The ferris wheel shone silver in the sun, its long white spokes spinning the capsules to another adventure. Like a giant white cockroach, a tent crouched nearby. Jasmine hadn’t noticed it before.
Mr Crew Man appeared on deck, doffed his cap and said, ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m afraid I -’ Grandpa didn’t finish. The magical man raised his walkie-talkie and shouted, ‘Number eight.’
The wheel whirred and slowed, a capsule door opened and Jasmine hopped inside. How quickly they climbed. Jasmine felt dizzy. Wheeee! Western Market in Sheung Wan. She slurped cold water as Gramps read from the app: First opened for business in 1844. ‘Jasmine’s great-great grandparents shopped here,’ he added.
A smart-suited black-hatted toy soldier stood to attention near a bright red telephone box. ‘Excuse me,’ joked Jasmine. ‘Have you seen an envelope anywhere?’ The soldier shook his head, pointed upstairs.
Wah! No time to dream at the doll’s house version of the market and its fairy-sized tables and chairs. No time to play with the model train engines or toys. Jasmine and Gramps mounted one flight, two flights of the noble stairs towards a sweeping arch where people mingled around a seated lady.
‘I don’t think we’re invited,’ Jasmine told her.
‘What’s your name? Why yes!’ she answered, handing her an envelope.
It was an invitation, plus a note from Teacher Tam. Jasmine’s heart bumped. The clue was: People have checked the time here since 1915. The mystery letter was O.
‘Thank you for joining our wedding party,’ said two strangers.
Blood rushed to Jasmine’s cheeks.
‘Let’s dance!’ said Gramps, pulling her towards the guests who were dancing under sparkling waterfall chandeliers to sweet melodies that poured from a pianist and plucked bass. The musicians waved at her, smiling and swinging to the song.
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