Dad and I set off to the station. Dad manoeuvred the chip van out onto the forecourt and got everything set up. The chip fryer was being particularly temperamental, over-heating one minute and switching itself off the next. Dad fiddled and swore at it, despairing.
‘How am I supposed to cook anything halfway decent on this ropy old contraption?’ he said. ‘Oh Flossie, Charlie’s Café was hardly the Ritz but at least I could cook properly back at home. Try as I might I can only manage rubbish food here.’
For a long time it didn’t look as if anyone wanted any food, rubbish or otherwise. We’d been busy on Saturday night and Dad had whistled as he fried, happy that he was keeping Billy’s business going and making a bit of cash for us.
But this Sunday we weren’t making any cash at all. Dad sighed and fidgeted and shook the surly fryer. Then he came and squatted down beside me, his knees uncomfortably under his chin because he was so big and there was very little space.
‘What’s that you’re doing, sweetheart?’ he asked, watching me gluing bits of white tissue to the toothpicks.
‘I’m trying to make one of those sticky-out hoop petticoat thingies to go under an Elizabethan gown for my woolly elephant,’ I said.
Dad blinked. ‘Ask a silly question,’ he said. He reached out and ruffled my curls. ‘You’re a funny kid, Floss. Thank God you’re so adaptable. Well, I’ll keep the blooming fryer bubbling for another half-hour or so and then we might well call it a day. The town’s dead, obviously.’
Almost as soon as Dad said that a couple fetched up at the van and started tapping their money on the counter for attention – then another couple, a little gang of girls, a rowdy mob of boys . . .
‘So where have you guys all suddenly sprung from?’ said Dad, heaving masses of chips into the fryer.
‘There’s been a green fair down by the river,’ said one of the girls. ‘We’ve been listening to the bands.’
‘Oh Dad, the fair!’ I said, leaping up.
‘It won’t be our fair, pet. Green fairs are different,’ said Dad. ‘You cuddle down on your cushion and try to go to sleep. It looks like it’s going to be a long and busy night after all. We’re not going to get home till late.’
I tried to finish Ellarina’s petticoat first but it totally defeated me. I ended up with little pricks all over my fingers and bits of tissue stuck everywhere. I gave up and had a go at making those baggy knicker things that Elizabethan men wore, but it was difficult fashioning them to fit a saggy woollen dog so I stopped trying. Maybe Susan would have to be chief dressmaker in our games.
I curled up in a ball, closed my tired itchy eyes and tried to go to sleep. But it wasn’t easy. It got noisier and noisier as more and more people came to the chip van on their way home from the fair.
I started dreaming a silly dream about wandering round Hampton Court with Ellarina and Dimble dressed as Tudor courtiers. I’d somehow turned into one of Henry the Eighth’s six wives, only he decided he didn’t like me any more and he started shouting at me. I ran away because I knew what happened to the wives who were out of favour. Then all his soldiers started pursuing me and they were all shouting too. I woke up with a start, still shaking.
I told myself that it was only a dream, that I was safe in the chip van with Dad – but I could still hear the shouting. I heard Dad shouting too. I struggled up out of my corner.
‘Dad? Dad, what’s happening? Are you all right?’
‘Get back down, darling. It’s OK. It’s just some silly lads getting impatient. Pipe down, you guys, I’m frying as fast as I can. This isn’t McDonald’s – there’s just me, so you’ll have to wait.’
‘Stupid idiots,’ said this tall guy, who was waiting patiently, his arm round his girlfriend. ‘Don’t take any notice of that lot, mate. You’re doing a grand job.’
I blinked, then rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. The tall guy was somehow familiar. He had long fairish hair down to his shoulders, a black vest, black jeans, a studded jacket – and large silver biker jewellery on almost every finger.
‘It’s Saul!’ I said, bobbing up behind Dad.
‘Get down, Floss! It’s who?’
‘Saul!’
Saul saw me and grinned. ‘Yeah, I’m Saul. How did you know my name?’
‘Is she an old girlfriend, Saul?’ said his girl, grinning.
‘Saul rescued us at the fair, Dad. Our fair. He’s Rose’s son.’
‘Oh, great!’ said Dad. ‘Well, smashing to meet up with you again, Saul. Is the fair in our town again?’
‘No, no. I’m not actually with the fair at the moment. I’ve moved in with Jenny here,’ said Saul, giving her a squeeze.
‘Stop the chitchat, Chip Man, and get serving!’ some stupid guy yelled. His mates started chanting stuff too.
‘Yobbos,’ said Dad contemptuously, taking no notice of them. ‘Well, I bet your mum misses you, Saul.’
‘Yeah, she wasn’t too pleased, but she’s a tough lady, my ma, she’ll cope.’
‘She’s a lovely lady,’ said Dad, serving up a mega-huge portion of chips to Saul and Jenny. ‘Here you are, have these on the house.’
‘Thanks, mate, that’s good of you. Fancy you working here in this chip van!’
‘It’s just a temporary measure. Not quite sure what the future holds. Maybe I should go and see your mum and ask her to tell my fortune,’ said Dad.
‘Here, Chip Man, get serving us, you useless git!’ an ugly guy behind shouted.
‘Keep your mouth buttoned, mate, until you learn some manners,’ said Saul.
‘Yeah, so who’s going to make me?’
‘I might,’ said Saul, clenching his ringed fingers so they were bunched in a threatening fist.
‘Don’t come the heavy with me, mate! Who do you think you are, with your girly hair and your jewellery? You’re asking to be sorted out good and proper!’
The ugly guy surged forward, all his gang following.
‘Now cut it out, lads. Any trouble and I’m into that station and phoning the police,’ said Dad.
No one was listening. They were pushing and shoving, shouting and swearing. Then the ugly guy punched Saul on the chin. Saul whacked him one straight back with his ringed fist. The ugly guy staggered, bleeding. He fumbled for something. Then I saw a sudden frightening gleam.
‘He’s got a knife!’ I screamed.
‘Oh God,’ said Dad. ‘Watch out, Saul! Look, you stay right here where it’s safe, Floss, out of sight. Promise?’
Dad squeezed my shoulder and then went rushing out of the door at the back.
‘Dad! Oh Dad, come back! Don’t get hurt!’
I couldn’t stay in my corner. I had to peer over the counter to see what was happening. There were people fighting everywhere. Some lads were kicking. Someone was head-butting. I couldn’t even see Saul and the ugly guy now. And where was Dad? I prayed he wouldn’t get into the fight himself. What if was hit or kicked? What if he was knifed?
I eyed the door, wondering if I dared go after him to drag him back. But I’d promised Dad to stay in the van.
It wasn’t safe any more though. There were boys banging on it now, so that it rattled and shook. There were thumps and shoves. I cowered right up in the corner again, clutching Dimble and Ellarina.
More fists, more boots. The van juddered and rocked and tilted.
‘Let’s turn it right over!’ someone shouted.
‘Dad!’ I yelled.
They all kicked together and the van lurched sideways. The chips sizzled furiously and fat poured out over the fryer. Then suddenly there was an enormous whoomph! and flames leaped high in the air.
‘Dad! Dad! Dad!’ I screamed.
I scrabbled for something to throw on the flames but it was too late. They were roaring right up to the ceiling, terrifyingly orange, while filthy smoke swirled all round the van, making me cough.
‘Dad!’ I croaked. The flames and fat were making such a noise no one would ever hear me.
I had to get out
! I couldn’t even see the door now. I was in a boiling burning whirl of black smoke and orange flame. My eyes smarted and stung. I couldn’t breathe. I pressed my woolly toys over my nose and mouth and crouched down, crawling blindly across the floor.
‘DAD!’ I cried one last time.
Then the door burst open, making the fire roar and spread. There were arms fighting through the flames. Two hands grabbed me and hauled. I was out of the van, still screaming and sobbing, but safe in Dad’s arms.
21
WE HAD TO go to hospital. I was completely fine but they needed to check that I hadn’t inhaled too much smoke. Dad had burns on his hands where he’d fought his way forward to grab me. They were both bandaged up so that it looked as if he was wearing white boxing gloves. Dad was very brave and didn’t even flinch when the nurse rubbed ointment on, but I started crying.
‘Hey, hey, Floss, no tears, sweetheart, I’m fine. Look, I’m being wound up like an ancient Egyptian. Only I’m not a mummy, I’m a daddy!’
It wasn’t really funny but I sniffled a little, and the nurse laughed out loud.
‘Don’t worry, dear, your dad’s going to be as right as rain. He’ll have to keep his bandages on for a bit but he should heal up nicely. It’ll be a good excuse for him to sit back and have your mum wait on him for a week or so.’
‘Hmm,’ I said. I patted Dad’s knee. ‘I’ll wait on you, Dad. You saved my life! You’re a hero!’
‘Rubbish, pet. I didn’t do anything,’ said Dad.
‘Yes, you did, mate,’ said Saul, poking his head round the cubicle curtain. His arm was in a sling because one of the guys had tried to knife him. ‘You saved me too, grabbing that punk by the wrist so he dropped his knife,’ he said.
‘I wasn’t really thinking straight. I just caught hold of him – and as luck would have it, that’s when he dropped the knife,’ said Dad.
‘No, your little girl’s right, you’re a hero,’ said Jenny, Saul’s girlfriend.
Saul had had to take off all his huge silver skull rings and bangles so she was wearing them for him, jangling and clanking every time she moved her arms. She stroked Saul’s sore arm tenderly.
‘It’s only a flesh wound but it could have been far worse,’ she said.
Dad and Saul had to give statements to a policeman, though I kept dozing off while they were talking because it was the middle of the night now. I cuddled Dimble and Ellarina, who were a little singed but safe. Every time I went to sleep I heard the ugly raised voices, I felt the thuds, the shaking, I saw the sudden gold-red flare of flame and I started crying. Each time Dad held me in his arms, patting me with his big bandaged hands, soothing me.
‘Come on, I’ve got to get my little girl home,’ said Dad – and eventually they let us go.
We had no way of getting back from the hospital and Dad didn’t have much cash on him, but Saul and Jenny were waiting and they shared a taxi with us, taking us all the way to Billy the Chip’s house for nothing.
‘If you’d like to come back tomorrow I’ll give you the fare,’ said Dad.
‘Think nothing of it, mate. Still, I might well come back visiting,’ said Saul.
They dropped us off and we staggered up the path to Billy’s. I had to feel in Dad’s pocket for the key and open the front door for us. Lucky and Whisky and Soda were waiting worriedly in the hall, twining themselves round our ankles like furry feather boas, wondering why we’d been out so late.
‘Let’s get straight to bed, little Floss,’ said Dad. ‘It’s all right now, baby, we’re safe and sound.’ But as he said it he suddenly started shaking. ‘Oh Floss, I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been, dragging you off to that van night after night. You could have been burned to a crisp and it would have all been my fault.’
‘No Dad! It wasn’t your fault, silly. You rescued me. I’m fine, we’re both fine,’ I said, putting my arms round Dad and hugging him tight.
Dad cried a little bit while I patted him on the back. Then his nose started running and he couldn’t blow it properly with his poor bandaged hands so I had to help him.
‘It’s like you’re my big baby, Dad,’ I said.
I had to help him undo all his buttons and shoe laces so he could get ready for bed. When I was in bed myself Dad lay down at the end with his pillow and blanket so that every time I dreamed about the fire and woke up he could soothe me back to sleep.
He said I could stay off school in the morning. We didn’t set the alarm but we both woke up very early even so. We had to have a special long cuddle just to make sure we were both all right.
‘I’ll have to phone poor Billy and tell him what’s happened to his van,’ said Dad, sighing. ‘Goodness knows how he’s going to react. That old chip van has been in his family for so many years. I feel so bad. It’ll probably break his heart. It seems so cruel to interrupt his holiday and tell him, but I’m worried the police will have to contact him at some stage, so I’d better let him know first.’
I carefully made Dad a cup of tea, and he managed to balance it between his bandages and sip from it. Then he dictated Billy’s son’s phone number and I dialled it for him.
Dad got through straight away but couldn’t get a word in edgeways at first. Billy the Chip was burbling away on the other end, telling Dad Sydney was wonderful, his son was wonderful, his son’s wine bar was wonderful, the weather was wonderful – and Dad had to listen with an agonized expression, trying to wade into this wave after wave of wonder.
‘I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself, Billy, mate, but I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news,’ Dad blurted out eventually. ‘Last night there was a bit of a ruckus with some yobs. They were trying to tip the van over, and the fat in the fryer caught fire. I’m afraid the van’s been burned, Billy. What? No, no, I’m fine, hands got a bit singed, that’s all. Thank God Floss is fine too. But I’m not quite sure how we’re going to get the van back into action. Have you got proper insurance? Oh thank God, because truthfully, mate, it’s a total write-off. But if you can get the insurance sorted when you’re back from Oz then I’ll help you buy a new van, get the business up and running again – though I’ll have to make some kind of arrangement for Floss: I’m not risking her in a van at night now. What’s that? Really? You truly mean that, Billy?’ Dad listened. He nodded. He shook his head. He blew his breath out, his lower lip jutting.
‘Yeah, yeah. Thanks, mate, but you don’t have to. No, no, we’ll be moving on soon anyway. Definitely. Well, we’ve no actual concrete plans but something’s bound to bob up out of the blue. OK then. You enjoy yourself, pal. Go for it. Bye then.’ Dad put the phone down. He rolled his eyes at me.
‘He says he wants to stay in Australia and help his son with his bar! It’s a boys only bar too – not really Billy’s sort of place at all – but he says he’s so enjoying being with his son he wants to stick by him. I don’t know whether it will work out in the long term but he seems sure that’s what he wants. He’s intent on giving up his chip van, whatever happens. He says he’s thinking of putting this house on the market too, though we can stay in it for the time being.’ Dad made to scratch his head and ended up patting it with his bandages. ‘Strikes me the world’s gone bonkers, Floss. Still, I suppose we should be happy for Billy.’ He raised his mug of tea unsteadily. ‘Here’s to Billy the Chip!’
‘Here’s to Billy the Chip,’ I repeated – and Lucky and Whisky and Soda mewed.
‘Hey, Dad, what about his cats?’
‘Well, he says maybe we can find a good home for them. He’s thinking of having some firm pack up some of his stuff and ship it to Australia, but he can hardly do that to old Whisky and Soda. I doubt they’d last the journey.’
‘Well, are we a good home, Dad?’ I asked.
‘We haven’t got a good home for us, pet, let alone Billy’s manky old cats.’
‘Us meaning you, me and Lucky?’
‘Us three, absolutely,’ said Dad.
I made Dad and me some toast, and fed all three cats. I
felt a bit weird not going to school. I was worried about Susan stuck in our classroom in front of Rhiannon without me.
‘Maybe I’ll go into school after all, Dad, if you feel you can cope OK.’
‘Are you sure, Floss? You’re probably still in a state of shock. I know I am.’
‘Yes, but you’re wounded, Dad,’ I said, very gently stroking his bandages.
‘I can’t drive you at the moment, but I’ll walk you there, if you like,’ said Dad. ‘I’ve got to go and sort out what’s happening to the chip van anyway. And I’ve got to buy something too – a mobile phone! Then I feel I can always summon help straight away if we’re in any more bother. I haven’t much idea what they cost, and we’d better hang onto every penny now the chip van business is up the creek, but I thought about selling something. Not that I’ve got much left to sell, admittedly. I wondered about the cuckoo clock. I know it doesn’t go any more, but it’s quite old, and the carving’s nice. I could take it into that antique place and see what they offer me.’
‘But it’s your wedding present, Dad!’
‘Yes, I know. But your mum never really liked it. And now – well, your mum and I aren’t married any more, are we?’
I swallowed. ‘Sometimes I wish you and Mum were still married, Dad,’ I said.
‘I know, pet. Sometimes I still wish that too. But your mum’s moved on now – literally! Maybe it’s time I did too. You won’t mind too much if we get rid of the cuckoo clock, will you?’
‘I’d much sooner we had a mobile, Dad. Can it be half mine too? Hey, even Rhiannon hasn’t got her own mobile phone yet! I’ll be so cool.’
We wrapped the cuckoo clock in newspaper and Dad put it in his backpack. There was a specialist clock man in the antique centre. He sniffed at our clock a bit, but admitted it was Victorian and hand-carved. He didn’t offer that much at first, but Dad argued and eventually he gave him a hundred pounds!
‘Wow, Dad! We’re rolling in it now!’ I said.
Candyfloss Page 18