All the Fun of the Fair

by Jamie Sinclair

  ‘Please,’ Chiara implored. ‘We have to try. How can we live like this, in separate countries, separate lives, siamo famiglia.’

  ‘You ripped our family apart, you took my husband, ruined father’s health, ran to Italy like a coward. You come now only because you are alone.’ Loriana shouted.

  ‘Don’t blame me for fathers death, don’t you dare!’ Chiara screamed.

  ‘Why not? The stress of what you did made him ill. His daughters fighting, Pietro, the son of his closest friend, it was a nightmare and now you want forgiveness?’

  ‘I know I do not deserve it but we are getting older Loriana, soon we will be too old. Please, can we not try?’

  Loriana turned away from her sister and stood, staring through the window at the extensive garden behind her home; she was silent for several minutes, Chiara dared not say anything.

  ‘I’m not sure I can ever trust you again,’ Loriana said at last. ‘But perhaps you should stay a while longer.’

  22 Back to square one

  The week passed slowly for Alfie Gorman. He had made himself leave Loriana alone, although on several occasions he had set off for her house or picked up the telephone to call her. Alfie felt as woebegone as he ever had. He got up, fed Kenny, went to work in the park, came home and watched television, all the while his thoughts on Loriana and what on earth could be done to rectify the situation in which he found himself.

  It had been an arduous week in other ways too. Firstly, on Monday, Alfie left work an hour early to get his haircut at a new barber since he couldn’t bring himself to face Rodney after the incident in the park toilets. The same applied to Derek at the fish and chip shop; Alfie usually went in every Friday for a fish supper but this week he had been to a Chinese take-away two streets from his flat.

  Alfie had heard plenty of stories from locals about what went on in the park toilets after dark, there had even been a story in the local newspaper suggesting it was under surveillance by the police. But Alfie had always taken the rumours with a pinch of salt until he’d happened across a group of grown men crowding around a toilet cubicle with expensive looking cameras, at night. It made him queasy and disturbed to think of it, especially when he considered that he was acquainted with two of the men present.

  The part that really niggled, the bit that grated, was that he’d been found out too. Now both Derek and Rodney, and whoever they told, would know Alfie was a fake, a lowly park keeper and not, as he’d made out, a highly paid, highly skilled nuclear engineer who drove a Jaguar. This bothered Alfie the most because it reminded him too much of his life at school, after Frank’s death, and that was a part of his life he was keen to forget.

  So, having promised himself that he’d wait a week before contacting Loriana and having heard nothing from her, Alfie decided that he would approach her one last time, just to see if she was okay, and if she still wanted nothing from him, that would be an end to it. Making sure to lock all the park gates before leaving, he walked to Loriana’s house and, taking a moment to steady himself, he rang the doorbell.

  ‘Loriana, I…Who on earth are you?’ Alfie asked, fearing for a moment that Loriana had sold her house and moved away because, in front of him stood a very attractive woman wearing an apron and holding a hefty, bulging, sausage in her hand.

  ‘My name is Chiara, who might you be?’

  ‘Erm, I’m Alfie, Alfie Gorman. Is err…is Loriana at home?’

  He’d no idea what was going on, but so far he didn’t like it.

  Chiara’s eyes widened then, without warning, she swung the sausage and slapped Alfie hard on the temple with it.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ He spluttered, flushed with embarrassment, rubbing his head more from shock than pain.

  ‘That is for upsetting my sister, maiale.’ Chiara chastised. ‘Lunging at her in a bar like some randy old dog when she was upset and vulnerable. Shame on you.’

  ‘I can assure you I had no intention of offending Loriana. I’m here to apologise and to see if we might talk.’

  ‘No, she does not want to see you Alfie.’

  ‘I see, so she’s not interested then. Well, my loss I suppose…’

  ‘Oh no, that is far from the case. She is very interested; she is just unsure how to handle the situation. My sister is…shall we say, not very lucky with men.’

  ‘Her husband you mean? Well, what should I do for the best do you think?’ Alfie asked, eyeing the lump of sausage warily.

  ‘Well, the first thing you can do is take me for a drink somewhere.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘You want to know about my sister, how to approach her, I will help you. In return, you can show me Morecambe, it cannot be as poor as Loriana makes it out to be.’

  ‘I don’t know, well, why not. I suppose it could help.’

  And so they arranged to meet later that same evening in the bar of the Narracott hotel which Alfie had, until very recently, frequented with his sweetheart. As he turned to leave, Chiara called after him.

  ‘Loriana dice che potete parlare italiano, che avete radici italiane?’

  Alfie replied without hesitation.

  ‘Of course I speak Italian, my mother is from Mantova.’

  * * * *

  Earlier that day, while Alfie was in the park feeling morose, Mauro, Chiara’s son and Loriana’s nephew, was introducing himself to Morecambe which, he was rapidly discovering, was quite a run down, prosaic town and uncomfortably cold.

  After sharing a quick breakfast with his Aunt, Mauro walked to the promenade to check out the view across the bay and found it to be rather boring and thought the beach, what little there was of it, filthy. Unimpressed he wandered along the seafront, stopping at various arcades along the way, killing time on the different games. Finally, thirsty and short on change, he went to sit in a little café where he drank tea and studied an English newspaper, something he rarely got the chance to do at home.

  By lunchtime he was mooching around the centre of town, meandering in and out of clothes shops which, as far as he could tell, sold less of the brands he could buy at home, but for twice the price. In fact, everything about this town made him appreciate his home a great deal more. Most annoying, however, was how stupid he appeared to people.

  He’d witnessed it a thousand times in Italy; English, French and German tourists would blunder around Palermo, asking directions in broken Italian, struggling to understand the responses of the locals. Mauro knew he was an intelligent boy, with a solid grasp of English thanks to his mother, but today he felt foolish. Even simple things like buying a newspaper or asking for change had been a challenge owing to the local accent and the speed at which people spoke.

  Deciding that, tomorrow, he’d try to get Auntie Loriana to show him around, Mauro was heading through town with a view to returning to the house for an early dinner. As he walked, he paused to regard the fountain opposite the library, and it was there that he saw a girl on a stall. Curious, he wandered over to find out more.

  * * * *

  Sharada was fed up, utterly bored. Yet again her domineering father had forced her into manning the Modhubon sponsored CHIMP stall because someone else had let them down; presumably someone with a life. For months Sharada had been growing increasingly disinterested and disenchanted with the group, not least because of the Brandon situation and her fathers total commandeering of the group. Since their talk on Christmas Eve Sharada had seen even less of Brandon. Even when she did attend CHIMP meetings Brandon was usually occupied discussing tactics with Mr Bhumbra leaving Sharada feeling marginalised and lonely.

  Membership of the group was now at least double what it had been prior to Mr Bhumbra’s involvement, which Sharada supposed was a good thing, despite the fact that CHIMP seemed a lot less politically minded these days and was run more like a social club, complete with complementary Indian buffet and talks on Bangladesh, Mr Bhumbra’s homeland.

  Sharada had recently discussed the situation with Kuldeep and he’d suggested that logically mo
st of what Sharada described could be directly attributed to her and, the more she considered the theory, the more probable it seemed. After all, it had been she who ran into Brandon, instigating their first meeting and causing him to invite her to join CHIMP. Had she been looking where she was going, or simply not agreed to become a member, then Mr Bhumbra wouldn’t have invited Brandon to the house, and now wouldn’t be the self-imposed new leader of CHIMP and Sharada wouldn’t be stuck on this bloody stall, handing out badges and fliers to passers-by. But, most crucially, she wouldn’t be broken hearted.

  Then, as she sat in the battered, twisted and unbalanced deckchair behind the stall Sharada saw a boy - a young man – walking towards her. A gorgeous individual with jet black hair, tanned, Mediterranean skin and sparkling eyes that seemed to be staring into her even from thirty feet away. The type of boy who wouldn’t look more than once at someone like her. Most of the morons in Morecambe wore tracksuit pants with Rockport shoes and baseball caps but this vision, dressed casually in light blue jeans and black pullover stood out from the crowd and it looked effortless; he had style. Typical, Sharada thought, that such a handsome bloke should appear when I look my most horrid.

  ‘Hello,’ he said in a thick accent that Sharada presumed to be Italian. ‘I am Mauro. This is your stall?’

  ‘Erm, no, well, yeah, sort of. I’m watching it today. I’m Sharada by the way.’

  She cursed herself for being so inarticulate, her nerves again rendering her a child with a below average IQ and limited grasp of language.

  Mauro smiled and Sharada felt weak.

  ‘What is Chimp?’ He asked, pointing to the sign.

  ‘CHIMP? Oh right, yeah. It’s a political group, against immoral politics and stuff. We organise marches and rallies and things.’

  ‘Like protest?’

  Sharada nodded eagerly. ‘Exactly right. Are you interested in politics?’

  Mauro shrugged. ‘I have studied Western Politics in school but I see you, you look sad, I come to say hello. It is my first day here.’

  ‘Really, first day, saw me eh? Well…’

  Sharada blushed intensely; her brain still refusing all but the most limited access to her vocabulary.

  ‘There does not seem to be a lot to do here. I have been a little lost…’ Mauro explained.

  ‘I see. Well, no, Morecambe is a small place, but it really depends what you like doing. Where are you staying?’

  ‘With Zia Loriana, I am here with Madre, visiting. It is my first time in England since I was a baby.’

  ‘Zia what?’ Sharada frowned, confused. ‘The only Italian I know is food related.’

  ‘Auntie. Auntie Loriana. I have only just met her.’

  ‘I see,’ Sharada said, although she didn’t understand at all. ‘So, you need ideas to occupy yourself while you’re here.’

  Mauro picked up a leaflet advertising the televised debate at the university.

  ‘What about this?’

  ‘Oh that, God no, that’ll be really boring. It’s a big meeting, political, groups like ours, all arguing about the war in Iraq, immigrants and stuff. The only good bit is that we might be able to see ourselves on tele.’

  ‘Television?’

  Sharada nodded, acutely aware of every fault she perceived herself as having; her protruding teeth, her unruly hair. Why would someone as beautiful as this boy bother engaging a girl like her? Not for the first time she felt out of her depth and certain that some kind of humiliation could not be far away.

  ‘So, I could go if I wished?’ Mauro asked.

  ‘You’ll need an invite; it’s all local business leaders and Council members. You can come with us if you like?’

  ‘Grazie, I would like to go with you.’

  Mauro smiled, Sharada blushed and they continued to talk.

  Ten minutes later she had renewed enthusiasm for CHIMP and had forgotten the name Brandon completely, while Mauro had made his first new friend who he thought seemed very nice, unique looking, but pleasant and suddenly Morecambe seemed a good deal more welcoming.

  * * * *

  In his flat at number 73 Westminster Road, Alfie was extremely discomfited and perspiring openly.

  ‘Blimey Kenny,’ he said to the cat, lounging in aloof fashion on the edge of the bed. ‘Loriana’s sister, she’s only in the country, at her house. Gave me a right shock, reckons she can help me get Loriana to talk, sort stuff out. She hit me with a sausage mind.’

  Kenny yawned, stretched, scratched his furry white ears, then jumped from the bed and sauntered into the living room to cast a judgemental eye over events in the street below, leaving an agitated Alfie to shower, change and hurry off to meet Chiara for drinks.

  At 7:30, a mere two and a half hours after he left work and barely two hours since meeting Chiara for the first time, Alfie was sitting with her in the Overlook Lounge of the Narracott Hotel where in recent months he’d spent so much time with Loriana.

  ‘So,’ he began nervously when they’d bought drinks and taken a booth. ‘You’re Loriana’s sister. I have to say she hasn’t talked about you much.’

  Chiara smiled. ‘That does not surprise me, I behaved terribly.’

  ‘Why are you here now then, to make amends like?’

  ‘Correct,’ Chiara nodded. ‘Let’s just say that only recently have I learned how it feels to lose someone you love. When I heard Loriana had thrown out her husband I came at once.’

  ‘Lee Etchman, I still can’t believe she’s married to him, he’s, well…’ Alfie hesitated, too good natured to judge.

  ‘He is a weasel, she should never have become involved with him but now, now there is you Alfredo.’

  ‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing?’

  ‘My sister is delicate, you know this. She pretends to be strong, made of ice, but underneath she’s…spaventato.’

  ‘Scared, of me?’ Alfie was taken aback.

  ‘Scared of loving you, scared you will lie to her, hurt her, leave her as the others did, as I did.’

  Alfie realised that, as close as he’d become to Loriana in the months since their fortuitous meeting on a wintry promenade, there were many things that were obviously too private, too painful for Loriana to share which, given his own reticence to divulge his past, Alfie could understand. As Chiara filled him in on the events of years earlier, Alfie’s heart ached for Loriana and he realised they were more congruent than he had appreciated.

  When Chiara finished her tale he was appalled and intrigued in equal measure.

  ‘How could you do that to her, your own sister?’

  ‘I have no justification even now, after so long. Perhaps the wine, the season, I don’t know.’

  ‘But you slept with her fiancée, it’s no wonder she wouldn’t see you. I had no idea, poor Loriana.’ Alfie shook his head in disbelief. ‘So where’s this Pietro chap now?’

  ‘In Italy, Palermo. I married him in the end and we moved away immediately after, everything here was such a mess anyway.’

  ‘So why come now, after so long?’

  ‘Because Pietro has left me, as he left my sister, I am alone. That is why I came.’

  ‘So what’s all this got to do with me?’

  ‘She’s only ever loved two men in her life, and I took Pietro from her.’

  ‘Etchman?’

  ‘Him! She didn’t love him, she was lonely and he was persuasive. It’s you Alfredo; she’s in love with you.’

  Alfie felt his face turn bright, glowing crimson and he drained his pint glass to avoid having to speak immediately.

  ‘So…’ he began. ‘She’s never said, you know, anything…’

  ‘She wouldn’t, not with her history. But I could tell from the tone of her letters and the way she described your time together how happy you make her. That’s why I’m here, she deserves happiness and I’m determined to help her find it.’

  ‘Blimey.’

  It was the best he could manage. With the exception of his mother when he was a b
oy, Alfie had never been told he was loved. Although technically, Alfie supposed, given Loriana’s absence this was an indirect declaration.

  ‘So, what do I do, I’ve been to the house but she won’t answer the door. I was going to leave town, move away…’

  ‘Il dio ha misericordia! You mustn’t do that, no, no. Be patient, she’ll come round; she needs to be sure you won’t let her down like the others did, like I did. Alfie,’ Chiara looked directly at him. ‘You do want to be with Loriana do you not; I am not making a mistake?’

  ‘Oh no, no mistake. I erm, I love Loriana, I’ve loved her for some time now.’

  He smiled. This was the first time he’d ever admitted loving anyone, the first time he’d been in love, and it felt good, not at all awkward or embarrassing. It was a pity Loriana wasn’t here to hear it.

  * * * *

  Loriana awoke with a start. After resolving to let her sister stay a while longer she had taken to her bed. The previous nights lack of sleep had caught up with her and, unused to sleeping during the day Loriana was momentarily disorientated. It was dark outside; she got up, wrapped herself in a robe and padded downstairs to the kitchen feeling refreshed and somewhat optimistic about the future.

  ‘Hey Auntie, good day?’

  ‘Mauro!’ Loriana was surprised. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here; I thought you would be dining with your mother.’

  ‘No Auntie, I have been out most of the day, I have not seen mother at all.’

  Curious and, by her very nature, a little suspicious, Loriana showered, dressed and then, from her bedroom window which overlooked the front lawn and the road beyond, she saw something that made her heart miss a beat. Her sister, Chiara, walking side by side with Alfie, her Alfie, and they were smiling, almost laughing. Clasping her hand over her mouth, tears already forming in her eyes, Loriana rushed downstairs to confront them.

  ‘Loriana!’ Alfie called excitedly when he saw her open the front door.