So Long at the Fair

by Pat Herbert

  “But you’d better make sure you ask Albert about the letter,” said Robbie. “I know you. You’ll be carried away with the service, all dewy-eyed and forget the most important thing.”

  Bernard couldn’t let that pass. “The most important thing is the burial of a loved one and the most decent and kind way to deal with his death. Albert will be looked after by me and consoled for his loss. I won’t be there to interrogate him like some Nazi.”

  “Oh, Bernie, don’t exaggerate,” laughed Robbie. “I didn’t mean anything. Of course, the service is the most important thing, but I’m sure there’ll be an opportunity to talk to the man afterwards. Besides, jack boots wouldn’t suit you.”

  It was Bernard’s turn to laugh. “You’re incorrigible, Robbie, you really are. But I promise to make sure I ask him about the letter. All right?”

  Robbie seemed satisfied with that. “Now, how about one for the road, old boy?”

  

  While Robbie and Bernard were having their somewhat strained conversation, Sonia Williams was contemplating what to wear the next day at her husband’s funeral. He hadn’t meant very much to her when he was alive, but she was determined to make him proud by looking her best while seeing him off.

  She hadn’t many things in her meagre wardrobe that would be suitable, she realised. Finally, she settled on a grey two-piece suit that had been the height of elegance in its day. However, looking at herself in it now, she could see it wasn’t quite the thing. The skirt length was all wrong, and shoulder pads were definitely out. They may have suited Joan Crawford, but they looked wrong on her. Oh dear, she sighed. She didn’t want to wear the ensemble she had worn to Jimbo’s funeral because he had meant so much more to her than Ernest, and she saw it as disloyal to his memory. But it looked as if she would have to. Trying on the black dress and matching cape, she saw at once that she looked good. She put on the perky pillar box hat she had also worn for Jimbo, and the picture was complete.

  Putting everything away carefully, she gave the dress a quick iron and hung it on a hanger on the wardrobe door. She ran her hand down its length, the silk soft to her touch. There was no doubt about it, she thought, she’d turn a few heads tomorrow or her name wasn’t Sonia Williams. She might be knocking on a bit, but she had kept her trim figure, and she was keeping the crow’s feet at bay. She looked at least ten years younger than her forty-six years.

  Albert would have to acknowledge her at the funeral. She was still his mother, after all. And, as the wife of the deceased, she was just as important a mourner as him. If only she could make friends with him somehow, try to get on his good side. Maybe she could do it through his fiancée. Now, that was a thought. No doubt this Faith person would be there tomorrow. She could tell her a sob story.

  Women always understood about love. Not like men. She would tell Faith just exactly how she had been besotted with Jimbo. She hadn’t meant to hurt Ernest, but her feelings for her gypsy lover had been too strong, etc etc. Faith would be bound to fall for that and speak to Albert on her behalf. It was worth a try, at least.

  She looked around her poky Balham flat and felt like screaming. Why was she condemned to live here when there was that great big rambling semi-detached going begging? She was determined to move back in if at all possible. She supposed Albert would be living there with his bride, but there were still masses of room for her. If, as she hoped, she got on well with Faith, then the girl would be only too pleased to have her companionship while Albert was out at work. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed possible.

  She could see a better future stretch before her, and suddenly she felt happy. She finished off her third glass of wine and poured a fourth.

  Chapter Forty-One

  July 1959

  The day of Ernest Williams’ funeral was, as is often the case, one of blazing and unbroken sunshine. It was difficult to feel sad on such a day, but Albert looked suitably bereaved if anyone could be that bereaved with such a lovely girl on his arm. The mourners found themselves, far from pitying him, envious of his good fortune.

  Bernard approached Albert as he and Faith made their way into the church.

  “Hello,” he greeted them. “So sorry for your loss, Albert. How are you both?”

  “Thank you, Vicar,” replied Albert, “I’m well. We both are. Lovely day.”

  “Yes, indeed,” agreed Bernard.

  He had been a vicar for nearly fifteen years, but he still found it hard to find what to say to mourners at funerals. It seemed even more difficult today. He had prepared a nice speech about the life of Ernest Williams with the help of his son, but it was anodyne at best. It seemed the man was a hard worker, a good Christian, and a devoted father. Furthermore, he had no hidden vices which would have made him a little more interesting and, as Bernard had hardly known him at all, he couldn’t think of anything to say about him from a personal point of view.

  “Are you going to say something about your father, Albert?” he asked, fingers crossed behind his back. IF he didn’t, it would be one of the shortest funeral services he had ever given.

  Albert flushed. “I – I haven’t prepared anything,” he confessed. “I’m not very good when it comes to standing up and speaking to an audience.”

  It wasn’t going to be a big audience, thought Bernard wryly, as he nodded to the mourners straggling into the church. But then, given Ernest Williams’ meagre profile, he probably didn’t have a very wide circle of friends.

  “It would be nice if you could, love,” said Faith, “he was such a nice man. You’re his only son, so you should.”

  “All – all right,” said Albert reluctantly.

  “I don’t mind giving a little speech,” said a voice suddenly.

  All three of them looked around as a woman approached them, smiling. She looked good to Bernard, with the sun shining on her like that. No spring chicken, but very elegant and slim.

  Albert glared at her, while Faith shot a warning look to Bernard who wisely decided to say nothing until he had a handle on the situation.

  “No, Sonia,” snapped Albert. “Not a chance. What right have you got to come here at all, let alone give a speech?”

  “I was standing over there and heard what you were saying. The vicar here wants you to say something about your father, but I could tell you didn’t want to. So, I thought I’d volunteer.”

  “You hardly knew him!” Albert almost screamed.

  “I think I knew him as well as anyone else here.” She glanced around her. “Not a big turnout, is it?”

  Bernard was taken aback at the woman’s comment. She was being spiteful and obviously enjoying herself. Who was she, he wondered. There was something vaguely familiar about her, now he came to think of it. Where had he seen her before?

  “Why are you here, Sonia?” Albert looked as if he would like to hit her. “I agreed you could come to my wedding because Dad wanted you to, though God knows why. But he never mentioned he wanted you at his funeral, so this is my decision. Push off!”

  The woman looked surprised at his outburst but only for a moment. She soon recovered her composure and addressed Faith.

  “Don’t you think I have a right to be here, dear?” she asked in a little-girl voice. Then she turned to Bernard. “And what about you, Vicar? Don’t you think I should be here?”

  Before Bernard could think of what to say, Faith answered. “Anyone is welcome if they want to pay their respects.”

  “Thank you,” smiled Sonia Williams. “And do you think I should say a few words?”

  “Why not?” Faith shrugged. “As long as they’re in keeping.”

  Bernard smiled, feeling a little less anxious now that Faith had intervened. “Yes, why not?” he echoed. “Did you know the deceased well, Miss – er?”

  “Mrs Williams,” she replied, “I was his wife.”

  Bernard looked at her aghast. Albert hadn’t mentioned a mother at all, but then why should he? Maybe this woman was Ernest’s second wife, but he wa
s only married the once according to the potted biography Albert had provided.

  Just then, the organ started to play ‘Abide With Me’ which was Bernard’s cue to start the service. He led all three of them to their pews and made his way to the pulpit. He cleared his throat and began.

  

  When it came to her turn to speak, Sonia Williams excelled herself. She was full of praise, even love, for her departed husband, and her tone was charmingly self-deprecating. She had the small gathering in the palm of her hand. All except Albert who glared at her throughout.

  “In conclusion,” she said, looking straight at Albert, “I want to thank dear Ernest for giving me such a wonderful son. I don’t deserve him, but I hope one day I will.”

  Bernard watched Albert’s face as she said this but saw no flicker of empathy. He remained stony and tight-lipped. The woman must have hurt him deeply, he reckoned, to be so unmoved by her words.

  “Why do you dislike your mother so much?” he asked him a little later at the Wake in the vicarage hall. Refreshments had been provided by Mrs Harper, and they were, as usual, well up to her high standard.

  Albert was enjoying the food and seemed a little more relaxed now.

  “I mean, she seems like a nice woman and obviously dotes on you,” he continued when Albert didn’t reply.

  “She gave a pretty speech, didn’t she?” the young man said after a moment. He picked another sandwich. “These are really good.”

  “Yes. Mrs Aitch always delivers the goods when it comes to catering,” smiled Bernard. “I thought Mrs Williams gave a very nice speech, yes. Didn’t you?”

  “No.”

  Bernard wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he said nothing.

  “I suppose if you like fairy stories, then it was fine,” Albert elaborated.

  “You mean she was lying?”

  “A pack of lies from beginning to end.”

  At that moment, Faith joined them. She had gone to powder her nose, and Bernard could see she had applied some light make-up which made her beauty even more vibrant. His thoughts weren’t entirely holy at that moment.

  “Are you complaining about poor Sonia again, Albert?” she asked rhetorically, tucking her arm into his.

  “I’m just answering the vicar,” said Albert sulkily. “I’ve got no reason to like her.”

  It wasn’t long before Bernard knew the true extent of Sonia Williams’ faults, according to Albert. He had to admit she hadn’t behaved very well towards her son, or her husband either, and yet she seemed such a nice woman to him. But appearances, as he knew only too well, could be deceptive.

  He looked across the hall and saw Sonia talking to one of the other mourners. They were both smiling. There was no doubt about it, she had a winning way with her. He sighed. Could she be such an awful person? He wandered in her direction, and she caught his eye.

  “Thank you for a very moving service, Vicar,” she said, excusing herself from the man who was obviously very interested in her. “I hope I didn’t steal your thunder with my little speech?”

  Was she just a little bit too wheedling, Bernard wondered. Just a little too nice? He smiled at her.

  “Not at all,” he said. “Your words were just what was needed to make the service complete.”

  “Thank you. You’re too kind,” she replied, giving him a very charming smile.

  “So, you’re young Albert’s mother?” he said, feeling like an idiot. “I bet you’re looking forward to his wedding.”

  “Oh, I am, very much,” she gushed. “And Faith is such a lovely girl.”

  Bernard could only agree. But where had he seen Sonia Williams before?

  “You know, Vicar, we’ve met before,” she said, as if reading his mind.

  “We have? I thought I’d seen you somewhere before, but I’m sorry I can’t quite place you. I don’t mean to imply you’re not memorable…” He stopped speaking before he made a complete fool of himself.

  “Don’t worry; I’m not surprised you don’t remember. You and a very handsome older man came into my tent a month or two back, and I gave you both a lot of twaddle about the future.”

  “You’re Madame Zonya?” Bernard stared at her. Yes, he thought, it was her. The crackly voice was gone, so were the earrings and the red headscarf, but there was no doubt it was her. He couldn’t wait to tell Robbie.

  “A lot of twaddle?” he asked in mock innocence. “But we believed every word of it.”

  “Then more fool you,” she grinned. “I don’t give customers the benefit of my psychic powers as easily as all that, not for what I’m allowed to charge them at the fair, anyway. I would have to charge much more for a real reading of the future because it takes it out of me when I do that.”

  “You’re psychic? Really?”

  “Yes, I just said so.” She seemed a little brittle now. “Ever since I was a child. But I don’t use my gift much, and certainly not when I’m doing my Madame Zonya act. It would cheapen it.”

  Bernard suddenly thought that she would be a perfect match for Robbie. She had obviously taken a shine to him, and he would be impressed with her, he felt sure, with her looks and, especially, with her psychic gift. Then he had another thought.

  “Er, tell me, Mrs Williams,” he began tentatively, “if you’re psychic, have you ever seen anything unusual at the fair? In the vicinity of the Big Wheel, for instance?”

  “Oh,” she said, “that woman again. She’s always falling off there. I see her doing it every time I pop out of my tent for a cigarette. Gets monotonous after a while.”

  So, she really was psychic!

  “Talking of which,” she said, “I need a cigarette right now. Is it okay to smoke in here?”

  “Er, I think you will need to go outside,” said Bernard.

  He watched her walk out of the hall, unsure what to make of her. There was no doubt she was an elegant and attractive woman, but there was something about her he didn’t quite like. He could understand Albert’s reluctance to own her as his mother, especially after the way she had treated him. As the door closed on her departing form, he suddenly remembered what Robbie had urged him to do. He searched the room for the young bridegroom.

  “Albert,” he called to him, spotting him by the drinks table, “you mentioned you’d found a letter when you asked me for Hal’s number….”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  September 1959

  The great day had dawned at last but, unlike his father’s funeral, Albert’s wedding was overcast and murky with a constant threat of rain. However, it didn’t dampen his or his bride’s joy as they were at last pronounced ‘man and wife’ by Bernard. Everyone watched with delight as the happy pair almost ran up the aisle and out of the church. And, despite the drizzle, they could still hear the birds singing.

  The church hall was decked out in their honour, and Mrs Harper’s food had surpassed even her exacting standards. She had to oversee some of the less complicated cooking as it was a large catering job, but she had made sure that nothing was overlooked or, indeed, overcooked.

  The whole day was a remarkable success, and even Albert was able to put up with his mother’s presence. She, wisely, didn’t impinge too much on him or Faith, preferring to be chatted up by various male members of the assembled guests. However, she did make a point of cultivating Hal, and Hal, not quite understanding Albert’s reason for his aversion to the woman, had been more than happy to flirt with her.

  Sonia had done herself proud, looking devastating in a low-cut dress and matching jacket. Not too flash, but flash enough for her to stand out. Albert had noticed how good she looked and, for the first time, wished he could forgive her. He would have liked to have been proud of her but watching her make up to Hal wasn’t exactly helping. Faith, however, managed to steer him away from making any kind of scene.

  “It’s our wedding day, love, don’t let’s spoil it,” she had pleaded.

  How could he ignore such a request on such a day? So, he hugged and kissed
her as the small band hired for the occasion struck up the first dance. Soon the floor was crowded as the waltz played on and Hal found himself in the arms of Sonia Williams and enjoying himself immensely.

  Meanwhile, Bernard and Robbie were also enjoying themselves watching the dancing and working their way through Mrs Harper’s delicious buffet.

  “Don’t Albert and Faith make a charming couple?” observed Bernard, munching on something wrapped in pastry. He wasn’t quite sure what the ‘something’ was, but it was delicious, nonetheless.

  “Indeed, they do,” agreed Robbie. “Made for each other, I’d say. And just look at Hal. He seems besotted with that woman. Who is she, do you know? I rather intend to dance with her myself later.”

  Bernard told him.

  “Really? Albert never mentioned his mother, did he? I rather got the impression she was dead.”

  “Hmm, so did I. Looks like we were wrong!”

  “Yes, she looks very much alive, doesn’t she?”

  “She told me she was psychic, by the way,” said Bernard, saving the most interesting information about Sonia Williams to the last for maximum effect.

  “Really?” Robbie’s eyebrows rose. “Even better. I think I’ll have a word with her before too long.”

  “But, wait just a minute,” grinned Bernard, “don’t you recognise her at all?”

  “Recognise her? Should I? I’d certainly remember if I’d seen her before. She’s stunning.”

  “Picture large hooped earrings, a red headscarf, and a crystal ball,” prompted Bernard, enjoying himself.

  “What are you rabbiting on about?” Robbie’s eyebrows rose even higher.

  “That woman whom you’re obviously admiring so much is none other than Madame Zonya.”

  “What? That charlatan? The one we saw at the fair a while back?”

  “The very same. Apparently, she doesn’t use her powers when she does her Zonya act as it takes it out of her, or so she said. She said she charges a lot more than funfair prices when she gives real readings.”