Stealing the Show

by Christina Jones

  Bloody hell! Nell stared after the departing procession of Mackenzies and laughed out loud. Mercedes and Danny? Nyree-Dawn and Ross? Incredible! She couldn’t wait to tell Claudia.

  They worked on. Exhaustion and exhilaration had ignited fires in Jack’s eyes. The Downland Trusters had been unbelievable. They had all worked so hard. Then at last it was over.

  The gallopers were ready.

  Nell stood down on the grass with Jack beside her, and gazed at them. She was crying; she thought they were probably all crying. It was the most emotional moment of her entire life. The machine towered above her and all around her, gorgeous and gaudy.

  ‘Half an hour then,’ she looked at the Downland Trusters through her tears. ‘Just to give us time to clean ourselves up a bit, and then we’ll have a dress rehearsal before we open tonight. We’ll want to make sure we’re inch-perfect for all the punters who are coming for the steam rally barbecue and fireworks display.’

  They all synchronised their watches. They’d be back on the gallopers in half an hour. Ready to go? Too damn right. The Downland Trusters roared their approval and swarmed away to prepare.

  Nell swallowed and looked down at the black cables which snaked away to the throbbing generator. Jack was still there. ‘I honestly never thought this would happen.’

  ‘Neither did I. Nell, there’s something I need to say. Can we talk?’

  She didn’t want to talk about his return to bricks and mortar. She didn’t want to talk about her feelings. ‘Yes, of course. But I need a shower and a drink before I do anything else. I’m absolutely filthy.’

  ‘You look great to me.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll see you in twenty minutes, then.’

  As Nell walked towards her living wagon, a red sports car bucketed through the gate and slalomed its way through the rides. Jesus! Not Ross! Transfixed to the spot, she watched as the car braked sharply, almost burying its nose in the ground. It wasn’t Ross’s Ferrari.

  The door of Sam’s Mazda flew open. ‘Hiya! Got any good gaff-lad vacancies?’

  ‘Terry,’ Nell stared in astonishment, ‘what the hell are you doing with Sam’s car? Have you nicked it?’

  ‘Nah, course not.’ Terry, in skintight jeans and very little else, handed her the keys. ‘I knew he’d want it back, and I want a job.’

  The steam-rally ladies, who had been ogling Jack, were now joined by their teenage daughters who couldn’t take their eyes from Terry.

  ‘Couldn’t hack it,’ he grinned at her. ‘It wasn’t the same without you and Claudia. Danny’s a bastard. I know this old-fashioned stuff is a bit tame, but Ross said you might need a hand on the ghost train.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘I reckoned there’d be a fairish opportunity for my various talents on there.’

  Nell was delighted to see him. ‘Consider yourself employed, then. We’re opening tonight. We haven’t got a Beast Wagon yet, but you can kip in one of the trucks until we get something sorted.’

  ‘Brilliant.’ Terry was already making eye contact with the teenage girls. ‘Anyway I thought I might get a little trailer of my own – for when me and Karen get married next year. I’ll go and say hello to Claudia and Sam, then. And,’ he leaned over and kissed her cheek, ‘I know I’m not supposed to do that, but it’s bloody great to be back. I’ve really missed your cooking. See ya.’

  The sun was hot on the top of her head, and she felt ninety-per cent elated. They were all back together again. She was, as Sam had said, the gaffer. The Memory Lane Fair was no longer a dream. Ninety per cent, she reckoned, wasn’t bad …

  She’d showered and washed her hair and was tugging on her clean jeans and vest top when Jack knocked tentatively on the living-wagon door. Maybe she should have been wearing the green shorts suit. She squirted on some Chanel and hoped it would do. ‘Come in.’

  He’d obviously begged washing facilities from one of the Trusters. His still damp hair gleamed and he was wearing a peacock-blue collarless shirt over the black jeans. Nell’s body completely dissolved.

  ‘They’re all waiting for you. I can’t believe it’s really going to happen –’ he stopped and stared.

  Oh, well, she thought – maybe she didn’t look that bad. Then she realised that he was staring at her living wagon. It was decorated in shades of blue and cream, with apricot rugs on the polished floors, and Limoges porcelain against the pale wood. She always took it for granted.

  Jack, gazing at the cushions and comfort, shook his head. ‘It’s incredibly beautiful. And so are you …’

  Nell was rooted to the spot. She knew she was blushing.

  Every damn freckle was probably twinkling like a midsummer night constellation. ‘Jack – about yesterday –’

  ‘I blew it. I’m sorry. I let you down by not being there.’ Jack was tracing the outline of one of the rugs with the toe of his boot. ‘But I was so determined to get everything else cleared up before – well, before I started on this, And I behaved like a complete idiot at Fox Hollow the other afternoon, rushing off like that with no explanation. But there was something that simply couldn’t wait. And, after all, you’re a traveller –’

  ‘And you’re a flatty.’

  ‘And two wrongs don’t make a right.’ She swallowed. He was grinning again but it wasn’t going to work. He’d bought a damned house to prove it.

  ‘Come on, you two!’ Percy and Dennis were beaming up into the living wagon. ‘Tons of time for the hearts and flowers later! Let’s get this show on the road!’

  As Nell started to walk towards the doorway, Jack touched her arm. ‘Before we do this, there really is something I want to explain to you. About being missing yesterday –’

  Yesterday. Nell didn’t want to talk about yesterday, and she really didn’t want to hear any more about his flatty exploits. ‘I know you’ve bought another house. I do understand. But maybe, if you’re going to travel with us, you could let it out during the season or something?’

  ‘I haven’t and I couldn’t.’ He moved towards her, and reached out and removed her damp hair from its scrunchie so that it slithered coolly over her burning shoulders. ‘I haven’t bought anything – well, I have, but they’re outside.’

  Nell didn’t understand. Jack was tracing the splodge of freckles on her nose. It made concentration impossible.

  ‘Last week I bought the remainder of the lorries with my pay-off from Morlands. I sorted it out that day when you found out about the rest of the order, but Eckstrucs said they would only take cash because they’d been messed about, so I had to wait until my cheque had cleared. I thought it was the least I could do –’

  ‘You ? You bought them ? You mean, I won’t have to give them back? Oh, you’re brilliant! You did that for me?’ She was probably going to cry again. ‘I’ll never be able to thank you enough.’

  ‘I hope you might, actually. And it wasn’t just for you, it was for us – for the Memory Lane Fair. I had to make some input – I couldn’t leave all the financial burden to you.’

  He’d continued the freckle-tracing on to her shoulders. She tried not to wriggle delightedly. ‘And the new house that you’ve bought? The bricks and mortar?’

  ‘A bit of an untruth. After the lorries I didn’t have enough money left over even for a pup tent. I’ve been bed-and-breakfasting at the Maybush.’

  ‘Jack Morland! I totally hate you!’

  ‘God Almighty!’ Percy and Dennis, who had been kicking their heels outside, finally snapped. ‘You’ve got the rest of your lives to get this sorted. We’ve got the gallopers to try out and that’s far more important.’

  Nell bit her lip and laughed. They were probably right.

  The gallopers shone in a rainbow of glossy reflected colours. Nell’s mouth was dry. Jack, walking behind her, was silent. They pushed their way through the expectant, excited crowd.

  ‘Ready?’ Jack’s voice was husky.

  ‘As I’ll ever be.’ She gave him a shaky smile, then she grinned at the others. ‘Come on then – let’s find out whether we’re in b
usiness.’

  With the banshee wail of children on the last day of the summer term, the Downland Trusters, the fairground fanatics, several steam enthusiasts from the traction-engine scene, Sam and Claudia holding hands, Terry and practically all the Macs, scrambled onto the horses.

  Nell, again with tears streaming down her face, swung herself through them into the centre, followed by Jack.

  The Gavioli was poised, ready to entertain. Percy had transferred all the music books to the wooden shelves behind the carved centres. Nell, her hands shaking, lifted ‘Paree’ from the top of the pile and placed it on the key frame.

  ‘It’s now or never,’ she whispered to Jack. ‘I’ll do the music, you do the remainder of the honours. And thank you.’

  ‘And you …’ Jack ran his fingers through his hair, took a deep breath, switched on the power, and released the brake.

  The electricity surged. A thousand light bulbs twinkled, reflected a million times in the cut-glass mirrors. Then amazingly, gradually, the whole giddy, incredibly beautiful hurdy-gurdy started to revolve. Nell, shivering, snapped shut the key frame. The bosomy shepherdesses, the moustachioed soldiers, and Harlequin and Columbine were imperceptibly awakened. Nell felt the sheer excitement shoot up from the soles of her feet and prickle along her spine.

  The first sonorous notes of ‘Paree’ echoed mellifluously and oh so slowly, before bursting into the most stirring, toe-tapping traditional riding tune of all time. Unable to see anything except a kaleidoscopic whirl of colour as the horses rose and fell, gathering speed around her, Nell stared at Jack.

  ‘We did it.’

  ‘I always knew we would.’ His voice was low, and despite the roar of the music, she could hear every word. ‘Oh God, Nell.’

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Fired by the roisterous melody, the swirling circle of colour and movement, the dream come true, and the absolutely sheer gorgeousness of him, she linked her fingers in his hair and kissed him back. Fused together, hearing the faint whoops of delight from the riders every time they passed the organ side of the centre, Nell swayed in his arms.

  Eventually, as ‘Paree’ skipped and trumpeted towards its climax, she pulled away from him. Not looking at him, her hands trembling, she reached for another book and fed it into the frame. ‘Sabre Dance’ rampaged its way through the banks of notes, zig-zagging into the air.

  The riders cheered and hollered as they galloped onwards. Nell curled herself back into Jack’s arms again. His eyes were miles away. She put her lips very close to his ear. ‘What are you thinking?’

  He kissed her freckles. ‘Oh, just that the Bradley-Morland Memory Lane Fair will be quite something to leave to our grandchildren.’

  Christina Jones

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