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Pale sunlight filtered through the little girl’s bedroomwindow at the
break of dawn, gently rousing her fromher sleep. Blearily she opened
her eyes, watching as the fuzzy outlines of the Winnie the Pooh
stickers on her wall came into focus. Blinking the last shrouds of
sleep from her dream-filled mind, she regained her bearings.
“
I
t
’
s
S
aturday
!
” she screeched with delight. Bouncing off her
bed, she ran next door into her parents’ room, shaking her mum
and dad awake.
“Mummy! Daddy, it’s Saturday! We have to go to the market!”
“Mmhm, why don’t you go and get changed, I’ll be up in a
second…” came her mother’s mumbled reply. Satisfied that her
parents would take her to the market soon, she gleefully returned to
her own room and began rummaging through her closet for
something nice to wear.
Ten minutes later, nose pressed against the cool glass of the car
window, the girl gazed at the hot air balloons drifting lazily through
periwinkle sky like the colourful bubbles of a lava lamp. The
cityscape whizzed by, skyscrapers and tall trees jutting proudly into
the sky –palace guards lining the streets as she approached her
domain. At last, the family’s large white Prado pulled into the
carpark of her beloved Queen Victoria Market.
Since as long as she could remember, the little girl had been
coming to the market every Saturday morning, accompanying her
mother on her weekly grocery shopping. Sometimes it would just
be the two of them; the little girl loved helping her mum pick the
ripest strawberries and the sweetest nectarines. She pranced around
the place as if she were the princess, exploring her wonderful
kingdom.
Today however, they were accompanied by her father. These
were the best trips of all, because while her mum went grocery
shopping, her dad would take her on a hunt to find the most bizarre
store she could. ‘Daddy days’ were also the best because they would
inevitably result in him buying her a jam doughnut – the specialty
of Queen Vic Market.
The little girl bounded out of her car seat, dragging her father
along with her towards the stalls. The open market air was a
cacophony of sounds; storekeepers hawking their goods, customers
bargaining heatedly, clashing of scales and the occasional indignant
squawk of a chicken. The young girl dutifully trailed after her dad,
Queen Of
The Market
Jacqueline Du
9