‘Is that all?’

‘It’s enough for now.’

‘Do you love me, Dave?’

His mood instantly changed. ‘Hey! Don’t start talking any claptrap about love and families and all that rubbish. I’ve been there, remember?’

‘Sorry.’

Swilling his tea into the sink, he picked her up by the shoulders and, looking her straight in the eye, warned, ‘Don’t kid yourself you’ve got it made, lady. I could be rid of you tomorrow if I had a mind. Don’t forget that.’

Lottie cursed herself for having got it wrong. ‘I won’t,’ she murmured. ‘And don’t you forget, I could be gone from here when you get back. Then how would you feel?’

The smile began at the corners of his mouth, then he was grinning. ‘That’s what I like about you,’ he admitted. ‘You’ve always got summat to say for yourself.’

He kissed her soundly on the mouth, then thrust her away. ‘We’re one short on the Waltzer,’ he said. ‘Julie’s gone down with the flu, so we need somebody to take the money. It’s a hard, demanding job, with no time to catch your breath.’ He was testing her. ‘D’you think you could handle it?’

Lottie was thrilled. ‘I can handle anything, me.’

‘Right.’ He glanced at Lottie’s shoes; pretty things with ankle straps and medium high heels. ‘You can’t wear them fancy things,’ he warned her. ‘Not when you’re jumping on and off the Waltzer at speed. Get summat sensible on your feet. I’ll see you over there in an hour, and be sharp about it.’

‘I’ll have to ask Lily if it’s all right.’

‘Forget Fatso – I’ll see to her. You just turn up at the Waltzer quick as you can. All right?’

Lottie was looking forward to it. ‘It’s harder work than the coconut shy, so I’ll want double wages.’

He chuckled. ‘That’s what I mean,’ he said. ‘You make me laugh.’

He was still laughing as he closed the door behind him.

Sandra had been on the move for two days.

Having followed Dave’s trail, she was weary and spent, and aching to see him. ‘At last!’ Standing on the footbridge over the river, she looked across the field to the fairground; against the night sky the lights twinkled and shone, and the cool air was filled with music.

Peering into the semi-darkness, she read the name written across the entrance in blazing lights: MULLIGAN’S PARK. Len Mulligan owned the fair. His brother owned a bigger one. When Sandra had arrived in Skegness, and sobbed with disappointment to find out she had followed the wrong fair, Len’s brother himself had taken pity on her and directed her here.

Sandra smiled. ‘This is it, Dave. You’ll not get away from me again, I can promise you that.’

Filled with delight at having finally found him, the tiredness of her long journey seemed to fall away. At a run, she followed the path up the hill, past the caravan site and into the field, her eyes searching for the familiar wagon.