All the Fun of the Fair

by Lynda Paige

  ‘Yes you are,’ he said jocularly, then added soberly, ‘But not as lucky as me to have you.’ He watched her start to clear the table and raised his hand to stop her. ‘Leave the clearing up to me. Go and relax on the sofa with your wine.’ He then added with a twinkle in his eyes and meaning in his voice, ‘Or go and get yourself into bed and I’ll be with you in two ticks.’

  She downed the remains of her wine, got up and said, ‘Make it one tick. I’ll be waiting. Eh, and don’t let on to your dad you arranged supper tonight and cleared up afterwards or he’ll be having a go at me for not being a proper showman’s wife to you.’

  She made to go into the bedroom but was stopped by the door opening and Sam arriving. He looked subdued and snapped gruffly, ‘Saw your lights were still on so came to see if there was any supper left.’

  They both individually thought: So much for having a few hours of romantic time to ourselves.

  Solly frowned at his father. ‘I thought you had other arrangements tonight?’

  Sam grunted. ‘My meeting didn’t last as long as I thought it was going to.’

  Gem was back at the table now, collecting the dirty plates together. She knew her father-in-law well enough to know he was very upset about something. She wondered what it could possibly be over. He’d certainly seemed in good spirits when he had had dinner with them earlier and, as far as she was aware, no incidents had happened at the fair tonight to upset him. ‘We had fish and chips tonight and I’m afraid there’s none left but I could fry you up some bacon for a sandwich?’ she told him.

  He went and eased himself down on the sofa. ‘No, don’t bother, not really that hungry. I’ll have a drop of that wine if there’s any left in the bottle or a finger of whiskey would be preferable.’

  Solly went to a cupboard to fetch the whiskey. ‘Didn’t you have your nightcap with Velda tonight then after your meeting finished early?’

  It was a moment before Sam replied dismissively, ‘Just a quick one. She was tired and had a few things to do before she went to bed.’ Then he growled, ‘What’s with all the questions? It’s like being in the middle of a Spanish Inquisition.’

  Gem looked sharply at him. So could that be the reason for Sam’s bad mood? Had he finally unburdened his feelings to Velda in the hope of igniting a proper relationship with her, but she had refused him? She was only surmising, basing her assumption on Sam’s behaviour of late in respect of Velda and her own conversation with the older woman during their shopping trip, but it seemed the only answer she could think of for Sam’s abrasive reaction. Gem still couldn’t understand why Velda wasn’t at all receptive to giving a closer relationship with Sam a trial at the very least as the pair did get on so well together. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, was Gem’s opinion. She did hope, though, Sam got over his disappointment sooner rather than later. He wasn’t exactly the life and soul of the party kind as it was, so when upset over anything he tended to take it out on those closest to him.

  As Gem set the table for breakfast, Solly did his best to have a conversation over nothing in particular with his father, but Sam was being very uncommunicative, only grunting any response he decided to give to something Solly said and, finally, much to both his son and daughter-in-law’s relief, he finished his drink, declined another and, without a by your leave, left.

  As soon as he closed the door behind him, Solly let out a huge sigh of relief. ‘I know he’s my dad but, God, am I glad to see the back of him. Some mood he was in tonight, far grumpier than normal. I wonder who or what has upset him? Anyway, thankfully he didn’t stay that long and it’ll still be a while before the lads come home, so that means we’ve still the van to ourselves.’ He winked at her suggestively.

  Gem flashed a look around to satisfy herself all was tidy and ready for rising the next morning, only noticing that one task remained undone before she replied, equally as suggestively, ‘I’ll be all ready and waiting for you.’

  Solly hurriedly attended to the last task, desperate to join his wife in bed. He smoothed out the newspaper the fish and chips had been wrapped in and folded it into quarters. He was just about to fold it once more to make it a size to fit comfortably on top of a larger pile they kept for using as toilet paper when a head and shoulders photograph of a woman caught his eye and he stopped to study it. The woman seemed vaguely familiar to him. The photograph was not a very clear one, it was grainy in parts, and looked like it had been taken by an amateur photographer, possibly as part of a larger group as the head of the woman seemed to have been cut out and enlarged. Solly’s level of reading wasn’t much higher than just the basics, him having learned simple words whilst his sons were doing their lessons with their mother and what he had picked up over time, but intrigue made him try and read the article accompanying the photograph.

  He managed to sound out the name of the woman in the photograph as Emily Dunn. His face screwed up thoughtfully. That name seemed familiar to him too but again, like the face, he couldn’t place it. He did recognise the name of the town the woman came from. It was the same one as the last town the fair had played in. The woman must have come to the fair whilst they were there and gone on a ride he was manning at the time and that was why her face seemed familiar to him. He was unable to make out any of the words of the rest of the article except for one which was the word POLICE. This woman was wanted by the police for some reason. He wondered what for? This was one of the times that he regretted that he couldn’t read proficiently. He would remain ignorant as to why this woman was of interest to the authorities. He finished folding up the newspaper, put it away with the rest and, with all thoughts of the missing woman gone from his mind, hurried off to join his wife.

  * * *

  Ren, Robbie and Jimmy and the rest of the group of friends had to ask directions several times before they found the address of the flat where the party was being held. It was in a street of old, large Victorian villas that had all been converted into six flats each. As they walked down the street it was apparent which flat the party was being held in as Winifred Atwell’s ‘Let’s Have A Ding Dong’ was blaring out of a first-floor window and several teenagers were sitting on the window ledge, smoking cigarettes and drinking whatever it was from a variety of receptacles from tin cups to dubiously obtained pub glasses.

  As they arrived, a girl called jocularly down to them, ‘Can’t come up unless you’ve brought booze with you.’

  It was Jimmy that called back, ‘Beer and cider do?’

  ‘Very nicely. And so will you,’ she said.

  Robbie nudged him in his ribs and joked, ‘Seems you’ll have two fighting over you tonight, Brother, that girl in the window and the one that invited you to the party in the first place.’

  Jimmy elbowed him back. ‘Nothing new there then, me having woman fighting over me. Hazards of being good-looking. Come on, let’s get in and have ourselves a good time.’

  The fairground friends had to climb over young men and women, chatting and drinking, sitting on the stairs leading up to the flat and then they eased themselves through a gaggle more on the small landing at the top. Inside, the one-bedroom flat was heaving with at least thirty more dancing in a space created in the large living room by moving the furniture up against the walls. There was flirting and snogging on shabby sofas and armchairs and youngsters milling around, chatting. On a table by a wall was an Airline portable record player, blasting out, and a mixed pile of 78 and 45rpm records, mostly from the latest hit parade. In the kitchen people were replenishing drinks, eating sausage rolls and crisps, chatting and kissing. The bedroom was occupied by a pile of coats and a couple hidden underneath them. The atmosphere was lively and inviting, a good time being had by all. They were welcoming new arrivals, no matter what colour, race or religion they were.

  A while later, Ren, mellowed by the couple of drinks she had consumed, was on the top of the fire escape off the kitchen with another girl of her own age, happily answering her barrage of questions about life for those that l
ived and worked for a travelling fair. Ren couldn’t wait to grill her about her life living in a house and work in an office of a local factory. Nita and Rosa had both found themselves partners they each had a fancy for and were dancing in the living room with them. Robbie was in the kitchen having a genial but heated discussion with several other males on the topic of football. The girl who had invited Jimmy to the party was sitting on his knee in an armchair in the living room and the pair were oblivious to anything else that was going on around them. The rest of the fairground group were enjoying themselves too, mingling and dancing with other locals.

  Then, suddenly, the girl on Jimmy’s knee gave a yelp and, next he knew, she was no longer on his lap. Bemused as to what had just occurred, his eyes popped open and his head jerked up to see three youths looking murderously down at him. All three were dressed alike, Teddy Boy style, in draped coats with black velvet collars and cuffs, drainpipe trousers and narrow ties. One of the youths’ suit was in red, one electric blue, the other light grey; they had black crêpe-soled shoes on their feet and hair piled high in a DA style. The Teddy Boy in the red suit had a tight hold of the long hair of the girl Jimmy had been canoodling with, almost pulling it out by its roots. Face wreathed in agony, she was pleading with him to let her go. Some of the party-goers nearby, on recognising the newcomers, had huddled together and were looking fearfully over at them.

  The Teddy Boy in the red suit roared, ‘You’re dead, mate. She’s my girl you’ve been—’

  Before he could finish, the girl he was roughly manhandling screamed, ‘I ain’t your girl. I’m no one’s girl. I go with who I choose. Every girl that you get to go out with you is too scared to say no, but I ain’t scared of you, Les Pocock. Not you or the rest of your thugs, I ain’t. Now get that through your thick head and let me go.’

  Yanking her hair, making her yelp out in pain again, he pushed his face into hers and menacingly hissed, ‘Get it through your thick head, Di. If I say you’re my girl then you are until I decide otherwise. Got it.’

  Jimmy had jumped up from the chair by now and was facing them. ‘You heard what Di said. She’s not your girl. Now let her go.’

  Les laughed scornfully, eyeing Jimmy like he was something he would scrape off his shoe. ‘Or what? Fancy dying tonight, do yer? Who are you anyway? I ain’t seen you around these parts before.’

  Before Jimmy could respond, the lad in the blue suit piped up, ‘He’s from the fairground, Les. I recognise him from when I was there last Friday. He was on the dodgems.’

  Les’s face screwed up furiously. He shook Di and bellowed, ‘Did you know he was fairground scum?’

  ‘Yes, yes!’ she cried. ‘I invited Jimmy and his friends to Mandy’s party. And he’s not scum. Don’t call him that. Now let me go, Les, you’re hurting me.’

  He shook her frenziedly again. ‘I’ll fucking kill you, you slut. Letting this filthy, thieving gyppo maul you.’

  Fury erupted through Jimmy then. ‘We’re not thieving gypsies, we’re showmen, you ignorant cretin.’ He balled his fists and, in no uncertain terms, warned Les, ‘Now let Di go, you bloody bully. I won’t warn you again.’

  Les laughed. ‘Or what, gyppo? He released his hold of Di, shoving her forcefully away from him. She toppled backwards into the armchair Jimmy had just leapt out of and, to Jimmy’s horror, he then reached into his pocket and pulled out a switch blade, flicked it open and brandished it in Jimmy’s direction. ‘I’d fuck off, mate, before you find out what it feels like to have this…’

  He got no further as he felt a weight land on his back and the knife flew from his hand to skitter across the floor, landing out of sight, under the table with the records and player on. He screamed as he felt his own hair being yanked out by its roots. He wailed, ‘Not me hair. Don’t touch me hair.’

  ‘You’ll have none left if you don’t clear off yourself and leave Jimmy and Di alone,’ a voice shouted in his ear.

  Les lurched around, to find his two cronies, only to see them cowering together as they watched the proceedings. He screamed at them, ‘You fucking useless idiots! Get this… this… off my back.’ He then started to swing backwards and forwards in an attempt to dislodge the person clinging to it.

  His two mates made to help him but then several of the male party-goers jumped on them to hold them back. As the cowards they were, they didn’t need much restraining; seemed quite relieved that they were being, in fact.

  Jimmy’s eyes, meanwhile, were darting backwards and forwards as Les frantically spun around, desperately trying to remove the person from his back so he could retaliate. The body on his back finally flew off to land heavily on the floor by the door. Fearing what was coming then for Les’s attacker, Jimmy made a dive for Les to stop him, but missed. Les, meanwhile, had clenched his fist and was about to land it forcefully on the face of his attacker but, to Jimmy’s surprise although not as much as it was to Les himself, a fist seemed to come out of nowhere to land squarely on his chin. It sent Les flying backwards to land across the knees of a shocked couple on the sofa.

  Through the doorway then came the rest of the body the fist belonged to. ‘Bloody hell that hurt,’ moaned Robbie, rubbing his smarting, bruised knuckles.

  Ren then scrambled up from the floor, giving herself a brush down and said ruefully, ‘Hopefully they might think twice before they gatecrash a party again.’

  Jimmy shot back, ‘That was a daft thing you did, Ren. You could have got hurt.’ He was at her side now, looking down at her in deep concern. ‘You’re not hurt, are you?’

  She grinned up at him. ‘I’m not, but I wouldn’t care if I was. I’m not about to let that bully get away throwing his weight around without putting up a fight.’

  Di was at Ren’s side now, impressed. ‘That was so brave of you.’

  Ren waved a dismissive hand. ‘Ah, it was nothing. Dealt with far bigger bully boys than them at the fair and lived to tell the tale.’

  Jimmy went over and slapped Robbie on his back. ‘Sparring with the boxers paid off, Brother. That was some mean left hook. In the nick of time too,’ he added suddenly, having a vision of the flick knife heading towards him.

  Still rubbing his smarting knuckles, Robbie told his brother, ‘It was a right hook I used but, yeah, I have learned a thing or two from our boxers, thank God. It came in handy tonight.’

  Di arrived then and said to Robbie, ‘Come in the kitchen and I’ll find something to put on that hand. First though, there’s some rubbish I need to get rid of.’ She turned and glared at Les, now coming to from his punch in a heap on the floor after the couple had pushed him there off their knees. ‘You and your nancy boys get yourselves out of here and don’t come back. And just so we’re clear. I am not your woman, never have been, never will be. The thought makes me feel sick. Now stick that in your pipe and smoke it. Oh, and a bit of advice. I’d lie low for a while if I was you, Les Pocock, as you’re going to be a laughing stock once it gets around that you were bettered by a woman half your size.’ She inclined her head towards Ren. ‘Not such a big man after all, are you?’

  Everyone was laughing and jeering at him and with the shame of being made to look a fool in front of all these people as well as his two henchmen hanging heavily on him, Les scrambled up from the floor. As he pushed past the gathering near the door, he glared thunderously at them all but it was Jimmy’s ear he growled into, ‘You and the rest of the fairground scumbags will be sorry you crossed me.’

  Grabbing his two friends, he pushed them both roughly out of the door and followed them.

  Seconds later, a young woman stood in the doorway with a young man in tow who, for the last hour, she had been with under the pile of coats in the bedroom. They both looked somewhat dishevelled. Grinning, she slurred, ‘Great party. So glad I decided to throw it. First one I’ve ever thrown there’s never been any trouble.’

  She couldn’t understand why the rest of the room started laughing. It was only Jimmy that wasn’t though. Les Pocock’s parting wo
rds were still ringing in his ears. He hoped they were hollow ones!

  The party atmosphere returned and it was getting on for nearly three in the morning when the fairground friends reluctantly decided they had better get back to the fair, even though the party was still in full swing. They all had work in the morning, whereas the rest of the party-goers could spend the day in bed if they wanted. They had all made new friends though who they would hopefully meet up with again before the fair moved on again next Sunday and they’d definitely look up when they came back again next year.

  The journey back to the fair took them through the peripheries of the town centre and, by the time they had reached those streets, having already danced for the last few hours, Ren was feeling fatigued and she was starting to lag a little behind them. One of the premises they were passing had low window ledges and she took a moment to sit on one to rest, mindful not to let her friends out of her sight and she risk losing her way home. This time of a night the streets were deserted, the fairground crowd the only ones seeming to be inhabiting them, so she was surprised when a door in a three-storey building opposite opened and a man and woman came out. Before the door shut behind them, from what she observed inside, it looked to her like the place was a private club of some sort. The woman was all over the man, embarrassingly so, although he didn’t appear to mind, and both were obviously the worse for drink. Ren herself was, too, but she wasn’t too inebriated for it to strike her that the woman somehow seemed familiar to her, very familiar in fact. She was the mirror image of Donny’s wife Suzie. By the time the couple turned into the street and headed away from Ren, Ren was positive the woman was Suzie. She would know that spiteful, nasty woman anywhere. But then she reasoned with herself it couldn’t be, could it? Suzie with another man when she was married to Donny? Besides, it was the early hours of Sunday morning and Suzie would be in bed with Donny, snuggled up, asleep. It was the consumption of drink she had had playing tricks on her eyes, it had to be.