So Long at the Fair

by Pat Herbert

  “Dad, I’m sorry, but I have to know about our family,” he said on returning from the vicarage. “What with Mum and Gran both being mysteries to me, I feel rootless.”

  “You’ve always had a father, isn’t that enough? I’m sorry if I’ve been a disappointment to you.”

  Ernest Williams was sitting by the fire, huddled up as if it was the coldest night of the year, when in fact it was very mild for April. Albert studied with concern the old man’s face which he could see had an unhealthy flush. Whether it was merely the result of sitting by the fire too long or a sign of something more sinister, he wasn’t sure.

  “Oh, Dad, don’t be silly. You’ve done a grand job of bringing me up. It’s only that you’ve made such a big secret about both my gran and my mum. Don’t you understand what that’s done to me?” Albert poked the fire with vigour to stop it from sputtering out and heaped on some more coal from the scuttle. “Are you cold, Dad?”

  “Chilly tonight,” Ernest asserted, stretching out his hands to the fire.

  “It’s quite mild actually,” said Albert, trying not to sound cross. “It’s like a hothouse in here.”

  He felt angry that his father was obviously not well. It was unreasonable, he knew, to feel that way, but he was scared. Scared he wouldn’t be able to cope with him if he was really ill. But he had to face it. His father had been coughing a lot recently and was often out of breath.

  “I’ve just been to see the vicar, Dad,” said Albert quietly.

  Ernest Williams looked startled. “What for? When did you last go to church? Oh, you mean about getting married?” The old man’s eyes had a sudden feverish sparkle in them.

  “No, not about getting married. You never give up, do you?”

  He felt cross again. His father was always on at him to get married, and he intended to. But not until he knew all there was to know about his family. It wouldn’t be fair to the girl. She had a right to know what she was letting herself in for.

  “So why, then?”

  “I thought he might be able to help me find out what became of Gran.” There was no point in ducking it now.

  “How dare you!” cried Ernest. “We don’t want all and sundry knowing our business. You had no right to go talking to other people about – well, you know...”

  “The fact that you’re illegitimate?”

  “Son!”

  “Dad, nobody blames you for that. If there are people who look down their noses at you, that’s their problem. They’re just bigots.”

  “Maybe so, but all I know is it’s blighted my whole life.”

  “Mainly because of your stupid pride. Maybe that’s why Mum left.”

  Ernest glared at him, and Albert could see he had overstepped the mark. “I- I’m sorry, but it has to be said. You’re your own worst enemy sometimes.”

  His father suddenly looked sad. “Your mother leaving had nothing to do with how I was born. She’s dead to me; let’s just leave it at that.”

  “It’s all very well for you, but I don’t know why she left, and you do,” said Albert.

  His father sighed. “I didn’t want you to ever find out,” he said.

  “Find out what? What are you not telling me? I have a right to know.”

  Suddenly, the old man succumbed to a violent fit of coughing which made Albert surer than ever his father was very ill, perhaps terminally. When the coughing subsided a little, Ernest Williams looked at his son through watery, rheumy eyes.

  “I know you have,” he said finally. “Maybe I’ve been wrong. I’ve wanted to protect you all these years.”

  “It was right and proper when I was a kid, but not now. I’m an adult and about to get married. I need to know.”

  “All right,” said his father slowly. “It’s simple enough. She found someone she liked better than me.” He paused and stared at his son, the son who had been his pride and joy for over twenty-two years. “And you,” he added with meaning. “I can never forgive her for leaving you.”

  “So, she’s still alive, then?” Albert was less shocked than his father had expected.

  “Well, as far as I know, Son.”

  “Who was he? Who was this – this man? Do you know?”

  “Oh, yes, I know all right. And that’s the most shameful thing about it all. He was an itinerant tinker, of all things. The most common kind of person. She met him at a fair. And that was that.”

  “And she just up and left us to go with him?”

  Albert was deeply shocked now. Up until this revelation, he had always tried to find excuses for his absent mother, but not anymore. To leave a perfectly good husband and a tiny son for someone who repaired saucepans for a living! How could she?

  “Did – did you ever hear from her again?”

  “Just the once. She asked to come back.”

  That was a bombshell Albert wasn’t expecting. “When was that?”

  “Oh, about a year after she’d left.”

  “But – but why did she want to come back? Had the man left her?”

  “No, but she had a black eye when I met her. She was frightened of him. Asked me to take her back.”

  “And you didn’t?”

  “I did – at least, I agreed to take her back,” he replied, sitting back in his chair and looking exhausted.

  Albert was at a loss. “Well, what happened then?”

  “I’d arranged to meet her in the café opposite the Common the following day – that’s where we’d met the day before, by the way.”

  “What, d’you mean Fred’s place? The one I go in most days for my breakfast?”

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  Albert couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His mother had been coming back to him, but never had.

  “Please, Dad, don’t keep me in suspense. Why didn’t she show?”

  “She didn’t turn up – that’s all.”

  “But she was being beaten by that man! You must have wondered if she was all right...”

  “Of course, I did. But I had no idea where she was living or anything. I even told the police, but they weren’t interested. I went back to the café several times to see if she had been there and left me a message. But nothing. I never heard from her again.”

  Albert put his head in his hands. “Poor Mum,” he cried. He had visions of her lying bleeding to death in a gutter. “So, she could have been killed, Dad,” he said at last. “The murdering swine!”

  “There, lad, you don’t know that. She could have changed her mind. He could have begged her forgiveness and promised not to hurt her again. Who knows? Women generally fall for the wrong men. I’ve never been an exciting man, Albert. Women haven’t found me very interesting, you know. So, I’m not surprised she stayed with him.”

  Albert wasn’t convinced but refrained from saying so. Instead, he took another tack. “Why are you telling me all this now, Dad? You’ve always refused before. Is it because you’re ill?”

  Ernest looked at his loving son with affection. If there was one success in his life it was Albert. All he wanted now was to see him settle down with a wife and family and live happily ever after.

  “I’m not so dusty,” he replied, “don’t worry about me. Bit of bronchitis, that’s all.”

  “Have you been to see Mallinger?” Albert watched impotently as his father began to cough again.

  “No point,” he said when he could speak again. “I told you what I told you because you have a right to know. I was wrong not to have told you before.”

  Albert still wasn’t convinced but didn’t say so. “All right, so while you’re about it, won’t you tell me what happened to my grandmother?” He had to give his father one last chance to tell him the truth before he took the irrevocable step of finding out for himself.

  Ernest avoided his gaze. “No, Albert, I’ll never tell you what happened. Too many people will get hurt and, besides, what’s done is done and can’t be undone.”

  “You’ll be telling me too much water’s gone under
the bridge next,” said Albert sardonically.

  “If you like.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  May 1959

  It was with a sinking heart that Bernard rose to greet the new day. The sun was shining outside his window but not in his heart. If only it would rain all day long, then he wouldn’t have to do what he had to do. But his wish was not to be granted, and today was the day that he and Robbie were to take little Alfie Fisher to the funfair. Horror of horrors, he thought, as he fixed his collar ‘the wrong way round’. No doubt the little blighter would have another pop at his mode of dress.

  Why was he doing this, anyway, he wondered. It was all Robbie’s fault. How could he let himself be talked into taking a nine-year-old boy, a naughty nine-year-old boy at that (although, weren’t they all?), to a fair? He would much rather stay indoors and write six hundred sermons than venture out with Alfie Fisher for just five minutes. He didn’t want to go; there were no two ways about it. But he supposed he would have to as he didn’t want to let Robbie down. He wouldn’t forgive him if he did.

  As Bernard finished fixing his collar, he could hear Mrs Harper admitting Robbie into the hall.

  “Good morning, Mrs Aitch,” he heard him say. “What a fine day! Pinch punch first of the month and all that. Are Bernie and the nipper ready?”

  The ‘nipper’, it seemed, was quite ready as Bernard heard him bound past his bedroom door and his heavy boots clattering down the stairs. He also heard a couple of ‘yippees’. Bernard swallowed hard and screwed up his waning courage. The sooner they went, the sooner, he hoped, they could come back.

  

  Half an hour later, the two men, with the little boy between them, entered the funfair on Wandsworth Common. Robbie had a happy grin on his finely chiselled features, while Bernard had the look of a convicted criminal watching the judge don the black cap.

  “Right, Alfie, my lad,” said Robbie, bending his tall frame in order to meet the eye line of his small companion. “What would you like to do first?”

  “The Big Wheel!” yelled Alfie without hesitation, jumping up and down in excitement. As he did so, Bernard noticed a catapult sticking out of his back pocket. “Oh no you don’t,” he said to himself, carefully removing the offending object and hiding it behind his back.

  “The Big Wheel, eh? Good choice. But...” Robbie straightened up. “I don’t think Bernard here is very keen and, to tell you the truth, neither am I. We’re cowards – not like you. Would it be all right if I gave you the money and you went up on your own? Bernie and I will be over there in the tea tent. We’ll have an ice-cold lemonade for you when you return.”

  Bernard smiled at Robbie with mingled relief and gratitude. Alfie could go up and down on the Big Wheel to his heart’s content, as long as he could just stay on terra firma and drink tea.

  “Goodee!” yelled the boy as Robbie put a sixpence in his hand.

  “Now, don’t spend it all at once,” he advised.

  “That won’t go very far,” sniffed the boy ungratefully.

  “Oh, won’t it?” Robbie scratched his head.

  “You take it and say thank you,” interposed Bernard crossly.

  The sun was high in the sky and quite hot now, causing him to sweat and make his stiff collar uncomfortable. He ran his fingers around it in an attempt to stop it clinging to his neck.

  “Why on earth did you put that on today?” asked Robbie. “You could have just worn an open neck shirt like me.”

  “Well, I don’t like to appear in public half-dressed,” said Bernard.

  “Oh, come off it, you just like people to know you’re a vicar.”

  “It’s not that, Robbie,” protested Bernard, although he supposed there was some truth in what he said. He was proud of his calling and liked to think that people respected him for it.

  The sartorial discussion at an end, Robbie turned back to his charge. “Here’s another sixpence, Alfie,” he said, handing the silver coin to him. “We must save some money for later, mustn’t we? Don’t you want to go on the ghost train?”

  “Coo, yes!” said the boy, snatching the money and darting off in the direction of the Big Wheel. Bernard turned to Robbie and opened his mouth to complain.

  “Don’t say a word,” said the doctor. “It’s my money, and it does my heart good to see the lad so happy. His mother’s in hospital don’t forget. Have a little compassion.”

  Bernard was having difficulty controlling his temper. Being a vicar, he should be the one dishing out the homilies. But he knew in his heart Robbie was right. He wasn’t being very charitable to the child.

  He felt a great deal better once they were seated in the tea tent with refreshments in front of them. “Sorry, Robbie,” he said, having swallowed a mouthful of hot tea and bitten into a sticky bun, his temper quite restored. “I’m not very good company today.”

  “Never mind. I know Alfie’s not in your good books. He’s a bit of a pill, I grant you, but he’s only nine. He’ll grow out of it.”

  “Whether he does or not, there is one thing me and Alfie see eye to eye on,” he smiled, stretching.

  “What’s that?”

  “We both want to go on the ghost train.”

  

  It was about five minutes later that Alfie loomed over them in the tea tent, his face as white as a sheet, tears running down his grimy face.

  “Goodness, Alfie, my boy,” said Robbie, startled. “That was quick. You don’t get much for your money these days, do you?”

  “Er – er – er...”

  Bernard sat up and took notice. As well as obviously being very upset, the boy looked scared out of his wits. “What on earth’s the matter?” he asked him, getting up. Mrs Harper would skin him alive if any harm came to the child.

  “I – I – saw – a lady....”

  Robbie grinned. “You saw a lady, eh? Well, there’s plenty of them about.”

  “Let him finish, Robbie,” Bernard remonstrated. “Can’t you see the boy’s had a shock?”

  Robbie rubbed his clean-shaven, well-crafted chin. “Hmm,” he muttered. “Does look a bit pale around the gills, I must say. What did this lady do to you, sonny? Come on, wipe those tears, it can’t be that bad.”

  “Sh-sh-she n-never s-said n-nothing,” Alfie blubbered. “I – I mean she s-seemed to be speaking to me, but I c-couldn’t make no sense of it.”

  He sank down in the seat next to the two men and took the promised glass of lemonade in his shaking hands. He tried to sip it but only succeeded in spilling some of it on the pristinely white tablecloth.

  “Careful!” said Robbie. “We’ll have to pay to have it cleaned. That tea lady is giving us the evil eye. I’ll go and get a straw.”

  “Hang on, Robbie,” tutted Bernard as his friend stood up. “What about this lady you saw, Alfie?”

  “She – she – fell...”

  “Fell?”

  “F-from the Big Wheel. She just f-fell! From the top!” The boy’s sobs grew louder.

  Bernard, for the first time, had a twinge of fellow feeling for Alfie. “Oh dear!” he said, patting the boy on the shoulder. “Is – is she – er ... all right?”

  “She- she wasn’t th-there...”

  “Wasn’t there?” Bernard scratched his head.

  Robbie intervened. “You just imagined it, you mean?”

  “I never!” screamed the boy. “She fell!”

  “Well, what happened to her then?” asked Bernard reasonably. “If somebody falls from a height, they land on the ground somewhere below. You do understand that?”

  “’Course I do,” wailed the boy, wiping his dripping nose with his sleeve. “I’m not daft. She wasn’t there on the ground, but I saw her fall!”

  “Did anyone else see her?” Robbie then asked.

  The boy was silent. Bernard handed him a hanky. “Here, blow your nose. It’s not the end of the world. Now, just take a deep breath and keep calm. Did anyone else see this lady fall, Alfie?”

  “N
-no,” he admitted, now able to control his shaking hands long enough to drink his lemonade. “I asked them. I asked the man at the Big Wheel who was taking the money. He told me to clear off before he gave me a thick ear.”

  Bernard smiled. A man after his own heart, obviously. Robbie gave him a glare and knelt down beside Alfie. Whatever the boy had or hadn’t seen, it had really frightened him.

  “Don’t worry about it anymore,” he said kindly. “Let’s get you home to Mrs Aitch. She’ll look after you. On the way, I’ll buy you a toy, how about that?”

  “A t-toy?” Alfie’s tears were beginning to dry rapidly. “Can I have a fire engine?”

  Robbie nearly told him he could have two, but refrained, remembering he only had a pound note in his pocket.

  Leaving the fair shortly before one o’clock, Bernard and Robbie took Alfie to the toyshop in the High Street. With his new toy, the little boy was now quite happy, the falling lady apparently forgotten.

  But Robbie wasn’t so sanguine. Just who was this lady? He believed implicitly in what Alfie had told them. He had definitely seen this woman fall. No child could fake being as upset as that or make up such an unbelievable story. What could it mean?

  When Alfie had been taken under the expansive wing of Mrs Harper, Robbie followed Bernard to his study deep in thought.

  “So, Bernie, what do you make of it?”

  Bernard flopped down into his armchair with a sigh of relief. The ordeal was over, thank goodness.

  “The boy’s a pathological liar, to add to his other sins,” he said.

  “I don’t think so,” contradicted Robbie. “Alfie definitely saw what he saw.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! How could he have seen a woman falling to the ground from that height? There would have been a body on the ground.” He shuddered. He pictured a mangled body covered in blood with the head caved in.

  “That’s what makes it believable,” said Robbie.

  “You’re nuts.”