So Long At the Fair Read online

  ‘I’m Beatrice Morris,’ Beatie said, and this is my sister Abigail.’

  The young man nodded. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you.’

  Abbie murmured a greeting then took a step away, preparing to move on. But the young man forestalled her.

  ‘I was just about to try my own fortune with the rifles,’ he said. ‘Maybe if you stay around for a minute longer you’ll bring me luck.’ Then, without waiting for a response, he turned to the sideshow proprietor and handed him some coppers.

  The girls – with Abbie showing a little impatience – stepped to one side while the young man set the coconut down at his feet and picked up one of the rifles. At the same time the sideshow holder, with a practised flourish, stuck a little paper target on to the board. ‘Five shots,’ he said as he stepped back. ‘Four of ’em in the bull or in the inner ring gets you the pick of the prizes.’

  Louis Randolph raised the rifle to his shoulder, took careful aim and fired. The lead pellet went thwuck into the upper left outer rim of the target. ‘Darn it,’ he said, frowning. ‘It fires high and to the left.’ He reloaded the gun and bent again. There came the sound of the gun’s report and the second slug appeared just inside the ring that encircled the bull’s-eye.

  ‘He did it,’ breathed Beatie, to which Abbie said drily, ‘Yes, once. He’s got to do it three more times yet.’

  Hearing her words, the young man turned and looked at her over his shoulder. ‘How right you are, Miss.’ He reloaded, took aim again, and this time the pellet whacked right into the target’s bull’s-eye. ‘Two to go,’ he murmured and briefly raised his eyes to heaven in a silent little prayer.

  He loaded the gun a fourth time, took careful aim and fired again. And another pellet appeared in the target’s inner circle. He breathed a sigh of relief and reloaded the gun. About to take aim, he hesitated, turned to the girls and asked, ‘Do you wish me luck?’

  ‘Oh, yes, indeed,’ Beatie replied.

  He nodded his thanks then said to Abbie, ‘And what about you, Miss Abigail? Do you wish me luck too?’

  ‘I’m sure I do if it will help you,’ she said.

  He gave a little frown. ‘No – no, say it.’

  Abbie smiled. ‘Good luck.’

  He grinned at her, raised the rifle, took careful aim and fired.

  ‘You won!’ Abbie cried against Beatie’s words of approval and congratulation. She could hardly believe the sight of the slugs embedded in the target – two in the inner circle and two right in the bull’s-eye.

  As Louis straightened and laid down the rifle, the sideshow owner said, ‘Well, now you best choose your prize. What’ll it be? The two vawses – made of genu-ine ‘and-cut crystal? Or mebbe the pair of genu-ine Staffordshire dogs, ‘and-painted by artists?’ He pointed to a shaving set with razor, brush and mug. ‘Or mebbe this fine set, young sir . . .’ He turned his attention to the spectators. ‘There y’are, ladies and gentlemen – you can see as the prizes can be won all right. All this young gen’leman’s got to do now is choose.’

  Louis stood there for a moment, then turned to Beatie. ‘Now don’t take this amiss,’ he said, ‘but I’d like to give you a wedding present.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ she protested. ‘I can’t let you do that.’

  ‘Please,’ he said. ‘And if you won’t choose then I’ll have to choose something for you – and I know I’d go and pick the wrong thing.’

  ‘No,’ Beatie said, ‘you must choose something for yourself – or for your mother.’

  ‘I haven’t got a mother. Nor a sister – nor a young lady for that matter.’ He grinned. ‘Come on, what’ll it be?’

  ‘Go on,’ Abbie urged Beatie, giving her a little nudge, ‘choose.’

  Beatie was almost hopping with happiness and excitement. ‘But why?’ she asked. ‘Why should you do this for me?’

  ‘Because I want to. Just say what it’ll be.’

  After a moment’s hesitation Beatie pointed to one of the shelves. ‘Oh – the teaset,’ she said, almost breathless. ‘Oh, yes! Yes! The pretty teaset with the pink roses.’

  The china teaset and its box were brought forward and held aloft by the man to allow the crowd to see what a marvellous prize had been won for so little effort and outlay. There were six each of the cups, saucers and plates, a teapot, a little milk pitcher and a sugar basin. While Beatie ohed and ahed over it the man wrapped the pieces in newspaper, placed them in the box and tied the box with string. A moment later it was being placed in Beatie’s eager hands. ‘Now don’t drop it,’ the man said.

  ‘Oh, no fear,’ she said, clutching the box to her. ‘I’d never do that.’

  Louis picked up his coconut from the grass and the three moved away from the rifle booth. As they did so Abbie turned to Louis and asked whether he had come to the fair on his own.

  ‘No,’ he replied, ‘I came with my friends.’

  ‘They’ll be wondering where you are. They’ll think you’ve been stolen by the gypsies.’

  He chuckled. ‘Oh, I don’t think they’ll be fretting about that.’ He pointed over to the marquee that the girls had visited earlier. ‘Can I offer you some refreshment? Some tea or some coffee or lemonade?’

  Feeling that it would be churlish to refuse his offer after such generosity, Abbie and Beatie accepted, and accompanied him to the marquee. There they drank more tea and ate some little cakes with icing sugar on top. As they emerged into the sunlight some minutes later, Louis gave a wave to someone in the milling crowd, then said to the girls, ‘Will you excuse me for a minute? My friends are there and I just want to have a quick word with them.’

  Leaving Abbie and Beatie, he went over to where his friends stood at the entrance to a marquee. Moments later the girls heard a voice yelling out not far behind them: ‘There you are, our Beat!’ and turning, they saw Eddie coming towards them.

  Snatching at Beatie’s hand, Eddie said boisterously, ‘Here – you’re comin’ with me!’

  Beatie laughed. ‘Where to?’

  ‘I’m gunna give you a special treat. Though I dunno why – after that business with the ‘oily.’ He pulled her towards him. ‘I’m takin’ you on the merry-go-round and then on the swing boats.’

  ‘And you’re paying?’

  ‘What? Of course I’m payin’.’ He gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘Seein’ as I didn’t ’ave no damn luck with that bent rifle.’

  ‘What about me?’ Abbie said. ‘Do I get to ride on the merry-go-round too?’

  ‘Eh? Bugger that!’ Eddie laughed. ‘You ain’t gettin’ married! No, and I ain’t got money to waste, neither!’ He turned back to Beatie. ‘Come on, make the most of the offer. It ain’t gunna last for ever.’

  Beatie thrust the cardboard box into Abbie’s hands. ‘Look after my teaset, will you? And make sure you don’t break it.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Abbie said. Then as Eddie pulled Beatie behind him into the throng, she called after them, ‘I’ll wait for you here, by the tea tent.’

  As Louis came back to her side a moment later she said to him, ‘Beatie’s gone off with our brother, Eddie. He’s going to take her for a ride on the merry-go-round.’

  Louis smiled. ‘Would you like to ride on the merry-go-round too?’

  ‘Me? Oh, no – no, thank you.’

  ‘I’ll happily take you.’

  ‘No, really, thank you all the same – though it’s very kind of you to offer.’

  ‘The offer’s not made out of kindness.’ He was looking at her very steadily. ‘Perhaps you’d like some more tea or something?’

  ‘Oh, no, I couldn’t drink another thing. What I’d really like is to sit down for a minute. My feet are near to dropping off.’

  ‘Come on, then.’ His hand touched her elbow. ‘Let’s find a little peace and quiet and a spot to rest for a minute.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘I should wait here for Beatie.’ She was very much aware of his touch.

  ‘She won’t be back for a while yet. I could
do with a rest too.’

  Making no further protest, she allowed him to lead her away, passing between the outer stalls and caravans and tents to where the field was free of sojourners and the grass was still relatively fresh and untrodden.

  ‘There we are, look.’ Louis pointed towards the edge of the field, where willows hung over a stream. There they walked side by side, eventually coming to a stop where a fallen tree lay beside the running water. Louis put down the coconut, took off his jacket and laid it on the grass. ‘There you are.’

  After a moment Abbie sat and placed the boxed teaset beside her feet. ‘That’s better. I need a rest before we start back to Flaxdown.’

  Louis sat down beside her, his back against the tree trunk. ‘I’ll walk back home with you and your sister if you like,’ he said.

  ‘To Flaxdown? Oh, no, thank you. That’s very kind of you, but we’ll be all right.’

  ‘Like my offer just now,’ he said, smiling, ‘It’s not made out of kindness.’ He paused, observing her closely. ‘I’d like to. See you home, I mean.’

  ‘No, it’s too far. You’d have a three-mile walk to Flaxdown and then another three to Frome.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I’m twenty-four, not eighty-four.’

  Abbie chuckled. ‘Yes, but even so.’ Turning her head, she saw that over in the fairground two or three lights had come on. The day was dying. She gave a sigh. ‘I love coming to the fair. It’s just a shame it all has to end. Tomorrow everyone’ll be hard at work again.’

  ‘And that includes you, does it?’

  ‘Yes. Though I just work at home. I look after my father and brother. What about you? What do you do for a living?’

  ‘I’m still studying. At Guy’s.’

  ‘Guy’s? What is Guy’s?’

  ‘It’s one of England’s top medical schools.’

  ‘You’re going to become a doctor. That’s wonderful.’

  ‘It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.’

  ‘Where is Guy’s? In London, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My mother came from London.’

  He gave a little nod. ‘That accounts for it, then. Your accent.’

  ‘What about my accent?’ She knew, though, what he meant.

  ‘Well – it’s not quite like that of the other local people. Though it’s not like your sister’s either. Her accent is not quite like yours.’

  Abbie’s light laugh sounded slightly self-conscious. ‘Perhaps it doesn’t need to be.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well –’ She gave a little shrug. ‘I have . . . worked at it, as you might say. I felt I had to – if I wanted to be a schoolteacher.’

  ‘A schoolteacher? Is that what you’re going to be?’

  ‘That’s what I was hoping.’ She shrugged, bent and pulled a few blades of grass from beside her foot. ‘But it’s not going to happen now – at least not in the way I thought it might. Still, I tell myself, there’s more to the world than Flaxdown.’

  ‘Indeed there is.’

  She saw that he was studying her, smiling. ‘What is it?’ she said.

  ‘I was thinking of you – smoothing off the rough edges.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Working on your accent.’

  ‘Oh – that.’

  ‘It shows a certain – dedication. Determination.’

  Was he laughing at her? she wondered. But no, there was nothing negative in his eyes. Nevertheless there was a slight note of defensiveness in her tone as she said, ‘Perhaps one needs to have a certain determination in life.’

  ‘Oh, one does indeed,’ he said.

  She nodded. ‘Well, otherwise you – well, you’d never get what you were after, would you?’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’ He paused, smiled. ‘How did you do it? Work on your accent.’

  ‘I suppose I just – just copied my mother. As I said, she came from London. No one in the village spoke as she did.’

  ‘And is your mother proud of you? I’m sure she must be.’

  ‘She – she’s not with us any more.’ Then, quickly, lest he should misunderstand, she added, ‘She went away. Back to London. She left us.’

  ‘Oh – I’m so sorry to hear that.’

  ‘It was a long time ago.’

  A silence fell and, attempting to dispel the little shadow, she said with smile, ‘So – now you know; I actually set out to change my way of speaking. I had to. I didn’t think I’d stand a chance otherwise.’ She shook her head. ‘Mind you – the ribbing I got from my brother Eddie – I don’t mind telling you, at times it was hard to take.’

  He chuckled. ‘Is that typical of him?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Though I come off lightly next to my sister.’

  ‘Beatrice?’

  ‘Yes.’ She laughed. ‘With her he’s merciless at times.’

  She became aware of music drifting across the grass. ‘Love’s Golden Dream’ was playing again. More lights had come on. Louis looked over towards the fairground. ‘I like your sister. She seems a very fine young woman.’

  ‘She is.’

  ‘And very pretty.’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘So must anybody. Her intended – he must feel he’s a very fortunate chap.’

  ‘Well, he ought to. But there, I’m biased. One thing I know – she’ll make a very good wife.’

  ‘And what about you?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘D’you think you’ll make a good wife?’

  She laughed. ‘Beatie’s the one getting wed, not me.’

  ‘But you will – one day.’

  She shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘No doubt of it. A girl looking like you.’

  ‘Oh . . .’ Feeling herself blushing at his words she dismissed his compliment with a little wave of her hand.

  ‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘You’re one of the prettiest and grandest girls I ever met.’

  She neither knew what to say, nor how to react. Self-consciously she touched at her bonnet, untied the strings and retied them. He was gazing at her, his expression half amused, discomfiting. One square, tanned hand was raised to his mouth, forefinger touching at his full lower lip. His other hand rested in the grass, not far from her own. She thought how strong his hands looked, and yet sensitive; they were just the kind of hands a doctor should have. She felt suddenly very much aware of his nearness. The feeling made her a little fearful, while some small voice inside her head said that she should get up now and make her way back to the safety of the fairground crowd.

  ‘I’d like to see you again,’ he said. ‘Would that be possible?’

  ‘With you in London and me in Flaxdown?’

  ‘There are ways. What do you think?’

  She wanted to say yes, but she did not. Instead, she looked about her and murmured, without conviction, ‘If I don’t go soon Beatie’ll think I’ve been kidnapped.’

  ‘By the gypsies?’ He smiled, his teeth very white in the slowly fading light.

  ‘I shouldn’t wonder. No, really, I must go. Eddie’ll be mad if he has to wait with Beatie when he could be off with his friends.’

  ‘Oh – wait just another minute or two. Give them a chance to finish their ride on the merry-go-round.’

  Looking back over her shoulder she saw that more and more lights were coming on, twinkling more brightly by the second as the sun sank lower. Against the rippling of the brook the sound of the hurdy-gurdy came clear and sweet in the evening air. She was aware of Louis’s hand, so close to her own in the grass. And then his hand moved towards hers and she felt his fingertips gently brush the side of her thumb. The touch, lasting no more than a split second, made her catch her breath. She looked down at their two hands, while her heart pounded in her breast to a degree that she could never recall happening before. As she continued to look down she saw his hand rise and close gently over her own. She flinched and for a moment began to draw her hand away, but his fingers closed arou
nd it and she ceased to move. Keeping her eyes lowered, she gazed at their two hands entwined.

  ‘Abbie . . . ?’

  She raised her eyes. He was gazing at her with a burning intensity, his lips slightly parted.

  ‘I’m so glad I came to the fair today,’ he said. ‘And I would so like to see you again. Tell me I can.’

  Unable to trust herself to speak, she said nothing.

  ‘Tell me I can,’ he repeated.

  She gave a little nod, then saw his mouth turn up at the corners in a brief smile and then become grave again. He leaned towards her, until his face was only an inch from her own and she could feel his breath. Involuntarily she closed her eyes and the next moment she felt his mouth upon hers.

  The kiss was brief, his lips merely touching hers before he drew back slightly. Opening her eyes she looked into his face once more. What’s happening to me? she asked herself. She had met various young men over recent years, young men from the village and beyond, young men with whom she had joked and laughed and flirted. And it had meant nothing. This feeling, though, was different; this was like nothing else she had ever experienced.

  His hands came up now and touched her upper arms, turning her to him. He drew her towards him and she did not resist, nor did she when he kissed her again, this time a longer kiss. She had never known such a sensation – the feeling of being held this way, of his lips upon her own. And dimly there came to her also a feeling of surprise, not only at the happening, but at her lack of will to resist.

  The kiss ended, and he released her, but only to untie the strings of her bonnet. When he had done so he took it off and put it down beside her. Then his hands were there once more, upon her hair, her cheek, her shoulders. He drew her to him again and once more pressed his lips on hers. And she gave herself up to him, gave herself up to the moment, melting into his touch.

  Held in his arms, she felt his kisses on her forehead, her cheek, her chin. And then he kissed her mouth again, and her lips parted and she felt the warmth of his tongue and moved her own tongue against it, so sweet, so sweet. He spoke her name between his kisses and she responded, speaking his name in a little gasping murmur and a little sob of happiness. When his hand slowly brushed the swell of her breast she could make no protest, no attempt to draw away. Held in his arms, the night had become a swirl of twinkling lights, lilting music and the feel of his closeness, his lips upon her lips, his hand upon her breast. And she wanted his hands upon her, wanted to feel the touch of him; wanted the moments never to end.