Stealing the Show

by Christina Jones

  ‘Oh, goody.’ Marcia had abandoned the Krug in favour of little bottles of Bacardi pinched from the hotel’s mini-bar and was consulting the programme. ‘It’s Rimsky-Korsakov and Tchaikovsky and Elgar next.’ She shot a beady look across the rug towards Nell. ‘What’s that you’re singing, dear? Is it Bartok?’

  ‘Probably something from one of Elvis’s early films.’ Ross grinned. ‘After all that’s what she was brought up on, wasn’t it, Adele? Blue Hawaii? Jailhouse Rock?’

  Adele was aware of the stiffening of Nell’s shoulders even though her expression didn’t change. Things were definitely not right between them. Not right at all.

  The evening sky had darkened without anyone noticing. As the orchestra swelled into ‘Romeo and Juliet’, the fountains below in the butterscotch courtyard turned into pastel rainbows, rising and falling with the beat of the music. Adele felt the lump in her throat grow larger and moved her hand across the rug to find Peter’s. It was so perfect. So incredibly romantic. Marcia and Clem were conducting with their champagne flutes. Ross was idly eating black grapes, watching his parents with fond indulgence.

  With tears of emotion blurring her eyes, Adele sneaked a look at Nell, willing her to wriggle across the rug to Ross’s side. Nell, however, was gazing at the beauty of the fountains, still smiling, still miles away.

  ‘It’s the sing-along, next.’ Clem, was delving into the hamper for leftovers. ‘Where are you off to, Princess?’

  ‘I must find a loo.’ Adele had scrambled to her feet. ‘Too much champagne, I’m afraid. No, no, I’ll be back in plenty of time for the finale. There shouldn’t be a queue – not while the concert’s on.’

  ‘Mum!’ Nell was laughing. ‘You don’t have to use the public ones. Use my living wagon. The door’s unlocked.’

  The Percivals drew in a joint breath of indignation. Adele winced. She really couldn’t listen to Marcia crowing about how things like that would have to be tightened up when Ross and Nell finally tied the knot. She couldn’t stay there and watch the Percivals snuff out the light in Nell’s eyes.

  It had taken longer than she’d anticipated to negotiate the thousands of people, both on the South Lawn and through the fairground, and the first part of the Elgar section had already kicked off as she left Nell’s living wagon and skirted the hoopla stall. All three Mackenzie girls were in there, she noticed, attracting the boys from the minor public schools like magnets. Claudia must be listening to the concert, too. Adele hoped that she was listening to it with Danny.

  ‘Hell,’ she muttered, as she reached the waltzer. Danny was still sitting in the pay-box, alone, blasting out punk with a face like thunder.

  He saw her and raised his hand in greeting. Adele’s heart went out to him. He was loud-mouthed and aggressive and his own worst enemy but he was still her child. She wished she and Peter could have been more generous when it came to the distribution of their sons’ genes.

  ‘Hi.’ Danny darted between the wildly swinging waltzer cars and dropped from the steps with expertise. ‘Where’s Dad?’

  ‘Enjoying the concert with the Percivals. Nell’s up there too. Coming to join us ?’

  ‘Not my sort of thing.’ Danny looked over his shoulder. ‘Oy! Alfie! Get in the pay-box!’ He turned back to Adele. ‘It’s been a right bugger, this business with that bastard Terry. Being one lad down, I mean. We’ve taken on a couple of locals but – well, you know what it’s like.’

  Adele gave a non-committal nod. There was no way she was going to ask Danny about his row with Claudia. There had always been rows between them, and she had no reason to think this one would be any different.

  ‘Takings good?’ At least this was safe territory.

  ‘Great.’ Danny frowned. ‘Be even better if we had a decent ride. Oh, don’t get me wrong – it’s not that I’m ungrateful or anything – but Ross spent last night with us and he was telling us about the stuff Jessons are putting out at the moment. Bloody incredible! What I wouldn’t give for something like that. Christ, I wish Nell would stop pussyfooting around and marry the bloke! What’s she waiting for? If Ross was in with us we could have machines like the Ice-Breaker. We’d be big time then.’

  She almost told him. So help me God, she thought, I could put the smile back on his face with half-a-dozen words. ‘Is that all that’s bothering you? Not having the latest rides?’

  Danny nodded. ‘Yeah. That and not having kids. You know how much I want kids, Ma. I want sons to carry on after I’m gone.’

  ‘I’m sure Claudia feels the same. I mean, it isn’t her fault ’

  Danny laughed. It was harsh and made Adele flinch. ‘Claudia! What use is Claudia to any man? She says she wants to have a baby but every month when she’s not pregnant she doesn’t care! She doesn’t bloody care! And she’s got the nerve to tell me I want a baby for the wrong reasons! Silly cow!’ Danny jerked round angrily. ‘Oy! Alfie! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Not like that! Jesus!’ And he vaulted back over the merry red-and-yellow rails of the waltzer.

  As the sea shanties came to an end the first firework exploded in the sky. There was a mass gasp, and the crowds pointed upwards. Another and another burst in screaming multi-coloured profusion, skittering and shrieking across the sky. The orchestra was playing ‘Rule, Britannia’ and everyone was singing at the tops of their voices.

  Adele joined in as she pushed through the throng. She knew she wouldn’t make it back to the tartan rug in time so she leaned against one of the mellow honey brick walls and tried to let the rousing music and the spectacular aerial display take the pain out of Danny’s outburst. Poor Danny.

  Poor Claudia. She had listened on Guild Ladies’ Nights to other mothers with similar stories and always felt complacent. It could never happen to her family.

  The fireworks exploded like rainbow stars, forming huge cushions of colour that overlapped and hung suspended in the sky before scattering into a million fragments. Over and over again, red and blue, gold and silver, green and yellow, growing, glowing, disintegrating. And then the orchestra burst into ‘Jerusalem’ and the South Lawn went crazy.

  Adele clung on to her safe stone pillar and sang along, wondering if Peter was getting the words right. Lasers sliced across the darkness and huge fountains of fireworks sizzled into infinity. The laughing, singing crowd parted for a moment and on the other side of the courtyard Adele could see Sam. His head was back, watching the sky, and he seemed to be singing and laughing at the same time. Her heart skipped a beat. At least one of them seemed happy. She’d wait until the last notes had died away, the last sparks had. disappeared, then she’d go over and talk to him. Sam, more than anyone, should be able to help Danny,

  They were on the final chorus now, the massed voices, the emotion, awe-inspiring. Adele looked across to Sam again. He was still laughing. Laughing down at Claudia who was leaning against him, one hand on his waist. Sam’s hand was behind her neck, beneath the cloud of her curls. As Adele watched in disbelief, he leaned down and kissed his sister-in-law.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The photograph made the front page of The World’s Fair two weeks later. Nell collected her copy of the paper from W.H. Smith in Haresfoot, unfolded it in the pedestrianised shopping precinct, and screamed with laughter. She and Claudia, all legs and chests, were squeezed together in the gateway at Henley, looking like total bimbos.

  The caption read: ‘Bradley Beauties Revel at Regatta’, and the article, apart from getting their ages wrong, went on to give the fair some excellent coverage.

  ‘Nice one of you.’ Claudia, who had been window-shopping in Oasis, peered over her shoulder. ‘Twenty-five? You wish! God! Look at my make-up! I’m surprised they didn’t lock me up that night. We look a bit “tarts on tour” though, don’t we? Danny’ll love it.’

  Nell pulled a face. The situation between Danny and Claudia had deteriorated rapidly since Blenheim. There had been a blazing and very unpleasant row after the concert, which was witnessed by the entire Perciv
al clan. Nell, who had wandered down from the picnic as the last strains of ‘Jerusalem’ died away, clutching a bottle of Krug and seeking out Claudia for their promised chat, found her mother in the middle of a surprisingly ferocious argument with Sam. Claudia and Danny were having their own slanging match beside the waltzer, which, of course, reached its crescendo just as the rest of the party arrived.

  Danny had said some unforgivable things. Adele, Peter, and Ross had whisked him off out of the way to calm him down, while Clem and a very smug Marcia teetered back to the Bear. Exasperated by the whole business, Nell had suggested to Sam that they should act as mediators in the marriage. Sam had refused point-blank. Nell could only assume that this was what her mother had been suggesting earlier and, as no one seemed to need her input, she’d taken the Krug and her ‘Sabre Dance’ dreams back to the living wagon.

  Claudia had spent the night with Nell, sharing the champagne but refusing to say what had sparked this particular explosion. She’d returned home the next morning and what she and Danny were like in private was left to speculation. In public they hardly spoke. Claudia seemed to be handling it with her usual equanimity, and Danny – well, Danny was coping by drinking heavily and spending a lot of time with Ross.

  Nell worried about both of them. Divorce, as far as she could see, simply wasn’t an option. They were stamped right through with the travelling tradition like the lettering in a stick of rock. Part of her wished they’d just try and patch things up; the other part, the part that felt that being bound by the rigid confines of showland convention should no longer be a threat to civil liberties, desperately wanted to see them free and happy. After all, there were divorces among travellers – and remarriages too – however rare, and they’d stopped burning people at the stake for heresy years ago.

  She, however, was still on cloud nine, having been back to Fox Hollow twice to play the organ and admire Jack’s handiwork. Although he’d not been there on either occasion, he must have spent a lot of time working: at least half of the horses were completed now, and he’d made a start on the gilded background of the rounding boards. Nell thought he must have a very tolerant employer.

  He’d left her a note the previous week.

  ‘Nell – I’ve christened Jemima, Vincent, Lexington, and Cassandra – and taken the liberty of throwing in some of my own. Please say if you have any objections – or further preferences. We’ve still got loads to go. It’s hell being parents in a multiple birth, isn’t it? Love, Jack.’

  His writing was thick, black, and bold. She’d smiled over his selection of names. They matched really well with hers. He’d chosen Jonquil, Zachary, Merlin, Giselle, and Guinevere, and they were painted in glorious scrolled colours along each glossy neck. She’d written back:

  ‘Dear Jack – Thank you. I love them. They must have taken hours – you’re very clever. How about Valentine, Lucian, Theodore, Florence, and Dominic? And if you’re going to be Arthurian, don’t forget Lancelot. Beat that if you can! Maybe we’ll actually meet again one day! Love, Nell.’

  She was going to Fox Hollow that afternoon. The stay at Haresfoot was a long one – one of the longest of the season – and she was already impatient for the gallopers to be completed and built up. The fact that when they were, she might have to confess to owning them, was a bit of a worm in the apple, but she was sure she could handle it.

  She had no idea whether she could handle Ross, though. He was going to be joining them at the end of the week, just before they left for the street fair at Marsh Minster. Confessing that she’d spent all her personal fortune on the Savage and the Gavioli was going to be a darned sight easier than accepting Ross Percival as a permanent part of her life.

  She looked at the photograph again. God knows what Adele and Peter would make of it. They were worried enough about Danny and Claudia without this. However, she grinned to herself, it wasn’t all bad: Ross would be outraged.

  ‘Are you going to have it framed for Ross’ Christmas present?’ Claudia asked as they crossed the main road and headed back to the fair with carrier bags of boring food shopping. ‘After all, it’s probably the most he’s going to see of your body.’

  ‘Are you a mind-reader?’

  ‘Palms be me speciality, dearie.’ Claudia broke into a wheezing cackle. ‘Cross the gypsy’s palm with an Amex Gold and hear exactly what you want to hear. Holy cow! What’s going on over there?’

  Nell peered in the direction of a yelling, giggling crowd of girls outside the Virgin megastore. ‘Must be one of those boy bands doing a personal appearance. Heel! Stay! You’re far too old! Thirty-two, according to The World’s Fair.’ Laughing, she grabbed Claudia. ‘Good God! It’s Terry!’

  They watched in amazement as Terry, golden, floppy-haired, and as beautiful as ever in his sprayed-on jeans and black T-shirt, autographed scraps of paper, legs, arms, and other proffered bits of anatomy.

  ‘Has he signed a record contract or what?’ Claudia nudged Nell. ‘He’s only been gone a couple of weeks.’

  Nell shook her head. Maybe the pale and wispy Emblings had been friends with Richard Branson and pulled off some super-deal that would keep their Karen in clover and out of harm’s way. Terry looked up from signing the thigh of a pretty girl with cropped hair and a ring in her navel, and grinned broadly. Shoving his way through his admirers, he loped towards Nell and Claudia.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Nell was aware that the girls were staring enviously. ‘Have we missed something? Last I heard you were being groomed for marriage or locked up for life and not necessarily in that order.’

  ‘I’m coming back. I hitched a lift into Oxford, then thumbed it down the A34.1 knew you’d still be at Haresfoot.’ He surveyed them proudly. ‘You both look great – not as good as that photo in The World’s Fair, though. Have you seen it? It’s –’

  ‘We’ve seen it, thanks. I’m really pleased that you’re coming back – the dodgems haven’t been the same without you and the other lads have missed you – but what was all that about? And what’s happened to Karen?’

  ‘Karen is now wearing my engagement ring and going back to school in September to study for her exams. I’m a reformed character – honest. The police have decided that there are no charges to answer. Not even abduction. Ma and Pa Embling were pretty neat about it all, actually. And with Karen’s track record for bolting, the police were just glad to close the book, I reckon. And those girls – well,’ he shrugged. ‘They were staring at me, so I said I was Rudy Yarrow.’

  ‘Who the hell is Rudy Yarrow?’

  ‘Sexy little boy from that teenage soap thing on Channel Five,’ Claudia said with authority. ‘Hottest thing in faded denim this year. Actually, you do look a lot like him. Honest, Nell, don’t you know nothing?’

  ‘Obviously not. So, will Sam get his surety cheque back now?’

  ‘He’s already got it,’ Claudia said happily. ‘Last week. Didn’t he tell you?’

  Returning to the fairground, they received a mixed reception. Haresfoot was a large affair with half-a-dozen showmen’s families combining their machines. They had all without exception got a copy of The World’s Fair. The majority seemed to find the photograph either amusing or titillating or both, and good-naturedly whistled and cat-called their approval.

  Danny, of course, didn’t. Breaking off from tinkering with the underside of one of the waltzer cars, he glared at them. ‘Don’t know how you two have got the nerve to show your faces round here. What did you think you were up to – posing like that? I’ve had people taking the piss all bloody morning! Christ! You looked like complete scrubbers!’ He blinked in disbelief. ‘And what the fuck is he doing here?’

  Nell patted Terry on the shoulder. ‘Ignore him. You work for me. Go and find yourself a space in the Beast Wagon.’ She grinned at Claudia and handed her the Sainsbury bags.

  ‘You’re on your own with this one. I’m – er – going out. Think you can handle it?’

  ‘No problem at all.’ Claudia was already wal
king away from her husband. ‘Piece of cake. Oh, and Nell –’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Give my love to the bank manager.’

  Jack’s motorbike was parked outside the shed when Nell arrived. She locked the Volvo and looked furtively over her shoulder, making sure that her arrival hadn’t been noticed. Not that it would have mattered even if she had been spotted by the Fox Hollow locals, she told herself, hauling open the sliding doors. Everyone knew it was the Bradleys’ winter quarters, but no one knew what the shed currently contained. It was only her sense of guilt which convinced her that the words Savage and Gavioli were printed in indelible ink across her forehead.

  The lights were on and the air smelled warm and stuffy and mysterious. Nell had never smelled paint and linseed oil and white spirit in such vast quantities before. It was illicit and exciting, like a heavy waft of civet-based scent. If the summer was going to continue being so hot, she must remember to bring an electric fan otherwise Jack would be asphyxiated before he was finished.

  He didn’t hear her walk across the shed. Didn’t hear her stop behind him. A portable wireless was playing brash music. He was busy painting the name on one of the horses, and she watched, fascinated. Totally immersed, he used the brush like an extension of his fingers, each tiny movement flowing and controlled. The hairs on the brush were needle-fine; each letter, each inlaid colour, took time and patience. Nell enjoyed looking at him. His shoulders were hunched under the thin cotton sweater, the black jeans smeared as always with rich colours. His hair was dark and thick and looked blue under the harsh lights.

  ‘Hello, Nell.’ He stopped painting and looked up at her over his shoulder.

  ‘Hi. Sorry – you haven’t smudged it or anything, have you? I tried not to make a noise.’

  ‘You didn’t.’ He dropped the paintbrush into a cloudy jar. ‘I could smell you.’