The horses slowed suddenly, people climbing down before they had stopped, and it was our turn. We rode together on one of the painted horses, knees gripping the cool smooth flanks. I sat behind, my arms tight round Olivia’s waist, and her hands gripped the twisted metal pole. We laughed and screamed to the loud music. ‘I’m flying!’ I shrieked, and Olivia just giggled and giggled.

He took us on the helter-skelter and the Big Bens, the steam yachts which swung up until they were at right angles to the ground, leaving your stomach behind as they came down again with everyone screaming. We laughed our way helplessly along the shuddering cake walk. He bought us hot potatoes, balloons, furry stickfuls of candyfloss.

‘It’s like eating knitting,’ I said cheekily, and Alec lunged for it, teasing me. ‘All right. If you’re going to be fussy, I’ll have it!’

But Olivia stopped suddenly, taking in the sight of one of the traction engines which pulled the trailers, right in front of us. It was a brilliant emerald green, the sunlight catching its polished brass funnel.

‘I’ve got to go on one of those!’ she cried and, candyfloss still in hand, she dashed across the dry ground, wisps of her hair and her cream skirt flying behind her. I followed, letting go of Alec Kemp’s hand, scared for a moment by her impulsiveness. Only days ago I’d watched her climb the parapet of a little bridge over the River Cole, scrambling up, shouting triumphant, then falling. She was unhurt but wet and scared. But she could make you frightened for her. Sometimes I wished I could tie her down. I felt staid and solid beside her.

‘That’s not a ride, Olivia!’ Alec shouted. He strode after us. ‘Come back. You’ll get lost.’

But she was already standing next to the majestic machine. She had to have what she wanted. By the time he reached her she was already climbing up into it. We could hear its throb, the power of it. She was chatting to the men working the engine, who smiled back, captivated but bemused, caps on heads and their hands black with grease.

‘We’ve told her we can’t move it, sir.’ One of them climbed down to speak to Alec Kemp, who raised his hat to him. ‘Not now, in this crowd.’

‘That’s quite all right. She shouldn’t be up there,’ Alec replied. I saw him slip coins into the man’s hand. ‘Thank you.’

That was the one cross moment. I had seen the panic in his face as Olivia dived into the crowd. Now he gripped her so hard that she yelped. When he let go there was a pink, suffusing mark on her arm.

‘You must never go off like that again, you silly girl. D’you hear?’ I could hear the anger like needles in his voice. ‘Now stay close to me all the time or you’ll get into trouble.’

Olivia stared at the ground, lower lip thrust out. I could tell she was near tears.