So Long At the Fair

by Jess Foley

  ‘You saw me with him – Arthur?’

  ‘So close – you were standing so close.’

  She realized that he was referring to the moment when Arthur had tried to take the grit from her eye. ‘Oh, then,’ she said. ‘That meant nothing. Nothing at all.’ She paused. ‘I know now that with Arthur and me it – it never did.’

  A little silence between them, then he said, ‘I love you, Abbie.’ He spoke the words as if offering up a simple observation of the truth, as if saying, this is a fact, this is the way things are, do with it what you will.

  She gave a little shake of her head. As though she had not wept enough, the tears flooded her eyes, distorting her view of the gravel path as she stared down.

  ‘Too much has happened between us that is wrong,’ she said. ‘In the end you reach a point where it’s too late to start over.’

  Unheard by either one of them a thrush began to sing in the branches of a nearby cherry tree.

  ‘Just now,’ Louis said, ‘when Eddie came to fetch me, he told me what you said. That you love me. Is it true?’

  ‘Oh – Louis . . .’

  ‘Is it true? Do you love me?’

  ‘Yes.’ She raised her eyes to his. ‘Oh, yes, Louis, I love you. I love you. But – but sometimes love is not enough.’

  ‘True. But there are other times when it’s the only thing in the world that matters.’

  He stepped towards her and his hand came up, touched her chin and gently lifted it. ‘The only thing in the world that matters,’ he said again.

  ‘Oh, if I could believe that . . . I’ve done so many things that are . . . I’ve hurt you so much. How could I ever make it up to you?’

  ‘Hush,’ he said, briefly putting a fingertip to her lips. ‘There’s nothing to make up for. I know the truth now. When Eddie told me what took place after the fair that day I realized what had happened and what was happening still.’ When he spoke again there was a faint note of wonder in his voice. ‘You carried that within you all this time, while I – the one person whom you should have told – knew nothing of it.’

  He lifted his arms, wrapped them around her and drew her towards him. She made no sound of protest; she was aware only of the safety and love that were there.

  Moments passed, then she said, ‘Our baby, Louis. With the accident – I lost our baby.’ Her tears were flowing unchecked now.

  He held her more closely, his arms warm, strong. Then after a little while he drew back slightly, just enough to enable him to look down into her tear-streaked face. Raising his hand he brushed his fingertips across her cheeks, wiping her tears away.

  ‘Come,’ he said, ‘let’s get your things together. I’m taking you home.’

  ‘Home . . . Yes.’

  Still they did not move, but remained there on the gravel path, she in the circle of his arms, close against him.

  ‘Come on,’ Louis said.

  Taking her hand, he began to lead her back along the path. And as they walked there came to her the singing of the thrush.