They didn’t set off until after two that afternoon, and the drive was long and tedious, most of it through the night, though they both consoled themselves with the fact that they were spending time together they wouldn’t normally be able to. It was a young policeman on the beat who pointed them in the direction of the fairground when they arrived in Andover at four in the morning. Parking the garishly painted Grundy’s lorry down a side street well out of sight of the fairground entrance, they finished the last of their food and drink and settled as comfortably as they could on the long bench seat for a much-needed sleep.
Given that she was about to present herself to first Jerry Morgan and then hopefully Mrs Topper as a casual fair worker in search of a friend, Jenny had chosen her outfit very carefully, and was dressed in a pair of close-fitting black trousers and a baggy knitted jumper, items she would normally wear when on cleaning duties at Grundy’s.
She waited until after ten o’clock to make her enquiries of Jerry Morgan, reasoning that if the Toppers were working for him, Barry would be out in the fairground by this time, helping to set up ready for opening at two, while his ageing mother would be in their van dealing with chores and preparing the midday meal.
As she made to leave the lorry to embark on her task, she could see in Tom’s eyes that he was deeply worried about her tackling this on her own. She reached over and patted his hand. ‘I’ll be fine, Tom. Any sign that Mrs Topper suspects I’m not who I say I am and I’ll be out of there like my tail’s on fire.’
‘You promise me, no heroics?’ he demanded.
‘Yes, promise. Now I’d best get off before I lose my nerve.’
She started to slide her bottom over the bench seat to the door, but he caught her arm, pulling her back. Then before either of them realised what was happening, they were in each other’s arms, their kiss long and passionate.
The nearest they had come to kissing previously had been a shy peck on the cheek as they had said their goodbyes after spending time together, and when Tom finally released Jenny, she blew out her cheeks and mouthed, ‘Phew! Well that was worth waiting for.’ Then she quipped, ‘Don’t you dare go anywhere. I’ll be back for more of that.’
He grinned at her. Their first kiss might have been a while coming, but like Jenny had said, it was well worth the wait, and he was desperate for more.
With Tom’s kiss still lingering deliciously on her lips, Jenny clambered out of the lorry and set off towards the fairground, fired up with determination to return to her family with information that would help to expose Topper as the conman he was. But as she approached the entrance, her nerves began to jangle and it felt like she was about to enter a lion’s den with no weapons of defence. She spun on her heel and started back the way she had come, then suddenly stopped as it hit her that if she didn’t at least attempt to do what she’d promised her family she would, she was not only letting them down but herself too. Only cowards ran, and she was no coward. With renewed resolve, she spun back and ran into the fairground before her nerves got the better of her again.
No members of the public were allowed in any fairground outside of opening hours, so almost as soon as Jenny entered she was accosted by a worker. Before he could order her to leave, she told him she was there to see the ringmaster on a private matter, and he pointed her in the direction of Jerry Morgan’s caravan.
Morgan was a large, florid man with a shock of wild ginger hair, mutton chop sideburns and a bushy walrus moustache waxed into points that curled around his bulbous nose. She found him sitting behind a cluttered desk in a modern but cramped caravan. There was so much furniture in it that there was hardly room to move around. He was wearing a loud Prince of Wales checked suit and a garishly patterned tie, and was smoking a foul-smelling cigar.
His eyes lit up and quickly appraised Jenny as she entered the van, and before she could offer a reason for her visit, he told her in a loud, booming voice, ‘You’ve got the job, lovey. Start straight away. Go and ask for Bonnie, tell her I’ve set you on and she’ll introduce you to Master Zane, who you’ll be working for. She’ll sort out your living arrangements too.’
‘Er… I’m not here about a job, Mr Morgan.’
His face fell. ‘Yer not after the job as one of the hostesses in the illusion side show? Oh that’s a shame, pretty girl like you would’ve drawn in the punters. So what are you here for then?’
‘I need to find out if you’ve a Mrs Topper working for you, or if you might know what fair she’s working for now. I understand you bought her family fair when it went up for sale. My friend used to work for Topper’s, you see, and we lost touch, but I desperately need to find her and I’m hoping Mrs Topper might be able to help me.’
‘Oh, I see. Yes, I kept Bessie Topper on when I took over what was left of Topper’s. Least I could do for the poor soul after that wastrel of a husband left her and her son with hardly a copper to their name. We fair folk look after each other. You’ll most likely find her in her van at this time of day. Someone will point out which one.’ He looked regretfully at her. ‘Sure you don’t want a job?’
She smiled. ‘Sure, Mr Morgan, but thanks for the offer.’
She found Bessie Topper hanging out washing on a line strung between her van and a tree behind it. She was a small woman, thin and scrawny, aged before her time, looking nearer seventy than her actual fifty-five, and was dressed in shabby clothes with an old black shawl draped around her shoulders and holey slippers on her feet. Her van was the old-fashioned bow-top type, the same as the Grundy family all resided in, but whereas theirs were kept in pristine condition, Mrs Topper’s was in dire need of repair and a lick of paint.
She eyed Jenny warily and snapped at her. 'What do yer want?'
Here goes, Jenny thought. She suddenly realised that women tended to talk more when they were relaxed. She needed to get this woman seated. She noticed two shabby Lloyd Loom chairs beside a small table outside the van, and an idea came to her. ‘Would you mind if I sat down so I can shake a stone out of one of my shoes?’
The woman hesitated before she said, ‘Help yourself.’
Jenny pretended to limp over and sat herself down in one of the chairs, where she proceeded to take off one of her pumps and shake out an invisible stone. Meanwhile, much to her relief, the older woman had sat down in the other chair. Jenny smiled at her as she replaced the shoe. ‘That’s better. You wouldn’t think such a small piece of grit could cause such pain.’
‘Are you going to tell me what you’re here for?’ Mrs Topper asked. ‘I’m a busy woman.’
Jenny took a deep breath. She wasn’t happy about having to lie, but then she reminded herself why she was having to. ‘I’m looking for a friend, Mrs Topper, and I was hoping you would have an idea where she might be.’
The older woman looked bemused. ‘Why would you think I would know?’
‘She worked for you before Mr Morgan took over.’ Jenny adopted a sympathetic expression. ‘It’s so sad what happened to Topper’s; great fair it was. Paula loved working for you and that’s how I ended up working for you too, as she persuaded me to join her. We were at school together and really close. Paula Jones was her name and mine is Jenny Richards.’ She used her adoptive name for obvious reasons. ‘Paula worked for Topper’s for about four seasons but I only did two. We both loved our jobs. You were great people to work for. You must remember us?’
Mrs Topper was frowning, bemused to hear this young woman proclaim that the Topper’s had been great people to work for. Maybe they had been when her father-in-law had been ringmaster, but certainly not after her bully of a husband had taken over after his death. She studied Jenny’s face for a moment before she responded. ‘No, can’t say as I do remember you. Sure it was Topper’s you and your friend worked for?’
‘Yes. We only left because… well, things got bad, didn’t they, and some weeks us casual workers weren’t getting our wages, so we had no choice but to find work at another fair. Well, Paula did, because she had no home
to go back to. Her parents had disowned her for running off to work for a fairground and had told her they’d not speak to her again until she gave that life up. I went home for a while, but I couldn’t settle back in civvy street and so I decided to join Paula again. Only when I arrived at the place she told me she’d got a job, she’d already left and I’ve not been able to find out where she’s gone.
‘But you see, although she’s not in touch with her family, I still am. They might be dead set against Paula working for a fair, but they still love her. When her mother found out I was going to be joining Paula again, she asked me to let her know on the QT how she is. Paula’s mum and my mum are friends, so when I ring home my mum passes messages on. But last week when I phoned, that’s when I got the news that Paula’s mother is seriously ill. It looks like she’s going to die, so I need to find Paula to tell her.’
Bessie Topper grimaced. ‘Oh, I see. I’m sorry, I can’t help you, lovey. I’ve no idea where any of the people that used to work for us are now. A few of them did join Morgan’s when he took over, but they’ve all moved on ’cept me and my son.’
Jenny sighed. ‘Oh well, at least it was worth a try.’ She could see the older woman was about to excuse herself to get back to hanging out her washing, but Jenny hadn’t yet got what she’d come for. ‘Er… your son… Barry, his name is, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
Jenny smiled. ‘Me and him had a fling for a couple of weeks when I was working for Topper’s. I was really cut up when he finished with me to go out with another girl. All the girls were after him; he was such a good-looking man.’
How right Gem was that mothers never missed an opportunity to talk about their children, whether it be to complain or praise. Mrs Topper was no exception. At the mention of her son, her eyes lit up, a tender smile kinking her thin lips. ‘I was blessed with Barry. He’s a good lad. He should be running a successful fair in truth, had his father…’ She sighed and carried on distractedly. ‘I thought I’d landed the golden ticket when I married Arnold, him being heir to a fair as successful as Topper’s, but I wasn’t happy for long. I soon discovered that he loved his drink more than me and was addicted to gambling. His father managed to keep a bit of a rein on him when he was alive, but after he died, Arnold was free to do as he liked and spent more time down the bookie’s than he did running the fair.
‘When Mr Morgan took over, he was kind enough to keep us on, Barry running one of the rides and me in any of the booths I’m asked to work in. The pay we get between us just about keeps our heads above water. It was hard for us both going from owning the fair to just being workers, but we had no choice but to grin and bear it.’ She suddenly realised that she was speaking to a stranger. ‘Sorry, love, I got carried away. You came here to ask after your friend, not listen to my woes.’
Jenny laid a hand on the other woman’s and said sympathetically, ‘I’m a good listener, Mrs Topper. It’s healthy to get things off your chest. You can tell me what you like and it’ll go no further. I think it’s terrible what’s happened to you, to be left in such a dreadful financial state through no fault of your own.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I suppose you’ve had a good look through all your husband’s family papers to make sure neither he nor his father left an insurance policy or anything else that might reap a few pounds for you… maybe an IOU from an old friend he’d loaned money to that you could call in?’
The older woman scoffed. ‘My husband’s father was like Scrooge, wouldn’t give you the drippings off his nose. Every penny he had went on building his fair up. He wanted to go down in fairground history as having the biggest and best operation in the country, only he died before he could achieve that. Any money my husband could get his hands on, as I’ve already told you, went down his throat or over the bookie’s counter. He even hocked my jewellery. All he left me with was debts.’
Jenny thoughts whirled. So the story Barry had told them of his mother finding the contract between her father-in-law and Big Sam while searching for old jewellery to pawn certainly wasn’t true. But how was she going to find out whether it was Bessie or Barry who had come up with the idea of forging the document?
All she could think of to say was, ‘You never know, a miracle might happen and you might come up with a way to make some money, enough to work for yourselves again maybe.’
At this the woman threw up her hands and exclaimed, ‘Well how strange you should say that. A miracle has indeed happened that is going to change our lives for the better.’
Jenny’s eyes sparked. Was this the breakthrough she’d been hoping for?
‘Really? I’m so pleased for you. Oh, you must tell me what this miracle is. If you don’t, I shan’t be able to sleep for wondering about it.’
The woman looked hesitant for a moment before she said, ‘Well, I don’t suppose it will hurt to tell you about it. You’re a stranger and I’ll never see you again and I’d love to tell someone as it’s so exciting.’ She took a quick look around to check that no one was in the vicinity to overhear what she was about to say, then lowered her voice and began.
‘A couple of weeks ago, a bloke turned up out of the blue. Said he’d come across the story in the World’s Fair newspaper about us losing the fair because of my husband’s drinking and gambling… so ashamed I was when it was all published for the fairground community to read about, and of course the World’s Fair reporter is no better than the national newspaper ones and made sure all the gory details and some made-up ones too were written. Me and my Barry had to keep a low profile for weeks afterwards to avoid all the gossip and sneers from people we once thought of as friends. Anyway, getting back to what I was telling you… Having read the story, and knowing the two of us were on our uppers, this bloke had a proposition he hoped Barry would be interested in that would see him well rewarded. He introduced himself as Steve Smith. Such a handsome man, he was, bit of a gypsy look about him, and so very charming. And, of course, Barry was interested in listening to his proposition because of the money involved.
‘A thousand pounds Steve Smith was willing to pay him just to help him carry out a plan to get money back from a man who owed it to him but was refusing to cough up. He’d tried all sorts to get the man to pay, but nothing had worked and he was beginning to think he’d never get the money back when he read our story in the World’s Fair newspaper and it gave him an idea. All my Barry had to do was visit the man with a forged document for a deal that was supposedly made many years ago between my father-in-law and the father of the man who owed all the money. As the man would not be able to prove it wasn’t a genuine document, he would have no choice but to settle the debt. It’s a very clever plan, don’t you think? If anyone came enquiring as to where I had found this document, I had to swear blind that it was amongst my late father-in-law’s papers, or else the whole plan would be scuppered and we wouldn’t see a penny. For the money we’ll be getting, I’d swear to the Lord himself that black was white.
‘It meant though that Barry would have to go and stay with Steve Smith so he could make sure he was word perfect on what he was to say when he visited the man, and again when he went back to collect the money. Steve Smith is in a worse state than we are financially and has been reduced to working for a fair himself because of this unpaid debt, and that was where Barry would be staying with him. The fair was in Southsea. It’s not a travelling fair but a fixed one on the seafront, though I can’t remember the name of it. I can’t say as I was happy about Barry leaving me on my own while they put this plan into action, as we’ve never been parted before, and besides, he sees to all the heavy work that I can’t manage any longer, but still, sacrifices have to be made when the rewards are so great.
‘Barry had been away for several days and I was beginning to wonder if something had gone wrong, but late last night he came by to tell me that he was just on his way back from a trip up north to carry out the first part of the plan. It had all gone just as Steve had said it would. The man who owes him m
oney couldn’t find any fault with the document and saw he had no way out of settling the debt. Obviously, he needs time to raise the money, but it won’t be long before Steve gets what he’s owed and we’ll be paid for our part in helping that come about. So, it’s certainly is a miracle for us that Steve Smith read our story and approached us to help him get his money, don’t you agree?’
Jenny’s thoughts were racing again. So, a man called Steve Smith was paying Barry to do his dirty work for him. At least she had discovered where to find this Steve Smith, thanks to Bessie Topper’s need to brag about her stroke of luck, though she wasn’t sure what good knowing this would do them. They had nothing physical they could take to the police to prove that Steve Smith was involved in the scheme to defraud her parents. She needed to get back to Tom, tell him what she had learned and see whether he had any ideas.
She smiled at Bessie and patted her hand. ‘Absolutely I do,’ she enthused. ‘I hope the plan works out and you get your money, I really do. After all you’ve been through, you deserve some luck, Mrs Topper.’ Though she suspected that this Steve Smith had no intention of parting with a penny of his ill-gotten gains. The likelihood was that as soon as he’d got his hands on the money, he would disappear off and they’d never see him again. She got up from her chair. ‘I’ve really enjoyed talking to you, but I need to carry on looking for my friend.’
‘Wish I could have helped you, dear. Oh, do you want me to remember you to Barry when I next see him?’
‘Oh yes, please do. Tell him I still haven’t found a bloke who kisses better than he does.’ That should please the old dear, she thought.
Bessie smiled proudly. ‘I certainly will. Best of luck finding your friend before her mother passes on.’
Tom was relieved to see her back safe and sound. He gave her a hug and kissed her hard before he said, ‘How did it go? Find out anything we can use to prove this is definitely a con?’
All is Fair Page 26