and into the Bull Ring.
Diana took hold of Rose’s sleeve. ‘Better not lose you,’ she said. ‘Go on – you lead the way.’
Rose felt the usual excitement that welled up once she was inside the market. There was so much to look at. She could hear a band playing, and the delicious smell of roasting meat wafted from the eating houses across from the stalls. Their windows were lit and the glass all steamed up, so you could only see hazy figures moving about inside or sitting at the tables. Outside one a sign said, ‘Beef & 2 veg. 11d.’
The market was packed with people swarming around the stalls, which were heaped with fruit, vegetables and flowers. The vendors were competing to see who could shout the loudest to sell their wares.
‘Only a penny the cabbage!’
‘Get your oranges here – fresh juicy oranges!’
They got tangled up in a knot of people all standing round some attraction. It was the strong man. He had been tied up tightly in his chains and a sack dropped over his head. They could see him struggling inside like an animal in a snare.
‘He always gets out, you know,’ some know-it-all in the crowd was saying.
‘There’s got to be a trick in it somewhere. I don’t believe in all this rigmarole,’ another voice said.
But mostly people stood gasping with admiration watching the man emerge, panting and red in the face as he tore the sack off his head, his face and bare arms shining with sweat.
When Rose looked at Diana she saw that her friend’s cheeks had turned quite white and she was taking in fast, shallow breaths.
‘I could never do that, never. I can’t bear anything over my head. It makes me want to scream and kick.’
‘Come on. Forget it,’ Rose said, pulling her away. ‘Let’s go and find something a bit more cheerful for you.’
Round the statue of Nelson in the middle of the market was the place where people always arranged to meet. Probably because they knew this, the Sally Army had set up with their brass band and tambourines. In the background somewhere a man’s voice was shouting, ‘He who is without sin – he, and only he – shall cast the first stone!’
From the other side of the statue Rose heard the music which she always enjoyed most in the market.
‘Come on.’ She took Diana’s arm. ‘If this don’t cheer you up then nothing will.’
It was the accordion players. There were two of them, trying hard to compete with the Sally Army, and by the look of things succeeding. The men had a certain snappiness of style even in their old black trousers and jackets, and their black hair shone with oil even in the grey winter light. One of them had a moustache. As they played they both tapped their feet and the one with the moustache sang to some of the numbers.
‘Can you hear what he’s saying?’ Rose shouted in Diana’s ear.
‘No,’ she shouted back. ‘It’s Italian. They’re from Italy.’
‘You know bloomin’ everything, don’t you?’ Rose bawled back at her with a grin.
The two girls stood for quite a time watching the players. Rose thought nothing could ever make her feel so happy as the sound of those dancing tunes. They stood there so long that in the end the one with the moustache danced over to them, inclining first one shoulder and then the other as his fingers carried on playing with astonishing ease and speed. Rose saw the hairs of his moustache, and his shining brown eyes. He sang a long note on some word that sounded like ‘maree’. Rose and Diana put their hands up to their mouths and moved away giggling.
They were carried along by the crowd, smelling potatoes baking on a cart and crushed cabbage leaves under their feet and cigarette smoke which seemed stronger on the cold air. There were hundreds of stalls in the Market Hall, selling everything under the sun. They liked to go and see the great crabs and lobsters, bright and astonishing in their shells, and all the piles of toffee and peanut brittle.
‘Oh look,’ Diana said.
Diana took hold of Rose’s sleeve. ‘Better not lose you,’ she said. ‘Go on – you lead the way.’
Rose felt the usual excitement that welled up once she was inside the market. There was so much to look at. She could hear a band playing, and the delicious smell of roasting meat wafted from the eating houses across from the stalls. Their windows were lit and the glass all steamed up, so you could only see hazy figures moving about inside or sitting at the tables. Outside one a sign said, ‘Beef & 2 veg. 11d.’
The market was packed with people swarming around the stalls, which were heaped with fruit, vegetables and flowers. The vendors were competing to see who could shout the loudest to sell their wares.
‘Only a penny the cabbage!’
‘Get your oranges here – fresh juicy oranges!’
They got tangled up in a knot of people all standing round some attraction. It was the strong man. He had been tied up tightly in his chains and a sack dropped over his head. They could see him struggling inside like an animal in a snare.
‘He always gets out, you know,’ some know-it-all in the crowd was saying.
‘There’s got to be a trick in it somewhere. I don’t believe in all this rigmarole,’ another voice said.
But mostly people stood gasping with admiration watching the man emerge, panting and red in the face as he tore the sack off his head, his face and bare arms shining with sweat.
When Rose looked at Diana she saw that her friend’s cheeks had turned quite white and she was taking in fast, shallow breaths.
‘I could never do that, never. I can’t bear anything over my head. It makes me want to scream and kick.’
‘Come on. Forget it,’ Rose said, pulling her away. ‘Let’s go and find something a bit more cheerful for you.’
Round the statue of Nelson in the middle of the market was the place where people always arranged to meet. Probably because they knew this, the Sally Army had set up with their brass band and tambourines. In the background somewhere a man’s voice was shouting, ‘He who is without sin – he, and only he – shall cast the first stone!’
From the other side of the statue Rose heard the music which she always enjoyed most in the market.
‘Come on.’ She took Diana’s arm. ‘If this don’t cheer you up then nothing will.’
It was the accordion players. There were two of them, trying hard to compete with the Sally Army, and by the look of things succeeding. The men had a certain snappiness of style even in their old black trousers and jackets, and their black hair shone with oil even in the grey winter light. One of them had a moustache. As they played they both tapped their feet and the one with the moustache sang to some of the numbers.
‘Can you hear what he’s saying?’ Rose shouted in Diana’s ear.
‘No,’ she shouted back. ‘It’s Italian. They’re from Italy.’
‘You know bloomin’ everything, don’t you?’ Rose bawled back at her with a grin.
The two girls stood for quite a time watching the players. Rose thought nothing could ever make her feel so happy as the sound of those dancing tunes. They stood there so long that in the end the one with the moustache danced over to them, inclining first one shoulder and then the other as his fingers carried on playing with astonishing ease and speed. Rose saw the hairs of his moustache, and his shining brown eyes. He sang a long note on some word that sounded like ‘maree’. Rose and Diana put their hands up to their mouths and moved away giggling.
They were carried along by the crowd, smelling potatoes baking on a cart and crushed cabbage leaves under their feet and cigarette smoke which seemed stronger on the cold air. There were hundreds of stalls in the Market Hall, selling everything under the sun. They liked to go and see the great crabs and lobsters, bright and astonishing in their shells, and all the piles of toffee and peanut brittle.
‘Oh look,’ Diana said.
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