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brilliant emerald green, the sunlight catching its polished brass funnel.
    ‘I’ve got to go on one of those!’ she cried and, candyfloss still in hand, she dashed across the dry ground, wisps of her hair and her cream skirt flying behind her. I followed, letting go of Alec Kemp’s hand, scared for a moment by her impulsiveness. Only days ago I’d watched her climb the parapet of a little bridge over the River Cole, scrambling up, shouting triumphant, then falling. She was unhurt but wet and scared. But she could make you frightened for her. Sometimes I wished I could tie her down. I felt staid and solid beside her.
    ‘That’s not a ride, Olivia!’ Alec shouted. He strode after us. ‘Come back. You’ll get lost.’
    But she was already standing next to the majestic machine. She had to have what she wanted. By the time he reached her she was already climbing up into it. We could hear its throb, the power of it. She was chatting to the men working the engine, who smiled back, captivated but bemused, caps on heads and their hands black with grease.
    ‘We’ve told her we can’t move it, sir.’ One of them climbed down to speak to Alec Kemp, who raised his hat to him. ‘Not now, in this crowd.’
    ‘That’s quite all right. She shouldn’t be up there,’ Alec replied. I saw him slip coins into the man’s hand. ‘Thank you.’
    That was the one cross moment. I had seen the panic in his face as Olivia dived into the crowd. Now he gripped her so hard that she yelped. When he let go there was a pink, suffusing mark on her arm.
    ‘You must never go off like that again, you silly girl. D’you hear?’ I could hear the anger like needles in his voice. ‘Now stay close to me all the time or you’ll get into trouble.’
    Olivia stared at the ground, lower lip thrust out. I could tell she was near tears.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a little high voice. ‘But it was so exciting.’
    ‘Never mind, princess.’ Alec recovered quickly and swung her up into his arms for a moment. ‘Daddy doesn’t want to be cross. Come on. Let’s go and find something else you can have a go on.’
    The photograph was taken after one of our merry-go-round rides. A young fellow with sticking-out teeth and a badly fitting suit approached us with his camera. ‘Councillor Kemp, I’m from the Gazette . Could I trouble you for a picture?’
    ‘Of course. It’s no trouble, is it girls?’ He smiled amiably. Courtesy to everyone, he maintained, was the trick. He was a great one for presenting the right image. ‘Would you like the girls in as well?’
    ‘That’ll be a treat,’ the young man said, squinting into his lens. ‘Stand nice and close together now.’
    We were both still alight with the thrill of it, standing warm together, arms wrapped round each other’s back, utterly friends and absolutely happy.
    The picture made the evening edition.
    *  *  *
    OLIVIA
    They moved the piano forward in the drawing room, left music open on it and a vase of huge chrysanths on the top, which spread a heavy scent through the room.
    ‘Don’t make me,’ I begged Mummy. ‘Please. I don’t want to, I can’t.’
    ‘Oh, Olivia.’ Mummy knelt down beside me immediately. Her face was white. She implored me with her eyes. She had to make me, had to, for him. ‘Daddy’s so proud of you. Do it for him, please, my darling. You must do things for Daddy to make him happy.’
    She put her arms round me. She was so thin and pale. I could smell her cologne. ‘Please Olivia, my pretty darling. You’re so clever.’
    She cupped my face in her hands, stared into my eyes and she was frightened, I knew. She stroked my hair as if I were a pony. I had no choice. I was only ten and they expected me to play in front of all those people: councillors, aldermen, even MPs like Neville Chamberlain.
    ‘We’ll ask Kate to come along and keep you company,’ Mummy said.
    It was 1931, the summer leading up to the formation of the National Government. They