It was rising quickly, so quickly that Calista had not realised what was happening until she had been lifted off the ground.
The Earl rushed forward and the crowd, realising what was happening, began to shout,
“Let go!”
“Drop!”
“You’ll be carried away!”
But Calista still clung to the side of the red-painted car. She was now thirty or forty feet above the heads of the crowd, her skirts blowing in the breeze, her feet dangling like those of a doll.
Then, as the Earl held his breath, incapable of crying out and even the crowd was silent, a man’s head and shoulders appeared above Calista and two hands clasped her wrists.
There was still a danger that she might fall until another man appeared and now they were lifting her, drawing her upwards and over the side of the car and into it.
A
