by Amy Ephron
“What?” said Aunt Evie. “What are you two talking about?”
“Nothing,” said Tess. “Max was just saying how pretty it is around here.” She gave Max a dirty look, but he couldn’t see it because she was in the back seat and he was staring straight ahead.
She made a Note to self: don’t walk alone on the hills at night even if you have a flashlight.
Aunt Evie drove up another, slightly less windy road, stopping at a farm stand that sold fresh eggs, apple turnovers, cucumbers, summer squash, fancy lettuce, carrots, fresh herbs, dill and mint and rosemary, perfectly ripe peaches and plums, and something neither Tess or Max or Aunt Evie had heard of before called a tayberry. Or at least that was what the sign in front of the baskets of berries said.
“What’s a tayberry?” Max asked the nice lady who was running the farm stand. The woman answered with a funny laugh. “A tayberry, y’ask? Would ya like to try one?”
“Well, I sort of wanted to know what it was,” said Max tentatively, which made the farm stand lady laugh again.
“Oh, a cautious one,” she said.
Aunt Evie dived in. “I would,” she said. “They look like a tall raspberry, if a raspberry can be tall . . .”
The farm stand lady handed Aunt Evie two tayberries and Aunt Evie, who was game for almost any food experiment, instantly popped them into her mouth. “Oh, they’re lovely,” she said, “sort of a blackberry but a little more tart.”
“That’s exactly right,” said the woman, “a cross between a blackberry and a raspberry. They’re kind of new. A hybrid. From Scotland, named after the River Tay.”
“Tayberries!” said Aunt Evie. “We’ll take two baskets. I think it would be fun to make tayberry jam, especially since I have helpers,” she said, looking at Tess and Max. “I wonder how much sugar you’d have to use in the jam. Tess?”
But Tess didn’t answer. She was distracted by a white dove that had flown onto the branch of a white birch tree, curiously distinct and peacefully startling framed against the brown-edged peeling lines of bark on the tree. In New York, doves were generally gray or brown. Actually, they were more like pigeons. And this dove was distinctive, like a white flower or a dusting of fresh snow.
“For what?” asked Tess after Aunt Evie repeated the question. Aunt Evie shook her head. “Tayberry jam,” she said, “which I’m hoping you and Max will make with me this week.”
“That sounds fun,” said Tess as she looked at the peculiar berries Aunt Evie was buying. Aunt Evie also bought four ears of corn, insisting it was always a good idea to have extras just in case somebody unexpected dropped in for dinner. She’d said things like this so often that Tess wondered if Aunt Evie was expecting someone. Evie added a small basket of mixed summer squash, two cucumbers, green beans, fresh eggs, apple turnovers, lettuce, and a bunch of carrots with the tops cut off. She also bought two lemons and a lovely bunch of fresh mint that she said would be excellent for iced tea.
As they were driving back down the coast, Tess noticed a lot of commotion ahead on the side of the road.
“Look, see, oh, my!” said Tess.
Sometimes when Tess got excited she spoke in one-syllable words. “Can we stop?” she asked Aunt Evie. “It looks like a carnival has come to town!”
“Look, see, oh, my,” said Aunt Evie back, teasing Tess gently, but hitting the brakes as she said it. Aunt Evie made one of her famous beeline left turns, in this case almost a U-turn, driving the Bentley into the dirt by the side of the road. “They call them fairs in England,” said Aunt Evie, even though one of the stands going up had a sign that said: CARNIVAL GAMES. “Fun Fairs,” said Aunt Evie. There were tents starting to go up as well as a few trailers that looked like circus wagons, a Ferris wheel almost in place, and what looked like a small roller coaster under construction.
The tracks of the roller coaster were constructed of red and blue and yellow rungs, sort of like a kids’ train set but instead of train cars, there were old-fashioned biplanes, each painted a different color, with fixed wings and an old-fashioned propeller, which seated two people in each. Each biplane had a name emblazoned on its side, in painted white handwriting with a corresponding image.
The crimson-red plane was called Red Rocket and, yes, there was a picture of a rocket, just to the left of the lettering, shooting straight up!
The bright yellow one was Saturn’s Rings, and there was a picture right above the letters of a round sphere, Saturn, surrounded by rings, and seven moons dotting up to the side.
The silver plane was named The Flying Lady and, of course, there was a painted picture of a lady who, except that she was also wearing a helmet, looked a lot like Aunt Evie when she put her hair up, tied a scarf around her neck, and put the top down on the Bentley.
The black plane was called Lost in Space. It was illustrated with an elaborate smattering of stars, tons of them close together at times, and geometric symbols. Or was it just one symbol, not quite like a triangle, more like a hexagon or, no, a very vertical, almost square-like six-pointed star. Tess looked at Max questioningly.
“I’m not sure,” said Max, peering at the geometrical illustration, “but I think it might be a symbol for a quark or an equation for a quark.”
“What’s a quark?” asked Tess, although she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She knew what an equation was.
“I’m not sure I know,” said Max. “But it has something to do with physics and maybe outer space?”
Aunt Evie smiled. She loved listening to their conversations. She thought Max and Tess were pretty funny sometimes, even when they weren’t trying to be. But someone connected to the carnival also had a sense of humor. “‘Lost in Space’?” said Aunt Evie questioningly. “I’m not sure I’d want to name an airplane that.”
“It is a symbol for an equation,” a voice behind them said. He was soft-spoken and he had a British accent. “That star you’re looking at.”
All three of them turned to look at him. He looked a lot like the gentleman they’d seen earlier at the traveller’s wagon playing the violin who Aunt Evie had told them came to Devon every year and parked his wagon by the side of the road. Tess was pretty certain it was him, as he was holding in his right hand the lead to the reins of a black Friesian horse who was also somewhat identical to the horse they’d seen at the traveller’s wagon. It looked as if the gentleman and the horse had gone for a ride and they, too, had stopped to watch the Fun Fair set up.
“What kind of equation?” asked Max.
“The quark part was right,” he said. “It’s the equation that some people say, not everyone believes in this, but some people do,” he said, “an equation that potentially proves the existence of the possibility of an alternate universe. You know, the idea that right below where we’re standing, underneath us, so to speak, right here, there could be another world, sort of like this one but not really; or just on the other side of the hedge,” he pointed to a row of hedges that lined the other side of the roadway that Tess hadn’t noticed yet, “there could be an alternate universe, sort of like this one but not really, the inverse sometimes . . .”
Tess and Max looked at him quite curiously. They’d had some experience like this before, at their friend William’s castle last summer, although for reasons they couldn’t quite explain, they never spoke about it.
“A world that’s sort of like ours but different,” said Max. “Just below us. Or just on the other side of the hedge.”
“Exactly,” said the gentleman.
“Are you a professor?” Aunt Evie asked the gentleman.
“Not really. Musician, actually,” he said. “But I’m interested in mathematics.”
“Hmm,” said Aunt Evie. “I’m not sure how I feel about the idea of an alternate universe.”
Tess didn’t comment. She knew how she felt. A little bit wary and rightly so.
She was already ent
ranced by his horse. She couldn’t help herself. She lovingly, tentatively at first, stroked the horse’s nose.
“Her name’s Coco,” the gentleman said, “and she’s awfully glad to meet you.”
“I’m awfully glad to meet you, too, Coco,” said Tess. She stroked Coco’s nose again and Coco’s eyes caught Tess’s in a friendly stare. But before any of them could say anything more, the gentleman mounted Coco, nodded as if that was a proper way to say good-bye, gave Coco a quick, gentle kick in the sides, and rode off down the road, leaving Tess, Max, and Aunt Evie alone to watch the Fun Fair set up.
“He never quite said who he was,” said Aunt Evie. “I mean, he didn’t tell us his name.”
“We didn’t tell him ours,” said Max.
“That’s true,” said Aunt Evie. “But it was the gentleman from the traveller’s wagon who comes here every summer.” She said this almost as if it was a question.
Tess and Max both nodded.
“Supposedly he never talks to anyone, so I guess we should be flattered. Hmm,” said Aunt Evie as if that was going to be her chosen word for the day.
A giant, royal-blue-colored tent was going up and there were carnival workers, including what looked like a tattooed lady; a clown who, even though he was dressed in white overalls, had on a red rubber nose and a painted-on smile; and two kids, wearing white T-shirts, stained from the dirt, and denim cut-offs, a boy and girl, who looked so much alike they were probably related, and who also looked as if they were about Tess and Max’s age. Each of them was holding a big metal stake upright into the dirt just at the edges of the parachute-like blue silk tent, as a very tall guy, with a pointy beard, wearing a sleeveless T-shirt that exposed serious arm muscles, screamed loudly in a foreign language and brandished a big hammer as he walked purposefully around the tent, hammering each stake forcefully into the ground, and the enormous blue tent started to take shape to house the upcoming attractions.
In the distance, they could hear the sound of what seemed like a merry-go-round but which had an unusually high-pitched tempo, as if you could dance hip-hop to it, and Tess was sure she heard the faint beginning sounds of a flute.
“Yes,” said Aunt Evie, smiling, before Max or Tess could even start to ask the question, “we can go to the carnival tomorrow, if it’s open . . .”
~ CHAPTER FIVE ~
a perfect day to go to the carnival
Max was making a list of things to tell Aunt Evie to try to convince her to let them go to the carnival by themselves . . .
We take the subway home from school by ourselves. (Well, with each other, but it’s the same thing . . .)
Mom lets us go to the skate park alone.
I go to D’Agostino’s, the market on the corner, all the time for Mom. Especially on Sunday to get fresh bagels or if she forgets something, even if it’s nighttime.
Tess goes to dance class by herself.
“We take the subway home from school by ourselves. Well, with each other, but it’s the same thing . . .” He said this aloud to himself, as if he was testing it out.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go to the Fun Fair with Aunt Evie, it was just that he thought he might be a bit embarrassed. He might not want to ride the biplanes if Aunt Evie was standing on the sidelines watching him . . . or even worse, riding with him in the plane.
“Mom lets us go to the skate park alone,” he tried that one out loud, too. But it sounded kind of whiny, spoiled, rude. He didn’t want to hurt Aunt Evie’s feelings. He wrote one more reason down on his list:
Tess is very responsible and always makes sure that we don’t get into any trouble or do anything the least bit dangerous . . .
Max wasn’t sure he could say that last one with a straight face. The amount of trouble Tess got them into last summer was pretty ridiculous. Or, if he was being really honest, the amount of trouble he’d gotten them into . . .
But then Max realized he couldn’t say any of these things to Aunt Evie, not after all the effort and care she’d gone to, renting the house in Devon to begin with, and inviting them to stay with her! He really didn’t want to hurt Aunt Evie’s feelings.
Tess was already downstairs. She’d dressed carefully, deciding to wear her sneakers and a pair of socks because it was probably dusty at the carnival and for sure they’d be doing a lot of walking. But she threw her sandals into her canvas shoulder bag. She was wearing her jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt, but she folded a long-sleeved T-shirt into the bag, too, in case it got chilly later. The weather in England was sometimes unpredictable. And she had a navy-blue cap—her favorite one, like a baseball cap but without any lettering, for protection in case the sun’s rays were too strong. She also thought caps were excellent for hiding your true expression. Sometimes Tess couldn’t help it and she rolled or squinted her eyes if she thought someone did something peculiar or impolite. With the baseball cap pulled down over her forehead, it was more difficult to see her expression. She was good at being deadpan, however, when it was required, excellent at not letting anybody throw her, but she didn’t always remember to try to mask her expression.
It was a very pretty day. The sky was clear, the sun was shining, but Evie didn’t put the top down on the Bentley. Tess thought that was peculiar, but she didn’t question it. When they’d driven about a mile, Aunt Evie stopped at a roadside café with a big sign in front that said LATTES, ESPRESSOS, and CHAI TEA.
Aunt Evie got herself an iced latte with a double shot of espresso and bought three bottled waters, handing one to each Max and Tess, and saying, “Be sure to drink a little bit of water today. It’s not good to be out in the sun without drinking water,” which sounded so much like their mom that Tess felt both happy and sad at the same time.
They got back in the car and Aunt Evie turned her head to look at Tess, who was sitting in the back seat, and then turned to Max, who was sitting in the front seat and said, “Family conference.”
Uh oh, thought Tess. When their mom or dad announced a “family conference” it was usually because someone had done something wrong . . . or something bad had happened.
Tess and Max exchanged a look.
“Did we do something wrong, Aunt Evie?” asked Max.
“Oh no dear!” she said instantly. “I was wondering,” Aunt Evie hesitated. “I was wondering . . .” she said again, as if she didn’t know quite how to phrase this. “There’s an antique show down the road. Well, just in the next town really. And, well, I don’t know if your parents would approve, but I was thinking—I mean, you do sometimes take the subway by yourself in New York City. I know you indulge me, but basically you think antique shows are boring, I mean, who can blame you?”
“I don’t think they’re boring, Aunt Evie,” said Tess. “You never know what you might find.”
Max, who sometimes wasn’t good at hiding his expression, either, shot Tess a look that clearly indicated that he did not agree. But he kept silent.
“We have weeks together,” said Aunt Evie. “We’ll find another antique show. What would happen”—she hesitated, stretching out the question—“if I dropped you and Max”—she was looking at Tess now, who was a year older than Max—“at the carnival by yourselves for an hour while I ran to the antique show and met you like an hour later? We’ll pick a place. A place that’s very findable, where we will meet? Well, it’s eleven now. One thirty?” Neither Tess or Max remarked on Aunt Evie’s math, that one thirty was actually two and a half hours, not one hour later.
Aunt Evie started the engine and pulled back onto the highway.
And Max heard her say to him, “After all, Tess is very responsible and always makes sure that you never get into any trouble.”
Max felt himself blush. And then he wondered if Aunt Evie was psychic . . .
She wasn’t really psychic, not in this instance, anyway.
Aunt
Evie had heard Max. She hadn’t meant to be listening. She’d been walking down the hallway and heard Max talking in his room. And since she knew Tess was already downstairs eating breakfast, she was sort of curious whom he was talking to. And then she realized, after she heard Max repeat a sentence one or two times, “We take the subway home from school by ourselves,” that he was talking to himself. Testing lines out . . . Seeing how they played . . .
Aunt Evie kept waiting for Max to broach the subject. She watched him butter his toast, take a drink of orange juice. But he was quiet all during breakfast and didn’t say a word on the way to the carnival except remarking on the fact that it was such a pretty day and that he was happy he’d brought his sunglasses.
Aunt Evie understood why it might be fun for Max and Tess to have an hour or two on their own. That was one of the nice things about the summer in general and going to the country or the seaside—that you can just be kids and run around on your own.
And, her sister Abby let them take the subway home from school by themselves, as long as they promised to stay together, so what could be the problem?
She pulled into the dirt parking lot outside the fair, driving underneath a festive banner with all manner of colored crowns and pom-poms interspersed with capital letters that spelled out FUN FAIR and underneath it another sign that spelled out GAMES, RIDES, and ADVENTURES.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you to the antique show, Aunt Evie?” Tess asked.
“I’m sure, Tess.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come to the Fun Fair with us?” asked Max.
“It’s okay, Max,” said Aunt Evie. “It’ll probably be good for you and Tess to have a couple of hours on the rides alone. I’m coming, just not for as long as you are . . .”
Aunt Evie insisted on parking and walking them up to the gate. “You have to promise me,” she said, “that you’ll stay together. Oh, and look,” she said, “that’s so funny: a merry-go-round with dinosaurs. I mean, that would be the perfect place to meet, don’t you think, and that brontosaurus is so big you can see it from everywhere.