‘Plenty. But you wouldn’t listen. If – just if – it all works out, who will you be? You know, which identity will you adopt to be the doting Mrs Danny Bradley – epitome of the perfect wife and mother? Sackcloth with ashes earrings? Downtrodden shoes? Hangdog jumpers? Tell me, honestly, about the dressing-up. Which one is the real you?’
‘All of them.’ She curled her feet up on the window seat, her head sliding on to Sam’s shoulder. It felt good. No one could see them. It would never happen again. She’d remember this for ever. ‘I dress for the way I feel at the time. Why?
‘Because that’s what I’d want you to do. Wear the sexy stuff if you wanted to, or the pretty floaty things on your romantic days, or smart suits – or whatever you bloody wanted. I want you to be you. To be happy. Not to wear things that you hate – like this,’ he flicked at the black T-shirt. ‘You hate this, don’t you? What’s the matter?’
She wriggled away from him, gritting her teeth, her eyes watering. Last night’s bruises were still angry. Sam leaned over and lifted the T-shirt, and gazed with incredulity at her ribs.
‘Jesus! I thought you said he never hit you. The bastard. I’ll kill him – I’ll –’
‘He didn’t hit me. He doesn’t.’ She stared at him with defiance. ‘It wasn’t like that. He –’ Her eyes filled with tears and she dashed them away, angry with herself at letting him know too much. Angry at having revealed this awful, shameful secret. ‘He just wants a baby so much – you know ….’
Sam stared at her in horrified disbelief.
She closed her eyes. ‘It’s my fault. I deserve this. If I hadn’t been taking the pill I’d have got pregnant years ago and it would be all right. It’s my fault …’
‘He raped you?’ Sam was on his feet. There was no sign of love and peace in his eyes. Just anger. ‘He bloody raped you?’
‘No. Of course he didn’t. We’re married. It’s my fault that I don’t want to – Sam! Sam! Don’t!’
She flew to the door of the living wagon but Sam had gone, punching his way through the crowds, his tawny hair fleetingly visible, in the swooping, gaily coloured lights. Claudia wiped her hand across her eyes and jumped down the steps after him. It was her fault. Danny kept saying so. If she was normal – if she enjoyed sex – if she could have a baby … She’d short-changed him. He expected more from his wife. It was all her fault.
Claudia cannoned into people. Someone trod on her toes. Elbows gouged into her painful ribs, making her catch her breath. She thrust her way through the Crash’n’Dash’s snaking queue. She had to stop him. Stop them. Stop Danny finding out. Stop Sam getting hurt. Yes, that most of all. Danny would kill him, brother or no brother. She hurled herself towards the waltzer.
Barry and Ted, the gaff lads, were riding on the backs of cars, swinging them round beneath the starburst spars of light. The track undulated in time to throaty jungle music. Eager punters hung from the pillars and crowded two-deep on the platforms waiting for the next ride. Through it all she could see Danny in the centre pay-box, his shoulders hunched, counting the money.
Then she could see Sam, leaping on to the moving machine, weaving his way through the swirling blur of the cars with ease. He’d done it all his life. Claudia stuffed her fist into her mouth as he kicked his way into the pay-box and Danny, thinking he was being mugged, jumped to his feet. After that it was all in slow motion. Claudia watched helplessly, the tears sliding down her cheeks.
Danny’s face relaxed when he saw Sam, then looked surprised, then faintly contorted as Sam grabbed him and pulled him off his seat. The jungle music screeched and died. The gaff lads turned their heads to see what was happening, and immediately leapt from the cars into the centre. They stood there, rooted to the spot, not understanding. Not knowing what they should do: Sam, hauling Danny after him, still managed to avoid being hit by the cars on the return journey and they tumbled from the waltzer platform, locked together, amidst the yelling, cheering punters.
The crowds parted, making way for them, standing back like the bit-parters in an old-fashioned Western saloon brawl. Sam had Danny’s throat in a stranglehold, and he scrambled upright, dragging his brother with him.
‘Sam!’ Claudia fought her way through the excited audience. ‘For God’s sake!’
Danny was retaliating now, punching and kicking; the movements jerky and furious. Everyone gave them a wide berth as Sam bounced Danny away from the waltzer and towards the stalls.
People were running – some to see what was happening, others to get out of the way. There were screams – but these were lost in the yells from the rides. Claudia pushed her way behind them, searching frantically for Ross or Nell or Terry – for anyone who had seen what was going on and could stop them.
It was all her fault. Every bit of it. She collided with families hurrying in the opposite direction; parents trying to protect their children from the violence. Violence – the word echoed in her head. She’d been on the receiving end of quite a bit of it.
‘What’s going on?’ one of the Mackenzie twins screamed in her ear as she followed Sam and Danny’s erratic progress through the joints. ‘What the hell is happening?’
‘Family squabble,’ Claudia yelled back. ‘Just a bit of fun.’
Sam was hauling Danny up the steps of her living wagon now, stumbling, white-faced with fury. She fled after them, kicking her way in as Sam slammed the door and locked it behind them.
‘Please,’ she wiped her eyes with her fist. ‘Please don’t –’
Sam threw Danny on to the William Morris sofa and stood over him, shaking with anger. He didn’t look at her. ‘Claudia – get out. Go. Now.’
She shook her head. She couldn’t let them do this. She didn’t want to see Sam reduced to Danny’s level because of her.
‘What – the fuck – is – going on?’ Danny was breathing with short, sharp, punchy inhalations. He rubbed his throat and tried to stand up. Sam pushed him down again. He squinted at them both. ‘Have you gone fucking mad?’
Sam still said nothing. Claudia, scrubbing at her eyes, pushed her way between them and lifted her T-shirt. ‘This, Danny. He found out about this.’
Danny almost laughed. He shook his head. ‘What? So fucking what? What’s that to do with anyone else – especially him? How did he see them, anyway? I told you to keep them covered up – or were you wearing one of your slapper outfits again, huh?’
Claudia didn’t answer him. She didn’t want him to know. She didn’t want any of this to be happening. Someone thundered on the door. They ignored it. She could hear Ross’s voice – and Nell’s? High-pitched. Concerned. She looked at Sam and Danny and hurried across the living room.
She unlocked the door and opened it slightly. Their faces were shocked. Terry was behind them, and several of the Macs. She tried to smile. ‘It’s OK. I’m all right. Honest. There’s no problem. Just a bit of a disagreement. Please go away. Please. I’ll be out in a minute.’
She closed the door and locked it again but she knew they were still there.
Like all travellers, Danny was physically fit. He’d quickly regained some of his breath and was squinting up at Sam with a belligerent smirk. ‘You want to beat the crap out of me because she says I belted her – is that right?’
Sam let his hands fall to his sides. The muscles in his shoulders were still bunched. Still on full alert. ‘I don’t think with my fists. I’ve never believed that violence is the answer to anything. And no, Claudia didn’t say you hit her. She didn’t say anything. But I know that you raped her.’
‘I did what?’ Danny smiled in pure disbelief. ‘Rape? Jesus, where have you just beamed down from? You can’t rape your own wife!’
‘You can and you did. And I reckon you’ve been doing it for quite some time – and making her feel guilty about it. No, don’t move. Sit there. Shut up. And listen. She didn’t tell me any of this – I’ve watched you for a long time. I know what you’re like, Danny. She’s scared stiff of you. All she bloody wants is to
be happy. She’s tried so hard to please you. For years. That’s all she’s done. And you raped her …’
‘Bollocks.’ Danny started to stand up again, lunging towards Claudia. ‘Tell him. Christ, woman, so what if I get a bit rough? If you weren’t so fucking useless I wouldn’t have to! If you’d just show some sort of interest and not lie there rigid and with your eyes closed I might not need to get aggressive. You’re frigid and I want a baby. You’re my wife, for God’s sake! I can do what I like with you! Tell him.’
Claudia’s sob caught in her throat. This was appalling. And it had been going on for so long. So many years.
‘I’ll tell you, Danny. Oh, I’ll tell you.’ She gulped back the tears and crashed through into the bedroom. She practically ripped the cabinet from its moorings, wrenching at the drawer, grabbing the pills.
She stood still for one moment looking at the bedroom. She hated it. The white-and-gold flounces and the deep white carpet had witnessed some of the most terrifying moments of her life. And she’d never told anyone. Never … Sam shook his head warningly as she stumbled back into the living room, but she ignored him and flourished the packets under Danny’s nose. ‘Look! Go on! Bloody look! This is why I’ve never become pregnant! This is why I haven’t given you a son!’
Danny peered at the packets. They meant nothing to him. Claudia opened them with fumbling fingers, spilling out the little bubble-marked monthly sachets all over the pattern of the sofa.
Furious realisation flickered in Danny’s eyes. His mouth dropped open. ‘You cheating little whore! I’ll –’
But Danny got no further. Sam bunched his fist and punched him, just once, on the jaw. Danny, still open-mouthed, still looking amazed, slid soundlessly from the William Morris sofa into a graceful heap on the carpet.
Sam took Claudia’s hand very gently and led her towards the door. ‘Come on, sweetheart. Out. Now. I’ll sort everything else out. Just wait for me.’
He opened the door and pushed Claudia into Nell’s arms. ‘Take care of her for me, please. Always.’
Chapter Twenty-eight
‘This, Princess, has got to be sorted. Right now.’
Clem Percival glared at Adele over Ross’s marble-topped kitchen table. ‘You damn well started it – now it’s down to you to stop it. A scandal like this is the last thing we need. And it’s certainly not the sort of thing I want to have the Percival name mixed up in. We’ve always been squeaky clean. Understood? You’ve got to do something about it.’
‘Me?’ Adele, who’d been crying on and off since she and Peter had arrived at Monkton Regis, looked very tired. The golden guitars, however, jangled with an inner indignation. ‘Why me?’
‘They’re your bloody children,’ Clem roared, looking less than avuncular. ‘Bring ’em into line. You were the one who gave ’em ideas above their station –’
Adele wiped her eyes. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Nell, who hadn’t slept and who could have done without this family inquest, stood up. ‘I think what Clem is so delicately hinting, is that if you hadn’t interfered by buying the Crash’n’Dash and changing our lives, none of this would have happened. Which,’ she glared at them both, ‘is a complete load of rubbish. Much as I’d like to blame the Brain-Scrambler for every malady known to man, I really think this one is down to Danny!’
She pulled open Ross’s front door and jumped down the steps. There was a gap in the row of living wagons like a pulled tooth. Sam’s van had gone, along with Claudia’s Shogun. The Mazda was still parked alongside the empty space. Sam’s ‘always’ had lasted less than an hour. He’d collected Claudia from Nell’s living wagon, and leading her gently by the hand, had disappeared into the darkness. Nell, desolate, shocked, and completely helpless, had heard the Shogun start, and heard the living wagon pull away.
Earlier, Claudia, rocking in Nell’s arms, had blurted out all of it. Nell had wanted to rush over to the living wagon and add her own punches to Sam’s. Danny was a complete bastard. Claudia kept repeating how it was all her fault, how she deserved it, until Nell wanted to scream. Claudia – bright, brave Claudia – had been reduced to this – by her brother. For the first time in her life she was ashamed to be a Bradley. She and Claudia had drunk and spilled brandies and said the same things again and again and cried some more. Then Sam had arrived, kissed Nell’s cheek, promised to be in touch, and taken Claudia away.
Nell had paced her living wagon all night, unable to sleep, unable to forget.
Now it was a glorious morning. Silent and scented, with the heat being dragged from the earth by a spiralling sun. Nell, barefooted on the warm, damp grass, simply couldn’t believe that any of it had happened. That she hadn’t known. Of course she knew – as everyone knew – that there were problems; but she’d never guessed at the brutality or the humiliation. Poor Claudia. Why hadn’t she confided in anyone? Why hadn’t she told her what was going on? They’d talked so many times – and Claudia always joked about it. Always went back to Danny. Always tried so hard. Because she thought that was the right thing to do. Nell, feeling that she should have been able to do something to prevent it, wanted to cry. So much was clear now. It had been a nightmare of a night.
Ross had forced his way into Danny’s trailer immediately – Claudia was out of the way, and had stayed in there. He was still there as far as Nell knew. Peter had joined them this morning as soon as the elder Bradleys had arrived from Highcliffe. They were probably holding a male-bonding session or a post-mortem or both. Nell didn’t care.
And Sam? She still wasn’t sure about Sam’s involvement – although she knew that he’d always been fond of Claudia. But was it something more? Or had he just been defending his sister-in-law as he would have defended anyone? Claudia hadn’t mentioned Sam – and Nell hadn’t asked.
Naturally, the whole fairground had been buzzing with the scandal since last night. Nell heard nothing but whispers. There were dozens of permutations of the same few questions. Had Danny really treated Claudia like that? Why had she put up with it? How long had it been going on? Sam and Claudia – were they having an affair? Sam hitting Danny? It was unheard of! Sam didn’t even have a temper – did he? Where had Claudia and Sam gone? Where could they go – they’d left everything behind them, hadn’t they?
Loyalties were divided. No one, it seemed, was neutral. The Mackenzie twins were firmly in Danny’s camp, saying loudly – although they shut up the minute they knew Nell was listening – that if Claudia and Sam were having an affair then Danny had every right to exert his authority. Nell had silenced them with a few sharply chosen words. Most people seemed to be on Claudia’s side, if, as was rumoured, Danny had beaten her up.
Everyone seemed to think that Claudia and Sam would hole up for a few days until the hoo-ha died down and then come back and carry on as normal. Nell knew they wouldn’t. They would never be able to. She wondered if they might have started to travel up north to Claudia’s family, but thought it unlikely. Claudia had very little to do with them. And no showland family was going to welcome a scandal of this sort on their doorstep. She’d tried ringing them but both mobiles were switched off.
Nell didn’t know who had telephoned Adele and Peter, and Clem Percival. She assumed it was Ross, although what for was anyone’s guess. All they were doing was making matters worse by speculation and accusation; neither of which would bring Claudia back.
‘Oh, bugger.’ She dashed away her tears. Life without Sam and Claudia would be unbearable. Travelling with the unspeakable Danny, married to Ross …
‘Any chance of some breakfast?’ On cue Ross opened the door of Danny’s living wagon and called across to her. ‘We’re starving.’
‘Tough. Get it yourselves.’ Nell scowled. The nerve of the man. She’d cooked for the gaff lads hours ago. She sure as hell wasn’t going to be playing waitress to bloody Danny.
‘Have a heart.’ Ross, grey-faced, bleary-eyed and un-shaven, walked towards her. ‘It’s been hell in here all night.
The poor guy’s distraught –’
‘Distraught?’ Nell knew the tiredness was making her screech. ‘What would he know about distraught? I should think Claudia was fairly intimate with distraught, wouldn’t you?’
Ross rubbed his eyes. ‘Hardly. She seems to have been keeping her intimacy very nicely in the family.’
‘And what if she has? I don’t blame her. Sam is worth a million of Danny.’
‘Nell!’ Ross looked horrified. ‘You don’t mean that. You’re tired. You’re upset –’
‘I feel bloody guilty! We should all feel bloody guilty. We stood by and let it happen! We should have stopped him ages ago!’
‘How could we? It’s private – between husband and wife. If Claudia didn’t complain too much about it, I’d say that she made up the abuse stories to cover up her little fling with Sam, wouldn’t you?’
‘No, I wouldn’t. And you’re a fool, Ross, if you believe that. You’ve obviously been subjected to far too much of Danny’s brainwashing. All I can say is that if he can still spout so much crap, then Sam didn’t hit him half hard enough.’
The Mackenzie family were listening. Clem and Adele appeared from Ross’s trailer at the sound of raised voices.
Peter, looking every one of his fifty-seven years and a few more, peered through Danny’s window. Nell felt so sorry for him. He’d be very torn between his sons – and none of this would do his heart condition any good at all. She wished he hadn’t come. She wished her mother had made him stay at home in Highcliffe. She smiled at her father, hoping he understood. Luckily Danny stayed inside the living wagon, nursing his bruised jaw or his bruised pride, whichever was currently giving him most pain.
Nell looked at them all. ‘Well, it’s true. And if any of you – any one of you – take Danny’s side against Claudia or Sam, then I’ll never, ever, speak to you again.’
Stealing the Show Page 32
