Parallel rows of stalls, as yet just skeletal frameworks, edged the runway on either side. A few already had vehicles parked beside them, traders, wrapped up against the early chill, busily unloading their stock. Each empty stall displayed its number and we drew to a stop by number forty-seven. I was quite excited. I’d never done anything like this before.

Paul nodded in the direction of a large aircraft hangar, its interior already lit up and shining brightly through open doors. ‘That’s where the posh folk live,’ he told me, ‘rich bastards who can afford stalls inside. It’s also where you can find the loos if you need them.’

‘I’m OK,’ I assured him.

‘Right.’ He grinned as he opened the van door. ‘Let’s get to it.’

The first thing we needed to haul out of the van was the tarpaulin to cover the overhead framework of the stall in case it rained. It was a heavy thing to lug skyward. Paul stood on the wooden tabletop, securing it with giant crocodile clips to the steel frames, stretching the tarpaulin across the two tables that made up our stall, whilst I fed the bulky waterproof fabric up to him from beneath.

Vehicle doors slammed all around us as more traders began to arrive. The sky began to lighten, the air filled with the smell of hot fat and the sound of sizzling as nearby catering vans revved up for business. The wind blasted across the open airfield and I was glad I’d taken Paul’s advice and worn plenty of layers.

I didn’t own a tablecloth, so I’d brought a white sheet to put down on my table and unpacked my boxes on to it. I laid out the rectangle of black velvet, pinned with all the brooches and grouped my pieces of china and bric-a-brac as attractively as I could. Overall, I was pretty pleased with the effect.

Paul had placed some small items on his table, and things that needed protection from the weather, like the chairs with their green velvet seats; larger items of furniture he simply stood on the concrete at the side.

‘Will you be OK for a minute? I’d better go and park the van. On the way back I’ll bring some coffee.’

‘Oh, please!’ I rubbed my hands together, wishing I’d brought my gloves and wondering if it was possible to get frostbite in June.

‘Did you bring any change?’ he asked.

I’d come prepared. I rattled my plastic sandwich box, in which I’d put my carefully counted float. I was keeping it out of sight, under the table. ‘But they’re not letting the public in yet, are they?’ I checked my watch. The fair didn’t open officially for another hour yet.