Big Day Out Read Free Page B

(Mark and Jon).

    I just stomped around wearily, surreptitiously eating a Galaxy … and then a Kit Kat … and a couple of Rolos. I handed the rest round to the family like a good generous girl. That’s another huge disadvantage of large families. Offer your packet of Rolos round once and they’re nearly all gone in one fell swoop.
    We went to this pub garden for lunch and I golloped down a couple of cheese toasties and two packets of crisps and two Cokes – all this fresh air had made me peckish – and I had to stoke myself up for the long trail back home along the river.

    ‘Oh, we thought we’d go via the Green Fields,’ said Graham.
    I groaned. ‘Graham! It’s
miles
! And I’ve got serious blisters already.’
    ‘I think you might like the Green Fields this particular Monday,’ said Mum.
    She and Graham smiled.
    I didn’t smile back. I
don’t
like the Green Fields. They are just what their name implies. Two big green fields joined by a line of poplar trees. They don’t even have a playground with swings. There isn’t even an ice-cream van. There’s just a lot of
grass
.
    But guess what, guess what! When we got nearer the Green Fields I heard this buzz and clatter and music and laughter. And
then
I smelled wonderful mouth-watering fried onions. We turned the corner – and the Green Fields were so full you couldn’t see a glimpse of grass! There was a fair there for the bank holiday.

    I gave a whoop. Mark and Ginnie and Jon and Alice gave a whoop too, though they were half mocking me. Jess and Cherry gave great big whoops. Baby Rupert whooped too. He couldn’t see the fair down at kneecap level in his buggy but he didn’t want to be left out.
    Mum and Graham smiled smugly.
    Of course, the fair meant different things to all of us. Jon and Mark –
and
Graham – wanted to go straight on the dodgems. Ginnie and Alice and I went too, while Mum minded the littlies. She bought them all whippy ice creams with chocolate flakes. I wailed, saying I’d much much much sooner have an ice cream than get in a dodgem car. Mum sighed and bought me an ice cream too. But as soon as it was in my hand I decided it
might
be fun to go on the dodgems too, so I jumped in beside Jon.
    Big mistake. Mark drove straight into us,
wham-bam
, and then
splat
, the chocolate flake went right up my nostril and my ice cream went all over my face.
    Mum mopped me up with one of Rupert’s wet wipes, and Jon bought me another ice cream to console me. I licked this in peace while Jess and Cherry and baby Rupert sat in a kiddies’ roundabout and slowly and solemnly revolved in giant teacups.

    ‘I wonder if they’ve got a
proper
roundabout,’ said Mum. ‘I used to love those ones with the horses and the twisty gilt rails and the special music. I want to go on a real old-fashioned carousel.’
    ‘Oh, Mum, you don’t get those any more,’ said Ginnie – but she was
wrong
.
    We went on all sorts of
new
-fashioned rides first. We were all hurtled round and round and upside down until even I started wondering if that extra ice cream had been a good idea. Then, as we staggered queasily to the other side of the field, we heard old organ music. Mum lifted her head, listening intently.
    ‘Is it?’ she said.
    It
was
. We pushed through the crowd and suddenly it was just like stepping back a hundred years. There was the most beautiful old roundabout with galloping horses with grinning mouths and flaring nostrils and scarlet saddles, some shiny black, some chocolate brown, some dappled grey. There was also one odd pink ostrich with crimson feathers and an orange beak.
    ‘Why is that big bird there, Mum?’ I asked.
    ‘I don’t know, Laura. I think they always have one odd one. Maybe it’s a tradition.’
    ‘I’m going to go on the bird,’ I said.
    The roundabout was slowing down. Mum had little Rupert unbuckled from his buggy so he could ride too. Graham had Cherry in his arms. Mark and Jon said the roundabout was just for kids, but