by Ian Edwards
‘You’re still not fretting over Amy’s dress are you?’
‘What about Amy’s dress?’ James interrupted.
‘Frankie’s got a weird feeling about this place,’ Alan explained. ‘Ever since he saw Amy in that 1940’s dress. I think it’s taking him back.’
‘I know what he means,’ James said.
‘What? You’ve got a thing about Amy as one of the Beverley Sisters too?’ Alan laughed.
‘No, of course not. There’s just an odd vibe here. It’s probably the thunderstorm.’
‘What thunderstorm?’ Alan asked.
‘Listen….’ James paused. ‘Can’t you hear the rumbling?’
Alan looked at the clouds above and strained to hear. ‘I think you’re right. And it’s getting louder.’
‘That’s not thunder,’ Frankie pointed out. ‘That’s horses. Look.’ He pointed across the green to where four horses, whose riders were each holding a flaming torch, galloped towards the middle of the green where a large wicker basket shaped like a man stood, held up by several wooden poles. The crowds moved aside as the horses slowly came to a halt alongside the effigy.
Silence descended on the village green as the four horsemen formed a circle around the effigy. Someone dressed as a wizard strode out from the crowd and passed one of the horsemen a loudhailer.
‘Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen,’ the horseman said, through sharp feedback. ‘On behalf of the village elders, I’d like to welcome you all to the Maiden’s Dribble Halloween Fair.’ He waited for the applause and cheering to subside before shouting, ‘I now declare the Fair open,’ as he and the other three horsemen threw flaming torches onto the wicker effigy, which erupted into a tower of flames. The intensity of the blaze caused many people to take a step back. Even Alan and James, standing several feet away, felt the intense heat on their faces.
‘How would you like your steak sir?’ James grinned. ‘Well done, or incinerated.’
Alan gestured, raising a pint to his mouth and headed off to the beer tent, dodging a man covered in bandages being chased by a small child dressed as a bumblebee. ‘Daddy,’ the child shouted.
‘No, mummy,’ Alan grinned to himself.
‘Come back, Gordon, he only wants to play,’ a woman shouted at the running pile of bandages.
‘Alan,’ a voice hissed, startling Alan from his reverie.
Alan, James and Frankie turned as one, expecting to see a familiar face. Instead they were confronted by Dracula. With a beard.
‘If you’re looking for virgins, you’d be better off trying over there,’ Alan quipped, pointing in the general direction of Rosie and Amy.
Dracula smiled patiently. ‘We’re ready for you now,’ he slurped.
‘I’m sorry?’ Alan said.
‘To open the marrow contest.’
‘I’m sorry, what?’
Dracula pulled his fangs out. ‘You comedians, always messing about,’ he said, his voice becoming clearer without the artificial teeth. ‘We’re in the tent here. Give it five minutes and I’ll introduce you.’ Dracula put his teeth back in and disappeared into the tent with an exaggerated swoosh of his cape.
‘What was all that about?’ Alan asked.
‘Not a clue, mate,’ James replied.
‘I know,’ Frankie said, helpfully.
Alan turned to face the ghost. ‘Well?’
‘You’ve really no idea?’
‘I told you I can’t remember anything,’ Alan said.
‘You don’t remember talking to that guy last night?’ Frankie grinned.
‘I think I’d remember talking to Dracula.’
‘He wasn’t dressed as Dracula last night. Don’t you remember? Brian? You made fun of his beard.’
‘That could be any number of trendy hipsters,’ James added.
Alan nodded agreement.
‘So you don’t remember agreeing to open the marrow contest?’ Frankie said.
‘Wait. What? Why would I agree to open a marrow contest?’
‘I don’t know, son. I think Harry might have had something to do with it. On the plus side, you’ve still got a couple of minutes to come up with a funny line or two,’ Frankie grinned.
‘We could do a runner,’ Alan suggested.
James shook his head. ‘No chance. We told Amy and Rosie that we’d stay for the whole Fair and see the parade. Maybe you’ll learn to watch what you drink in future.’
‘Thanks for your support, mate,’ Alan said sarcastically.
‘Too late anyway,’ Frankie said as Dracula reappeared in front of them. ‘It’s show time.’
Dracula, or rather, Brian, ushered Alan through to the marquee. Trestle tables had been set up to run along both sides of the marquee. On the tables were a range of what Alan presumed were marrows, each being carefully looked after by an assortment of oddballs. And, Alan noted, one particularly weird looking young boy, picking his nose.
Alan followed Brian down the centre of the tent to a small stage which had been made from several upturned wooden crates. Brian stepped onto the small stage and tapped on a vintage microphone. The microphone let out a shrill noise, almost deafening those within the tent.
Brian, coughed once into the microphone. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to introduce a very special guest to open this years’ world famous Maiden’s Dribble marrow competition….’ He paused. ‘All the way from that London…’ he paused again, noticing the confused look on many of the faces in the crowd.
Alan looked nervously at the crowd. He had seen less hostile crowds at the Fiddler’s Elbow comedy club, a venue well known for comedians being pelted off stage by its partisan crowd.
‘London,’ Brian repeated. ‘The big town far, far away.’ To emphasise the point, he mimed looking into the distance. This appeared to work as most of the frowns turned into smiles and gentle nodding. With the notable exception of one person at the back who shouted something about outsiders and their new-fangled ways being a sign of the End Times, before storming out of the marquee.
Unperturbed, Brian continued; ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Mr Alan Rose.’
Alan stepped onto the stage to the sound two people clapping slowly. He looked into the crowd, the crowd looked back, puzzled at this strange newcomer.
‘Sounds like the last seal in the zoo wants his dinner,’ Alan said, to almost silence, except for James’ laughter.
‘I’d like to thank Dracula for inviting me to open this competition. Although, on reflection I hope he doesn’t get too cross over it.’ The crowd stared open mouthed, either unaware or unmoved by his vampire puns. Unperturbed and defiant, Alan continued, ‘Hang on. Is this thing on?’ Alan said, tapping the microphone.
‘Seriously, it’s good to see so many of you making the effort to dress up.’ Alan looked along the front row. ‘Look here, we have the wolf-man.’ He leaned closer. ‘It really is the most realistic mask I’ve seen today. In fact I’m not sure whether to buy you a drink or our put a saucer of milk down.’ Alan suddenly became aware of Brian standing alongside him.
‘That’s Mrs Hobble. She has a hormone problem,’ Brian whispered in his ear.
‘Wait. What? That’s her real face?’ Alan blurted out, forgetting the microphone was in front of him. ‘Oh sh…sorry.’
A painful silence swept through the crowd. Except James, who laughed hysterically, before being set upon by a woman who looked like a cross between The Wicked Witch of the West and Mary Poppins. The woman whacked James several times with her umbrella, which caused Frankie no end of amusement.
‘Anyway,’ Alan said, trying to extricate himself from the massive hole he had dug for himself, ‘I’m from London.’ He did the same looking into the distance mime that Brian had done, which brought lots of nodding from audience. ‘And I don’t get the chance to get to a proper village Fair very often so it’s quite an honour to introduce the “Who’s got the largest knob competition.”’
Alan paused for a moment, hoping for a
pplause. On getting nothing but more blank looks he continued. ‘I understand that in a minute the judges will be walking around and measuring them and no doubt weighing them all…Thankfully I see you’ve all got them out ready for inspection.’
‘You said knob’ Frankie said suddenly appearing beside Alan.
‘No I didn’t, I said marrow.’
‘You said who’s got the biggest knob competition.’
‘Oh Fu…’ Alan stopped himself realising that a marque full of people was continuing to stare at him having a conversation with himself.
‘I’d just like to explain.’ Alan said to the audience, ‘that when I said “Who’s got the biggest Knob” I did in fact mean marrow. You see in London…’ he did the looking into the distance mime, ‘the word for marrow is knob.
The silence was deafening. Alan could almost hear the crickets in the background. ‘I guess The Carry On films haven’t been released here yet,’ he said, more to himself than to the crowd.
Before he could continue, Brian stepped up to the stage and whispered into Alan’s ear. ‘Can you announce this please,’ he said and passed him a sheet of paper.
Alan skimmed the paper. ‘OK, before I go, I’d like to introduce Miss Constance Craving…is this for real? Constance Craving? Am I the only one getting this?’ He asked the crowd, who stared back in silence. ‘OK…moving swiftly on, Miss Constance Craving…’ he paused again, ‘will be judging who has the biggest knob, sorry marrow. I wish you all the very best of luck,’ Alan smiled at the incredibly thin woman who stepped up to the stage. ‘Good luck, it’s a tough crowd,’ he mumbled as he made his way from the stage to where he saw Frankie leaning against the wall.
‘Probably one of the worst things I’ve ever seen, ever,’ Frankie told him supportively.
‘Bloody, weirdos,’ Alan said defensively. ‘Can we get out of here?’
‘I think you’re going to have to rescue James first,’ Frankie said, looking over to where James had been worked into a corner by the non-wolf man Mrs Hobble.
‘He looks like he’s being chatted up by a Wookie,’ Alan said.
Stepping in between James and the woman, Alan said, ‘Sorry Mrs Hobble, my friend here needs to leave now.’ He grabbed hold of James’s arm and pulled him away from the wall.
The three friends made their way back to Rosie, Amy and Harry. The Fair was getting livelier as the drink began to flow. The jester continued bouncing about, waving his little stick jester in people’s faces and running away.
‘If that idiot comes anywhere near me with that stick I’m going to swing for him,’ Frankie growled.
‘What are you going to do?’ Alan asked. ‘Haunt him instead, and give me a break?’
Without warning the jester jumped out in front of Alan, James and Frankie and danced around them, getting in their way, the bells on his stick tinkling with constant movement.
‘Oh for crying out loud,’ Frankie groaned and threw his forehead into the jester who flew backwards onto the ground. The crowd gasped and took a few paces back. Alan, who was the only one who had seen Frankie’s headbutt, stared down open mouthed at the jester.
After a few seconds, the jester sprung to his feet as though this was all part of his act. The crowd cheered and clapped as the jester pranced away, gently feeling if his nose had been broken.
‘Bloody hell, Frankie. What was all that about?’ You didn’t give that bloke a chance.’
‘Yeah, he never saw it coming,’ Frankie grinned and walked on ahead.
‘Was that really Frankie’s doing back there?’ James asked.
‘Yep.’
‘I guess he doesn’t like jesters,’ James said.
Alan nodded. ‘You could say that.’
Frankie walking ahead of Alan and James suddenly stopped and turned round.
‘Well you can’t say they haven’t got into the spirit of the event,’ he said.
‘Sorry,’ Alan said, ‘I’m not with you?’
‘The girls, look at them.’ Frankie insisted.
Alan looked over to where Rosie and Amy stood with Harry.
‘They couldn’t resist it could they?’ Alan said grabbing James’s arm. ‘Look at them.’
Rosie and Amy saw Alan and James approaching and began to wave and smile, Alan assumed they were smiling as their faces were partially obscured by the Groucho Marx masks that they were wearing.
‘And that’s not the worst thing,’ Alan pointed out.
‘It can’t be…’ James paused, ‘I don’t believe it.’
As they got closer to Rosie and Amy they could clearly see Harry standing between them with Old Man Ernie in one hand. To their amusement Old Man Ernie was wearing a miniature Grouch Marx Mask.
‘I told you mate,’ James sighed. ‘They’ve made him King.’
James smiled as he approached the crowd. Amy smiled back at him. ‘It’s great to see you looking so happy,’ he said to his wife.
‘I feel happy. I’m sorry I ran away, I was scared and I didn’t know what to do. Thanks for coming to get me.’
‘You can always talk to me Ames, you know that.’
‘I know,’ she replied and kissed him. ‘It’s going to be alright now, isn’t it?’
‘Of course it is,’ James smiled. ‘This is our happily ever after.’
*
Epilogue – Monday.
Amy stood at the front of the class and listened as one by one the children told her and the rest of the class what they had done during the half term holiday.
‘What did you do Miss?’ Anton asked.
Amy smiled. She encouraged the children to ask her questions whenever possible. ‘I went to stay with a friend who lives in the country,’ she said.
‘What did you do there Miss?’ Another question from the class.
‘I relaxed and went to the Fair,’ Amy told them.
At the mention of a Fair, one of the class, cheered and within seconds the rest of the class had joined in.
‘What was your favourite bit, Miss?’ Anton again.
Amy smiled, enjoying the moment. A week ago she wondered if she would ever teach again.
‘OK,’ she said, calling the class to attention. ‘Does anyone know what animal this is?’
She leaned across the desk and tapped a key on the laptop, an image appeared on the large screen at the front of the class.
‘Is it a horse Miss?’
‘No Anton, it’s not a horse.’
‘Is it a camel?’
‘No Freddie, it’s not a camel either.’
‘Is it a dinosaur?’ Anton asked, causing a ripple of laughter from his classmates.
‘No, Anton, it isn’t a dinosaur,’ Amy joined in the laughter. ‘Any more guesses? No, then I’ll tell you.’ Amy said as she tapped another key and the image on the screen magnified. ‘It’s a llama,’ she told them.
‘What’s a llama?’ A child in the front row asked. ‘Is it like a donkey?’
‘Not quite. We saw some llamas at the zoo, do you remember?’
A few hands went up. ‘Is that the same one we saw Miss?’ Anton asked.
‘No, Anton, it’s not. In fact, the llama on the screen belongs to me. It’s my pet,’ she said.
‘What’s his name, Miss?’
‘Charlie,’ Amy told them. ‘We called him Charlie.’
Any further discussion about Charlie the llama was interrupted by a knock on the classroom door. Amy looked over, she could see Freda the headmaster’s secretary, lurking outside.
‘Excuse me children,’ Amy said as she headed for the door.
‘What’s up Freda?’ Amy asked.
‘Can you pop down and see Stretton?’ She asked.
‘Amy nodded. ‘OK, I’ll come down at break.’
Freda pursed her lips. ‘He said you should go straight away. I’ll sit in with your class until you’re free.’
‘Did he say what’s it about?’
Freda shook her head. ’No, I’m afraid not. I was away from my desk
and when I got back he just asked me to come and fetch you.’
Amy shrugged. ‘OK I’ll go down now,’ she said, and held the door open for Freda to take her place in the classroom.
Curious as to what Stretton wanted, Amy hurried up the stairs. She hoped he wasn’t looking to set up another after school club. She really needed to spend more time at home with James.
Arriving at Stretton’s office, she knocked on the door and waited.
‘Amy,’ he said, opening the door and stepping out. ‘If you’d like to come in...’ He moved aside to allow her in to his office. ‘I’ll just wait outside.’
Puzzled, Amy walked into the headmaster’s office. Sitting out of sight of the doorway were two uniformed police officers. Both stood up as Amy entered the room.
‘Mrs Cook?’ The taller of the two officers asked.
‘Hello, yes,’ Amy confirmed.
‘I’m PC Howe and this is my colleague PC Wen. Howe said, gesturing at the other policeman.
‘How can I help you?’ Amy asked.
‘We’d like to ask you about Mr Clive Oneway.’
The End.
If after reading this book you are inspired to offer a llama a home please use only fully approved llama farmers.
Harry Hodges' ventriloquist act is largely based on the late, great Sandy Powell. If you haven't heard of him, we thoroughly recommend you check him out. Little footage remains of his act but what does is worth tracking down.
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