So Long At the Fair by Jess Foley

cords and swung out over the fringe of the passing crowd. ‘There’s our Eddie!’ cried Abbie as she was carried up into the air, and she called out, ‘Eddie! Eddie!’ but with the music and the general hubbub he did not hear and was soon lost to sight again in the crowd.
    Afterwards, the girls stopped beside a coconut shy and watched a group of young blades hurling wooden balls at coconuts perched on the tops of poles. The young men, very much aware of the girls’ passing interest, swaggered up to the line one after the other, showing off as they went through exaggerated motions of flexing their muscles and limbering up. They appeared to have more power than accuracy, however, and none was successful until the last, the fifth young man, who, with his fourth and final missile, sent a coconut toppling onto the turf. Amid cheers from his friends he was handed his coconut prize, and as he clasped it he looked at the girls and smiled. When they turned away, their steps were followed by hoots and laughter from the group of young men.
    After standing by the merry-go-round to watch the dancing, prancing horses swing past, they entered a marquee where they bought cups of tea served with milk – an unaccustomed treat – and scones spread with butter and jam. Then, the refreshments finished, they rejoined the crowds once more. Outside one particular booth a stout man beat on a drum and called out, ‘Walk up! Walk up! Come inside and see the tightrope dancers,’ while along a narrow apron of a small stage behind him two young girls in spangled tights strutted and danced. To Abbie and Beatie the magic of the invitation was too powerful to resist and after a brief conference they stepped forward and handed over their pennies.
    At first the interior of the tent was gloomy after the bright sun, but soon their eyes became accustomed to the subdued light. They sat on a bench among the other spectators, their boots planted in the sawdust while their eyes took in the wire that was stretched six or seven feet above the ground between two stout poles like the masts of a ship.
    As the rest of the audience filed in, filling up the benches, the lamps were lit and the show began, and the two bespangled young dancers, now wearing silver crowns on their heads, skimmed nimbly up rope ladders onto small platforms encircling the poles. Then, to the accompaniment of the beat of a drum, and music from an accordion player, they tripped with ease along the tightrope, turning, bowing, bending backwards and forwards, their curls dancing, their pink-painted mouths fixed in smiles. And then, all too soon, it was over and the tightrope dancers were taking their final bows. Thinking their money well spent, Abbie and Beatie joined the other spectators and trooped back outside.
    Emerging into the sunlight, they turned in the direction of some lively music and came to where a small group of musicians stood playing, one man a hurdy-gurdy, another a fiddle, and a young woman who played a tambourine. They were playing ‘Love’s Golden Dream’ in a bright, rhythmic tempo. Several young people were dancing to the music, while some of the onlookers sang along with the instruments:
    I hear tonight the old bells chime, their sweetest, softest strain;
    They bring to me the olden time in visions once again.
    Once more beside the meadow land, beside the flowing stream,
    We wander, darling, hand in hand, and dream love’s golden dream.
    ‘Oh, come on,’ Abbie said, ‘let’s join the dancing.’
    Beatie demurred for a moment but then, unable to resist, took Abbie’s hand and a second later they were dancing away, their feet skipping over the grass, their skirts swirling and bonnet strings flying.
    As the dance came to an end a couple of minutes later, they saw on the edge of the crowd the familiar face of a red-haired young man, Manny, one of Eddie’s friends. Abbie called out to him and he waited as they moved towards him.
    ‘Your Eddie’s over there,’ he