A Family Affair by Janet Tanner Page B

up several more as they walked towards South Compton.
    The road was thronging with people all with one objective in mind, and the carnival spirit was already evident even before they reached the outskirts of the town and the first of the booths selling candyfloss and hot dogs.
    Heather and her friends made their way back along the route the carnival would take. They wanted to get an early view of Julia riding in the Queen’s Coach and later, when the procession had passed, they could slip through a short cut to the town centre, catching the tail end of it again and being in the right place to enjoy all the attractions of the street fair and the squibbing – the ritual setting off of firecrackers – which would follow.
    They found a vantage point on a wall and before long the collectors who always circuited the route were rattling their buckets on the pavement beneath them. Heather dug into the pocket of her coat which she had filled with loose change and tossed some in. The proceeds from the carnival always went to local charities. By the time the procession was over her pocket would be empty and so would the pockets of all her friends.
    At seven thirty on the dot a rocket soared up into the night sky, signifying that the procession had begun and a hum of anticipation ran through the crowds now lining the route three-deep. Someone in front of Heather had lifted a child on to his shoulders to give her a good view; Heather offered to hoist her up on to the wall beside them and they all squashed up to make room and put their arms around the small girl, smiling at her eager face. That was all part of the spirit of carnival. And besides – they didn’t want their own view obstructed.
    The procession came into view, one of the local fire engines leading the way to clear the route, then the town band, playing their hearts out, and then the Queen’s Coach. All the girls looked beautiful in their ball gowns, velvet fur-trimmed capes and small sparkling tiaras, but Heather still thought Julia was far and away the most attractive. As the coach moved slowly past, flanked by the Boy Scouts with their flaming torches, she cheered until she was hoarse.
    Behind the coach came decorated collecting vehicles, groups of comic masqueraders and more bands, all interspersed between the floats – or carts as the carnival club members called them – which were the highlight of the procession. And what floats! Most had taken months, if not the whole year, to build, the carpenters, electricians and artists working late into the night whilst their womenfolk stitched costumes and planned make-up. Some of the enthusiasts even took their two weeks’annual holiday to enable them to compete at every single carnival on the North Somerset circuit.
    The most famous of all these torchlight carnivals was, without doubt, Bridgwater. But the villages and towns such as South Compton who were on the circuit saw almost as impressive a spectacular. There were features where gaily-dressed characters danced choreographed routines to the popular tunes that blared through loudspeakers, and comedy floats that squirted water and bounced fake sausages on long strings of elastic at the watching crowds. But best of all Heather loved the tableaux. How on earth could anyone manage to stay so still on a jolting cart for the entire length of the procession? she always wondered. Each and every character looked like a waxwork figure at Madame Tussaud’s. Of course, those who had to stand slipped their feet into shoes that were bolted to the floor and there were certain places on the route known as rest areas where they could relax for a few minutes and coax their numb and aching muscles back to life, but their achievement was still little short of miraculous and Heather thought that every one of them deserved to win one of the coveted trophies. Tonight she clapped wildly as they passed by: The Beheading of Anne Boleyn, the cart depicting the