So Long at the Fair

by Pat Herbert

  “Oh, she does, does she? Well, if she’s psychic, then no doubt she’s seen what I’ve seen.”

  “Yes, she has. Many times.” Bernard started to laugh. “Yes, Robbie, she really is psychic.”

  “What a corker!”

  “She is, but she let Albert down badly. That’s hard to forgive.”

  “Quite, quite,” muttered Robbie, “but, still, she is a corker.”

  

  Later, as he had promised himself, Robbie got to dance with Sonia. Bernard watched them with interest and had to admit they looked good together. Hal came up to him, obviously exhausted from the dancing, and sat down beside him. He swigged his cold beer with relish.

  “Phew!” he exclaimed, “she’s quite a mover. Must be in her forties but she’s got the energy of a twenty-year-old. I see your doctor friend is enjoying himself.”

  “She’ll soon wear him out if you’re exhausted,” said Bernard, smiling.

  The young man laughed and volunteered to get him some more food, noticing that his plate was empty.

  “No, thanks,” said Bernard. “Enough is sufficient unto the day thereof,” he quoted. “I’ve had three helpings already.”

  “Can I get you a beer, then? Or a glass of wine?”

  “Nothing for the moment, Hal. Thanks. I’m delighted that you and Albert have become such good friends. I liked your speech, too. Very appropriate. It’s just a shame you were brought together in such circumstances.”

  “Circumstances?” Hal looked puzzled.

  “I mean, about your grandfather having been hanged for the murder of Albert’s grandmother. Still, it’s good that you can be friends. After all, it’s neither of your faults what happened so long ago.”

  Hal smiled. “I know. But it makes all the difference to find out my grandfather wasn’t a murderer, after all.”

  “Yes, it must do. Robbie and I were so glad you got the proof you wanted. But what are you going to do now? I mean to get your grandfather exonerated now you’ve got the evidence you need?”

  “It’s already done,” said Hal, grinning uncontrollably. “He’s getting a free pardon. And I want you to officiate at his reburial. Do say you will?”

  Bernard, grinning as widely as Hal now, replied unhesitatingly, “I shall clear my diary and make it my first priority. Just tell me when.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  September 1959

  Robbie looked very pleased as he entered Bernard’s study a few days after Albert and Faith’s wedding. He was rubbing his hands with glee and grinning from ear to ear. Beelzebub, who had been sleeping in Robbie’s chair, got up and stalked out of the room, taking care to brush past him and deposit several cat hairs on his tweed trousers as he did so. But even that couldn’t upset Robbie it seemed. He sat in the recently vacated chair after brushing off the hairs from both the chair and his trousers without complaint, still grinning and rubbing his hands.

  “What’s the matter with you?” asked Bernard, looking askance at him. “You look like the Cheshire cat. Stop grinning at me like that. What’s up?”

  “I’m sorry, old man,” laughed Robbie, trying to smile less maniacally. “I’m just so happy. It’s like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders.”

  “Well, are you going to tell me or keep me in suspense?”

  “Can I have a drink first?” asked Robbie, obviously enjoying Bernard’s impatience. “The sun’s well and truly over the yardarm.”

  Sighing, Bernard got up and went to the cupboard where the drinks were hidden from the prying eyes of his ever-watchful (nosy) housekeeper. He often wondered why he bothered to hide the bottles from her, aware he was a coward when it came to arguing with her and also aware she knew all about the hidden stash, anyway. He had never been able to reason with her on any subject about which she felt strongly, especially when it came to the ‘demon drink’ as she called it. Mrs Harper’s own particular brand of philosophy was like the peace of God to him: it passed all understanding.

  When the drinks were poured, Bernard tried again. “Well, Robbie? Are you going to tell me what’s made you so pleased or not?”

  “I’ve just been to the fair with that nice little lady, Effie Barker,” he told him.

  “So, that’s what you’re so pleased about?”

  Bernard could hardly believe his ears. He knew Effie Barker quite well as she was a regular attendee at his Sunday morning services. She was a sweet old thing, but she was hardly Robbie’s type.

  “You don’t understand, old boy,” laughed Robbie, downing his Glenfiddich in one. “She and I both saw Olivia falling from the Big Wheel at different times. Isn’t that interesting?”

  So, that’s what they have in common, thought Bernard, beginning to understand. “I never knew you knew her,” said Bernard.

  “Of course, I know her. We’ve often chatted after your interminable services, old boy.”

  “Thanks!” He decided not to rise to the bait. “But you hardly ever come on Sundays lately.” Then he remembered. “Oh yes, you did break the habit of a lifetime and come last Sunday. I was honoured.”

  “So, you should’ve been. Thought I’d help swell the numbers.” Robbie was still grinning, but not quite so alarmingly now. “That’s when I had a chat with Effie, and she was telling me about her new friend.”

  “Her new friend?”

  “Yes – who d’you think it is?”

  Bernard shrugged. “I haven’t any idea, Robbie. Should I have?”

  “Little Alfie Fisher, no less.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, apparently she and the kid get on like a house on fire.”

  Bernard, thoroughly lost now, pulled Robbie up short. “That’s all very nice, but I can’t see why their friendship is making you so happy. Or are you just hysterical?”

  Robbie sighed. “Sorry, old chap, can’t help it sometimes. You’re just so easy to wind up. No, it’s all to do with Olivia and the Big Wheel.”

  “How so?”

  “Oh yes, I forgot to mention that dear old Effie saw what Alfie and I saw.”

  “You mean ….?”

  Robbie nodded. “So, we decided, Effie and I, to go to the fair together to see if Latimer’s exoneration has done the trick.”

  “By that, you mean stopped Olivia haunting the Big Wheel and scaring the daylights out of poor Alfie?”

  “Exactly. So, what do you think we saw?”

  “Er, well – I’m not sure…”

  “Can’t you guess?”

  “You don’t mean she was still there?”

  “No, of course not. We saw precisely nothing. Just people enjoying themselves on the Big Wheel. No body falling from the top of it. Olivia Ayrton-Williams is at peace at last.”

  “I’m glad. I’m especially glad for you, Robbie. You were getting very upset about it, weren’t you?”

  “I couldn’t get it out of my head, old boy. It was making me miserable because I felt so impotent to do anything. Even though I’ve been given this gift, it’s useless if I can’t do anything with it.”

  “Never mind,” said Bernard with a sense of the inadequacy of this platitude. “At least it’s all cleared up now,” smiled Bernard. “Another whisky?”

  “Is the Pope Catholic?”

  “Now, Robbie, what about Sonia Williams?” asked Bernard, pouring his drink.

  Robbie’s complexion reddened. “What d’you mean?”

  “Come on, you know what I mean. Are you seeing her again?”

  “Why would you think I’d be seeing her again?”

  Bernard was puzzled. “I just thought – well, you seemed to be getting on so well at the wedding …”

  Robbie looked serious, his grin of earlier had vanished. “Well, I’m not seeing her again, if you really want to know.”

  Bernard was even more puzzled. “I know it’s none of my business – ”

  “You’re right; it is none of your business.”

  The two men looked at one another in silence for a moment. Then Ro
bbie spoke.

  “Sorry, old boy, it’s a bit of a sore point.”

  “Want to tell me about it?”

  “Bit of a blow to my ego, that’s all,” Robbie said ruefully. “She turned me down flat. I asked her at the dance if she’d like to have dinner with me one evening, and she said thanks but no thanks. Between you and me, she’s got her eye on Hal.”

  “But that’s ridiculous! She’s much too old for him.”

  “Well, there you are. Can’t win ’em all, I suppose.”

  “I think she’s a bit of a handful, Robbie,” said Bernard, pouring him a third whisky, realising he needed it. “I mean, look at the way she abandoned Albert when he was small and went off with some fairground Johnnie just like that. Doesn’t make her a very stable prospect, does it?”

  “I suppose you’re right,” said Robbie grudgingly.

  “Look on the bright side,” encouraged Bernard, “you’re better off without such a flighty piece.”

  Robbie downed his third whisky without responding, but Bernard could see he had got through to him. Sonia Williams was bad news, of that he was convinced. His friend needed that woman like he needed a hole in the head.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  September 1959

  It was the last day of the fair. It had stayed too long already. All the kids were back at school, and the autumn had arrived early, bringing with it forty-mile-an-hour gusts of wind and frequent cloud bursts. Sonia Williams, in her guise as Madame Zonya, stood outside her tent puffing greedily on the last of her Players cigarettes. She didn’t know where the money was coming from to buy even a packet of five.

  She had been in her fortune telling tent for four hours that morning, and she had had only one customer: a deaf old lady who left no wiser than she had come. The sixpence she had obtained from her wasn’t going to go far, but at least, she thought, it would buy her a cup of tea and a bun. She headed over to the tea tent, which was practically deserted. As she stirred her tea, she reflected there was little more dispiriting or depressing a sight than a fair that had outstayed its welcome.

  Her thoughts turned to Hal Latimer. How handsome he was, so like her beloved Jimbo. He could be his son. She tried not to think of his reaction when she had suggested they might continue, after the wedding, to enjoy each other’s company. She hadn’t exactly offered him her body, but it was tantamount to doing so. The offer of coffee (which she knew she had run out of) at her place hadn’t fooled him. But, far from jumping at the chance of an easy lay, he had backed off with a look of disgust on his face.

  Having turned down Robbie MacTavish’s offer of dinner, she had realised she had been a fool. What had she been thinking? Hal could only be in his early twenties. She was old enough to be his mother. The young man had been repulsed by her candid offer, and he had had every right to be.

  What was the point of it all, she now wondered, as she slurped her tea and picked at her stale, sticky bun.

  “You all right, love?”

  She looked up to see Milly standing over her, tea cloth in hand. She realised she had spilt some tea in her absent-mindedness.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said. “Let me.”

  She took the cloth from Milly and wiped up the tea quickly.

  “You’re not very busy today,” Sonia observed unnecessarily.

  “This weather doesn’t help, and the kids are back at school. Thank goodness it’s the last day.” Milly finished wiping the table properly. “I’m not coming back next spring,” she told her. “Got myself a small café. Me and Ted’s been saving for years and at last, we’ve bought somewhere.”

  “That’s nice,” said Sonia, trying to sound interested. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do until next spring myself.”

  “You give séances and readings, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t pay all that well. Since Jimbo …” A tear came into her eye.

  “Poor Jimbo. Poor you,” said Milly with sympathy. “He was a great bloke. So good-looking. Always had a word of cheer for everyone. You must miss him a lot.”

  “You have no idea how much, Milly,” sighed Sonia.

  Before Milly could respond, she was called to the counter by an elderly man with a stick. Sonia sat on, watching her serve him. Maybe that’s what she should do, she thought, become a waitress or something like that. But she hated the idea. Such menial work was beneath her. She was a genuine psychic, except no one appreciated that fact. Of course, doing stints at fairs didn’t help her reputation, but she had to make a living somehow now that Jimbo was gone.

  She got up at last, waving goodbye to Milly, and stepped out into a sudden downpour. She ran through it to her tent and dried herself off. This wouldn’t do, she thought. She might as well pack up and go home.

  Then she thought she heard a voice but, for the life of her, she couldn’t see where it was coming from. She looked outside the tent, hoping to see a potential customer but her patch was deserted. She listened to the music of the merry-go-round for a moment, realising it sounded more like the Death March than selections from Oklahoma.

  Everything looked bleak even though the rain had stopped as suddenly as it had begun. She went back into the tent and sat down, gazing into her crystal ball. Then she heard the voice again and saw that it was coming from a face clearly visible in the ball. It was the face of the woman who had, up until quite recently, kept falling from the Big Wheel day after day. Sonia had occasionally wondered why she had stopped appearing but had hardly expected her to turn up in her own crystal ball.

  Can you hear me?

  “Yes, I can hear you,” Sonia replied, almost amused by this sudden turn of events. She had rarely seen faces in the ball, so this visitation was something to write home about. Maybe this would convince the sceptical public that she was a genuine medium at last. “What do you want?”

  I want you to follow in my footsteps.

  “What do you mean?”

  It awaits you. I have left it for you. It will only take a moment. You have nothing to live for now.

  “How dare you say that?” But she wondered if the face in the ball wasn’t right. “I’ve got lots of things…”

  You can’t even afford a packet of cigarettes

  “I’m temporarily short of funds if it’s any of your business.”

  Do yourself a favour. It will be a blessed relief.

  “Why are you there, talking to me like that?” She was beginning to feel afraid, the zombie-like tone of the voice not helping at all.

  There is a wrong to be righted. I will be at peace once this is done. I deserted my child once, and then you came along and deserted him again. I don’t want you to get away with that.

  Sonia was mystified. “I deserted your child? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Ernest Williams was my son, and no one deserts my son. I’m the only one allowed to do that.

  “You’re crazy,” said Sonia, aware that she must also be crazy to listen to this disembodied spirit, or whatever it was.

  I left him at an orphanage when he was a baby, and I paid the price. You left him for another man, and you must pay too.

  Suddenly, the face vanished. “Are you still there? Please explain!”

  The voice had vanished too. She could hear the rain lashing the tent now, and she shivered. She stood up and went outside. She couldn’t feel the rain now, only an invisible hand on her back pushing her forward. She didn’t try to resist, suddenly feeling completely at peace.

  The Big Wheel stood before her, the passenger car waiting to take her up into the heavens.

 

 

 
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