Free The Tulip Girl by Margaret Dickinson

with an elaborate sign that said ‘Madam Pallengro, Palmist and Clairvoyant’.
    ‘Come on, Nick,’ Maddie said deliberately, ‘we’ll show ’em.’
    ‘Let’s go on the Galloping Horses,’ Nick said and held out his hand for her to climb up onto one of the white-painted horses whilst he climbed onto the one next to her. The
ride, when it began, not only went round but also up and down and Maddie had not expected the peculiar feeling in her stomach. ‘When it goes down,’ she shouted to Nick above the hubbub,
‘my tummy feels as if I’ve left it up there and then I meet it coming down as I’m going back up.’
    Nick laughed and pretended to be galloping his charger. Faster and faster the music played and faster and faster the world spun around, so that soon the faces of those watching became a whirling
blur to Maddie. She began to feel slightly sick and was thankful when the ride slowed and the earth began to regain its rightful shape.
    ‘You all right?’ Nick said as he held up his hand to help her slide down from the horse. ‘You look a bit green.’
    ‘Don’t you dare tell them,’ she muttered.
    ‘They’re round the other side. Let’s go over there,’ Nick suggested, ‘make out we haven’t seen them. Just till you’ve recovered.’
    ‘Thanks,’ Maddie said gratefully and followed Nick towards a shooting gallery, willing her legs to stop feeling quite so wobbly.
    ‘There you are,’ came Michael’s voice.
    Nick turned. ‘Couldn’t see you,’ he lied glibly. ‘We thought you and Jen had gone off together.’
    ‘Not ’til I’ve challenged you to a shooting match. I might just stand a chance of beating you while you’re still dizzy from that roundabout.’ He turned to the two
girls. ‘Nick’s a crack shot. Much better than I am.’
    ‘Only ’cos I always get the job of going out to shoot rabbits in the fields or rats when the outside buildings get overrun with them,’ Nick muttered, but Maddie could see that
he flushed at Michael’s compliment.
    As they approached the shooting gallery, Nick’s grin widened. ‘It’s a tube shooter. Ah well, you’ve no chance now, Michael Brackenbury.’
    ‘What’s a tube shooter?’ Maddie asked.
    ‘The guns are fired through a tube at the target,’ Michael pointed. ‘Look.’
    On the side of a gaily painted wagon she saw that there were two guns mounted on stands, each pointing down a long metal tube which passed right through the wagon and out the other side.
    ‘It looks like a gypsy caravan,’ Maddie said and Michael laughed. ‘It is – in a way. The chap who owns the gallery lives in the wagon. I saw inside it last year and those
tubes run right under his bed.’
    ‘However do they move it all?’
    ‘Like everything else on the fairground, it all comes to pieces and then he packs it all on the top of his wagon and off he goes. I like to come and watch them taking everything down. Talk
about “a fine art”. Everyone knows exactly what he’s got to do. It’s a sight to see, I can tell you.’
    Maddie glanced at Nick, who was already moving towards the man collecting the money. She didn’t think she had ever seen him looking so animated, so clearly enjoying himself. When he was
smiling happily, he looked a different person to the sullen boy going about his work on the farm under his mother’s watchful eye.
    ‘Go on, Nick,’ she called above the organ music coming from the roundabout, so loud that it dominated the whole fairground and even echoed into the surrounding streets. ‘Win me
a prize.’
    He glanced back over his shoulder at her, a look of incredulous delight on his face. ‘Right. I will.’
    ‘Don’t worry, Jen,’ Michael said. ‘I’ll win one for you.’
    Jenny, with a daub of vanilla ice cream on the end of her nose, smiled shyly up at him.
    The girls stood side by side and watched the two boys take up their positions, covering their ears a moment later at the resounding bang, bang, bang from each