about going to the fair that Rose decided to dress up for the occasion, never thinking for a moment that by doing so she was putting her life at risk.
Rose had given Sally one of her best hats, a leghorn straw embellished with little yellow silk flowers.
“You do look a picture,” said Bert to his wife, his face beaming with love. Rose felt a pang. This policeman saw his thin, hard-faced wife as beautiful. That was real love. Would any man ever look at her like that?
The day of the fair dawned sunny and warm. Rose was wearing a white lace gown embroidered with blue forget-menots. On her head she wore a straw hat covered in silk forget-me-nots. A fine cashmere shawl was thrown round her shoulders and she carried a white lace parasol. Daisy was wearing a green silk gown with a little rakish green hat perched on her curled hair.
The fair lasted two weeks. They decided to visit on the second week, after the horse fair was over, because the gypsies raced each other up and down the main street and there were always accidents.
They wandered around the dozens of stalls. The children clamoured for brandy snaps filled with cream and then walked around to look at the gypsy caravans where the women sat outside making pretty little pincushions stuffed with bran to sell at the fair.
Bert was on duty, so Sally kept near him, pushing the baby in a pram made out of an orange box and an old set of wheels.
The children dragged Rose and Daisy to the steam roundabouts and Rose good-naturedly helped Daisy lift the smallest child up onto the brightly painted horses before climbing on herself. How wonderful it was to ride round and round while the barrel organ churned out music-hall songs. The current favourite was: “Oh! Oh! Antonio, he’s gone away—left me on my own e-o, all on my own e-o, I’d like to meet him and his new sweetheart, then up will go Antonio—and his ice cream cart.”
Dr. Linley stopped to watch them. He was a keen amateur photographer. He raised his new Kodak camera just as the carousel slowed to a halt and snapped a photograph of Rose sitting side-saddle on the painted horse.
In the evening, he developed the photographs in his darkroom. He stared at the photograph of Rose. It was perfect. She was holding on to her hat and her lips were curved in a smile.
There was a new magazine for amateur photographers and they offered a prize every year for the best photograph. The next day, Dr. Linley entitled the photograph “A Summer’s Day at the Fair,” and posted it off.
The year moved into high summer, and in July Bert took two weeks’ leave and they all went on holiday to Scarborough on the Yorkshire coast.
Daisy reflected that she had never seen Rose so happy. She took the children swimming and never once did she complain about the rather seedy lodging-house where they stayed.
Sally’s face was filling out now that, thanks to the payment from Rose’s family, they could afford good food at every meal, and she was not so careworn looking after the children, as Rose and Daisy took the burden of that duty off her hands. For the first time in years, she and Bert were able to spend time alone together.
When they returned to the village they were all glowing with good health. Rose started to organize a concert to raise funds to repair the school roof. Daisy was to be the star performer, but Rose had promised to sing one song.
The village hall was packed when Rose, accompanied by Daisy, walked onto the stage and began to sing:
“Birds in the garden, all day long, singing for me their happy song
Flowers in the sunshine, wind and dew, all of them speak to me of you;
You that I long for, near or far, you that I follow, like a star,
Day may be weary, weary and long, you will come home at evensong.
When you come home, dear, all will be fair,
Home is not home if you are not there;
You in my heart, dear, you at my side,
When you come home at eventide.”
Rose sang with a depth of feeling Daisy had never heard
Rose had given Sally one of her best hats, a leghorn straw embellished with little yellow silk flowers.
“You do look a picture,” said Bert to his wife, his face beaming with love. Rose felt a pang. This policeman saw his thin, hard-faced wife as beautiful. That was real love. Would any man ever look at her like that?
The day of the fair dawned sunny and warm. Rose was wearing a white lace gown embroidered with blue forget-menots. On her head she wore a straw hat covered in silk forget-me-nots. A fine cashmere shawl was thrown round her shoulders and she carried a white lace parasol. Daisy was wearing a green silk gown with a little rakish green hat perched on her curled hair.
The fair lasted two weeks. They decided to visit on the second week, after the horse fair was over, because the gypsies raced each other up and down the main street and there were always accidents.
They wandered around the dozens of stalls. The children clamoured for brandy snaps filled with cream and then walked around to look at the gypsy caravans where the women sat outside making pretty little pincushions stuffed with bran to sell at the fair.
Bert was on duty, so Sally kept near him, pushing the baby in a pram made out of an orange box and an old set of wheels.
The children dragged Rose and Daisy to the steam roundabouts and Rose good-naturedly helped Daisy lift the smallest child up onto the brightly painted horses before climbing on herself. How wonderful it was to ride round and round while the barrel organ churned out music-hall songs. The current favourite was: “Oh! Oh! Antonio, he’s gone away—left me on my own e-o, all on my own e-o, I’d like to meet him and his new sweetheart, then up will go Antonio—and his ice cream cart.”
Dr. Linley stopped to watch them. He was a keen amateur photographer. He raised his new Kodak camera just as the carousel slowed to a halt and snapped a photograph of Rose sitting side-saddle on the painted horse.
In the evening, he developed the photographs in his darkroom. He stared at the photograph of Rose. It was perfect. She was holding on to her hat and her lips were curved in a smile.
There was a new magazine for amateur photographers and they offered a prize every year for the best photograph. The next day, Dr. Linley entitled the photograph “A Summer’s Day at the Fair,” and posted it off.
The year moved into high summer, and in July Bert took two weeks’ leave and they all went on holiday to Scarborough on the Yorkshire coast.
Daisy reflected that she had never seen Rose so happy. She took the children swimming and never once did she complain about the rather seedy lodging-house where they stayed.
Sally’s face was filling out now that, thanks to the payment from Rose’s family, they could afford good food at every meal, and she was not so careworn looking after the children, as Rose and Daisy took the burden of that duty off her hands. For the first time in years, she and Bert were able to spend time alone together.
When they returned to the village they were all glowing with good health. Rose started to organize a concert to raise funds to repair the school roof. Daisy was to be the star performer, but Rose had promised to sing one song.
The village hall was packed when Rose, accompanied by Daisy, walked onto the stage and began to sing:
“Birds in the garden, all day long, singing for me their happy song
Flowers in the sunshine, wind and dew, all of them speak to me of you;
You that I long for, near or far, you that I follow, like a star,
Day may be weary, weary and long, you will come home at evensong.
When you come home, dear, all will be fair,
Home is not home if you are not there;
You in my heart, dear, you at my side,
When you come home at eventide.”
Rose sang with a depth of feeling Daisy had never heard
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