‘What a charming young man,’ Sunday commented, as she watched him go.

‘I reckon he’s sweet on our Kathy,’ Livvy told her, with a grin.

‘Really? Then I wonder why she has never mentioned him?’

Livvy shrugged. ‘I don’t think she’s interested, which is a shame because he’s a really nice chap.’ Then putting David Deacon from her mind, she turned her attention back to the carnival procession.

When the last of the gaily decorated floats had passed, they followed the crowds to Riversley Park where the town mayor would choose the winner. Then Livvy insisted on trying her hand at the coconut shy and some of the other stalls set up there. She even had a go on the carousel, laughing as the brightly painted horses rode up and down. Next it was the hall of mirrors, which had them all in fits of giggles, and then they were off to see the bearded lady. After that they treated themselves to toffee apples and candy flosses, before taking turns on the hoopla stall. When they had finished, Livvy insisted on going to see the strong man and having a go on the large swingboats, which made her feel slightly sick.

‘Phew, I reckon I might pop off an’ have a pint wi’ Sam Arnold at the Wheatsheaf in Abbey Street afore we set off fer home,’ George said eventually.

He was worn out, and suddenly realising that the time was going on, Cissie nodded. ‘You do that, luv. Me an’ Sunday an’ Livvy have got a bit o’ shoppin’ to do, so we’ll meet you by the Co-op in a couple of hours, eh?’

‘Sounds good to me.’ George straightened his cap and set off, whistling merrily. It wasn’t often that he got to have any time off and he intended to make the most of every minute.

Meanwhile the women headed back to the town centre, where they spent a time wandering amongst the stalls in the market before heading for the dress shops.

‘Ooh, look at this one.’ Cissie held up a sky-blue dress. It had a dropped waist with a mid-calf skirt and padded shoulders, long sleeves and tiny pearl buttons all down the front. ‘This would suit you a treat wi’ your colourin’, Sunday. An’ it’s your size, an’ all. Why don’t you try it on?’

Sunday looked at it doubtfully. It was very pretty, admittedly, and much more up to date than most of the clothes in her wardrobe, but she rarely left Treetops to go anywhere to wear it, as she pointed out to Cissie.

‘Rubbish!’ Cissie snorted. ‘You go to your council meetin’s an’ this would be just right for them.’