intended returning to the fair, she was desperate to find her way out of her predicament. She stopped running, slowing down to a brisk walk. She overheard a man passing by with a lady friend, ‘It is almost half past one my dear and time for lunch!’ He announced jauntily as he looked at his pocket watch. Sophie wasn’t orientated to time, place nor person but she did feel hungry, by now her stomach was rumbling.
Her brother Bertie, for whom she didn’t normally care one jot, came to the forefront of her mind. ‘Bertie was hungry, it was nearly lunch time when we had boarded the ride, the caterpillar ride not the merry-go-round.’ Her mind was in turmoil as she tried to make sense of it. She was now consumed with worry for her brother. ‘Is Bertie here too? Trapped in this awful time and place.’
With a flourish she removed her straw hat and wiped her beaded brow with the back of her hand. The time and the weather was the same as it had been when she had left the house. She tried to pull herself together as she stood allowing the river breeze to refresh her hot wiry hair. She then heard a voice that was strangely familiar, it seemed to be coming from behind her, it was a flamboyant, booming voice. With a judder, she spun round, there was nobody there, she could see the back of the young couple who had just passed her.
‘ Have no fear, he’s not here, for lunch he won’t be late, he’s ahead in time in 1928!’
‘It was Larry, he read my thoughts.’ Sophie couldn’t see him, it was his voice, peeling and distinctive.
‘Larry, where are you?’ There was no response. He continued with a more chilling message, ‘The courage you possess in abundance will preserve you.’
‘I want to go home, I don’t want to be here.’ She began to choke as her words became stifled with fear. Her heart sank when there was no sign of Larry. With some effort she pulled herself together, ever optimistic that all would turn out well in the end. She continued to walk.
Soon she passed the Pier and then, as she rounded the corner she could see the familiar sight of Fort Perch Rock and then the lighthouse. At least she could be sure of the place if not the time.
‘What the devil is that?’ She was thinking aloud. Further on, she stopped dead in her tracks. She was approaching an ugly four storey building that she did not recognise. There were cafes and shops on the ground floor and what looked like accommodation on the floors above.
It was a hive of activity in the cafes and on the narrow promenade between the building and the beach. She was now used to being stared at and was becoming quite bold. She asked a lady about the building.
‘It is called Ham and Eggs Parade, on account of the food that most of the cafes serve. I don’t wish to tell you what goes on up there.’ She raised her finger straight towards the rooms above. With a disapproving sniff she abruptly walked away before Sophie could answer.
Sophie was feeling decidedly hungry and even more curious. ‘This place was demolished in 1905, I have seen old photographs of this building in books…’ The sight before her was even more vulgar and brash than it had ever looked in photographs. The promenade and the beach was a hawker’s paradise with fortune tellers and street traders flogging their swag from baskets.
She glanced towards the wooden steps which led to the soft white sands. The whole seascape was disfigured with tawdry side shows, jugglers and every hawker and cheap jack in town.
Even in broad daylight, the garishly dressed women, even girls, were clearly soliciting. The street walkers of yesteryear, she had heard of from playground chatter, were right here before her. Now rooted in the promenade’s murky past, she was amazed at the sights before her.
Sophie began to blend into the eclectic throng of humanity. A few people looked at her with disdain. Others, mostly men, looked at her salaciously. Most hardly seemed to notice her at all. She
Her brother Bertie, for whom she didn’t normally care one jot, came to the forefront of her mind. ‘Bertie was hungry, it was nearly lunch time when we had boarded the ride, the caterpillar ride not the merry-go-round.’ Her mind was in turmoil as she tried to make sense of it. She was now consumed with worry for her brother. ‘Is Bertie here too? Trapped in this awful time and place.’
With a flourish she removed her straw hat and wiped her beaded brow with the back of her hand. The time and the weather was the same as it had been when she had left the house. She tried to pull herself together as she stood allowing the river breeze to refresh her hot wiry hair. She then heard a voice that was strangely familiar, it seemed to be coming from behind her, it was a flamboyant, booming voice. With a judder, she spun round, there was nobody there, she could see the back of the young couple who had just passed her.
‘ Have no fear, he’s not here, for lunch he won’t be late, he’s ahead in time in 1928!’
‘It was Larry, he read my thoughts.’ Sophie couldn’t see him, it was his voice, peeling and distinctive.
‘Larry, where are you?’ There was no response. He continued with a more chilling message, ‘The courage you possess in abundance will preserve you.’
‘I want to go home, I don’t want to be here.’ She began to choke as her words became stifled with fear. Her heart sank when there was no sign of Larry. With some effort she pulled herself together, ever optimistic that all would turn out well in the end. She continued to walk.
Soon she passed the Pier and then, as she rounded the corner she could see the familiar sight of Fort Perch Rock and then the lighthouse. At least she could be sure of the place if not the time.
‘What the devil is that?’ She was thinking aloud. Further on, she stopped dead in her tracks. She was approaching an ugly four storey building that she did not recognise. There were cafes and shops on the ground floor and what looked like accommodation on the floors above.
It was a hive of activity in the cafes and on the narrow promenade between the building and the beach. She was now used to being stared at and was becoming quite bold. She asked a lady about the building.
‘It is called Ham and Eggs Parade, on account of the food that most of the cafes serve. I don’t wish to tell you what goes on up there.’ She raised her finger straight towards the rooms above. With a disapproving sniff she abruptly walked away before Sophie could answer.
Sophie was feeling decidedly hungry and even more curious. ‘This place was demolished in 1905, I have seen old photographs of this building in books…’ The sight before her was even more vulgar and brash than it had ever looked in photographs. The promenade and the beach was a hawker’s paradise with fortune tellers and street traders flogging their swag from baskets.
She glanced towards the wooden steps which led to the soft white sands. The whole seascape was disfigured with tawdry side shows, jugglers and every hawker and cheap jack in town.
Even in broad daylight, the garishly dressed women, even girls, were clearly soliciting. The street walkers of yesteryear, she had heard of from playground chatter, were right here before her. Now rooted in the promenade’s murky past, she was amazed at the sights before her.
Sophie began to blend into the eclectic throng of humanity. A few people looked at her with disdain. Others, mostly men, looked at her salaciously. Most hardly seemed to notice her at all. She
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