At midday he stopped his work to go and fetch some bread from the bakers. The town square was surprisingly empty. Jed assumed that most people had already gone to the fair. He felt a morose apathy start to take hold of him. Back in the workshop, he tore with his teeth at the bread loaf, bit chunks from a lump of cheese, belched loudly and passed wind – regressing in minutes to a primitive state that evolution had taken countless generations to eradicate.
Jed’s meal was interrupted by the door of the workshop bursting open and Dan tumbling into the room, his legs giving way beneath him. Jed stayed seated.
“You been drinkin’ again? Seems all you been doing the last few days, is drinkin’,” observed Jed, tetchily.
He tore another chunk of bread from the loaf with his teeth as Dan pulled himself up from the floor and dusted down his clothes.
“Don’t you go insinuatin’ nothin’,” Dan slurred as he grabbed at the work bench for support. “These people I’m ‘avin a drink with are my friends. Known ‘em on and off for years I ‘ave. But I suppose you don’t know nothin’ about friends on account of the fact you ain’t got none.”
Dan let out a growl from deep within his stomach and crashed onto a chair.
“Anyway, what you doin’ workin’ ‘ere when everyone else is up the fair? I don’t want folks thinkin’ I’m treatin’ you as some sort of a slave.”
There was silence as Jed tried to swallow the bread that he had forced into his mouth and Dan searched for a rag to wipe saliva from his beard.
“I ain’t interested in fairs,” retorted Jed. “Can’t see what all the fuss is about. All them silly side shows and people gettin’ drunk and pukin’ all over the place.”
“Your problem is you ain’t got no guts. You’re so bleedin’ sorry for yerself you don’t act normal.”
“I been working, runnin’ your bloody business whilst you drink with them gypsies.”
“What you been doing boy is hiding ‘cos you ain’t got the nerve. You idolise your dead brother, but d’you think he’d be sittin’ round with the fair in town? No, he’d be up there with the others, drinkin’ and womanising like the best of ‘em. That’s what you should be doin’.”
Goaded by the mention of Matt, which struck to the core of Jed’s insecurity, he leapt from his seat and grabbed Dan’s collar, spitting his words into the old man’s face.
“You bastard, Dan. That’s what I get for all the help an’ work I been doin’ for you. I thought we was goin’ to be partners, build this business together. But what chance of that now, eh? No way I’m going to work with a nasty old bastard who turns on ‘is partner. So keep your bloody workshop, I don’t want none of it anymore.”
With that, Jed pushed open the stable door and rushed into the street beyond.
Dan remained sitting. He chuckled nervously to himself. Jed had it coming. It was a risk but he had to do it. He’d seen it in the army when a young recruit first went into action and was filled with fear. There was no use being kind to the fella because he would cry like a baby. He’d seen the sergeant major shout and bellow at the recruit in front of all his comrades till he was broken. Then he didn’t care what happened. He didn’t care whether he lived or died. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t.
Out in Thresher’s Cut, Jed propped himself against a wall, breathing heavily as tension gripped his body. He looked back at the workshop, half expecting Dan to call out and apologise, saying that it was the drink talking, not him. But the door remained shut. Jed made his way to the end of the cut and into Market Square. It was now empty, only a few stragglers hurried through on their way to the fairground. He stood there, not knowing where to turn next. Returning to Mount Farm was not an option. His life was here in Frampton with Dan, or it had been up till five minutes ago.
The empty square seemed like a metaphor for his life. There was an eerie silence except for the distant sound of fairground music carried on the breeze. Unthinkingly, he turned to the direction of the music and began walking. As he reached the outskirts of the town, he caught up with small groups still making their way to the fair – families with small children clutching at a parent’s hand and older couples, arm in arm, all drawn towards this unlikely Utopia.
Arriving at the fair, his senses were attacked by a raucous mix of sound, sight and smell. The thumping rhythm of a steam organ provided the background beat, and the discordant noise of each stall as he passed provided a constantly changing chorus. His ears were accosted by the wailings of unseen apparitions as he made his way past the ghost house and he was nearly knocked over by a small child being ejected at speed from the bottom of the helter skelter.
Jed pushed his way further into the throng of people. There were many he recognised – shopkeepers, traders, farmers, even the minister was there. The air was full of laughter and shouting. Men swilled beer from pewter flagons and puffed at clay pipes. Women drank cider and scolded ‘out of control’ children.
Elbowing his way past the swing boats and the funicular ride, Jed found himself at the heart of the fair. The prize position was taken by the carousel. Finely sculpted horses were set in rows of three around a central spine and each horse was festooned with feather plumes.
Jed stepped back into the crowd to watch the scene. Children and adults alike were clambering on, searching for a vacant horse. Ordinarily taciturn faces were now lit with smiles as they clambered into saddles.
With a hiss of steam the organ in the centre burst into life. A strident tune began to play as the horses strained forward and the carousel turned. A cheer went up from the onlookers and the riders waved back or gripped on for their lives. As it picked up speed, the horses and their riders began to rise up and drop, faster and faster as the music rose in tempo. Men laughed and shouted to friends who were watching. Ladies clung to their hats with one hand and to their horses with the other. The crowd roared its greetings as friends or family sped past.
Jed felt himself pulling back. The noise, the shouting and the music was starting to echo again in his head and mock him. He wasn’t part of this. He felt his chest tighten and his breathing become shorter. He looked for an exit but he was locked in by the crowd. Pushing his way through, he ignored angry shouts in his haste to escape.
Away from the carousel he felt calmer. There was more air to breathe and the throbbing in his head subsided. After a few moments rest, he started to retrace his route back to Frampton. But his progress was interrupted by raucous screaming from a ride just ahead. Unable to resist the urge to find out what causing the commotion, he slipped in amongst the watching crowd. The ride was just stopping and disorientated passengers were staggering or falling from six small cars that appeared to run on an oval track. Jed looked up to the banner flying over the ride. It was called ‘The Whip’. Not having been to a fair before, that meant nothing to him. He watched as the crowd surged forward to fill the empty cars. Just in front of him, two girls about his own age were taking their place in the nearest car. Jed had noticed them before in Frampton. One was small and neat with shoulder length auburn hair. The other had a fuller figure with long dark hair tumbling in ringlets down her back.
A bell sounded, indicating the ride was about start.
“Last few seats. Take your places quick,” yelled a young attendant.
Jed watched the two girls in front of him gripping the sides of the car tightly, anticipation etched across their faces. Suddenly, he felt a strong arm on his shoulder propelling him forward.
“Here y’are, mate. Do us a favour and sit in that one. Them girls ‘ll need a fella.”
Taken by surprise, Jed found himself bundled into the car before he could protest. He sat in the empty seat between the two girls, completely unsure of what to say. His discomfort was evident.
“I’m Alice,” said the girl to his left.
“And I’m Flora,” said the girl to his right.
Suddenly, the car moved forward with a sickening lurch. Both girls screamed loudly. Jed looked around frantically, tr
ying to work out where they were going. The cars were being propelled around the oval track at increasing speed. As they came to the first bend, the car seemed to hold back momentarily before being whipped forward as is it shot around the curve. Jed was deafened by the screams of the two girls either side of him. Still the car picked up speed. When it reached the second bend, Jed felt his stomach grip in anticipation of what was to follow. A violent movement lurched the car forward, throwing Flora sideways across his lap. He glimpsed fear in her eyes as she struggled to extricate herself. Onto the first straight again. From the corner of his eyes, Jed could see people in the crowd waving and laughing. As they approached the next bend, he braced himself with his feet pressed up hard against the front panel. A momentary pause and then the car was swept around, the centrifugal forces pinning him to his seat. As the car came out of the turn, Alice was tossed across the seat with such force that she collided with Jed and temporarily winded him. Briefly they exchanged bemused glances. Jed now felt more in control. He knew what to expect next. To his right, Flora had stopped shouting and had turned ghostly pale. At the next turn he braced himself. Flora had let go of the side of the car and the swinging motion shot her straight into Jed’s arms. This time, he held onto her, thrusting his arm around her waist and pulling her tight against him. Down the next straight now, still gathering speed. A violent swing and Alice was thrown hard against him. He seized her with his free arm and clung on. Both girls willingly succumbed, placing their own arms around Jed and gripping tightly. At the next turn, screaming turned to laughter as the forces fused the three of them into one writhing mass.
Momentarily, Jed seemed to be looking back at himself on the ride. He saw himself laughing, shouting and holding the two girls tightly to him as the cars ricocheted around the track. Never before in his life would he have imagined he could do this. This was the sort of thing other boys did as he would look on from the shadows. He had a strange feeling that Matt was there with him – enjoying it hugely – laughing and urging him on.
He was dragged quickly back to reality as a new sensation gripped the car. A juddering squealing wail replaced the chatter of the wheels as brakes were applied somewhere on the ride. With ferocity their speed was reduced and the forces pinning their bodies together subsided. Jed felt a huge sadness engulf him as the girls self consciously retrieved their limbs. As the cars pulled into the disembarkation platform, the three found themselves smiling nervously at each other.
“What did you say your name was?” enquired Alice.
“I didn’t. I mean, it’s Jed. Jed Carter.”
“I think we’ve seen you around in Frampton. Do you work there?” asked Flora.
“Yes, I work with the joiner down Thresher’s Cut. He’s got a workshop there. I help him.”
They pushed their way through the throng of people waiting their turn to ride the Whip.
“I’m really glad you joined us,” ventured Flora. “I think I would have died if you hadn’t been there.”
“Well, to be honest with you, it was the fairground bloke who pushed me onto the ride.”
“Then I’m glad he did.”
Jed felt inwardly relieved that their forced introduction on the Whip had been met with approval.
“So now we have met, why not join us,” suggested Alice. “You never know, we might need saving again.”
The three of them made their way round the fair, stopping at the coconut shy where Jed’s precise aim won him the largest coconut. They retired to the shade of some trees where they prised open the fruit and laughed uproariously as they tried to pour the sweet milk into their mouths, ending up with torrents of white liquid drenching their clothes. Jed felt overwhelmed with the heady euphoria of knowing that he belonged.
First it was gunfire, short rounds of automatic fire outside the interrogation room. It was enough to stop the German soldiers in the midst of their brutal acts. Then an explosion and the door of the interrogation room flies back, crushing two soldiers to the wall. After that, pandemonium. More gunfire and smoke. Hooded men in black pouring into the room. The Germans grab their weapons and fire back. In the small confines of the room, blood spurts from punctured bodies and forms patterns on the wall behind. Someone is shouting at him.
“Malikov, Malikov. Are you Malikov?” He has been drifting in and out of delirium and manages only a gasped, “Yes.”
A searing pain pulses through is leg. He must have been hit. Then he is being untied, his naked body pulled away from the pipe to which it had been chained. The gunfire is incessant. There is screaming and broken bodies lying on the floor. He recognises Bill’s prone body. Someone grabs his legs and somebody else grabs his arms – he is being moved out of the room. Then he sees Yvette. She’s still alive, chained like him to a pipe – naked and bloodied. He summons his strength to shout.
“Take her, take her too.”
“Only the Brits mate – them’s the orders.”
“Please.”
Suddenly cold air bites at his body. He is outside and wrapped in blankets. He hears barked orders.
“How many have we got?”
“Two, sir, the others are dead.”
“What about our boys?”
“Two gone, sir, Mckenzie and Burgess.”
“Right, finish them off in there with grenades then get these two to the airstrip. Move!”
Lying on his bed in the dark of the night, Jack revisits the scene as he does most nights. Two of his unit lost as well as Yvette. What about Simone? Was she there? He can’t remember. He tries to blank out the image but it becomes sharper, the screaming, the lash of whips and the shouting of the interrogators. His men knew the mission was dangerous but did he betray Simone and Yvette? Did he cause their deaths in that most brutal and horrible way? Or did someone else betray them? The question gnaws at him relentlessly and gives him no peace.
The Guest Who Stayed: Chapter 5 – Summer 1920
As late spring turned into early summer and the weather settled into a cycle of hot days and warm, sultry evenings, Jed’s friendship with Alice and Flora began to blossom. They would meet up two or three evenings a week to walk along the farm lanes surrounding Frampton and occasionally to picnic on the heath where the fair had been held. For Jed, these were happy times. He had very little experience of being in female company and found himself relaxing and enjoying the gentle banter and innuendo that was part of their emerging sexuality.
“So do you have feelings about girls then, Jed?” asked Flora one evening as they lay sprawled on a blanket beneath the shade of an old elm tree.
“What sort of feelings?”
“What makes you want a girl?”
Jed paused, realising that he was rapidly leaving his comfort zone.
“I dunno really. How she looks, how she smiles, how she talks to me.”
“But what things turn you on?” persisted Alice. “Do you ever have thoughts about what it’s like to lay with a girl?”
“Course I have thoughts about it, yes. It’s only natural? I imagine things like any man.”
“Do you imagine things about us?” asked Flora, trying hard to suppress an embarrassed grin.
“I suppose I do, yes.”
“What sort of things?”
“I’m embarrassed to say. You’re friends.”
“But we’re women too, Jed. Don’t forget that,” added Alice.
Jed pondered Alice’s words and turned them over in his mind for some days after that. He knew he was attracted to both girls in different ways. Alice was self assured and confident. Her neat good looks gave her an aura of efficiency. When he was with her, he felt safe and at ease. With Flora it was different. She lacked Alice’s simple sophistication but she radiated warmth. Her looks were often dishevelled but her face was illuminated by a broad smile which highlighted her full red lips. Her contours were more rounded than Alice’s and Jed began to realise that his ‘imaginings’ were mostly centred on Flora.
“It’s the same old routine, day
after day,” complained Alice one evening as they strolled along country lanes bathed in the warm glow of an evening sun. “We work all day then boast each evening about how we’re going to change everything, then we go back to work the next day and do exactly the same. Nothing changes – ever. We’re trapped in this endless cycle of grind. It’s like the world only consists of Frampton. What goes on outside of here? Don’t you two ever wonder?”
“Hey, what’s got into you then?” demanded Jed, grabbing Alice playfully by the wrists and trying to look her straight in the eyes. Alice grumpily shook herself free.
“It’s the difference between saying you’re going to do something and meaning it,” replied Alice in a quiet but assertive voice that reduced the other two to silence. “Are we just like everyone else – like the old men in the market square, like the old women in the wash house, like the drunks in the Fox and Hounds – full of big ideas but not the slightest chance of doing any thing about them. Will that be us in thirty years time?” Alice visibly shook at the thought. The three of them walked along in silence for the next few minutes, unable to decide how best to break the awkward impasse. Flora took the plunge.
“We could have an outing.”
“An outing?” shrieked Alice, incomprehension emblazoned across her face. “I’m talking about changing our lives and you suggest an outing.”
“Don’t be hard on her,” replied Jed, coming quickly to Flora’s help. “Every journey’s got to start somewhere. You just said nothing ever changes. Well, an outing’s a first step. Let’s do that. Let’s make a little change then we can move on to bigger ones.” Alice sighed with resignation but reluctantly agreed.
They decided to take the train to the Norfolk Broads, a picturesque network of inland water ways which were popular with boating enthusiasts. They had been formed by people extracting peat in the middle ages but had long since been filled with water diverted from nearby rivers.
Sunday, 6th June dawned bright with a low lying mist that would soon burn off in the heat of the promised sun. They caught the early train to Wroxham which lay at the heart of the Broads. As they pulled into the station, the opposite platform was full with people arriving for the day from Norwich or coming from as far away as London to begin a boating holiday. Since the end of the war, people were again beginning to take a summer break and a week boating on these popular waterways was becoming a fashionable choice.
The Guest Who Stayed Page 5