All the Fun of the Fair

by Jamie Sinclair

  His cup of tea finished, Gerald decided to have a quick root in Mrs Hird’s trunk. He had discovered a photograph of Mrs Hird in a Paris theatre, resplendent in a pink sequined gown, complete with headdress and lace gloves. Gerald was almost certain he’d seen a pink gown in the trunk and suddenly felt like trying it on for size. If it fitted he could even borrow it for an evening, or was that being too bold? After all, it wasn’t like Mrs Hird was likely to walk into the club and catch him in the act.

  Musing the possibilities Gerald walked into Mrs Hird’s bedroom and knelt at the foot of the bed where the trunk sat. He looked up and froze in terror. Mrs Hird was lying in the bed.

  He cried out but managed to stifle it as he barrelled out of the room. But even as he headed for the door Gerald realised all was not well. Mrs Hird did not sleep late and her hearing was remarkably good. He paused and forced himself to return to her bedroom. He whispered her name and then reached out to touch her cheek with the back of his hand. Mrs Hird was not merely asleep, but dead.

  ‘Oh, Edith,’ Gerald said gently. ‘You poor old dear.’

  He walked around the bed and sank to his knees, reaching for her hand which was cold and lifeless. For the first time in many, many years a few genuine tears of regret rolled down Gerald’s face as he leaned forward and kissed Mrs Hird gently on the cheek.

  26 Chiara refuses to give up

  ‘Loriana, this is ridiculous. You cannot simply abandon your whole life.’

  ‘I am merely following your example, worrying only about myself and accepting absolutely no responsibility for my actions.’

  Chiara was at her wits end. In the time since Loriana had walked out of her home and flown to Italy where she was staying with cousins, Chiara felt more pressure and stress than at any point in her life. She was fully unprepared for making decisions and knew absolutely nothing about how to run a business, let alone a string of businesses. Every day the phone would ring with tenants’ demands, stall-holders who wanted to discuss rent payments, ice-cream vans which required maintenance and so it went on.

  ‘I think you should stop being so childish and come home immediately,’ she demanded.

  ‘Chiara, you are in no position to be telling me what to do. I am taking a well deserved holiday and have no desire to ever set eyes on you again. I wish you luck, arrivederci.’

  Chiara slammed down the telephone in frustration and it immediately began to ring.

  ‘Hello,’ she answered, frayed and enervated. ‘No, no, I have no idea when the plumber will be calling to fix your radiator. Yes, I’m sure it’s urgent, could you not call one? Oh, I see, well if it’s in the contract. Yes, yes, I’ll ring to confirm. No, I don’t think a reduction in rent is a good idea. No, you see…’

  She raised her eyes to the heavens and sighed, totally lost and aware that, if Loriana didn’t return soon, there would very likely be no business to run at all. She was also alive to the fact that she’d brought this on herself, not just recently, but fifteen years ago too. Now, finally, she was trapped and feeling wretched and knew that she’d no choice but to keep trying until she made things right.

  * * * *

  Blackpool. Alfie had never been a huge admirer of the place. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on, just a feeling he got whenever he was there. He had an idea it stemmed from his childhood; his parents rarely took him and his brother Frank to Blackpool, preferring instead one of the many smaller seaside resorts dotted up and down the English coast. His mother, Alfie knew, had never been a fan of the resort, thinking it dirty and a little common.

  Yet here he was anyway, and it wasn’t too bad. Certainly it was quieter than he’d expected but it was still only April and the weather wasn’t great, fresh and overcast with only the occasional sunny day. It would be busy over the May Bank Holiday weekend though, that was a given.

  Since departing Morecambe Alfie had spent a couple of weeks claiming Job Seekers Allowance until he’d found a job working in a mobile sandwich trailer on an industrial park on the outskirts of the town. He was surprised to get the job since he had assumed that any work he found would be tourism related; burger van, arcade, maybe even hotel work.

  But this job wasn’t bad not least because most of the day Alfie was left to his own devices. The only busy periods were morning and afternoon breaks and lunchtimes when the various office workers would trudge out to buy a filled roll and a drink from him instead of driving into the town centre. Plus Alfie could eat all the sandwiches he liked for free, perk of the job.

  Certainly he’d had worse appointments – selling seafood leapt to mind, Alfie had always loathed the smell of cockles and mussels – and the people he’d met since moving to Blackpool had been friendly enough. Kenny seemed to have settled in too, exploring the neighbourhood and finding himself a good vantage point on top of the television from which to view the street below. All in all things couldn’t have worked out better; new flat, new job, new life, and since today was his first pay day, Alfie intended to treat himself to a take-away tea, there was a pleasant smelling Chinese place near his flat that he’d been meaning to try.

  At 4PM Alfie closed the sandwich cabin, early finishes being another perk of the job, and began the walk to the train station where he’d catch a train into the centre of Blackpool. Forty minutes later Alfie stepped onto the platform at Blackpool South and set off home, calling at Sheng’s take-away en route.

  ‘Evening,’ he said to the lady behind the counter, a young-looking, but lukewarm, woman with frizzy brown hair and lots of piercings in her nose and ears.

  ‘What can I get you?’ She asked forcefully.

  Alfie considered the menu – Cantonese Pork with boiled rice and chips was his favourite but he always liked to check in case anything leapt out that sounded particularly appetising.

  ‘Cantonese Pork, boiled rice and chips please,’ Alfie said finally.

  ‘Ain’t seen you before…’ The girl stated, although she barely seemed to have glanced in his direction.

  ‘No, I’ve err, I’ve been working away, just moved here actually.’

  ‘Yeah, working away, abroad like?’

  She handed Alfie his change.

  ‘That’s right,’ he lied automatically. ‘Saudi actually, six month contract building a new entertainment complex.’

  ‘You ain’t very brown.’ She said doubtfully.

  ‘Inside most of the time, wiring and stuff. Very nice though, hotels, shops, very nice. Good money too.’

  ‘Neato. So, why move to this shithole then?’ She laughed.

  ‘Fancied a change.’

  ‘Well, it’s certainly that.’ The girl laughed again allowing Alfie to see the piece of metal which protruded from her tongue. ‘A big bloody change from Saudi Arabia I bet.’

  Alfie nodded and laughed with her, a little surprised at how easily he’d created this latest fantasy, how comfortable and familiar it felt to pretend he was someone else, to not be Alfie Gorman. Five minutes later his order was ready and he left the shop, smiling optimistically. Yes, he thought, walking back to his flat, it’s not so bad here after all.

  * * * *

  Chiara lay in bed in the home of her sister, wide awake. She was bone-weary, hadn’t slept properly since Loriana had left, and mentally she was unable to rise to the challenge of being in sole charge. All their lives Loriana had been the strong one, the leader, a decision maker in the mould of their late father. Chiara had always wanted fun, enjoyment, gratification, not for her the worries over money and where it came from, as long as there was enough to go round.

  It had been clear from an early age that Loriana was going to end up running at least some of the Cipriani businesses. Mr Cipriani began involving her while still at school, allowing Loriana to facilitate stock checks, explaining to her why it was worth opening the shop even on Christmas Day – because nobody else bothers but somebody will always need something at the very last minute.

  Chiara hadn’t cared for such things, it seemed bor
ing. But Loriana absorbed the knowledge like a sponge and, upon leaving school; she was immediately given responsibility for managing one of the shops. It was she that thought of selling pieces of rock in bags for a pound, the kind sold at the seaside; genius in Mr Cipriani’s opinion since the rock factory gave it away free as waste.

  Of course, even though Mr Cipriani shared such a strong bond with his oldest daughter, not once did he make Chiara feel any less loved or significant, never did he suggest she change, be more like Loriana, and for that she loved him all the more. Even when the sisters clashed, when Chiara took Pietro, slept with her sister’s fiancée, even then father did not cast her aside. Mr Cipriani was a fair man, a good man and he valued family above all else. It was this that led Chiara to pick up the telephone and call her sister once again.

  ‘Chiara, this is all your own doing, I have no sympathy.’

  ‘Loriana, please; just listen to me.’

  ‘Really sister, it is barely eight in the morning here, it must still be dark in Morecambe. Conscience keeping you awake?’ Loriana’s tone was rancorous.

  ‘Come home.’

  ‘I will, but when I am ready, not to ease your burden.’

  ‘I was thinking about father tonight.’

  ‘You, it is not like you to think of anyone but yourself.’

  ‘I was thinking how much like him you are, always were. How you wanted to be like him, follow in his footsteps, make him proud.’

  ‘Of course I did, he was a great, loving man.’

  ‘Exactly, and you are like him in so many ways…’

  ‘I can sense a ‘but’ coming.’

  ‘What, would you say, our father valued most, above all else, tell me what you think?’

  Loriana paused only for a second before she sighed.

  ‘Family, of course. He valued his family, that is what drove him to succeed.’

  ‘Then come home.’

  ‘Damn it Chiara, that’s not fair.’

  ‘I know, but our fighting contributed to his death and now our problems are contributing to the failure of the business, the business he built and left for us…’

  ‘You cannot cope?’

  ‘You know I can’t, it’s too much. This was always your area, you know that. Father knew it too. Come back sister, help me, and let’s stop this squabbling.’

  There was silence for a long time, only the intermittent crackle of interference on the line owing to the distance. Loriana had already made up her mind about her next move, had decided during her evening with Pietro. Chiara thought perhaps they had been cut off until finally Loriana spoke.

  ‘I will get a flight today. Forgive me Chiara.’

  ‘Forgive me, sister. I look forward to seeing you.’

  27 In search of happiness

  It’s beginning to get a lot more real, thought Etchman. He was driving the Modhubon the move van which was piled with curry-filled silver foil trays in brown paper bags, receipts stapled to the top of each one. The aroma of cumin, garlic and fenugreek was almost overpowering in the confines of the vehicle. In the last week or so, Chrissie had begun to show. There was no denying, despite his ever diminishing hope that it was a big misunderstanding that he, Lee Etchman, was going to be a father.

  The strange thing was that now he’d accepted his fate it no longer seemed quite so beastly. Yes, he was living in a pokey house, looking after two kids that weren’t even his, with a woman he didn’t love, but on the other hand Etchman owed Chrissie a lot.

  Admittedly it was Chrissie’s visit to his wife that had resulted in Etchman’s eviction, but Chrissie had been altruistic enough to let him move in and his job at Modhubon wasn’t bad at all. The banter with the other staff was agreeable, apart from the owner’s son, Kuldeep, who was a little aberrant. At weekends the place was always full of drunken birds up for a bit of chat, and the complimentary food was top notch. In fact, Etchman thought, if he hadn’t ever tasted the good life, seen how the other half live, if he’d never met and married Loriana and her money, then his current life would probably seem rather gratifying.

  At the end of the day, he thought, it was all about making the most of the opportunities that presented themselves and it was with that in mind that Etchman had arranged to meet one of the waitresses from the restaurant for a drink the following night.

  Half an hour later, deliveries completed, Etchman pulled up outside the take-away and sauntered inside, hoping for a quiet ten minutes in which he could shovel down a liberal portion of Dansak and a couple of Bhajis.

  ‘Ahh, Lee, there you are, there you are.’

  ‘Mr Bhumbra, sir, didn’t expect to see you down here tonight. How’s things at the restaurant?’

  Etchman smiled amiably, Mr Bhumbra was pretty relaxed as bosses went, dropping in occasionally to cast an eye over proceedings but otherwise leaving them to get on with it.

  ‘I find myself in something of a predicament. As you know we are currently short of staff at my restaurant owing to young Ryan clearing off to university. I was most surprised, I thought the boy a complete idiot, polite enough, but stupid.’

  ‘I see.’ Etchman said, who had no idea what his boss was talking about.

  ‘So, we are one short for the debate, you see?’

  ‘Er, one short?’

  ‘That’s it.’ Mr Bhumbra smiled. ‘So, I can count on you then.’

  ‘Of course you can.’ Etchman smiled again, still in the dark.

  ‘Excellent. I’ll need you to drive the food to the university and then perhaps a little serving too. Well done, Lee, well done.’ Mr Bhumbra shook his hand vigorously. ‘Now, quickly, back to work, there are deliveries on the counter.’

  Etchman was bewildered and a little piqued at missing out on his break-time curry.

  ‘What was that all about?’ He asked one of the lads behind the counter after Mr Bhumbra had left.

  ‘You’ve just agreed to work on your night off mate. You’re helping out with the food for that thing up at the uni, you know, Mr Bhumbra’s activist group thingy.’

  ‘Eh?’ Etchman said. ‘Bollocks!’

  * * * *

  Loriana Cipriani arrived, much as her sister had weeks earlier and to the delight of the driver, in a taxi direct from the airport. In Palermo she had done a great deal of thinking about Alfie, Lee Etchman, Pietro, Chiara, her life as a whole. She’d considered what her sister had said and realised that family, above all else, matters the most; family was constant, unchangeable and so there was no other option but to return and make amends, behave like real sisters and make their father proud of his girls.

  ‘Oh, Loriana, you have returned.’

  Chiara wrapped her arms around her sister on the doorstep where they stood.

  ‘Come, let’s go inside.’

  ‘Yes, we have much to talk about.’

  But the very first thing Loriana wished to discuss was Alfie, because while in Palermo she’d realised that she loved him as much as she’d ever loved anybody and this, as much as anything, had prompted her return to Morecambe.

  ‘I haven’t seen or heard from him since the day you left.’ Chiara explained.

  ‘In that case I must go to the park and beg his forgiveness for my behaviour.’

  ‘He’ll forgive you.’ Chiara said with certainty.

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘Because he feels the same way you do. Now go find him and make it right.’

  So Loriana hurried, almost like a schoolgirl in the grip of a first crush, to the park, almost faint with desire to see him, hear his voice. Now she’d accepted her feelings, made them real, she was bewitched by them and her longing for Alfie was absolute. She entered the park by a side gate and flung open the door to his hut.

  ‘’Fredo,’ Loriana panted. ‘I…’

  ‘Steady on love, you can’t just come bounding in. If you want serving come round to the hatch.’

  She gasped. There, sitting in Alfie’s comfortable chair with a mug of tea in his hand was a por
tly gentleman with a grey and white horse-shoe of hair on his head, wild white eyebrows and rosy red cheeks.

  ‘Who…who are you, where is Alfie?’

  ‘Alfie, Alfie Gorman? Blimey, love, he’s been gone about a fortnight now. Weird bugger if you ask me; did a runner, vanished.’

  The man shook his head and slurped his tea. Loriana noticed that the replacement Park Keeper’s double chin rubbed against his jumper when his head moved.

  ‘Vanished?’ She asked. ‘Where?’

  ‘Well if he’s vanished we don’t know where now do we, love? Just disappeared, took his stuff, left the keys in the café and that was it. Gone.’

  Loriana stared at the man in disbelief; no clue what to do next. Alfie was supposed to be here, this was his hut, his park, he was meant to be here. She staggered from the park in a state of befuddlement and by the time she made it home, her face was clammy with tears, her eyes red and puffy.

  For the remainder of the afternoon and into the evening Chiara, angry that her sister should have to suffer again, tried with little success to console Loriana. She couldn’t help but wonder that if, perhaps, she hadn’t interfered, if she had stayed away, then Loriana may have finally found happiness.

  ‘I’m pleased you are here.’ Loriana said finally, her head resting on Chiara’s breast, wrapped in her arms.

  ‘I honestly don’t know why, I have brought you nothing but pain.’

  ‘No, you have brought me family. You are my family and you’re here for me now, when I need you most, that is what’s important.’

  They smiled at each other, both hurting but glad they were not alone.

  ‘Come,’ said Chiara. ‘Let’s go out, we shouldn’t bury ourselves in this house, mourning like widows. We will go for drinks, perhaps a meal.’

  ‘Yes, why not. It is too easy to retreat and hide. We’ll go out together, as sisters, and talk.’

  Perhaps predictably Loriana chose to eat at the Narracott hotel where much of her brief relationship with Alfie had been played out. Chiara was unsure how prudent this was but did not wish to question her sister’s wishes.