s that new couple!” Maryam stopped wiping down the counter so she could lean over and peer through the window. “Mister Crowley and Mister Azzyra-- Aziarar--”
“Aziraphale,” Zofia said from the till. “It’s not hard.”
“Aziraphale,” Maryam repeated. “Aziraphale, Aziraphale...”
They came in with a gust of cold wind. Mr Aziraphale (rounder, blonder) held the arm of Mr Crowley (far too skinny, all black and sunglasses indoors. Maryam hadn’t sussed Aziraphale yet, but she’d immediately pegged Crowley as ‘aging rock star, possible mid-life crisis’ and had yet to be proven wrong no matter what anyone said).
“Mr Crowley! Mr Aziraphale!” Maryam called. “Come get on the outside of something warm!”
“Hello, Maryam! It smells lovely in here,” Mr Aziraphale said with a smile that made the entire day brighter. Mr Crowley just rolled his eyes, and she could too tell through the sunglasses. He rolled his eyes like it was a whole-body competition and he was going for first.
“We’re down to just the last pan of scones,” Zofia said. “But they’re chocolate cherry.”
“Oh that sounds delightful!” Mr Aziraphale clapped his hands. “I’ll take one on a plate and a half-dozen to go, if you’ve enough. And possibly a hot chocolate?”
“Absolutely. Whipped cream, cinnamon, chocolate shavings?” Maryam said. She might be rubbish with names, but she was top-notch with drinks.
“Yes, please!”
“Done. And you, Mr Crowley? The usual?”
“Just Crowley,” he drawled. “Sure. The usual.”
Mr Aziraphale beamed and pulled Crowley closer. “The village has been good for him, you know. He’s much more relaxed.”
Maryam started on their drinks. If triple espresso was relaxed it was no business of hers.
Soon she was serving their little table by the window. “Here you go, dears. How’s the scone?”
“Delicious.” Mr Aziraphale turned that smile on her. She couldn’t help smiling back, not that she tried. He nodded to the till where Zofia was working. “Are you closing early?”
“Solstice, isn’t it? We’ve a little tradition- well I say tradition, we just started it a few years ago when everything was closed down, by December we was half mad! So we all came out on solstice night at dusk for a bit of a bonfire, didn’t we? Toasted Christmas and the new year and the turning of the sun. And then the next year, well, it seemed right to do it again.” She nodded at the window. “So long as the weather holds, we’ve done it since. I don’t like them clouds, but if it holds...”
“Crowley! That’s... sunset is in only an hour or so. Would you mind terribly?”
The look Crowley gave Mr Aziraphale was terribly fond. “You’ll get your bonfire, angel. Weather’ll hold.”
“Oh, thank you, my dear!” Mr Aziraphale said, like the saying was a great favor.
“You can stay here in the warm til time, then,” Maryam said
“I couldn’t be a bother. And we’ve other errands while we’re here. But we’ll see you there!” And they took their drinks and scones and wandered out into the--
Maryam peered at the sky. “Is it clearing up out there?”
The clouds had thinned by the time everyone gathered on the green. Many of them had brought bundles of dry sticks or twine-tied branches.
Maryam and Zofia had some from their garden. Mr Aziraphale waved as they went past. “Oh, does everyone bring wood?”
“Those that can,” Zofia said.
“Oh! Darling,” Mr Aziraphale said, turning to Crowley, “We could bring cuttings next year.”
“Could’ve brought that entire ficus,” Crowley said. “Getting stroppy, that one.”
“Crowley!”
“Just saying, angel. Perfectly good bonfire going to waste.”
“Don’t listen to him, dears,” Mr Aziraphale told them. “We’ll bring perfectly ordinary branches.”
Zofia smiled, but murmured as they walked on, “Those two... they’re odd.”
“We’ve all got our little ways, I’m sure,” Maryam whispered back.
Gerry was taking people’s tinder and placing it carefully. She handed hers over to him. “Not going to be too windy, then?”
“We’ll have to watch, it’s like to gust. But we’ve buckets ready.”
The wind died.
Something made Maryam look at Mr Aziraphale, who was looking more innocent than anyone’s ever been in the world.
“That’ll do it. You’re the last,” Gerry said. He tossed their bundles on. “Everyone ready?”
The crowd cheered.
He took a torch and poked it into the pile till everything was blazing merrily.
“Crowley,” Mr Aziraphale said, “Do you remember?”
“I remember, angel. Lots of them. The good ones--”
“And the bad ones, yes. But this one is ours.”
“Did we just start a new tradition?”
“We joined theirs, rather.”
Maryam smiled. They were odd ones, but she liked them. They were hers now.