by Paul Kelly
Joe beat his cap against his knee and whistled through his teeth. He was terrified to ask his next question, although he knew he must.
“Bertie . . . if you don’t mind my asking . . . and if I’m not being impertinent . . Just how old are you?”
Bertie looked sadly at the gray, stormy skies as a wind gathered in the west. The sun peeped through a darkening cloud and shed her rays slowly across the earth and the sea began to glisten. Everything became bright and warm almost in that instant when Bertie answered Joe’s question.
“Seven hundred and forty three . . . . I think, give or take a year or two,” he said and vanished.
The sun shone brightly in the skies above and there wasn’t a raindrop in sight. Not even the trees were wet, nor the streets, nor the esplanade and the sea wall was hot to touch.
***
Joe trudged wearily home to the Guest House with Sammy following close behind. Poor Sammy . . He walked listlessly, with his long fluffy tail tucked between his legs and whined sadly as he looked up at Joe.
Chapter Fourteen
Joe had lost his appetite that evening and Sammy was no better, lying under the dining room table with his eyes half closed and paying no attention to any of the other guests as they came and went for meals, which was so very unusual for Sammy. He was known for his nosy ways and could never ever mind his own business.
“I think Sammy is sickening for something Joe. Do you think it might be the change of air. I’ve never seen him like this since that old doggy friend of his at number forty-three was put down,” said Maggie with concern as her pet he lay so still and without interest in anything that was going on around him.
“He’s never had a holiday before Maggie,” said Freddie, “He’s only five, you know and we haven’t had a holiday for over seven years. You said so yourself, remember?”
Freddie squinted towards the ceiling with the air of a mathematician, closing his left eye as he made his calculations.
“Oh! Of course . . that’s right. It could well be that Freddie. I just hope he’s O.K. I don’t fancy having to take him to the Vet down here. They could charge the earth . . couldn’t they?”
Joe sat up in his chair when he heard the word ‘Vet’ mentioned.
“What’s wrong with Sammy? Why does he have to go to the Vet?” he asked as Sammy opened his eyes lazily and looked appealingly at Joe before he sniffed and settled down to sleep again.
“No . . I was just saying that he doesn’t seem to be his usual self and I wondered if it was the change of air,” said Maggie and Joe patted the mongrel and Sammy responded with just the slightest swish of his tail.
“His nose is dry too . . Look Joe!”
The dog turned his head sadly from where he lay, knowing that he was becoming the centre of attraction and loving every minute of it as he opened his large mouth and yawned
complacently . . . but Joe thought he knew the cause of his pet’s listlessness . . . and it had nothing to do with the sea air.
***
The whole family went down to the beach now that the sun had come out in all her glory and the caravans of the Amusement Park rolled along the esplanade to the sound of the music from the barrel organs. Children ran alongside the heavy laden vans with their gay coloured red, blue and yellow parts of the merry-go-round and here and there you could see the head of one of the hobby-horses, peeping out from behind a faded tarpaulin sheet . . . . . . and somewhere among the children, if you had an eye to see, an old man skipped happily beside them, clapping his hands and slapping his knees in full approval of all that was going on.
“Look Maggie,” Freddie shouted excitedly, “There’s a roundabout on that lorry. It looks as though we’re gonna have a great time here when they get the amusements set up. We must have come just at the right time of the year, eh?”
The boy was so full of enthusiasm for the forthcoming events that he removed his musical plugs from his ears with a plop and stuffed them into the pocket of his denim jeans as John Paul began to cry.
“He’s due for another feed, that little man. Always tells me when he’s hungry, he does . . . just like his daddy,” said Maggie with a ring of pride in her voice and looked around to see if anyone had noticed her bundle of joy as she whisked him from his high-chair into her arms. Well, you’d think someone would notice how lovely he was . . wouldn’t you?
***
Seven hundred and forty three years . . . thought Joe as he sat down in the solitude of the lounge when Maggie had taken John Paul upstairs to bath him and settle him into his little cot, hoping for a quiet night . . . and Freddie had raced off to the fairground again with a whole pocket full of coppers . . . nearly five pounds in all and his jeans were bulging at the seams as he went. He had saved all this money through the winter months in a jar which he kept on his bedroom window ledge and had marked it clearly.
‘Not to be touched until the holidays. Freddie’s cash.’
His paper round turned out to be worthwhile after all. . . but Joe Osborne sat alone with his thoughts. . . . Seven hundred and forty three years . . give or take a year or two . . . .he thought.
“Well, on the other hand it could be seven hundred and forty four. I always get mixed up with figures, I do. Arithmics, is it called? Never was my best subject,” A Voice that whispered apologetically in Joe’s ear came from nowhere and Joe scratched the end of his nose in bewilderment before he went to work on his head.
“Do you think I’m a complete idiot Bertie? You can’t possibly be that age. I would say your arithmics leave a lot to be desired.”
“Keep your voice down Joe . . you’ll wake the baby up.” Maggie called out as she re-appeared in the lounge, “What did you want anyway?”
Joe glowered at Bertie and scowled, narrowing his eyes and tightening his lips.
“Nothing Dear . . I just woke up. Must have been dreaming, that’s all” he replied and
Bertie gulped and hunched his shoulders when he heard Joe talking to Maggie as she was about to go upstairs again.
“Thought you were talking to someone, dear. It feels as though there’s someone else in this room . . Strange, isn’t it?” she said as she looked around the lounge . . and at that moment a silent voice whispered in Joe’s ear.
“We’d better talk with our minds, dear boy . . then we won’t disturb the baby, eh?”
Joe stared at Bertie, seeing his scraggy white hair turn up at the ends as it touched his shoulders and his wide dark, slit of a toothless mouth grinning back at him. He wished Maggie could have seen this old man, if only for a moment . . but then it might have had disastrous results and she could have taken him by the scruff of the neck and thrown him out into the streets. He looked wicked enough for that and Maggie didn’t suffer fools gladly. He could have been sent packing with a flea in his floppy ear, he could.
“I’m going for a walk down to the fairground Joe. Want to join me?” asked Bertie with his mind voice. “Could be fun, don’t you think?” the thin dark mouth invited and Joe smiled benevolently at his wife as he screamed at his friend . . . . with his mind, of course.
“Get out and leave me alone, will you? The fair is for children,” he said with his silent voice and then he stopped his ‘mind talk’ for a second before a broad, wicked grin crept over his face. “Well, for children and for old geezers of seven hundred and forty odds,” he added but Bertie only stuck out his tongue and screwed up his nose in wrinkles.
“Don’t mock the afflicted. It’s not right to do that,” he scolded and then suddenly disappeared, so that not only did Maggie miss his presence . . or what she thought to be someone else in the room with them . . but Joe did also.
***
Bertie did everything he could to attract young Freddie’s attention, but to no avail. The boy strolled around mesmerized by all the colour and the bright lights of the fair, happily eatin
g his candy floss and jelly babies. He was in wonderment of all he saw before him and thrilled in anticipation of all the delights his coppers would procure for him. It was difficult to know what to choose and one had to get the best value possible. He knew that. The evening was cool and a chilling wind was blowing up as the crowds gathered into the noisy compound, intent on enjoying themselves with all the fun of the fair and with no regard for the morrow. That could look after itself.
Bertie tried to attract anyone’s attention. After all, he thought . . there must be someone in this gathering crowd that would see him, even if he was invisible. . . . and that would be the end of that, wouldn’t it just . . . He jumped about waving his hands in front of one person and then another, but they all walked through him or around or about him, but no one gave him a second glance.
“Wouldn’t you think Freddie would see me? . . . after all, I am his uncle’s best friend and forever an’ ever an’ ever too,” he moaned, but nobody heard him as he spoke with his ‘mind voice’ and he gulped and showed a toothless smile as he caught sight of the large wad of candy floss in Freddie’s hand. “I could do with a dollop of that furry stuff,” he called out but again, nobody heard his plea . . so he reached out, grabbed a large portion of the cotton wool mass and stuffed it into his mouth. “There now . . . He’s bound to look where that’s gone and then he’ll be sure to see me . . . Couldn’t miss me on the end of this stuff . . . . surely . . .” he said, but Bertie was wrong again. Freddie just giggled and thought he had lost his airy-fairy sweet in the wind.
Bertie was so sad and disappointed . . . well, that was, until he spotted the strong man in the red and white stripped tent in the far corner. He had seen some men of all shapes and sizes in his day, but this one took the biscuit, he thought as he stroked his chin in utter amazement, studying the vision before him from head to foot and taking a really close look at the enormous thighs and arms.
“He must be at least twenty stone,” he thought aloud . . . as he shuddered. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Freddie could get to be that size . . . . then Joe could give up his job with the bolts at Frankham’s Motors and Freddie could join the circus. He wondered what Joe would think of his idea. Perhaps even Joe could get a job in a circus like this strong man . . . . . . Perhaps . . perhaps . .
“Oh dear . . I’m letting my mind run away with me again. I really must be more careful. That could get me into trouble,” said Bertie as he had just one last look at the strong man and shuddered again, closing his eyes in pure delight, before he moved away reluctantly to the coconut shy.
“I’ll have a ride on the roundabouts after I’ve had a go at knocking one of them coconuts down,” he thought, but he made the mistake of thinking aloud and the man who owned the coconut stall peered anxiously in the direction where he was standing and stuck his finger in his ear, wiggling it about to ensure that he wasn’t . . hearing things.
“Roll up . . Roll up there . . Coconuts . . coconuts . . knock down the coconuts. You there Sir. You look as though you could do a good job knocking this lot down. C’mon, have a go.”
Bertie smiled and stepped forward only to have his toes trodden on by a large fat boy, before he realized that he couldn’t be seen and that it was this fat boy who had been invited to the stall and not him. He winced and bit his lip.
“Why don’t you look where you’re going fattie arbuckle . . .” Bertie called out but nobody heard him and the fat boy aimed a rubber ball at a coconut with apparent expert precision, as he balanced on one foot and took all his weight on the other. Bertie looked on in amusement at the poise until he could stand it no longer and he touched the ball just as it left the boy’s hand, only a wee bitty, a tiny wee bitty you understand . . . and it bounced in the air, coming down on the stall-holder’s head.
“Crumbs . wot ya do that fur . . stoopid,” the stall-holder shouted as the fat boy stared with surprise into the air. “Them’s the nuts wot you should ‘it,” he screamed pointing to the shy, “Not me ‘ead, mate. Clear orf . . go on, clear orf there.”
The fat boy retired into the crowd with a dejected look on his shiny round face and studied his hands as he went, as Bertie giggled and knocked down one of the other coconuts to the grassy verge at his feet. It fell with a thud and rolled over, followed by another and yet another, until there were none left on the stall. Everyone stood around laughing as the stall holder rubbed his head and gathered his gear back onto the table, but as Bertie skipped with pleasure in a wicked sort of way, he stopped to touch the cups that had held the coconuts before he had made them fall. They were covered in glue. ...
“You there . . old man. You can clear orf too . . Don’t want nobody like you ‘angin’ around ‘ere. Bring me bad luck, you will.”
Bertie was about to move, when suddenly he realized that the man with the coconut stall must have seen him. . . and for a moment, he thought he was still invisible and that this was IT . . but when he looked down again at his feet, he could see that anyone could have seen those big pads at the end of his knees . . He wasn’t invisible at all . . He turned to look again, but another boy, who had paid for his try at the coconuts, pushed him aside.
“You’re getting in the way Granddad. Best get home to your pipe an’ slippers eh? . There’s a good chap . .”
Bertie’s face fell as he studied his feet again. . . Yes, they were big and floppy, with shoe laces that should have been tied and not left to dangle and he realized the stupidity of his thoughts. He had supposed he had not been seen, when in reality, his exuberance had brought on his physical appearance again and he was no longer invisible. Several people pushed him as he went amongst the crowd and like a spoiled child, he pushed them back with a vengeance and a deep, dark scowl on his weather-beaten face.
“Dear, dear, . . .I knew I should have been more in control,” he muttered, “I must be more careful or I’ll get myself into trouble again,” he grunted as he shuffled away, wishing that someone could see him when he didn’t have a body . . . when he didn’t have big, floppy feet . . or anything else, for that matter. If only someone could do that for him. If only someone would . . . he would then have the rest he felt he justly deserved. . . and life would be full of peace. . . or would it?
“Seven hundred and forty odd years is enough for any man,” he complained, “But then . . I’d miss Joe, wouldn’t I . .” he added sadly.
***
Bertie was about to board the merry-go-round when he felt a heavy spot of rain fall on his forehead. He put out his hand and another drop bounced off his scrawny fingers.
“I’ll have to be making a move from this place. It’s gonna rain and rain heavily by the look of things,” he muttered, “I’d better look for Freddie. I don’t think he had a coat with him when I saw him last.”
The rain beat down and spattered off the dusty ground, forming a pool of muddy water in minutes and it was well into the late evening when Freddie did eventually arrive back at the Guest House.
“Oh! I’ve been worried sick about you Darling,” Maggie called out as he came into the lounge. “You didn’t take your raincoat with you, did you?”
Freddie looked at Maggie in surprise as she rushed towards him with a thick bath towel in her arms. He was chewing a jelly baby, but Maggie stepped back as she came near him and the towel fell from her hands.
“Why . . why Freddie . . . You’re not wet at all . . . I don’t understand. It’s pouring buckets out there . . Look!.” She pulled the curtains back from the window, but as she looked out, the moon was bright and the air clear, with not a drop or sign of rain in sight. She stared up at the sky and then at the ground outside. The streets were bone dry.
“I could have sworn it was raining, Freddie. I really could have sworn it was belting down . . well, it was . . just a few minutes ago.”
She scratched her head lightly as Freddie sat down in a chair near the fire and popped another jelly ba
by into his mouth, making sucking noises as he closed his eyes complacently.
“Never noticed it meself,” he said calmly, “Strong wind though. It blew half my candy floss away, it did.”
Bertie closed his eyes as he stood nearby and sighed . . .It had happened again and he knew he wouldn’t be able to see his feet even if he looked . . so he didn’t bother, but he whispered sadly into the air and hoped that someone, somehow, somewhere might hear him.
“Well, I’m partial to a bit of candy floss . . I am. Just a wee bitty, you understand,” he complained, but Freddie continued sucking noisily and Maggie shook her head in disbelief of what she had seen outside. “And I wouldn’t say no to one of them jelly babies either, I wouldn’t,” he continued.
Chapter Fifteen
“I’d like to make another visit to the fairground this evening Joe,” pleaded Bertie, “but I do wish you’d come with me. You have a steadying influence on me, you know and I’m sure I wouldn’t get into any trouble if you were with me, dear boy.” Bertie pouted his thin lips, exaggerating his already sunken cheeks. “Please, . . . “Pretty, pretty pleeeze,” he begged and sucked his gums harshly, as he watched his friend reading the Evening Times and didn’t want to know about any fairground activities, least of all those of his friend Bertie, but Bertie’s piercing blue eyes appeared over the top of Joe’s newspaper with an appeal that was all his own. He cocked his head to one side and sighed.
“Pleeeeeze,” he asked again and Joe pushed his paper to his knees, making a rustling sound that frightened Bertie for a second before he knew what was happening and as he saw the determined and steady look in his friend’s eye, he smiled sweetly as Joe rose to his feet.
“Alright then . . just this once do you hear . . but no tricks, mind you. No disappearing acts and no getting into places without paying. You’re getting to be like Royalty . . you don’t pay for anything.”