‘This well,’ Sam showed her the bank statement.
‘Jesus!’ The champagne slopped over her fingers. ‘It’s a fortune! Where did that come from?’
‘The paratrooper, apparently.’ Sam’s grin was ear-to-ear. ‘The guy at the bank was ace. He rang through to Oxford, confirmed that I was who I said I was – and they faxed me this. He asked all the questions for me. It seems that Ross and – um – well, the Bradley-Percival amalgamation has bought me out. Our wheel ruts must still have been damp when they decided to cut the cord – the greedy bastards. The cheque was cleared a couple of days ago.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Get dressed, chicken. We’re going shopping.’
The getting dressed was a private joke. She had still only got the jeans and T-shirt she’d flitted in, and had been wearing rolled-up jeans of Sam’s and the more shrunken of his shirts on chilly days, and just his T-shirts cinched in with a belt on the gloriously warm ones. She had never felt happier. The make-up had been an entirely different matter. She’d insisted that they break into their savings for mascara and lipstick – and a kohl pencil – oh, and some blusher. Claudia was adamant that however slobbily she was dressed, there was no way at all that she was sticking her nose outside the door without the basics.
They drove into Monmouth in the Shogun and Sam chattered about the bank and how things had to be on the up, and Claudia nodded and wondered if the bank manager in Oxford had been the same one that had put the sparkle in Nell’s eyes. She wanted to talk to Nell. Very much. She wanted to thank her for giving her the courage to make that final decision. Nell had always been so strong, so principled, Claudia thought. Nell didn’t want to marry Ross – and no amount of financial temptation or family pressure had persuaded her otherwise. She’d always had the dream about the gallopers and about falling in love, and against all odds she’d stuck to her guns and held on. Oh, sure – she was going to marry Ross now, but only because she’d fought for what she wanted, even if it meant abandoning the hearts and flowers. Nell, Claudia thought, was probably the bravest person she knew. After Sam, of course …
She thought she might ring her tonight. After all, Nell would know about the paratrooper deal by now. But Nell was part of Bradley-Percival, and because of that she’d probably never see Nell again.
After parking in the town centre, they had spent a small fortune on clothes. Claudia had been reluctant at first, insisting that it wasn’t her money – it was Sam’s. But Sam had waved away all objections, saying it was theirs – or, more excitingly, Bradley-Percival’s. And therefore he couldn’t think of a better way to spend it. They’d laughed at the irony and Sam had been brilliant – liking whatever she chose, whether it was sassy or smart, tarty or tasteful. They’d deliberately picked out one outfit as a ‘cock-a-snook at the past and thanks for the cheque’. It was Lycra and tight and vivid crimson and Claudia adored it, promising him that she’d wear it whenever – if ever – they needed reminding of why they were together.
Walking back to the Shogun, Sam caught her hand. ‘What’s up? You’re looking down again. Not regretting this are you?’
‘I was just thinking of Nell. We used to have a blast buying clothes. I really miss her. Could we ring her? Tonight? We did promise –’
‘Yeah,’ Sam grinned and detoured into a rather swish restaurant. ‘Lunch first, I think, courtesy of Bradley-Percival. We did promise. And we will. Actually, I think Nell might be our salvation.’
They discussed it over lunch. It made a lot of sense. Nell was going to be travelling with the gallopers and her other nostalgia rides, so if they spent the paratrooper money on a machine that would fit in, they could join her at whatever gaffs were available. Nothing to do with Ross and Danny. Nothing to do with Bradley-Percival. They’d be starting out on their own. OK, they realised that it would be pretty small-time compared to what they were used to. But it was so exciting – the challenge … They grinned at each other across the table, unaware of the other lunch-time eaters smiling at their enthusiasm.
When they got back to the campsite they scoured The World’s Fair, made lists, dismissed some machines as either too modern or out of their financial league and others as too heavy to transport and build up – bearing in mind that they’d be flying solo to start with, finished the champagne, and nearly wore out the batteries on their phones making enquiries and offers.
By the end of the afternoon, Claudia and Sam were the proud possessors of a slip and a small big wheel. They’d bought them from the same owner, in Gloucestershire, who was selling up due to retirement and who was more than happy to include an elderly Foden wagon and drag in the price. Sam could drive the loads while Claudia drove the Shogun and living wagon. Sam agreed to put the cheque in the post that afternoon and that they’d collect the rides a week later as soon as it had cleared.
They sat on either end of the scarlet window seat and smiled at each other in triumph.
‘Now we’ll phone Nell,’ Sam said, practically wringing the last drops out of the Moet bottle. ‘And we won’t tell her anything until we meet up. OK?’
Claudia nodded, fizzing with excitement. ‘You speak to her, then. I’ll only bawl. Oh, God, Sam – I’ll never be able to thank you enough.’
‘You already have,’ he looked at her sparkling eyes, ‘a million times.’
They met Nell two days later at the Fox Hollow winter quarters.
‘Sneaky cow.’ Claudia had grinned when Sam told her where Nell had hidden the gallopers. ‘So bloody obvious, and yet no one would have thought of looking there.’
Claudia was like a child on a trip to the sea. The drive from the Forest of Dean seemed to take for ever and, being a passenger this time, she jigged impatiently for most of the journey. When they turned into the leafy Oxfordshire lanes and the signposts proclaimed that there were only five miles to go, she clasped her hands with delight.
‘I know how you feel,’ Sam said. ‘The break has been brilliant but travelling is in the blood. God knows how flatties survive, being in the same place for fifty weeks of the year.’
They spent the next couple of miles in silence, feeling heartily sorry for those who hadn’t been lucky enough to be born into the travelling profession.
Nell’s Volvo was in the yard and Sam had scarcely stopped the Shogun before Claudia had tumbled out and was hurling herself towards the shed. The doors were wide open.
‘Holy shit!’ Claudia stopped short in amazement. ‘Jeez, Sam! Come and look at this lot!’
They gazed in disbelief at the gallopers, the uncovered Gavioli, the ghost train, and the caterpillar, all of which gleamed with fresh paint.
‘Wow! Some expert Nell got to do this! It must have cost a bomb. God, they look incredible.’ He grinned at Claudia. ‘We’ll have to ask Nell’s painter to do some work on our stuff, otherwise we really are going to look like the poor relations.’
They walked among the machines, touching, marvelling at the expertise. No wonder, Claudia thought, suddenly overcome, Nell hated the thought of the Brain-Scrambler. This was simply perfection.
‘Nell!’ Claudia shouted. ‘Where the hell are you?’
‘Claudia?’ Nell appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. ‘I didn’t hear you arrive. Oh – oh, bugger!’
They threw themselves into each other’s arms and immediately burst into tears.
They both spoke at the same time, still crying, intermittently laughing. There were brief pauses for astounded exclamations before they plunged onwards. Claudia didn’t reckon she’d caught half of what Nell said but it didn’t really matter. There’d be plenty of time to fill in the gaps later. They’d got all the time in the world. They’d be together again. Travelling together. That was all that counted.
‘… and so,’ Sam was saying when he could get a word in, ‘we’ve got a slip and a big wheel. It’ll go great with this lot. All we need to know now is when do we start?’
‘A slip and a big wheel will be incredible, but,’ Nell’s face fell, ‘does that mean tha
t you’ve spent all the paratrooper money?’
‘Most of it. Well, it was two machines for the price of one, and the deal included a wagon and drag, so we’ve got transport –’
‘Which is more than I have.’
Claudia wrinkled her nose, not understanding. The trucks were part of the deal, weren’t they? Clem’s wedding present?
Nell took a deep breath. ‘As I’m not marrying Ross, I don’t get the wagons or the automatic gaffs. It looks as though we’re all out in the cold, doesn’t it?’
‘Not marrying Ross?’ They looked at her in disbelief. If
Nell had said this earlier, they’d missed it in the eager gabble. ‘Why on earth not?’
Nell bit her lip and told them.
There didn’t seem to be any solution. Of course, Nell’s money from the dodgems would, like Sam’s, go partway to financing transport, but there was not going to be nearly enough for the gallopers and the organ and the other two rides. And even if they could afford lorries, where exactly were they going to go?
Claudia, leaving Sam and Nell discussing the various possibilities, wandered away to the back of the shed and stroked one of the horses. What incredible names they had. There was even one called Petronella. Someone had poured their heart and soul into this. Oh, shit, she thought, we’ve come this far – we can’t be beaten now. She was stunned that Nell wasn’t marrying Ross; amazed that she’d cut loose from the Bradley-Percival amalgamation, and devastated that things might not work out because of this last small obstacle.
Not, Claudia realised, that it was that insignificant. In fact, it was pretty bloody significant indeed. If they were all going to be blackballed, they really would be reduced to the least prestigious sites. While this might be a major problem for Sam and Nell, she thought that it was infinitely preferable to her previous existence. But why should they be treated like pariahs? They were all Guild members, weren’t they? Clem couldn’t really prevent them applying for their own sites? If only they could find someone with enough money to provide transport, then surely they’d be able to overcome the rest.
As she hurried back to impart this stroke of genius, it appeared that Sam and Nell had come to the same conclusion.
‘Great minds think alike.’ Nell hugged her. ‘Yeah, I was aware I could go it alone, but I wasn’t sure that I had the guts. Now, with you two with me – Bradleys on tour yet again – I’m going to sort things out with the Guild first thing in the morning.’
‘And the transport?’ Claudia asked. ‘I mean, I know it’s a bit delicate, but what about the bank manager? I mean, you and he were quite pally. Hasn’t he got any money? Couldn’t you ask him for a loan, off the record, or something?’
Nell looked blank for a moment, then she blushed. Aha, Claudia thought, she’s still torch-bearing! There may be hope here. She winked at Sam, who looked mystified.
Nell shrugged. ‘Actually, he – er – the bank manager is currently as skint as the rest of us. And I haven’t seen him for a while. He’s – he’s currently on an HGV training course.’
Chapter Thirty-one
It was probably ridiculous, Jack thought, folding the piece of paper carefully into his wallet, but he felt more proud of himself now than at any other time of his life.
The five-day driving course had been intensive, and despite feeling fairly confident about handling large vehicles, he had been intimidated by the forty-foot monster they’d introduced him to. However, as he’d hauled himself up behind the wheel on that first morning, he knew there was no way he was going to let Nell or the Memory Lane Fair down if he could help it. He’d indicated to his instructor that he was ready to go, had switched on the engine, and had moved – pretty smoothly, all things considered – into the final stage of achieving his dream.
But there had been times during the five days when he’d had time for reflection. Amidst all the euphoria was the nagging, dragging feeling that when all this was over, when he was as near to being a traveller as he was ever going to get, Nell would be marrying the man who had made it all possible.
It was ironic that just when he’d regained his single status, Nell should be announcing her engagement. Still, he’d reckoned, confidently cruising at motorway speed, Ross Percival would be far too busy travelling with the Crash’n’Dash and the other hydraulic machines to want to interfere in the Memory Lane Fair.
He’d liked her mother. He was sure he’d seen recognition of their situation in Adele’s eyes. Though of course she’d never have accepted him as a son-in-law. And now he’d be with Nell as often as he wanted but not able to do anything about it. Look but definitely do not touch. Keep off. Property of Ross Percival. Jack had groaned and braked sharply and earned a reproach from his instructor.
There were still problems to overcome, he had realised as he mugged up the highway code in his hotel room, the evening before his test. Things like living accommodation. He couldn’t stay at Fox Hollow indefinitely, and certainly not during the winter months when her family would be pulled into the yard and he’d be able to watch Nell and Ross together every day. He’d have to ask Nell about purchasing a caravan. Oh, no, he’d laughed, imagining her censure – a living wagon. Caravans were for – what was it she called him? oh, yeah – flatty holiday-makers. He was going to have to learn an entirely new language.
The driving course, and the preceding time at Fox Hollow when he’d painted himself practically into delirium, had salved his pain. He was more rational now about the loss of the baby. He didn’t think of Fiona at all, and only occasionally thought about his parents. He had been to see his solicitor on the day Nell and her mother had come to the yard and organised that the deeds of the house should be made over to Fiona as sole owner. He’d changed their bank account into her name. He felt he could do no more.
And now, on the morning that he’d become the proud holder of a Class I licence, and was bursting to take Nell to the Maybush and tell her just how clever he’d been, there was this bloody summons from his father.
The message on his mobile had been terse. ‘Meet me in the office. Ten on the dot.’ Not even the softening of a greeting or a farewell. His father, it seemed, had not forgiven him for either of his defections. With some reluctance he headed the Roadster towards Newbury, when everything in him wanted to be going the other way.
Bill Morland was not in the best of tempers. It was hot, the air conditioning was limping, and the new secretary who greeted Jack with the widest of smiles and the shortest of skirts, had apparently created some faux pas the previous day by putting invoices in the wrong envelopes, leaving his father to field the incandescent telephone calls.
‘Sit down,’ Bill, shirt sleeves rolled uncharacteristically to his elbows, barked without looking up. There were three desk fans fighting a losing battle with the humidity.
Jack sat. He wanted to tell his father about the driving test, about his success. He knew he wouldn’t bother.
‘You’re still unemployed then?’ Bill turned it into a statement, raising his head for the first time. ‘I’ve had no employers asking me for your P45 or pension details. No one contacting me regarding references. Have you even tried to find work?’
‘I’ve got a job. I told you. I’m painting and –’
But Bill was in no mood for listening to anyone’s aspirations, least of all his son’s. ‘That’s not why I asked you to come here, anyway. It’s really no concern of mine how you ruin your life.’
‘I only came because I thought it might be something to do with Mum.’
‘Your mother is fine. Heartbroken about the cancellation of the wedding, of course, but she and Fiona are still very close. They’re even planning a little holiday together, I believe, so some good may have come out of this debacle.’
Jack sighed. So his parents didn’t apportion any blame to Fiona for the abortion or the break-up. They simply blamed him for walking away. ‘Why did you want to see me?’
‘To give you this.’ Bill opened his desk drawer and withdrew an
envelope. ‘I’m buying you out of the partnership. God knows it grieves me to have to give you money that’ll probably end up in a needle. No, don’t look so disgusted, I’ve seen boys with an excellent education and brilliant prospects drift off into some weird alternative lifestyle and end up on the streets. Friends of mine have been devastated – totally devastated – when their sons have gone off the rails and ended up in the gutter.’ Bill frowned at the rather convoluted mental image.
‘Dad, I’m not planning on becoming a drug baron. I’m a painter, and I’m joining a fair. I’ve just passed my HGV test and –’
‘My dear Lord!’ Bill slammed his perspiring hands down on to the desk. ‘Don’t tell me any more! And never let a word of this reach your mother’s ears! You’re becoming a member of the underclass!’
‘No I’m sodding not.’ Jack could imagine regaling Nell with this story at the Maybush, hearing her gurgle of laughter. He grew even hotter. ‘Look, I wasn’t expecting a pay-back from the firm, but I won’t pretend it’s not welcome. You’ve taken on a new partner, then?’
‘Yes. A very bright and ambitious young man from Tay Homes. He’s already started and looks extremely promising. He has drive and commitment, things which you sadly lacked.’ Bill handed the envelope across the desk. ‘This severs your ties with Morlands, Jack. I hope you realise what you’ve thrown away.’
‘I do, yes.’ Jack tried not to smile as he stuffed the envelope into the back pocket of his jeans. ‘Just in case you think I’m totally fecklesss, I’ve seen the solicitor and the bank manager about making sure Fiona’s OK in the house.’
‘I know. She told me. I’ve actually paid off her mortgage for her. I felt it was the least I could do. So, as there’s no more to say –’
Jack stood up. He’d been dismissed. Filed. Business completed. He stood awkwardly for a moment, wondering whether he should shake his father’s hand, thought better of it and walked out of the office.
The forever-legged bimbo was painting her toenails. Her desk – Margaret’s desk – was covered with highly coloured plastic bowls that seemed to serve no useful purpose, and several fluffy toys. Jack winked at her as he closed the door.
Stealing the Show Page 35
