by Robert Ward
Miranda jumped from the platform at the back of the bus just before it stopped and Richard stepped down after her. He had to walk briskly to keep up with her as she almost ran to the park.
“Slow down,” he called after her.
“Come on,” she said, turning back to him. “Hurry up, slow coach.”
“What’s the hurry?”
“I want some candy floss.”
They bought some pink candy floss from a vendor near the entrance to the park and ate it as they walked. There were crowds of people about, lots of them children of course, but all manner of groups and couples and those alone. The fairground music blasted out from loudspeakers in what seemed to be all directions, though individual rides and stalls had their own more intimate sounds. Miranda wanted to find the dodgems first of all.
“Oh look, there they are,” she said, pointing through the crowd. “And look, there’s a gypsy boy standing on one of them holding onto the pole.”
“He might not be a gypsy,” Richard said as they made their way towards the rim of the rink.
“Of course he is. Look, he’s even got an earring, and he’s got black curly hair. There’s probably a camp in the forest nearby where gypsy girls dance around an open fire.”
He looked at her and smiled.
“Will one be called Esmeralda, do you think?”
“Very probably,” she said.
Miranda drove the dodgem and succeeded in terrorizing everyone in the other cars by fearlessly bashing into everything that moved. Richard watched the expression of venomous glee on her face as she thudded into the side of another car, the nearside occupant of which, a small female child, started to cry. As she swung the vehicle in chase of two squealing teenage girls, the attendant, no doubt of ancient Romany stock, leapt onto their car to collect the fare. He stood on the narrow ledge around the outside of the dodgem and held onto the pole which reached up to the metal meshed roof of the ride. Richard gave him the money, which he put into his canvas money bag hanging down at his front below his waist, and turned to jump to another car.
“I’m going to bite his bum,” Miranda said, leaning over to Richard.
“Don’t you dare,” he said. “You just keep your eyes on the road. You’ve already killed several people, and most of the others will need treatment for nervous disorders.”
“It’s the blood and carnage I come for,” she shouted to him.
“Yes, I’ve noticed,” he shouted back.
Richard fulfilled a long time ambition by winning a goldfish at the shooting range having bagged nine duck. He was certain that he had hit the tenth also but it failed to fall and he thus missed out on the top prize of a large hideous monkey doll. He harboured serious suspicions about the honesty of the shifty looking stallholder.
“What’ll we do with it?” Miranda asked as she looked into the plastic bag half-filled with water where the little fish swam. “We should give it a name.”
“I think you’re supposed to call it Jaws or Moby,” he said. “Here, boy,” Richard then said, addressing an urchin-like child of about ten. “Do you want this fish?”
The child looked at him with its head cocked to one side for a moment and then nodded. He ran off holding the bag before him.
“Why, Richard. I do believe you have a heart after all,” she said.
“I’m not sure that the fish would agree,” he said.
The sickly sweet sugary taste of the candy floss still a recent memory, Richard declined a hot doughnut while Miranda had two. The smell from the doughnut van mingled with that from the nearby hot dog and hamburger stands creating a strange concoction that is the familiar fairground perfume. It was not, in fact, unpleasant.
They rode the waltzers but were too embarrassed to get on the merry-go-round as the other riders were all little children. They decided to ride the Ferris wheel instead.
Richard, who was afraid of heights, clung to the crossbar with both his hands and felt a mild sensation of panic rising inside him as the carriage lurched backwards with a jolt and then began to climb outwards and upwards. Miranda was moving about and leaning over the side to look down
“Careful,” he said, letting go of the bar with one hand and grabbing hold of her leg.
“It’s all right,” she said, turning her head to look at him. “I’m not going to fall. I’ve no intention of becoming a messy smudge on the ground.”
“You hear about people having accidents on these things.”
“Cowardy custard,” she said, but sat down again next to him.
Even a few feet above eye level can seem a tremendous elevation but as the carriage rose and rose they felt exhilarated and deliciously not quite safe. Richard, terrified, enjoyed the feeling somehow, and Miranda felt like shouting. The views over the city were tremendous and immediate and intimate, much more so than when seen from the window of a tall office building.
The warm breeze strengthened the higher they climbed and the carriage rocked slightly as it travelled in a backwards curve until at the very top of the wheel frame their vision was uninterrupted both upwards and ahead and the feeling of space and insignificance and beauty overwhelmed them. They turned and smiled at each other, as people do when sharing something frightening and wonderful.
The carriage slowly descended and then rose again in the same cycle, and they enjoyed the journey again, though it was slightly different because of familiarity and expectation, and perhaps was not quite so wonderful. Richard thought of how uncertain life always is and that a physical accident can mean death at any place and any time. But he didn’t think about it for long.
“Straight up is the boundless universe, I thought,” she said. “Beyond the blue is black and cold and strange rocks and poisonous gases. But is space warm until you get past the Sun? I mean beyond it? Until you get close to another star?”
“I think you need an atmosphere to retain heat,” he said, “But I’m not sure. I think space is unimaginably cold.”
“Astonishing, isn’t it? What caused light and heat to be?”
“Astonishing.”
Miranda bought a jumbo hot dog with onions and mustard and ketchup and ate it as they strolled through the crowds. Some of the ketchup escaped onto her chin and Richard took the paper napkin from her and wiped her face with it like mothers do with small children, though he didn’t spit on it. They then bought some cokes and drank them sitting on a bench a little away from the fairground next to the lake where the paddle-boats were moored.
“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked. “You’ve only had candy floss.”
“Not really. I’ll have something later.”
“You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you? I am.”
“Yes. It’s lovely. Why? Do I seem not to be enjoying myself?”
“I can never tell with you.”
He looked at her for a moment.
“Your nose is burnt,” he said.
“Oh, I know. My nose always explodes in the sun. It quietens down after a few days.”
“You should wear blockers. Your skin is so fair.”
“On holiday in Greece, I fell asleep on the beach lying naked on my front. My back was red raw and I had sunstroke. It was no joke, it spoiled the holiday really, well, the first week anyway. We should go on holiday somewhere. After all, I am resting for the next three months, unless something unexpected turns up, as you know. And you can write anywhere, can’t you? Have you ever written anything abroad?”
“No, actually now that you mention it, I haven’t.”
“It might do us both good.”
“Where would you like to go?”
She thought for a moment.
“Somewhere beachy but close to interesting places, you know, culture and all that. Not touristy but not isolated. Somewhere hot and sunny of course. We can get some brochures.”
“A package you mean?”
“Why not?”
“It seems a bit Benidorm. We’ll come back wearing sombreros and carrying stuffed toy
donkeys under our arms.”
“You’re such a snob at heart, aren’t you. I mean, it isn’t as though we know someone with a villa overlooking the bay of Naples where we can stay while they’re away on their yacht at Acapulco, is it?”
“I suppose not,” he said, smiling. “I’ve always wanted to see India though.”
They stopped for a moment and watched as a couple and their children passed by, one of the children dropping his ice cream and starting to cry.
“You can get a package to India, but it’s expensive,” she said. And I don’t think you’d see much of it, apart from sanitized excursions. The hotels are well away from where the real people live. The alternative is the old hippy trail, but I think that’s long cold.”
“I wish we still had the empire really. That would make things easier.”
“Lording it over the natives you mean? Having orgies at the White club? Happy Valley?”
“That’s it.”
“But that was Kenya come to think of it, wasn’t it?”
“Wherever,” he said. “We’ll get some brochures.
Miranda won a bendy toy at the coconut shy which she too gave away to a passing child, though Richard was sure that some of the coconuts were glued to the stand as some of those she hit with the wooden balls refused to fall and was thus denied the star prize of a huge pink teddy bear. The next attraction they passed was the fortune-telling tent and Miranda insisted they enter.
The interior of the tent was dark and mysterious looking of course, with maps of constellations and large depictions of the symbols of the zodiac signs on the walls. Near the entrance sat what could only be described as an ancient crone, complete with bandanna. Toothlessly she took their money and explained in a gravelly voice that they should take a seat and wait for Madame Esmeralda to call them in.
Richard and Miranda barely contained their laughter as they sat on two of the four straight backed chairs lined up next to the old woman who sat behind a small desk with a blue metal money box on top of it. It was cool inside the tent and surprisingly quiet given that crowds of people were still passing by only a few paces outside. They sat there feeling foolish for a moment before by some mysterious means the crone knew that Madame Esmeralda was ready. Miranda was the first summoned to the presence.
Madame Esmeralda was quite a young woman, about thirty five, Miranda guessed, and she was quite strikingly good looking, with long almost black hair parted in the centre, and a dark complexion with dark brown eyes. She beckoned Miranda to sit with long fingers tipped with long but seemingly real nails. Before her, on the small red beize-topped table stood a crystal ball on a square plinth.
“What is your name, you red-golden girl?” she asked in a beautifully modulated received-pronunciation accent.
“Miranda.”
“Miranda what?”
“Miranda Nicholson.”
“You have a theatrical background?”
“Yes, in a way,” Miranda said. “Not so much a background though. What I am is… I mean I am theatrical, no… I’m in the theatre.”
“Yes, I thought so. And you’ve come here today with someone who also is in the theatre?”
“Yes, well, no… he writes for the theatre, he writes… drama.”
“Have you come here to learn about yourself or about him?”
“Both,” Miranda said.
“That was a good answer my dear. And now I must concentrate my mind and try to see you. You must be quiet while I do so. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, I can,” Miranda said quietly.
Madame Esmeralda placed her hands together over the crystal ball and then drew them apart. She leaned forward so that she looked down onto the top of the crystal and peered intensely into it. In a moment she drew a deep breath and raised her head.
“I see a far distant land across an ocean,” she said. “But it is beyond beyond. Beyond the ocean it is beyond a continent. You will live there and thrive. I see an L and an A and an H. It is a place of many people but you will be amongst a select number there. Many go there but few succeed. You will be amongst those few. And now I must look again.”
Madame Esmeralda repeated the process of gazing into the crystal and then withdrawing into her thoughts. She breathed deeply and sighed again and opened her dazzling eyes and looked directly into Miranda’s.
“You have a love which you are uncertain of. He is close to you now and you love him with a pain in your heart. There is something else that he loves. But he does love you. I see him with you in L and A and H, but there is something of him which will remain. But the vision is cloudy and I might be wrong. He loves you though, that is clear. I think he needs you also, more perhaps than you need him.”
Miranda found herself sweating, despite the coolness of the dark inner sanctum of the fortune-telling tent, which seemed airless and oppressive suddenly. Madame Esmeralda had closed her eyes again and then she opened them for an instant to look at Miranda.
“I must look again, just once more,” she said. “There is more to tell. I feel it now though I do not see it. Be patient, my red-golden girl with eyes the colour of the sky.”
The ritual was repeated and then Madame Esmeralda pushed aside the crystal ball and took hold of Miranda’s hands in hers and squeezed them gently.
“You will have a long life, lovely one. And the one you love now will always be with you. But your life will be beyond beyond. Beyond him. Taking him with you or him you. But something of him remains here. Remember that what you do, must not be because of him. You have a long and happy life before you. Enjoy it, and remember that whatever happens, you are without blame. That is all.”
Miranda felt her hands go cold when Madame Esmeralda withdrew hers from them, and she nodded and got up to go. She turned back for a second and looked at her and saw that her eyes were again closed and that she seemed to have gone into some kind of trance. She then pushed her way through the beaded string blinds and rejoined Richard, sitting back down on one of the chairs.
“Was it worth it?” Richard whispered to her.
She thought for a moment and then answered, “Yes.”
“You know it’s all nonsense though, don’t you?” he said.
“Of course I do.”
“You didn’t give her any information, did you?”
“I don’t think so. I’m not sure. But it doesn’t matter, if it’s all nonsense, does it?”
“If you gave her any information about yourself she’ll have just used it to tell you what she thought you’d want to hear.”
“I know.”
“What did she say?”
Before she could answer, the crone said that Madame Esmeralda was ready for the young gentleman, and Richard smiled at Miranda and pushed his way through the screen and sat down opposite the Madame. His smile was still faintly on his face.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Richard. Richard Ingle.”
“You write the drama?”
“Yes,” he said smiling at her, knowing that Miranda must have told her. She was good looking, he thought.
Madame Esmeralda gazed into her crystal ball once more and he could hear the faintest ambient music playing in the background. She had thin silver bracelets on her wrists and her hands were beautiful.
“The girl with the red-golden hair is like a light in your darkness,” she said. “But you will betray her and she will never know. In your heart there is only so much room for her. Something else is there. You do not believe I can see?”
“No,” he said, looking into her eyes. “Tell me something you couldn’t possibly know about me or guess at. Then I might believe you.”
“What you believe is up to you,” she said. “I’m not here to convince you. I tell you what I see.”
He leaned forward and nodded. She was strangely commanding. She returned his direct gaze and it was he who first looked away.
“Shall I continue?” she asked.
“Please,” he said.
>
She concentrated once more on the crystal, focusing her eyes deep into its centre. She then drew her head back again.
“Someone has hurt you. A long time ago. But you cannot forgive her. It was a girl. I have seen her. She is a black crow, but you will be free of her. The damage already done cannot be repaired, but you are still whole enough. If it helps you, she suffers now, as we speak. Do you know who I mean?”
“No,” he said.
“Her name is a J, no an M, no an A. I can’t see her clearly.”
“Perhaps you should go through the alphabet,” he said.
She looked at him again, with sharp flints darting at him from her rich glistening eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I am sceptical, I admit. Please continue. I won’t interrupt again.”
“I will try just once more,” she said. “You have hate in your heart, but you want to believe in the mystical and miraculous. You are a romantic lover also, but you feel unsure of yourself, even now. Time will make you bolder though and some day soon you will be without fear. You are afraid, aren’t you? But you don’t really know why. It is because of the black crow.”
She glanced at him for a moment and saw that he was thinking. She then moved her hands together and then apart over the crystal and drew in a deep breath.
“You will have a long and happy life,” she said. “I see you far away in a new land. It is warm and near the sea. I see an L and an A and an H. You are with a beautiful girl with red-golden hair. She is a miracle of movement and light. The darkness of the past has left you. You breathe with a joy of life. She loves you with an intensity that is benign and does not oppress you. You will succeed and enjoy your success. And that is all.”
Richard thanked her and rose to go, but before he left he too turned back to say something to her, but changed his mind when he saw her with her eyes closed. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say anyway.
