So Long At the Fair

by Jess Foley

  Standing behind Iris, Alfred wrapped his arms round her, pressing his face to hers. Iris grinned at Abbie from the circle of his embrace. ‘Abbie and Louis decided to catch the boat on the way down,’ she said.

  ‘Well,’ Alfred said, ‘lucky for us.’

  Behind him his fellow musicians were heading for one of the companionways. Alfred asked the two sisters if they wanted to go with him for a drink, but Iris replied that for the time being they would remain on deck. ‘But you go on and get your ale,’ she said, ‘otherwise you’ll be too dry to play.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’ He planted a kiss on Iris’s cheek and straightened. ‘Can’t have that, can we.’

  Alfred left them then to rejoin his colleagues and the steamer continued on downriver. ‘Would you like to go for a little stroll around the deck?’ Iris asked. ‘It would be a good idea before it gets too crowded. Though we mustn’t be too long, or Louis won’t know where to look for you.’

  ‘Oh, Louis, Louis!’ Abbie said with a note of exasperation in her voice. ‘Why is everyone so bothered about Louis?’

  ‘Abbie . . .’ Iris looked at her with concern. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it. I just – wondered about him, that’s all.’ She paused. ‘What’s wrong, Abbie?’

  ‘Wrong? Nothing.’ Abbie waved the question away.

  ‘Come – let’s go for our walk.’

  Together the sisters got to their feet and, linking arms, set off to stroll around the deck.

  After they had walked a little distance, Iris said, ‘Abbie, don’t be cross with me, but – oh, it’s none of my business, but it’s clear that things aren’t going so well with you and Louis. I could see that yesterday. You were both all right with other people, but with one another you seemed – oh, I don’t know – constrained.’

  ‘Well,’ Abbie said, ‘I have to admit that things are not as good as they might be.’

  ‘Oh, dear. I’m so sorry.’ Iris looked at her sympathetically. ‘Is it – is it because of Oliver . . . ?’

  Briefly Abbie closed her eyes. ‘Well, Oliver’s partly the reason, but – it’s other things too.’

  ‘I wish I knew what to say.’ Iris’s small face was a picture of concern. ‘I hate to see you miserable. You deserve to be happy. I’ll never forget how you looked after us when Mother went away. All that responsibility you had. We depended on you so. I didn’t realize at the time, but later I came to be aware of all the things you had to do. And you were so young.’

  Abbie waved a dismissive hand, but Iris went on, ‘It’s true. And when Mother came back you looked after her – and broke off your engagement in order to do so. But when you and Louis got married and had Oliver I thought . . . well, that everything was going to be so good for you – that all your troubles were over at last. And now . . .’ She pressed Abbie’s arm under her own. ‘Oh, I wish I could help in some way.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Abbie said. ‘We shall get things sorted out in the end. One way or another.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Iris gave a sigh. ‘I’d just like everyone to be as happy as we are, Alfie and me.’ She remained silent for a moment as if debating whether or not to speak further, then she said, ‘Yesterday Louis and I talked about Beatie.’

  ‘Oh?’ Abbie’s tone was suspicious. ‘What about Beatie?’

  ‘Well – nothing in particular. He said that you had never spoken of – of Beatie’s death . . .’

  ‘Well, of course not,’ Abbie said, a little sharply. ‘It isn’t the kind of thing one wants to dwell upon. I don’t want to talk about it now, either. And I don’t particularly like the idea of being the subject of gossip.’

  ‘Oh, Abbie, don’t scold me,’ Iris said. ‘It wasn’t like that at all. I’m not trying to interfere.’

  Abbie groaned. ‘I’m sorry, Iris. I know you only mean well. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.’ Briefly she touched a hand to Iris’s cheek. ‘I do love you, my little sister – you know that, don’t you?’

  Iris smiled. ‘Yes, I do.’

  The sisters continued on, their conversation moving onto safer ground, speaking of more mundane matters, of Eddie and Violet and their two little girls, of Lizzie and Adam and their small son, of various friends and neighbours in the vicinity of Flaxdown. When Iris spoke of Jane, and asked whether Abbie had seen her recently, Abbie replied in the negative and changed the subject. So their talk went on, with Abbie doing her best to keep it safe.

  In a while Abbie noticed on the shore up ahead the buildings that marked out the little town of Sheerness situated on the Isle of Sheppey, and soon afterwards the boat was moving to pull up beside the pier. As it did so Abbie could at once see that Iris and Alfred were right with regard to an increase in the number of passengers on the journey back upriver. On that fine September day Sheerness had been the destination for many day trippers from London and Kent, and now those holidaymakers were ready to start on their journeys back home. A great throng of people – several hundred, it appeared to Abbie – were waiting to get on board, and after a relatively small number of passengers had disembarked, the throng surged forward. A minute later they were pouring onto the decks, both upper and lower, taking every seat available and crowding at the rails so it seemed that soon there would be scarcely room to move. ‘I can’t believe it,’ Abbie breathed, watching the new passengers swarming about. ‘There’s not enough space for them all.’

  Over the voices and the laughter came the sound of the band striking up again. Iris turned towards it. ‘They’re back,’ she said. ‘Shall we go back too? We’ll be leaving Sheerness any minute now.’

  Side by side they made their way to the bandstand, both giving Alfred a wave as he sat playing his cornet. A couple vacated their seats as the two arrived and they sat down. No sooner had they done so, however, but Iris said, ‘Abbie – I’m concerned about Louis. I wish he’d come and join us. It would be so nice if he were here too. You’ll be going back to Frome tomorrow, the two of you, and there’s no telling when I’ll see you both again.’

  Abbie sighed and smiled at her. ‘All right.’ She got up from the bench. ‘I’ll go and see if he’s in one of the saloons. If it’s possible to get down there in this crush.’

  Moving to the nearest companionway, she started down. There were many other passengers milling about, ascending and descending the steps, but eventually she reached the foot of the stairs, pushed a way into the crowded saloon and made her way through, looking to right and left. She could see no sign of Louis, and after gazing about her for another minute she turned and retraced her steps. He could be in one of the other saloons, though finding him in such a crowd might not prove an easy task.

  A moment later, reaching the foot of the companionway again, she found herself face to face with Arthur.

  The shock of seeing him before her brought her to an involuntary halt, so abruptly that a man following behind almost collided with her. Completely unaware, Abbie and Arthur remained standing there, looking at one another.

  ‘Well – Arthur, hello,’ Abbie gave him an awkward smile, while her heart pounded in her breast. ‘I certainly didn’t expect to see you here.’

  ‘Nor I you,’ he said. His smile was as uncertain as her own.

  A continuous stream of people was moving past them on their way to and from the saloon, and more than one showed irritation at the obstruction caused by the couple. Now aware of the situation Abbie said, ‘I rather think we’re in the way here . . .’

  ‘Yes, I rather think we are.’

  ‘Perhaps we can find another spot.’

  ‘Let’s go up on deck, shall we?’

  Arthur turned on the step and, with Abbie close behind him, started back up the companionway. Reaching the top, they emerged onto the upper deck and after a moment’s hesitation turned towards the forepart. Together they found a relatively secluded spot at the rail beside a bulkhead. As they came to a stop, facing one another, the paddle wheels started to turn and the boat began to move away from the pier.
r />   ‘Here we go,’ Arthur said.

  ‘Yes – here we go.’ Abbie turned for a moment to look at the bank swinging away as the boat glided out into the river’s deeper waters. Then, her eyes coming back to Arthur, she said, ‘Well, I can’t get over this. Seeing you here.’

  ‘Yes, it’s quite a surprise.’ After a moment’s pause he added, ‘I won’t ask you how you’ve been, Abbie, as I can well imagine. I – I was so very, very sorry to hear about your little boy.’

  She nodded, lips compressed. ‘Yes – yes.’ She didn’t want to speak of Oliver and quickly changed the subject. ‘What about you, Arthur, are you well?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, quite well.’

  ‘Good.’ A pause. ‘Are you here alone?’

  ‘No.’ He gestured with a wave of his hand. ‘Jane and Emma are down on the lower deck. I was on my way to get them something to drink.’

  ‘Oh – well, in that case I mustn’t hold you up.’

  ‘It’s all right. I have a little time.’

  Silence fell between them, then Arthur said, ‘is your husband here?’

  ‘Yes. He’s somewhere about. I was just looking for him. There’s such a crowd, though. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. I’ve never seen so many people on board.’

  “They’re making the most of the last of the fine weather, I imagine. How do you happen to be on the boat.’

  ‘We’ve been visiting Louis’s father at Gravesend. Then we got onto the Princess Alice so that I could spend a little time with my sister and her husband. He, Alfred, plays in the band. What about you?’

  ‘We just got on at Sheerness. We went down yesterday. I had some business to take care of there. We sailed down on the Cupid A smaller boat than the Princess Alice – and not nearly as crowded. I didn’t realize the Alice would be so packed coming back, otherwise we might have taken a different boat.’

  ‘She’s obviously very popular.’

  As they stood there other passengers continued to mill about, filling the air with their murmurs, their calls and their laughter. Up above their heads the smoke from the huge twin funnels drifted and spread in the air while below them the powerful paddles churned the fast-flowing water of the river. The band, which had started up again, was playing ‘The Midshipmite.’ As before, many of the passengers were joining in with the chorus, the voices of some of them, opened up by too many ales, now sounding rather more raucous than before.

  ‘I can’t get over it.’ Abbie shook her head. ‘Our meeting like this.’

  ‘Yes,’ Arthur said, ‘it certainly is quite a coincidence.’

  An awkward silence fell between them, and then suddenly, with a little intake of breath, Abbie was putting a hand to her face, fingers covering her right eye.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Arthur said.

  ‘I think I’ve got something in my eye. A bit of cinder from the funnels, probably.’ She lowered her hand, opened her eyes and immediately closed them again. ‘Oh, it stings so . . .’

  ‘Here – let me look.’ He stepped closer, then, putting his hands on her upper arms, gently turned her so that her face came into the light. A hand under her chin, he tilted her head. ‘Now – try to open your eyes.’

  In spite of the discomfort Abbie, with an effort, forced herself to open her eyes. Arthur bent to peer closer.

  Louis, sitting in the increasingly crowded saloon bar, had seen Abbie enter the room and stand looking around her. She must be looking for him, he thought, though clearly she had not seen him, almost hidden as he was behind a group of holidaymakers. Then in moments she was turning and going away again. For a few seconds he continued to sit there, then he finished the last of his ale, got to his feet and pushed his way through the crowd.

  On leaving the saloon he climbed the companionway and reached the top just in time to see Abbie moving away. She was not alone, but with a man. A man whom he would recognize anywhere: Gilmore.

  He took a few steps in their direction, came to a stop and watched. Now the two were standing together, almost hidden by a bulkhead. Not completely hidden, however. Abbie’s back was towards him, but it was easy to see that they were talking. He continued to watch, and after a while he saw Gilmore place his hands on her shoulders and put a hand beneath her chin. Wrenching his gaze from the sight, he turned away.

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ Arthur said. ‘Does it hurt so badly.’

  ‘Perhaps not so much now.’ She blinked a few times. ‘No, I think it feels a little better.’

  Arthur let his hands fall; he and Abbie both aware of their close proximity. After a moment he said, ‘Your husband – he’s well, is he?’ Then he added quickly, ‘In the very sad circumstances, I mean.’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘In the circumstances.’ Then she heard herself saying bluntly, ‘Louis and I – we’re talking of parting.’

  He appeared momentarily taken aback. ‘Oh, Abbie, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Well, things have got so – so bad between us lately. I can’t see any hope of our mending them now.’

  ‘I – I don’t know what to say.’

  She bent her head, picked at a thread on her glove. ‘You must realize that it – it’s partly to do with you.’

  ‘What?’ His tone, though soft, was incredulous.

  ‘Why do you sound so surprised?’

  ‘Oh, no, Abbie, don’t say that.’

  ‘Surely you must realize it.’

  ‘I – I don’t understand. I’ve never wanted to come between you, you know that.’

  ‘But you already had. You always were . . . between us.’

  ‘Abbie –’ he protested, anguish in his voice now.

  ‘Louis knows about us,’ she said.

  ‘Knows what? What do you mean?’

  ‘He knows, of course, that we almost married – what we meant to one another.’ She took a breath. ‘And he knows also that we met that day back in the winter. When we sheltered in the barn.’

  ‘But – but nothing happened.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  He leaned forward to speak softly. ‘Abbie, we – we kissed. That’s all.’

  ‘Is that all it was?’

  ‘It was nothing more.’

  ‘Perhaps not to you.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘But what does it matter? It’s not that that’s caused the rift. Not that alone; it goes far deeper. We’ve tried to make things work. But in the end you come to realize that things never will be better, that it was a mistake right from the start. Louis and I – we should never have married in the first place. Some people are wrong for each other, and when that’s the case then all the talk and good intentions in the world aren’t going to make it right.’

  Arthur did not speak. In the silence between them she reached out and laid her hand upon his as he held the rail. ‘It would have been different with us, Arthur,’ she said.

  ‘Abbie, please – don’t.’ He shifted his hand, went to move it from her own, but she grasped it, held on.

  ‘I could have made you happy, Arthur. If you’d given me the chance.’

  ‘Abbie – let’s not talk of such things.’

  ‘Why not? Are you afraid of the truth?’

  He turned away from her gaze. ‘That isn’t the truth.’

  ‘Arthur –’

  ‘You have to know it, Abbie. You’ve got to realize, once and for all. No matter what might have happened in the past, I am married to Jane.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but –’

  ‘I’m committed to her. And I’ll never leave her. Never.’

  ‘Arthur, you don’t –’

  ‘Listen, Abbie. Listen to me.’ His gaze was intense upon her own. ‘God Almighty, I don’t want to be cruel, but you’ve got to realize the truth. Jane is my wife. I love her.’

  ‘You love her? But what about that letter you wrote when our engagement ended? Have you forgotten that? I haven’t. I remember your exact words. “You may believe that it’s all finished between us, but I know that it is not. One day we shal
l be together and I shall wait for that day.” Do you remember writing those words?’

  ‘Abbie, it’s true – that’s how I felt at the time, but that was years ago and –’

  ‘I’m aware of that. But what about when we were together in the barn? That wasn’t years ago. That was only this last winter. Or have you forgotten?’

  ‘Of course I haven’t forgotten. And I’d give anything if I could undo it.’

  Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘Don’t say that.’ She paused. ‘You once told me you loved me. Do you remember?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Didn’t you mean it?’

  When he remained silent, she said, ‘I thought you meant it. Oh, Arthur, memories are all I’ve had to live on – and if you tell me now you didn’t mean it – it makes the whole thing unreal.’

  He leaned slightly towards her. ‘It is unreal. The whole thing between you and me – it never was real. It never could have worked.’

  She gazed at him as if she had never seen him before.

  ‘It was Jane who made me realize it,’ he said. ‘What I have with her is . . . different. That is what is real.’

  When Abbie spoke again her voice was small. ‘So all along I’ve been bent on some fool’s errand.’ Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. ‘Tell me,’ she said. ‘Let me hear you say it. That you never loved me.’

  He did not speak, just briefly closed his eyes in anguish.

  ‘Tell me,’ Abbie said. ‘Say it.’

  ‘Abbie –’

  ‘Say it.’

  He sighed. ‘Once I thought I did – love you. But I was wrong. I realized afterwards that I never had – not truly.’

  ‘Oh, God . . .’ She put her clenched hands up to her mouth. ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing these words.’ And yet still she could not, would not give up. ‘You did,’ she said. ‘You do. You do love me. I know you do.’ But there was no conviction now in her voice.

  ‘No, Abbie.’ His own voice was soft. ‘My future is with Jane. All my happiness is with her and Emma.’