Nell, working saliva into her mouth, shook her head. ‘I’m really sorry but they’ll have to go back. The original order was cancelled. I’ve bought all I can afford. I can’t pay for these. I thought it was understood that it’d be all right to cancel.’
‘All paid for according to my info.’ The van driver was still impatient to get away. ‘All you got to do, my duck, is sign the old paperwork. Completion of order, delivery on time, and all that. Here –’
‘But who paid for them?’
‘Not my business. All I knows is that nothing leaves our yard without the money being in the bank first, so I don’t worry about it. Now, could you just sign me chitty and let us get off, duck? There’s football on the telly tonight.’
Nell bit her lip. ‘Look, I think there’s been a mistake.’
‘Just sign the man’s docket.’ Dennis and Percy seemed to be manipulating her arm. One of them handed her the forms, the other a pen. ‘Go on, Nell. Maybe Clem Percival changed his mind. Who bloody cares? Just sign.’
Nell signed. Oh, God, she wasn’t going to turn them away now. She’d have to sort it out later.
The Eckstrucs driver vaulted across the yard and while he was still tucking the paperwork into his pocket, the white van tore away. The Trusters, their suppers ignored, were swarming back into the shed.
‘No time to waste.’ Percy looked like he was about to burst. ‘Let’s get the rest of the stuff loaded.’
‘It won’t matter if we works all night,’ Dennis beamed. ‘We’ve got the trucks, gel. We’re going to be all right.’
They lifted and strained the brass rods and all of the rounding boards into the wagons. Working with them in a state of dazed confusion, Nell was pretty sure that Clem Percival was going to storm into the yard at any moment and demand his money back.
It was late. The evening had melted into black velvet, the shed’s huge exterior lights casting pools of brilliance across the yard. Nell, who was helping the Jims, Bobs, and Bens shoulder the horses towards the doors, heard a whoop of delight from the Trusters outside. One truck successfully loaded, she thought, and one to go. Surely, if they were loaded, even Clem would allow them to be used just this once? She wondered vaguely just how much it was going to cost her to get them un-liveried.
She walked into the yard to check that they were ready for the horses. ‘We’re OK in here, Dennis. You ready for us?’
With the other Trusters she started to lift Petronella and Vincent, Miranda and Caliban into the horse truck. After the fourth journey Dennis was leaning back against the tailgate, wiping his forehead, while the others had disappeared into the shed for the next phalanx.
Nell took a deep breath. ‘Dennis, have you heard from Jack? I thought he’d be here tonight –’
‘Jack had other things to do. Things to see to, he said. Accommodation to sort out. I think he’s buying a new house or something. He’ll definitely be here in the morning.’
They worked until well past midnight. Nell had never known such pain. She lifted and loaded, knowing that her muscles were screaming and that her body was dropping with exhaustion, yet feeling none of it. The only agony was on the inside.
They’d all teased her about Jack’s absence, saying that he was a fair-weather fair supporter and that, owing to his obviously being work shy, he’d have to do the bulk of the building-up. Nell would have to crack the whip when he turned up tomorrow, wouldn’t she? They didn’t seem aware of any of this causing Nell pain, but then, why should they? She’d gritted her teeth and smiled and told herself that they’d got the lorries, they’d got the gaff, they’d got the Memory Lane Fair. What the hell else was there to want?
‘Get a move on!’ Harry yelled up into the horse truck. ‘Only three more to load and old Perce has got his barbie going. Mind, I reckon we’ll drop dead the minute we finish building-up tomorrow – I’ve never worked so hard in my life.’
‘I’m really grateful,’ Nell said, smiling at the Trusters, still wanting Jack to be there. ‘I couldn’t have done this without you. Without any of you …’
They sat around, eating again, drinking, talking of their families who would be coming to cheer them on in the morning. Nell had made yet more tea in the living wagon, handing cups over the open top of the door.
‘Dennis said Jack was sorting out accommodation?’ Fred and Harry had swapped places on the back of the galloper truck and she was sitting beside Percy. She had to say something. Maybe Dennis had got it wrong. ‘Is he?’
Percy nodded. ‘So I understand. He said something about it.’
She clutched the final straw. ‘So, he might be bringing it with him tomorrow ?’
‘Doubt it, Nell, love. Bricks and mortar don’t tow too well.’
So that was it. Her head reeled. How could she have misread it so appallingly wrongly? ‘So he’s planning – planning to settle down again?’
‘Search me, but it sounds like it.’ Percy drained his mug. ‘He took all his stuff out of the shed a few days ago, so I suppose so. He’d had a bit of a rough time lately, by all accounts. Do him good to put down some new roots.’
‘Yes. Yes, I suppose it will.’ She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘I’m – um – glad that he’s found somewhere else. Somewhere permanent …’
Nell knew that she should get up, walk away, call a cheery goodnight to everyone, and tell them not to be late in the morning. She didn’t, simply because she wanted to talk about Jack. She wanted to talk about Jack all night. But Percy wanted to talk about the gallopers. She nodded and shook her head and hoped that her yes and no answers were in the right places.
She and Percy still sat together on the tailboard as, one by one, the other Trusters gave in and crawled off, triumphant and exhausted, to their various quarters. The night closed in with a multitude of stars. Nell would have stayed until dawn. She knew she was waiting to hear the Roadster’s roar.
Chapter Thirty-three
It was, Nell thought, as perfect as she’d always dreamed it would be. A glorious golden September day; the fair field ringed by chestnut trees; a fat brown stream bubbling haphazardly through the middle of silky tufts of grass; a handful of honey-coloured houses hidden behind a haze of golden rod and Michaelmas daisies.
Most of the lorries, all proclaiming ‘Petronella Bradley’s Memory Lane Fair’, were pulled into the gateway. The horse truck, because they were a driver short, was still at Fox Hollow. She’d have to go back for that. Her living wagon was parked under the chestnuts’ dappled canopy, and the Downland Trusters were buzzing with excited anticipation. . It was everything she’d ever wanted.
Funny, she thought, scrambling backwards out of the Volvo with vital spare fuses and masking tape, how you dreamed and schemed and planned to accomplish something – and then, when you achieved it, there always had to be a piece missing. Her perfect jigsaw of attainment was lacking a pretty vital chunk.
Still, there was no point in thinking like that. The fact that Jack hadn’t arrived at Fox Hollow this morning by the time they pulled out – despite her dallying and dawdling and leaving as late as possible – really should tell her something.
It was a pity that she wasn’t listening.
The steam rally was gathering itself together on the other side of the field. Huge showmen’s traction engines in maroon and gold, and their smaller agricultural cousins in less flamboyant green, were chugging into position, sacks of coal were being delivered, and a hundred craft and market stalls were being erected. The Downland Trusters were nearly frantic with expectation.
After long consultations with the rally organisers, the pitches were allocated, leaving spaces for Sam and Claudia’s slip and big wheel. It was a shame, Nell thought, that they didn’t have some old-fashioned side stuff and a set of swings. Still, once she’d become established she’d be able to advertise for the future, wouldn’t she? She tried not to think that right now the future, which should have been beckoning and jolly, looked a bit gaunt and jaded.
A scre
ech of brakes and the roar of an engine made her turn her head. Oh God. At last. The Roadster was rocketing across the field towards her, and slewed to an unsteady halt. Despite her intention to remain cool, Nell felt giddy at the sight of him.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Jack wrenched off his helmet. ‘I was still awake when it was getting light, and then I knew I ought to be getting up – and I immediately went to sleep. You must have been convinced that I wasn’t going to turn up, especially after I missed yesterday.’
‘The thought did cross my mind.’
He looked, Nell thought, as though he hadn’t slept at all. Well, that made two of them.
‘Anyway, I’m here now, and ready to atone for my sins.’ He had the nerve to grin, damn him. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Go back to Fox Hollow and drive the galloper truck over here. You can stick the bike up into the back. After all, you might as well make the most of your licence since I’ve paid good money for it.’ She stopped and wished she could have sliced off her tongue.
Jack winced visibly. ‘I hadn’t forgotten. Here.’ He delved into the pocket of his black jeans and handed her a rather crumpled cheque. ‘One HGV course – paid in full. I should have done it yesterday. I know I should also have been at Fox Hollow to help you. I wanted to be there, believe me. It was just that I had other things on my mind. Other things to sort out.’
‘I heard. Still, as you can see, we managed without you. Did – did you get everything done? Everything you wanted to do?’
He nodded briefly, ramming the skid-lid back on, the beautiful eyes disappearing behind the smoked visor, and kick-started away across the field. Nell looked down at his cheque, tore it across again and again, and hurled it into the air. She’d got the Memory Lane Fair. She’d just have to get used to the idea that she wasn’t going to have Jack.
The Downland Trust built up the ghost train and the caterpillar first as they were relatively simple. It was a good-natured affair, very unlike any build-up at Bradley -Percival. Danny’s bad temper and Ross’s impatience seemed to belong to another life already.
The gallopers had attracted a mention in The World’s Fair, and quite a crowd of devotees was gathering to witness this momentous occasion. Thanks to the dummy run in the yard the Trusters were not only fairly confident of getting it right first time, but also of beating John Carter’s record hollow. The centre was ramped into position, this time to be joined by the Gavioli. Nell, screwing her hair into its scrunchie on top of her head, tucking her dark green vest more securely into her jeans, and trying not to think of Jack, got ready to work with the rest of them.
The horse truck rolled smoothly through the gates an hour later, just as they were unsheeting the organ from its tarpaulin. Nell stopped, shielding her eyes. Jack looked totally at home behind the wheel. Obviously, her money had been well spent. He pulled confidently into line with the other lorries and dropped from the cab. He could have been doing it all his life. Nell’s heart thumped miserably against her ribs.
‘Here, Nell,’ one of the Jims shouted. ‘You might be taller’n most of us, but you’re probably the lightest! Get up here and sort this out!’
‘This’ was the centre pole, the one-time chimney from the days when the machine was steam-driven, which folded flat, but needed to be erected on top of the centre truck to support the tilt and the swifts and lighting spars, and eventually the rounding boards. A dozen pairs of hands pushed Nell’s bottom upwards as she scrambled on top of the centre truck. Jack’s, she noticed, weren’t amongst them.
The build-up was going well. The top was completed. Jack had joined in passing her spanners, grinning at Percy, joking with Fred. His eyes gleamed with delight. Nell’s embarrassment and pain had to be put on hold. The absolute surge of delight as the gallopers started to take shape simply obliterated everything else.
She stood beside him, looking up at his incredibly intricate artwork, looking at the wording he’d so carefully inscribed for her. Remembering. Nothing could spoil this. She knew he was watching her. ‘It’s unbelievable, isn’t it?’
Jack nodded. ‘The stuff of my dreams.’
Almost the stuff of hers.
The sun was clambering hand over fist into the sky, dazzling across the field. Fortunately a buffeting breeze stopped the temperature from rising to frying levels, but even so, they all looked as though they had been dunked in buckets of water. Oily water at that, Nell grinned to herself, thinking of a long, cool shower and clean hair.
Claudia and Sam arrived just before midday. Nell bounded across the uneven grass towards them, exclaiming in delight at the wagon, hardly able to wait to cast a professional eye over the rides. She had never seen either of them look happier. Claudia’s short, spiky hair had been coaxed round her face and she seemed to have combined two totally different images, with dramatically heavy make-up and a long, floaty voile dress. Sam looked as though he’d walked on the moon.
‘Everything OK?’
‘Very OK.’ Claudia hugged her. ‘More than very OK. Absolutely sodding fantastic, if you want to know. Oh, wow!’
Nell beamed with delight. ‘Is that wow because you’ve at last discovered gentle, tender, and mutually satisfying sex and are unbelievably in love with my younger brother? Wow because the gallopers even half built up are far more stunning than you’d even dreamed? Or wow for some other reason?’
Claudia nodded. ‘Right with all three. Who on earth is that?’
Nell turned round slowly, although she didn’t need to. ‘Oh, him? He’s the bank manager.’
‘Holy shit.’
Sam drifted across, unable to stop smiling; unable not to touch Claudia’s cheek very gently. Nell sniffed happily.
‘The gallopers look tons better than the Brain-Scrambler,’ Claudia said, tottering exaggeratedly against Sam. ‘And he –’ she wrinkled her nose across the field at Jack ‘ – is a million times better than Mr P.’
‘Yeah,’ Nell said quietly. ‘I know. But like Ross he’s not going to be a permanent emotional fixture.’
‘Come off it,’ Sam said. ‘Why on earth not?’
‘Jack’s a flatty. There’s no chance –’
‘Don’t be so bloody archaic. If Claudia and I can make a go of things, why on earth shouldn’t you and a flatty? For God’s sake, Nell, you’re the gaffer now. You make the rules.’
She knew. But it wouldn’t be enough to make Jack give up his bricks and mortar.
‘We’ll get built up, then give you a hand if you need it.’ Sam looked around and sighed with pleasure. ‘God, Nell. This is quite amazing, isn’t it? Only one thing mars the proceedings. My Mazda is still wherever Bradley-Percival is at the moment.’
‘St Giles.’ Claudia and Nell spoke together.
‘Probably being joy-ridden at this very minute, then,’ Sam said mournfully. ‘I’ll have to get Ross to bring it over. You wouldn’t mind?’
‘Not at all.’ Nell shook her head. ‘He sent me flowers to wish me luck. Oh, look, I think I’m wanted. See you later – and you can borrow any of the blokes when you need them. They’d be glad to help.’
The gallopers were already transformed. The shields were up, the rods – the hardest and heaviest job – had been hung, and the horses galloped at last, suspended high above the ground, three abreast. Nell could almost sense their freedom.
‘We’ve put Petronella in between Jonquil and Valentine,’ Jack said, ‘because she’s the only centre-row horse with a front rod – so that children can ride alone safely. I thought you’d like that.’
She did. She smiled at him. She couldn’t help it. She just wished she still didn’t want to kiss him quite so much.
It looked spectacular. Even the jaded aficionados were oohing and aahing, snapping off lens covers, holding up phones. Only the platforms and the steps to go. It was potentially back-breaking, but they were mob-handed. It was going to be OK.
‘Don’t want to interrupt you when you’re so busy – but have you got room for a little ’un –
or ten?’
Nell nearly dropped her bit of the platform. Mr and Mrs Mac beamed from their lorry cab. The rest of the Macs’ vehicles appeared to be bouncing across the field behind them.
‘Do you mean it?’ Nell slid down to the grass. ‘You’ve left Danny? You want to travel with me?’
‘Well, we missed you,’ Mrs Mac grinned gummily, ‘and you, Sam, and Claudia were always the pick of the bunch. And we’re not too happy with that new-fangled stuff. We thought our swings and bits of side stuff’d fit in a treat with your machines.’
Nell wanted to kiss them too. In fact she wanted to kiss the entire world. ‘Build up wherever you like. You can see where we are – Sam and Claudia are over there. God, this is perfect. Brilliant. Oh, Jack – these are the Mackenzies. This is Jack Morland – he did all the restoration painting.’
‘Bloody fine job, too,’ Mrs Mac beamed. This was high praise. ‘Nice to meet you. No doubt we’ll be seeing a lot more of you.’
Jack nodded and said he hoped so.
Mr Mac removed a cigarette from the corner of his mouth. ‘Spoke to your dad last night, Nell, ’bout this. Him and yer ma are coming tomorrow to see you in action. They’re right proud of you, gel. Sent their love.’
Nell sniffed again. She’d never been a crier – but today she reckoned she’d keep Kleenex in business single-handedly.
As the Macs’ cavalcade moved away towards the outer edge of the field, Rio leaned from the window of her parents’ wagon. Her eyes devoured Jack and she laughed at Nell. ‘Christ – I can see why you didn’t want to stay with Mr P. You lucky cow! Oh, and by the way, Mercedes and Nyree-Dawn aren’t with us. What?’ Rio peered back inside the wagon at her mother’s apparent rebuke. ‘Oh, stuff it. Nell won’t care. Not with a lush squeeze like him.’
‘What won’t I care about?’
‘That the twins are staying on to travel with Ross and Danny – offering – um – all the comforts of home …’
Stealing the Show Page 37