St James' Fair

by St James Fair (retail) (epub)

  Over Grace’s shoulders she draped a pink silk shawl with tiny golden metal acorns weighing down each corner. The colour gave a glow to Grace’s cheeks and she looked transformed. At the sight of her Martha gave a stifled gasp. ‘Oh my, but you look like your mother,’ she said. She could not have said anything that pleased the girl more.

  ‘Do I, do I really? That’s wonderful!’ Grace cried, and clutched the pink shawl to her shoulders.

  ‘Yes, you’re beautiful. You’ll wear that to the Fair and break all hearts. This is to be your lucky year, Grace Elliot,’ pronounced Odilie.

  ‘All right I’ll wear it, but keep it here so that Hester doesn’t see it or she’ll make me feel foolish,’ said Grace. ‘I’ll dress myself properly when I call for you tomorrow, Odilie.’

  When Grace left Odilie searched out her aunt and found her in the stillroom counting jars of pickled peaches made from the bounty of Canny’s conservatory. She closed the door and leaned against it saying, ‘Now you can’t get away. You’ve got to clear up this mystery for me.’

  ‘What mystery?’ asked Martha in a blandly innocent tone.

  ‘You know well enough. The mystery of Grace’s mother. I can read you like a book and I know there’s a lot more that you didn’t say this afternoon, isn’t there?’

  ‘What of it? There’s some things that are best not talked about – things that happened, mistakes people made, they shouldn’t be dredged up.’

  ‘You talk about everyone else, so why not Lucy Allen?’

  The old woman paused in her work and stared bleakly at the girl. ‘Don’t underestimate me. I talk about little things easily enough but not big things. This is best forgotten. I’m proud of the folk in Lauriston that they’ve kept it from Grace for so long. It shows that they’ve got hearts.If you’ve any heart you’d better leave it alone too, Odilie. I’m warning you.’

  Odilie was instantly sobered. ‘But Aunt Martha, I’m not asking for myself. I’m doing this for Grace. She’s been so sad and lonely and now she’s found out about her mother, it’s given her a sort of identity. You saw how different she was today. If there’s something awful in the story don’t you think she should be warned by people who love her in case it’s sprung on her by an outsider. What a shock that would be!’

  Martha shook her head. ‘I’ve thought about all that too, Odilie. If it helps you I can say that what happened was a tragedy and Lucy certainly didn’t want to leave her bairn. She took on something terrible. I’ll never forget hearing her weeping… go away, Odilie, and don’t ask any more. I’ve no intention of taking bellows to cold ashes and I think it’s a sore pity that a loose-tongued Fair woman met Grace at Bettymill. Some folk don’t know when to hold their tongues.’

  * * *

  Sunday was just another working day for the freak show. Long Tom had buried George, the dead bear, in the chilly light of dawn so that when Alice rose there was no trace of it except a mound of freshly turned earth in a distant corner of the camp. Alice deliberately did not ask about George and Jem took care to steer the conversation well away from the bears, but the death had cast a gloom over the freak show and its people tacitly sunk their differences of the previous night as they stood together beside the breakfast fire with their arms clasped around their chests and their legs shivering in the chill of the mist that drifted along the Tweed valley.

  Spirits brightened, however, when the sun rose, promising another brilliant day, and the dogs began rustling about in the undergrowth looking for rabbits. As usual Jem went from caravan to cart speaking to his people. To his relief he found that because of Alice’s potion, Billy had spent a peaceful night. When Jem unlocked his door he was still sleeping but the sound woke him and he sat up from the floor rubbing his eyes. He was smiling and in a good mood so Jem gently chivvied him and led him down to the stream where Billy stripped off and washed himself. He stood in the water, white-skinned and muscled like Hercules. He had a magnificent physique and if it had not been for the terrible confusion of his mind, he would have been a prime example of young manhood. Jem often thought that Billy was a mistake on the part of God who had missed out something vital when creating the lad.

  Because they were within a short distance of the field where the Fair was to be held, they decided to spend another night in the same camping place and use Sunday as a time of preparation so that everything would be ready to move at dawn on Monday morning. Jem wanted to be one of the first on the field so that he could pick a good site.

  All morning he walked about among his people, giving orders, advising on how posters should be displayed, advertising signs re-painted or costumes repaired. Each sideshow attraction kept most of their own earnings but paid a share to Jem for looking after them and he was a good protector who organised the quarrelsome and acid-souled freaks with infinite tact and patience, shepherding them from fair to fair and mediating in their disputes which were frequently violent and occasionally bloody.

  Only Billy, who was incapable of handling his own affairs or making any decisions for himself, had no control over his own destiny. He belonged completely to Jem as if he was a dog or a horse.

  As he watched the boy bathing, Jem reflected that it was coincidental Billy had come into his possession at a St James’ Fair twelve years earlier, handed over at the age of eight by an old gypsy woman called Rachel, who was beginning to despair of controlling him when he was engulfed by one of his terrible destructive rages. She did not trust any of her own people to treat Billy well so, unusually, she chose Jem as his protector because she recognised the gentleness of the big man’s soul. Originally Jem had hoped to train Billy as a boxer but his unrestrained violence made that impossible, for he would go on beating his opponent until the man died. By the time Billy reached puberty it was found that he could only safely be displayed before the public in chains and so Jem trained him to perform terrifying feats of strength which the chains accentuated in a way. When he was only fourteen years old, Jem started displaying him in a sideshow as a challenger to the Strongest Man in the World, an aged prize fighter who was also in the entourage. The two of them arm wrestled and bent iron bars in competition with each other until they reached the stage when Billy always won. Then the old fighter retired and Billy took the stage alone after that.

  Jem was sitting watching his protégé when a young lad came into their camping lot and looked around for the boss. ‘Are you Mr Archer?’ he asked Jem and when the answer was affirmative, he went on, ‘Your brother’s circus is in a field up the road and he sent me down to tell you that he’d like to see you.’

  When Billy was settled back in his caravan, Jem went in search of Alice. ‘Simon’s in a field a bit along the road. I haven’t seen him and Bella for years. Let’s take a walk over and have a word with them.’

  Alice smiled. ‘How many relations have you got? You seem to claim one in every circus or side show we come across all over the country.’

  ‘Well, yes, there were ten in my family and they’re all in the travelling trade. We’re always glad to see each other.’

  Jem was beaming at the prospect of a family reunion and Alice squeezed his enormous hand as she said sadly, ‘What a pity you’ve no sons yourself.’

  He shrugged. ‘No matter. Simon’s got three and my other brothers have at least twenty among them. My family are the people in this show – and as much trouble if you ask me,’ he said, looking over his shoulder at the busy encampment where fortunately all was peaceful at the moment. She took his arm while they walked behind the messenger through the gulley and about half a mile up the road to the field where Simon’s circus was camped.

  His entourage was much bigger than Jem’s for at least forty caravans and carts were scattered over the field and people were running here and there with buckets and bales of hay for the string of horses that fidgeted, neighed or lashed ineffectual kicks at each other in a line of pickets by the riverside.

  ‘Simon always has grand horses. He’s a great eye for an animal,’ said Jem i
n an admiring voice as they neared this display of horseflesh. He and Alice were walking along looking at the greys and bays, the chestnuts and the piebalds when a huge roar came from behind them and a man as big as Jem, but younger, came running towards them.

  This was Simon, who, clapping his brother on the shoulder, bellowed out, ‘It’s good to see you! I heard your lot was camped near here so I thought I’d get in touch. Oh, but it’s grand to see you again.’ Then he looked at Alice and stuck out a hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, too, ma’am. We heard there was a lady travelling with Jem.’

  ‘This is my Alice,’ announced Jem with pride as Simon bent gallantly over Alice’s hand, for like his brother he appreciated the style of the tall, dignified-looking woman who had taken up with Jem.

  Then he grabbed them both by the arms and said, ‘My van’s over there. Bella’s inside. Come on and I’ll give you a glass of negus. How’s trade? What are you hauling around these days? Have you still got that killer of a laddie – the one called Billy? You should get rid of him before he does someone in.’

  When she saw them coming Bella bounced down the caravan steps, a tiny, taut-muscled bundle of energy. She was bursting with delight at seeing Jem and with curiosity to meet Alice. Soon they were all seated in comfortable places in the caravan with full glasses of brandy and water into their hands and the brothers were talking ten to the dozen about people Alice had never heard of before.

  She looked around and noted how sparkling and immaculate the caravan was with brightly painted china displayed on every shelf and in every nook. It was obvious that like most travelling women Bella had a strict routine. Prior to any move she always took down her treasures and packed them carefully. On arriving at the next stop, even if it was only overnight, the china was brought out first and put on show even before a cooking fire was lit.

  ‘It’s not like you to come so far north, Jem. You usually stop at Appleby or Carlisle, don’t you?’ Bella was asking.

  ‘Alice wanted to visit St James’ Fair,’ was the reply, which made Bella look curiously at the stranger whom she held in a certain awe because of her air of ladylike remoteness.

  Bella’s smile, the same smile that illumined her face when she went stepping proudly along the rope above the heads of her audience, was in brilliant place but her brain was actively speculating, for she had heard stories of how Jem searched the country for Alice after their first meeting. She doesn’t look all that special, thought Bella, not spectacular enough to awaken such devotion in a man. ‘Have you got people up here, Alice?’ she asked, wanting to know more about the strange, silent woman that her husband’s brother had picked up on his travels.

  Alice shook her head. ‘Not really, but I used to live here when I was a girl so I wanted to see it again. I’ll go and look out some old acquaintances in the town tomorrow because I’ve just found out that I’ve a bit of unfinished business here.’

  Bella knew better than quiz any more for Alice’s face had a reserved look about it so she switched her attention to the brothers who were catching up on travellers’ gossip.

  ‘How’s Bartle?’ asked Jem, enquiring about their eldest brother.

  ‘The same as ever, drinking like a lord and blaspheming fit to bust but he can make a horse work better than anyone I’ve ever seen. He’s still got his old charger Gibraltar. It’s thirty years old now! He’s off to America to give a show but some of the fight’s gone out of him. His missus died last year and she was a sore loss to him,’ said Simon.

  Bella chipped in, ‘We’ve had a loss as well. We’re short of a trick rider. Wouldn’t you believe it but just before we got here our El Diavolo had a fall and broke his leg. In bits it is and he won’t be in the saddle tomorrow or for many days after that. A doctor looked at him in Blackshiels and said he might never walk again.’

  ‘Poor devil,’ said Jem. ‘And poor you – before the biggest event of the year. Maybe you’ll pick up somebody at the field – there’s always lots of young hopefuls hanging about.’

  Simon snorted. ‘It’d take more than a young hopeful to replace him. He’s suffering a lot, too. I hate to hear the groans of him.’ He was as soft-hearted as his brother.

  Jem glanced across at Alice and suggested, ‘Do you think you might be able to help?’ Then he explained to Simon and Bella, ‘Alice is good with cures and potions. She keeps Billy quiet and I don’t have an ache or a pain that she can’t soothe away.’

  Bella looked hopefully at Alice who smiled and said, ‘I don’t know if I can do anything but I’ll try if you want. Where is he?’

  ‘Next door. I’ll just tell him you’re coming,’ said Simon disappearing out of the caravan door. In a few minutes he was back gesturing to Alice and saying, ‘Come on, it’s a good thing you’re here because the poor devil’s groaning in agony. It’ll be Christian work to help him.’

  Alice soon saw that the caravan inhabited by El Diavolo and his blowsy wife was very different from Bella’s immaculate home, for it was as dirty as ever and littered with cast-off clothes and bits of saddlery. The sick man was lying on his tumbled bed with the same dirty covers and the same line of empty bottles beside him. He was unshaven and his eyes were glittering with fever but he exerted himself to be courteous to the newcomers and called out in his Irish tongue, ‘Come in, come in, make yourselves at home. Take a chair, take a chair.’

  He adopted gentlemanly airs and claimed to have been a captain of dragoons in the Peninsular War, but in fact he had been an ordinary rough rider in Lord Ancrum’s Regiment of Horse. After being wounded he became disillusioned with military life and simply disappeared from the barracks one night. Then he stowed away on a ship and found himself back in England where he changed his name to a Spanish one in honour of his war service and, through his talent as a rider, found himself a place in a circus troop. He was a genius on a horse because he was totally fearless and his acts of gymnastic daring made crowds gasp in admiration for he could stand on his head in the saddle while the horse went full tilt beneath him or stand on one leg with a glass of wine balanced on his head. He could also jump in the saddle with a skipping rope while his horse galloped around the ring but his most spectacular achievement, and the one he kept for the climax of his act, was when he came bursting into the ring standing with a foot in the saddle of two galloping horses.

  By the time of the accident he’d been with Simon for several years but increasing fondness for the bottle had made him unreliable, and even before the accident it was becoming obvious that this rough rider would soon have to be replaced. Now fate had taken a hand.

  When Alice asked the laid-low hero how he felt, he groaned and put the palm of his hand against his forehead. ‘It’s in there. It’s as if all the devils in Hell are prodding at me brains with their toasting forks. If I move the pain grabs me like a dragon’s tooth.’

  ‘You should lay off the bottle then,’ said Bella unfeelingly, ‘She means how’s your leg?’

  ‘Me leg’s smashed to smithereens,’ groaned El Diavolo as Alice bent over him and gently uncovered the limb which Dr Thompson had swathed in bandages and tied to a broom-handle to keep it straight. When her fingers moved down the swollen purple thigh the patient gave a sickening yell and cried out, ‘Don’t touch it, oh God in heaven missus, don’t touch it!’

  Her face was concerned as she turned to Simon and said, ‘I think he needs something to take the heat out of that leg. I’ll go back to our camp and make up a medicine for him. I won’t be long.’

  ‘God bless you, God bless you,’ sobbed the patient and dropped his hand down at the side of the bed to feel for the neck of another bottle, but seeing this Alice adroitly moved it out of his reach.

  ‘You’d better stay off that or you’ll be seeing things crawling out of the walls soon,’ she told him firmly. As Simon watched her in operation, his eyes were full of admiration. This is a good woman our Jem’s found, he thought.

  When she returned to the circus an hour later, she brought lotions, poultices and a
jug of herbal medicine for El Diavolo to drink. ‘He won’t like the taste,’ she told Bella, ‘but you must tell his wife to force him to take it and keep the brandy away from him. It looks as though his leg’s going to take a long time to mend. He won’t be able to stand on it for at least a month and he must lie still or it won’t heal. I’ll make up more poultices and bring them to the Fair tomorrow and give them to you there.’

  The circus owners were very grateful and Simon laughed as he told Jem, ‘Well, well, old man. Your Alice is a wonderful woman. She couldn’t produce a trick rider as well as a poultice, could she?’

  They spent a happy day together but with nightfall the time came for Jem and Alice to return to their own encampment. On their walk back, they linked arms and laughed about the things they had seen and heard while over their heads the moon swam up out of its nest of clouds and glowed down on them like a friendly protector. The night was full of the scent of honeysuckle; white owls flitted ghost-like above the hedgerows and plump hedgehogs waddled grunting and complaining out of their path.

  When they reached their own glade, they were relieved to see that the freak show caravans were quiet and the fires safely damped down. Even Billy’s caravan was silent and dark and Jem sighed a deep breath of satisfaction as he gazed about his domain.

  ‘On nights like this I know why I enjoy travelling, Alice. I forget all the misery of long slogs through mud and rain and I realise that I’ll never be able to settle down with a churchwarden pipe.’

  ‘I didn’t ever seriously think you would,’ she laughed gently and slipped her arm around his waist in an affectionate gesture.