All the Fun of the Fair

by Jamie Sinclair

  ‘What’s wrong, can’t get it up?’ Tania snickered.

  ‘Oi, bastard, what you doing down there?’ A female voice screeched.

  A group of three girls entered the alley, one of them evidently the girlfriend of the chap currently up against a wall with Tania.

  ‘You fucking slag!’ The girl in the middle barked. ‘You’re gonna get such a fucking slap.’

  ‘It was her babe,’ the suddenly pusillanimous boy decided, backing away from Tania as if she were venomous. ‘She was all over me, the dirty bitch.’

  ‘Shut your gob you.’

  The ringleader of the trio swung an almighty slap that sent her unfortunate boyfriend staggering back clutching his face. She then turned and lunged at Tania, grabbing handfuls of hair. Tania, outnumbered, managed to get in a couple of scratches before the three girls forced her to the ground where they subjected her to a number of well placed stamps and kicks. A member of the group produced a mobile phone and began to film the proceedings.

  Tania curled into a protective ball as she was beaten, most of the blows mercifully feeble. She felt her dress being hauled upwards, her backside exposed. Tania felt a stinging sensation and then a dull ache. The girl with the phone confirmed she’d caught the moment.

  ‘You’re a fuckin’ slag, you hear me, a dirty little slag. Get yer own fuckin’ fella.’ The ringleader cleared her throat and then spat at Tania before she and her two accomplices turned their efforts to the hapless and adulterous boyfriend, leaving Tania sprawled on her back, her dress torn and up around her waist, hair an unreserved mess and make-up smudged across her face.

  Tania sat up, breathing heavily; feeling utterly degraded and humiliated more than any physical pain. She touched a hand to her backside; there was blood on it. She’d been stabbed, or at least sliced with some sort of blade.

  She knew that, in a matter of minutes, video footage of her assault would be passed around as entertainment, strangers amused and excited by her helplessness. Tania had been made to look a fool by a pubescent kid who fancied his chances in the absence of his girlfriend. She had also been branded a tramp which Tania had to admit was fairly accurate given her current position on the floor of a dark alley.

  She hauled herself up, adjusted her dress and was thankful that she’d received no more than a scratch from the blade. She teetered back to the street, ignoring the looks she was attracting from passing revellers. A van with Modhubon the move written on the side rolled past, the driver glancing at her through the window, a smile spreading across his lips at her appearance. Tania looked at the driver hopefully but did not recognise him.

  She wanted Kuldeep; she wanted to be curled up on the sofa watching television with him, smiling as he easily outscored the contestants on Countdown, or explaining patiently to him for the hundredth time that Eastenders wasn’t real. Tania wanted to feel safe, respected and valued, yet she’d rejected the one person who offered this unconditionally. There was only one thing for it, only one place she could go for comfort, one person who was guaranteed to want her.

  * * * *

  Lee Etchman snatched another can of lager – his fifth – from the capacious American style fridge in the expansive, professionally designed, restaurant style kitchen and slammed the door. He was fed up, chafed, and at a loose end. More to the point, he had sex on his mind and that meant Tania was in his thoughts.

  Etchman hadn’t seen Tania for a couple of days; he’d been in Burnley the previous day looking over the refurbishment of a row of houses owned by his wife for which he acted as landlord. Then, today, he’d spent the morning collecting rent from the various stall holders at the indoor market also owned by his wife. After lunch he’d spent time on the phone to a firm of web designers discussing the possibility of developing a website that would enable him to sell kites – not children’s novelty kites, but professional kites that required skill and dedication to pilot and, crucially, retailed at several hundred pounds. The idea came to Etchman while he’d been watching a group of men on the beach and he thought it was something worth exploring.

  Etchman had returned home to find his wife apparently on the phone to her sister or cousin or someone, he didn’t understand a word of Italian and so didn’t pay attention. She’d announced that she was going out for the evening. Ordinarily this wouldn’t have bothered Etchman as he usually went out himself, either with one of his casual female friends or with the lads for a drinking session. But tonight Etchman had planned to stay in, buy a respectable bottle of red wine and make the effort to have a meal with his wife, perhaps even instigate some romance if the situation demanded it. The idea being to soften her up so he could pitch his e-commerce website idea for which he reckoned he’d need somewhere in the region of ten thousand pounds of her money.

  Except tonight his wife had her own plans leaving Etchman alone in this big, luxurious house with nothing to do. Therefore, within ten minutes of his wife leaving Etchman rang Tania to invite her to share the wine, but she too had other plans.

  ‘Oh Christ, who’s this?’ Etchman asked himself when the doorbell rang. ‘Surely the dozy mare hasn’t forgotten her key…’ He wondered aloud, referring to his wife.

  ‘Can I…hic…can I come in?’

  Etchman’s eyes widened in astonishment and horror at the sight of Tania, barely-dressed, obviously drunk and upset, swaying slightly on the doorstep.

  * * * *

  Kuldeep was an excellent driver, technically perfect and in complete control of the vehicle. It was, however, rare for him to be out delivering owing to his autism and because of an incident with a customer a couple of years earlier.

  It had been a particularly busy evening in the restaurant and Kuldeep had been running between kitchen and tables for several hours. He was a little hot, hungry and had been concentrating hard to keep up with the banter and conversation taking place all around him.

  A man on table six had requested more water which Kuldeep dutifully fetched. As was the custom at Modhubon, the staff would open the bottle and pour a little into the customer’s glass. As Kuldeep did this he was nudged in the back by a passing customer. The movement was slight but, because Kuldeep was unprepared, it was enough to cause him to stumble and pour water onto the man’s sleeve and hand.

  ‘You thick fuck!’ Exclaimed the man loudly. ‘Look at the state of that.’

  There had been no damage, just a little water, no need for fuss. But the man began to shout; attracting attention and Kuldeep panicked. Feeling foolish and frustrated at the mishap, Kuldeep lashed out at the man and struck him on the temple.

  There was uproar at Modhubon. The man struck Kuldeep, the man’s wife began to scream, the waiters intervened and two couples ran from the restaurant without paying. The only positive, in the eyes of Mr Bhumbra – Modhubon’s owner and Kuldeep’s father – was that the police were not called and adverse publicity was avoided.

  This incident proved to be something of a setback for Kuldeep. As an autistic boy, even a high-functioning one, he found himself unable to shake off the frustration and anger of that night. He had nightmares and, most troublingly, took out his feelings on his mother, the one person who had provided unflinching support throughout his life.

  He had felt unable to serve in the restaurant for almost six months, despite much cajoling from his father. But finally, little by little, Kuldeep’s confidence grew and he knew realistically that there was little chance of such an extreme incident occurring again.

  Despite this, Mr Bhumbra had taken the decision not to use his son as a delivery driver. This was due in no small part to Mrs Bhumbra’s insistence that Kuldeep not be let out alone because he would need people around him if anything should happen.

  ‘Suppose someone bumps the van?’ She argued. ‘What if he gets lost?’ Goes to the wrong address? What if he panics, lashes out?’

  Mr Bhumbra had raised his hands, nodded and smiled as he did with his customers, a gesture of placation. This had been a while ago but tonight Modhubon w
as quiet and the take-away service busy so Mr Bhumbra was forced to shuffle his staff and Kuldeep found himself in the van.

  In years gone by Mrs Bhumbra would have been working in the restaurant kitchen. But now Modhubon employed a full-time team of chefs which meant, thankfully, that Kuldeep’s mother would know nothing of the decision to deploy her son as a delivery driver.

  Kuldeep had just completed a delivery of Rogan Josh and Jalfrezi with two garlic naan and a selection of pickles to an address in the most upmarket area of Morecambe, when he spotted Tania stumbling into a cul-de-sac up ahead. Curious, but nonetheless pleased to come across her, Kuldeep decided he would offer her a lift.

  Kuldeep had been angry when Tania had told him to leave, said she no longer wanted to be with him. He had pondered that night many times and was still unable to fathom what he had done to provoke such a scene. He had left Modhubon with a bag of food and set off to Tania’s in the same way he had on many previous occasions. He had approached the house, rung the bell and Tania had opened the door. They had kissed and then she had begun pushing him away, shouting.

  Kuldeep had struggled to follow what Tania was saying to him, what she meant and she had answered his distraught questions with further shouting, more anger until he felt himself becoming upset and flustered. Finally, in an attempt to calm Tania down so they could have a reasonable conversation in a manner Kuldeep could follow he had said he loved her. That appeared to be the final straw and Tania had slammed the door in his face.

  This commotion caused Kuldeep to lose control, something he rarely did, and he had screamed loudly, through fear and panic, his mind quite unable to process the events. He had run from the house, launching the bag of food at Mr Streatham’s car as he passed, calling out ‘But I love you’ as he ran.

  Now, as he steered the van – one of a fleet of three, white with the Modhubon the move logo in green and gold on either side with three lines following the word move supposedly to indicate speed - into the cul-de-sac Kuldeep considered reasons why Tania might be here. He knew perfectly well she lived nowhere near here, these houses were large and very expensive, and he was certain Tania hadn’t mentioned friends who lived here. But Kuldeep also understood that, sometimes, people kept secrets or chose not to tell the truth.

  He parked the van and observed Tania approach the largest house where a man opened one half of the huge front door. After a pause Tania followed the man inside.

  Kuldeep considered the facts as he saw them. It was late and, judging from her stumbling gait and minimal, dishevelled clothing, Tania was probably drunk. He also knew this wasn’t Tania’s house so she must know the man who answered the door.

  Feeling angry and befuddled Kuldeep reversed the van from the cul-de-sac to continue with his deliveries. He could not understand why Tania would be inside that house with that man but he had seen programmes on television and listened to conversations at school and he knew that when people were drunk they sometimes behaved differently to normal and that if someone was drunk late at night with another person it could lead to kissing and sex.

  As a high-functioning autistic, with a high IQ, Kuldeep was able to express himself to a greater degree than autistics at the lower end of the spectrum. As a result of this he tended to become hyper-focussed on certain things, to the exclusion of everything else around him. This was fine, even encouraged by his father, when Kuldeep was doing the accounts for Modhubon or completing schoolwork. Recently, however, Tania Streatham had become the object of Kuldeep’s obsession and in his mind the stranger at the front door was now an obstacle and priority number one must be to remove the man from the equation.

  * * * *

  ‘Tania! Bloody hell.’

  Etchman looked at his watch, realised his wife could be home at any time and then recognised that the longer he left this girl on the step, the more likely it was that one of his affluent and meddlesome neighbours would see her and report back to his wife.

  ‘You’d best come in. I’ve got some wine if you can manage some.’

  Etchman led his teenage consort through to the kitchen where she lifted herself onto the counter, head hung, weary from alcohol and rejection.

  ‘So then,’ Etchman began, passing an unnecessary glass of wine to his disconsolate guest. ‘You look a bit of a state, anything happened?’

  Tania took a long swig from the glass. ‘Fell over is all, it was dark and I’m drunk.’

  ‘If you say so darlin’, but you seem awfully upset for someone who just took a tumble.’

  ‘Look, it was a bad night; I had too much to drink. I didn’t come here for this…’ Tania made to push herself off the counter.

  ‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry babe, I’m sorry.’

  Etchman darted forward to top up Tania’s glass with more wine. He checked the time and knew he’d have to move fast to salvage anything from tonight so that meant not wasting time on niceties.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, pulling Tania from the counter. ‘Let’s see if we can’t perk ourselves up a bit.’

  Etchman led Tania to the rear of the house where there was a lavish indoor pool and, next to this, a Jacuzzi.

  ‘Oh, Lee, I’m not really up for that tonight.’

  ‘Course you are, remember how much fun we had last time?’

  Tania did remember the last time. It had been a few months earlier while Etchman’s wife was visiting friends. Tania had told her parents she was studying at a friend’s house and would sleep over. The evening hadn’t been fun so much as a lot of effort and swallowing of water.

  ‘I suppose,’ Tania said reluctantly, watching as her employer dragged his own clothes off and stood before her, unashamed and patently eager to progress.

  Five minutes later they were both surrounded by bubbles as jets of water massaged their bodies and Etchman worked his hands around Tania. Uninterested and dispassionate Tania allowed her mind to wander from current proceedings back to her public humiliation earlier that night. She’d behaved abominably, offered herself on a plate to a complete stranger who didn’t give a damn about her. This lack of self respect was, Tania felt, worse even that being reduced to a faceless victim on a stranger’s mobile phone, a clip to be passed around at parties, gloated over for entertainment.

  ‘Oh my gawd!’

  Tania was brought back to her present situation as her head, which had so far been cradled on one of Etchman’s hands while he splashed indefatigably on top of her, bounced off the edge of the hot tub with a thud.

  ‘What’s the matter, you finished?’ Tania asked.

  ‘I think I heard voices outside.’ Etchman announced dramatically, scrabbling from the tub and lurching into the house, naked and soaked. Tania took no notice and submerged herself; tonight had been lousy by any standards and fetching up here hadn’t helped.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’

  Tania listened and then, a few seconds later Etchman reappeared, still exposed and dripping, a look of unqualified terror on his face.

  ‘Get out of there. Now! She’s back, my wife’s back. Shift!’

  At that moment they heard a door close and then a female voice called out.

  ‘Lee, are you home. Lee?’

  Eyes wide with panic, Etchman dragged Tania from the Jacuzzi, grabbed her clothes from the floor and herded her towards the conservatory door.

  ‘Hey, what are you…’ Tania protested.

  Etchman pressed the arm holding the clothes over Tania’s face, still propelling her to the door. She struggled to no avail.

  ‘I’m sorry Tania, love, really I am, but you gotta vamoose. I’ll make it up to you, girl, promise.’

  Then, he pushed open the glass door and flung her out onto the patio.

  ‘There’s a shed down the bottom of the garden, get dressed, wait until the lights go out in here, then sneak away.’

  Etchman closed and locked the conservatory door and Tania watched him run past the Jacuzzi, pausing only to put on a robe and throw the glass Tania had used into the pool, before va
nishing into the house. Tania was left forlorn, soaking wet, the wound on her backside stinging from the chlorine, hugging her clothes and devoid of any dignity. Shivering, she padded across the lawn and crouched behind the shed, pulling on her dress in the darkness, waiting until all the house lights went out before she could finally skulk away and make her way home.

  12 Nights at the Narracott

  Earlier that same evening, before Mr Bhumbra did the rounds of his empire but at about the same time as Tania Streatham was heading for the shower to prepare for her night out, Alfie was standing at the window of his flat at number 73 Westminster road, staring out at the street below.

  Sometimes, when he knew he’d have to face another day it made him feel so tired. Christmas was upon him and nothing reminded Alfie of his absent family more than Christmas. He was in lugubrious mood, brooding over his family, his brother, his existence and he could feel himself descending into the dark places which occasionally led him to attempt foolish, ruinous things.

  Alfie drew the faded green curtain across the window and sighed before wandering to the kitchen where he made a cup of tea in his favourite blue mug. It was chipped, but large and the handle fitted his fingers perfectly. He returned to the dimly-lit living room and flopped into the chair opposite the television.

  ‘It was just before my ninth birthday,’ Alfie said from the relative comfort of the battered armchair. Relative Alfie supposed, in comparison to the level of comfort offered by sitting on the floor or leaning against the wall. That said Kenny, his cat whose faithfulness was also relative, seemed immeasurably comfortable on the hard wood of the window sill, and recently one side of Alfie’s chair did seem to be sagging.

  ‘I recall it was approaching my ninth birthday because that was the year Mum and Dad took us to Filey on holiday after two consecutive years in Dorset.’

  Kenny stretched, jumped onto Alfie’s lap and rotated his furry head until his judgemental feline eyes were fixed upon Alfie.