St James' Fair

by St James Fair (retail) (epub)

  ‘I don’t know but it could have something to do with property – Grace told me she’s just learned from someone that Davie Allen left her all his property when he died. Her grandfather was rich, wasn’t he?’

  Canny nodded, ‘So they say. Yes, that could be right – and Elliot’s damned greedy. But I’m not convinced, Odilie. Just in case though, let’s go over to the Cross Keys and stop Thompson before he does something drastic without checking up for himself. Maybe Elliot’s right, maybe the girl has gone mad but at least she should be judged so by someone else before she’s confined.’

  They were just in time.

  When Odilie went rushing up the stairs to Professor Thompson’s room with her father puffing behind her, the doctor was in the very act of dipping his pen in the inkpot to sign a commital order for Grace Elliot.

  ‘Don’t, don’t!’ cried Odilie, bursting in with both hands upheld. ‘Go and see her first. Don’t sign it without seeing her.’

  Thompson looked up from the paper with an astonished look on his face. ‘But I’ve listened to her father and questioned him thoroughly. I know him well. Why should I not believe what he tells me? It sounds as if the girl is raving mad and dangerous. She is violent and she’s broken up half of their home.’

  Canny was behind his daughter in the doorway now and he pushed into the room. ‘My daughter thinks that Grace is being held on a pretext, Wattie, and I admit that perhaps she’s got a point.’

  Elliot looked angry and dangerous as he stared at the new arrivals. ‘My daughter has gone mad! It’s a great grief to me. Do I have to put up with this nonsense as well at such a time?’ he asked, glaring at Odilie and then at Canny whom he told, ‘Your daughter’s a troublemaker and far too spoiled. I told you long ago you should take a firm hand with her. She’s been messing you around and now she’s started on me and my family. Tell her to stay out of this.’

  Canny sat down heavily on a chair beside Thompson and said to Elliot, ‘When we were wondering how to get Odilie out of her marriage contract it was you who told me to say she’d gone mad, wasn’t it? Have you taken your own advice when dealing with a rebellious daughter?’

  Elliot snapped, ‘Of course not. Grace has had a brainstorm. She’s a danger to my family. She needs to be confined in a bedlam.’

  ‘All Grace has done is tell her father she’s getting married,’ interrupted Odilie staring at the bemused Professor.

  Elliot was furious and spat at the accusing girl, ‘That’s very far from all. She’s been going around poisoning people’s minds. That’s why you don’t believe me. She’s been saying that Hester and I are cruel to her – I’m sure she’s told you that, Miss Rutherford – but it’s a pack of lies. Tonight she came home in a state of hysteria and announced she wants to get married to some unknown she met at the Fair. Who in their right mind decides to marry a stranger they’ve known for about half an hour? And she’s demanding a dowry. That’s the key to the whole thing, I suspect. Some fortune-teller she met at the Fair told her she was a rich heiress and I suspect the would-be bridegroom thinks he’s going to transform his life with her money.’

  ‘Has she any money?’ asked Canny.

  ‘A little, not much. A broken-down property left to her by her grandfather. It wouldn’t fetch fifty pounds at auction. She gets it when she marries. The trouble is that her mind’s gone the same way her mother’s did. What can I do, Thompson? You must know of a good place where I can send her before she hurts herself or someone else.’

  He was standing at the side of the fireplace facing Canny and Professor Thompson, leaning forward as if trying to persuade them to his point of view. Their faces showed that they were divided in their opinions and then Odilie made her last effort. ‘If there’s any doubt, you must go and see Grace yourself, Professor Thompson. That’s the only way you’ll be sure you’re doing the right thing. It’s a girl’s whole life you’re signing away if you don’t.’

  * * *

  There was something wrong with Billy. Instead of falling greedily on to his food as he usually did, he pushed his supper plate aside when Alice carried it to him.

  ‘Eat it, Billy,’ she said gently. ‘It’s good mutton stew and you’ve to go out to do your turn in half an hour. You’ll have to be strong for that.’

  But Billy only put up his hand and pushed the proferred plate away again. His head was sunk on his chest and when Alice bent down to look at him more closely, she saw that tears were trickling down his cheeks.

  ‘Oh Billy, what’s wrong? Are you sick? Stand up and let me look at you.’ She put out a hand to help him up from where he was sitting on a bundle of blankets by the side of the caravan. He rose with a jangling of chains and pointed to his right leg, the one that bore the manacle with which Jem had tied him to the caravan wheel.

  Alice knelt and examined his ankle and bare foot. A trickle of blood was running over the top of the arch and where the manacle was locked around his ankle there was a huge patch of raw and bleeding flesh.

  ‘Oh Billy, that must hurt. How did it happen? It wasn’t like that earlier. What have you been doing?’ she cried in sympathy. When she lifted his hands there were stains of dried blood on the tips of his fingers and beneath his fingernails. ‘You’ve been scratching yourself, Billy. You’ve been tearing away at yourself. Were you trying to get the manacle off? You know you mustn’t do that.’

  Billy groaned and gave a convulsive sob and when she looked up she saw he was staring out at the crowds of people going up and down the pathway between the stalls. ‘Aw poor Billy, poor Billy,’ he moaned.

  Alice’s heart ached for him. ‘Poor Billy,’ she agreed, ‘Do you want to see what’s going on out there? Do you want to walk about the Fair for a bit? I’ll ask Jem what he thinks. You’ve been a good boy today. He might let you out again later. But first let me dress that sore place for you.’

  As she worked over him, rubbing a yellow paste on to the wound and covering it with a thin bandage, he made happy noises and rubbed the top of her head with his huge hand. He could have broken her neck with one movement but she could always tell when his mood was good and tonight, as far as Billy was capable of loving anything or anybody, he loved her.

  Jem was busy on the platform, his battered face lit up from beneath by rows of candles behind curved metal shades. He was yelling out the attractions of his sideshows. ‘Come and see the Bearded Lady – Come and see the World’s Smallest Married Couple with their baby – Come and see the Tallest Man,’ he bawled, drowning out rival buskers on either side who were bruiting abroad the attractions of contortionists, performing dogs and a team of dancing ladies from Arabia who, it was rumoured, bared their navels when they performed.

  Alice stood behind the curtain and whispered, ‘Jem, Jem…’ so when he finished his spiel, he nodded to tell Long Tom to take over from him.

  Alice told him, ‘Billy’s awful sad. He’s been scratching himself again and he only does that when he’s unhappy. He wants to see the sideshows, I think. Oh, he’s just a bairn really. After he’s done his turn perhaps you can let Tom take him up and down for half an hour? It would quieten him.’

  ‘If you think it’s safe enough. Bring him out now and he can do his act, then he can go out for a bit before he performs again,’ agreed Jem.

  When Adam Scott, breathless from his headlong dash from Viewhill, arrived at the freak show, the crowds were thick around it and a press of people were listening to Jem doing his spiel… ‘Billy the Strongest Man in the World will now perform for you, ladies and gentlemen. You will witness Feats of Strength that will make you gasp. Ten men can stand on Billy’s chest but he brushes them off like Flies. He can Straighten out Horseshoes and pull a Laden Cart across the stage with his Teeth. Pay your shilling and come to see Billy, the Modern Hercules!’

  Jem’s eye could not be caught because he was staring out over the heads of the crowd as he shouted and though Adam tried to push his way to the back of the stall to where he knew Alice’s caravan stood, his way wa
s barred by a grim-looking Long Tom who shoved him off in the direction of the queue of people paying their money to see Billy.

  Adam handed over a coin and found himself inside the enclosure staring up at a stage on which stood a half-naked black-haired man dressed as Hercules with a mangy tiger skin draped half-across his chest. Chains hung around him and there was a thick manacle around one ankle that also bore a blood-stained bandage. Jem, wearing a top hat, appeared on the stage beside him and bellowed, ‘Billy will now bite a chain in half…’ Billy obliged. ‘And straighten out three horseshoes…’ Billy obliged again, pulling the horseshoes as if they were made of rubber. While Jem was yelling out Billy’s next amazing achievement, Adam pushed his way to the end of the gaping row in which he stood and found himself against the back of the tent. He then dropped to his knees and crawled under the edge of the canvas.

  Alice was walking towards her caravan carrying a bucket of water from the river when she felt a hand on her arm and a voice said urgently, ‘Mrs Archer, I’ve been looking for you! It’s about Grace – something bad has happened to her. Her father’s shut her up. He won’t let me see her.’

  Alice stopped dead. Her face was stricken as she stared at Adam. ‘He’s shut her up? He’s not hurt her, has he? Where is she?’

  ‘In their house in Roxburgh Street.’

  ‘He would.’ Alice’s tone was bitter. ‘Wait till I put this water in the caravan and I’ll come with you.’ He followed her over the grass to where Long Tom was now sitting on the steps of Billy’s van.

  ‘Tommy, when Billy comes off the stage you’ve to take care of him. Take him for a little walk so’s he can see the sideshows. Tell Jem I’ve gone off with Adam to see Grace – he’ll understand. I’ll be back soon,’ she ordered.

  Tom reluctantly agreed. ‘Oh, all right, I’ll do it if you give Billy a potion first.’

  Alice snapped, made irritable with urgency, ‘He doesn’t need another potion! He had one an hour ago. If I give him any more he won’t be able to work later. Just dress him in case he catches cold. He won’t be any trouble. I’m going now – tell Jem I’ll be back soon.’

  Then she ran towards her own caravan but was only inside for a few minutes before she re-emerged and said urgently to Adam, ‘Let’s be off. There’s no time to lose.’

  Together they slipped into the darkness at the back of the stalls and disappeared.

  Long Tom watched Alice go with disquiet because he was mortally scared of Billy, and when a burst of applause signalled the end of the strong man’s act he visibly quailed. The curtain at the back of the stage parted and Billy in his tiger skin appeared and Tom jumped up, going towards the strong man and saying, ‘Fine Bill, fine, you did well tonight.’ Then he added in a coaxing voice, ‘Would you like a drink?’

  From the tailpocket of his coat he brought out a squat black bottle and drew out the cork with his teeth. The smell of whisky was strong as he put the bottle to his own lips and swallowed a large mouthful. Then he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and passed the bottle over to Billy who sniffed at it curiously.

  ‘Taste it. It’ll put you in a good mood. Go on, try some. It’s a man’s drink, Billy,’ said Tom.

  The massive creature opposite him raised the bottle to his mouth and swallowed. Then he coughed, spluttering as if he was drowning. ‘Ugh,’ he exclaimed, throwing the bottle on to the ground.

  Tom dived after it. ‘You silly fool, that’s good whisky… Damme me, you’ve drunk the lot. No wonder you coughed!’ He sat back on his heels and grinned at Billy who laughed back and slapped a huge hand on to his knee. Tom’s fear of Billy was beginning to lessen and he said, ‘Come on then lad, let’s get you dressed. A singlet and pants, I think, and a jacket. Where’s your jacket, Billy?’

  But Billy wasn’t listening because he was fiddling with the bandage on his ankle which had been displaced by the manacle. He tore at the dressing with his fingers and made little moaning noises. Blood was marking the bandages. ‘What’s that? Have you hurt yourself? Oh I see Alice has put a cover on it. Leave it alone. Don’t scratch it, you’re making it bleed. Oh damme, I’ll have to take off this manacle to get your pants on. Stand up Billy while I do it.’

  He removed the manacle and when it was off Billy stretched out his foot gratefully. Tom tried to put it on again afterwards, but the young giant made threatening noises and the tall man sat back saying soothingly, ‘Oh all right, if you don’t want it – as long as you behave…’ Then he took Billy by the arm and they walked sedately out into the fairground from the back of the freak show platform. Jem, on the stage, waved a hand to them and told the crowd, ‘There goes Billy, the Strongest Man in the World. He’s off for a little constitutional before he does his amazing act for you again. He can bend iron bars, bite nails in half, smash a cart-wheel into kindling with one blow of his fist. You’ll have to come back and see Billy perform, ladies and gentlemen!’

  Billy looked back over his shoulder laughing as if he understood what was being said but Jem knew he didn’t really for when he started his act, all that had to be done was point him at the various things that he was to demolish and whisper, ‘Kill it, Billy, kill it!’ The problem was making him stop. Only Jem was able to put an end to his orgy of destruction.

  But he was quiet as he walked out with Tom because the thrills of the Fair entranced him. Eyes shining, he stopped in front of every stall, sometimes reaching out to try to take a particularly colourful exhibit. Many of the stall-keepers knew him because they travelled the same fairs as the freak show, and without protest handed over a twist of toffee or a square of coconut tablet. One gave him a couple of coloured balls and told him to throw them at the French heads on the poles at the back of the shies but Tom knew better than allow him to try because Billy’s throwing had a tendency to become violent and Tom feared that he might knock the whole stall down in his enthusiasm.

  Billy looked benignly at couples linking arms as they walked along; he smiled at children and tried to pat wandering dogs on the head and all the time he pulled Tom in the direction of the gypsy camp.

  ‘Would you like to look at the circus, Billy?’ his escort asked in an effort to create a diversion when he saw the enormous canvas spread of Simon’s establishment off to his right but Billy shook his head and pointed in front of him. He was being surprisingly singleminded. ‘There’s lots of horses in the circus,’ coaxed Tom. ‘You like horses. Jem’s brother runs the circus. He’d like to see you. Come and see Jem’s brother, Billy.’

  Little by little he drew his charge across to the circus enclosure where Bella, in her dress of spangles, was limbering up at the back of the tent. Her face registered disquiet when she saw Tom approaching with the lumbering Billy on his arm.

  ‘My God, what’s that?’ she asked. ‘He’s grown to a helluva size. Is he safe enough?’

  Tom nodded. ‘He’s good tonight. He wants to see the horses. Just let him have a look round for a wee while and then I’ll take him back to do his turn.’

  Bella grinned and said, ‘If you say he’s all right, in you go. We’ve landed lucky in our hunt for a trick rider. Simon’s over there with a young gypsy who’s offered to do a turn in place of El Diavolo tonight. I don’t know if he’ll be much good but we’re lucky to get anybody.’

  The interior of the circus tent was dim because it was not yet time for the next show, when all the lamps would be blazing and the public admitted to sit on the rough benches around the ring. Somewhere in the background a band was tuning up – first one instrument and then another played a snatch of music. A troop of young tumblers, the children of Bella and Simon, were rolling over and over in the ring, jumping up and down and scissoring their legs energetically. There was an overpowering smell of horse droppings and lamp oil.

  Tom held Billy’s arm as they stumbled forward in the half-dark. Ahead of them they saw Simon’s back as he stood looking up at a dark-haired young man seated on a horse in the middle of the ring. The horse was broad-backed and barrel-bellied and
instead of a saddle it wore a broad surcingle around its middle. Its head was held in one position by fixed reins leading from the bridle to its belly belt.

  Billy sank down on a bench with Tom beside him as Simon stepped back and cracked his whip. At that signal the horse began circling the ring. The acrobats jumped clear as it started to canter, head down, round and round and round. The man on its back sat easily with his legs dangling, then, as Simon called out an order, he crouched up on the horse’s back and stood with both arms held out at his sides. The horse’s pace became a gallop and the rider stood erect smiling, calling over, ‘It’s easy. I used to do this sort of thing when I was a laddie.’

  ‘Can you jump through hoops up there?’ called back Simon.

  ‘Not really. What I’m best at is showing off a horse, making it perform. Loosen its bridle and I’ll show you.’

  Simon ran forward, stopped the horse and unlatched the reins. Then the rider sat down on the horse’s back and started to ride it forward, making it bend and curve, rear up and kick out with its back legs. When the display was over Simon shouted, ‘Well ridden, lad. You’ll do almost as well as El Diavolo!’

  Billy stood up in his place to give a strangled kind of cheer. They all turned and smiled at him and the rider raised his hand, calling out, ‘Thanks Billy!’ The young giant glowed with pride and was so happy that he allowed himself to be led back to the freak show without any more complaints.

  Tom’s mistake was to relax and forget his fear. He had been drinking whisky all evening and was swaying unsteadily on his feet but he knew that it was almost time for Billy’s next performance and he had to get him out of his ordinary clothes and into the tiger skin again. When he knelt down at the giant’s feet to remove his shoes, Billy bent slowly as if watching what he was doing. When the shackle was about to be replaced, with a sweet smile on his face, Billy joined both hands together so that the knuckles made a weapon like a mace head. Then he brought his joined hands sharply down on to the kneeling Tom’s bent head.