Dan caught hold of her arms, and held her upright. “You OK there?”
Rose blinked as the world lurched from side-to-side and black spots danced in front of her eyes. “Sorry,” she said. “Bit dizzy, that’s all.”
“Take a couple of deep breaths.”
She did as she was told and gradually the world stopped moving.
“That ride was a bit much,” he said. He was still standing in front of her, holding her by the arms. As her vision cleared Rose looked into his face. His deep brown eyes reflected the lights of the nearby rides. For a moment they stood there, looking at each other and it seemed to Rose as if the jostling crowds, the throbbing music and the sugary smells all faded into the background. It was just the two of them. Then some guy carrying a can of lager knocked into her with a slurred Sorry, love, and the spell was broken.
“Want to try Shoot the Duck?” asked Dan. “I used to love that as a kid.”
Rose nodded. She’d be happy to keep her feet on the ground for the rest of the evening.
~~~
It was hot and dark inside the tent. Smells of tobacco, beer and sour milk mingled with gingerbread and toffee apples, making Alice feel quite lightheaded. George ushered them to a bench close to the front and Alice found herself squashed in between Mary and their host. Normally she didn’t like confined spaces, but she took comfort from George’s presence. He laid a hand gently on her arm and asked if she was all right.
“Quite all right,” she said, thinking, Quite all right with you here beside me.
A gentleman in a black top hat and tails, the master of ceremonies, strode onto the stage and the audience fell silent. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he proclaimed, twirling his exceptionally long moustache between finger and thumb and fixing the audience with his dark eyes. “Welcome to Marvel’s Magic Show! Today you will see the most astounding, the most amazing, the most astonishing, nay, the most awe-inspiring magic performed right before your very eyes!” Loud gasps of anticipation issued from the audience. Alice felt her pulse quicken.
“And without further ado, I present to you, Pepper’s Ghost!”
An eerie, haunting music played on violins and a flute started up from somewhere off the stage. Alice’s spine tingled and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Without thinking, she reached for George’s hand and grasped it. He responded by taking her hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. He didn’t let go and she left her hand where it was.
At that moment an ethereal figure, veiled from head to toe in a translucent robe, like a shroud that had unravelled, started to drift across the stage. There was a sharp intake of breath from the audience. The figure was there and yet not there at the same time, like an apparition one might expect to see in the dungeon of a deserted castle, or an uninhabited wing of a grand house fallen into ruin. It appeared to float across the stage, not flying exactly, but not making solid contact with the boards either. Then more ghostly figures appeared from the other side of the stage, like guests entering a ballroom. The figures wove around each other in a wraith-like dance, graceful and serene. From somewhere near the back of the audience there was a cry and a thud as a lady fainted and crashed to the floor. Alice was in no danger of fainting. She was far too engrossed in the show, mesmerised by its spectral beauty, and not wanting to miss whatever was about to happen next.
The ghost show came to a startling conclusion when a very real and solid man wearing tweed breeches and a hunting cap marched onto the stage, unsheathed a sword and, to the consternation of a number of female members of the audience, proceeded to stab the ghosts through their spectral bodies without any bloodshed. As each ghost was stabbed, it collapsed to the ground and vanished into thin air. When he had finished his ghostly murdering spree, the gentleman held his sword aloft and took a deep bow. The audience erupted into applause.
Alice let go of George’s hand and clapped enthusiastically. She didn’t care if the show was real or just a trick of the light, it was the most astonishing thing she had ever seen.
“Did you enjoy that?” asked George, leaning close and speaking into her ear.
“Absolutely,” said Alice, smiling at him.
“Good, I’m glad.”
~~~
“There’s a trick to that,” said Kitty to Jackson. She was applauding as much as anyone, but she leaned close and said, “It’s all done with mirrors you know.”
“I thought as much,” said Jackson. It didn’t surprise him. Smoke and mirrors, that’s all these shows ever were: a means to entertain the masses who were easily fooled. And that ridiculous master of ceremonies was the biggest charlatan Jackson had ever seen.
“Still,” said Kitty approvingly, “they did a good job of making the ghosts seem real.”
“Hmm,” said Jackson. He’d lost any interest in the show. What interested him more was the proximity with which Alice and George were sitting next to each other. Although they were some rows off, he could see them clearly. Was it really necessary for them to be so close to each other? It looks as though Henry might have a rival on his hands, thought Jackson. And he won’t like that at all.
The master of ceremonies walked back onto the stage to announce the next act and Jackson braced himself for the next fraudulent piece of tomfoolery.
~~~
Dan guided her through the crowd, keeping his hand on the small of her back. Rose was no longer dizzy but she didn’t want him to take his hand away. She was acutely aware of the pressure of his fingers and felt a tingling sensation running up her spine. Maybe they could do a couple more things at the fair and then go for a walk, somewhere quiet, just the two of them. The evenings stayed lighter here much later than they did in London. Rose imagined them walking along the beach in the setting sun. And then…
“Here we are,” said Dan, breaking into her thoughts. They had arrived at the Shoot the Duck stall and got into line behind a little boy of about six who was there with his dad. He’s not embarrassed about queueing up with the little kids, thought Rose. Other boys she knew wouldn’t have the balls to do that.
“Have you always lived in Scarborough?” she asked.
Dan nodded. “Yeah. People always think it must be wonderful to live by the seaside but that’s because they only come here in the summer. You should see this place in the winter. The wind nearly blows people off the prom.”
Rose laughed.
“And,” he continued, “we never get to go away in the summer because of the amusement arcade. That’s our busiest time of the year so we have to spend every summer at home.”
“I hadn’t really thought of that,” admitted Rose.
The queue shuffled forwards. It was now the little boy’s turn. He had to stand on tiptoe to reach the rifle. He aimed the gun at the line of metal ducks as they swam past and shouted BANG every time he pulled the trigger. Unfortunately he had more enthusiasm than accuracy and most of the ducks were still swimming.
“So you’re a bit of a mean shot with the rifle, are you?” she asked Dan, wondering if the ducks were actually designed not to fall over. That poor kid was having no luck.
Dan didn’t reply. He was staring fixedly over her shoulder at something or someone.
“What is it?” she asked, turning to see what he was looking at. There were groups of people milling around, some of them eating enormous pink swirls of candy floss, others munching on toffee apples; there were children with helium-filled, animal-shaped balloons; groups of laughing teenagers; young couples arm-in-arm; neon lights flashing on and off and the constant thump of loud music. Rose couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
“Those men over there,” said Dan. “By the Ghost Train.”
“Which ones?”
“Those two, in the leather jackets.”
Rose saw them. “So? Do you know them?”
“Not exactly,” he said, “but they came into the amusement arcade yesterday asking for Dad and saying that someone called Max wanted to see him. When I told Dad about them, that
was when he put his foot on the accelerator and nearly ran you over. He wouldn’t say what those guys wanted, but I kind of get the impression they’re trouble. And they came back today with a box.”
Sensing Dan’s unease, Rose looked more closely at the men. One was short and thick-set, almost as wide as he was tall. The other was tall and thin and even at this distance she could see the spider-web tattoo on the side of his neck. They were leaning against the side of the Ghost Train ride and the one with the tattoo was talking on a mobile phone. A man and a woman exited the Ghost Train. Laughing and fooling around, they accidentally brushed past the two men. The guy with the tattoo spun around and raised his fist in a burst of anger and shouted something that Rose couldn’t hear. The couple looked stunned and put their hands up as if to say, Cool it, man! Then they walked on, shaking their heads in disbelief at this unprovoked display of aggression.
“Next, please,” called the guy running the Shoot the Duck stall.
“Hurry up, mate,” said a man behind them whose young son was hopping up and down with impatience.
Dan seemed to make a snap decision and stepped out of the queue. “You go,” he said to the man behind him. The little boy squealed with delight.
“What are you doing?” asked Rose.
“I’m going to follow them,” said Dan. “I want to see what they’re up to. Look, they’re leaving now.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, they look pretty tough to me.”
“You don’t have to come with me,” he said, then added, “unless you want to.”
Well we came here together, thought Rose. And now you’re going off to spy on a couple of thugs. Rose shook her head, she was starting to think like her mother and that had to stop. “No, I’m coming with you.”
~~~
“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” declared the master of ceremonies, “for your delectation and delight, I present to you the most daring, the most dazzling, nay, the most dumbfounding demonstration you have ever seen!” A collective “Ooh!” rose up from the audience.
George could sense Alice’s excitement at the prospect of the next magic trick. Her face was rapt with attention, her eyes sparkled in the lights from the stage and a gentle smile played about her lips. From the moment he had encountered her in the graveyard of St Mary’s Church, he felt as if he had been blessed by fortune. She had captivated him with her natural beauty, her intelligent, enquiring mind, and her easy-going manner. That evening he had gone back to his lodgings and drawn her face from memory, filling a whole sketchbook with her likeness, imagining her as the tragic Ophelia, the magical Titania or the wise and beautiful Portia.
“Ladies and gentlemen! I present to you, Marlo the Magician who will perform the Metamorphosis Magic Trick!”
Whilst the master of ceremonies had been talking, two assistants had placed a large wooden box in the centre of the stage. In front of the box they had lain a curtain on a pole. Marlo the Magician, clad all in black, appeared from the wings, accompanied by a young woman in a slim-fitting silk gown. The woman twirled around a few times as if to demonstrate that she was real flesh and blood, unlike Pepper’s Ghosts of the previous show. Then the magician helped her to climb inside the box and the assistants fixed a lid on the top. The tension in the audience rose a notch.
The magician then climbed onto the top of the box and his assistants, each standing on a chair, hoisted up the curtain pole between them. Off-stage a drum roll sounded. The magician lifted his arms to the sky; the drum roll became louder and more intense; the audience held its breath; then the helpers lifted the curtain high, obscuring the audience’s view of the magician; there was a loud bang on the drum and when the helpers lowered the curtain only moments later, the woman, who had been in the box, was now standing on top of it. Marlo had vanished.
“Ooh!” chimed the audience.
The helpers lifted the woman down from the box and, as she twirled off to the side of the stage, they removed the lid, and the magician jumped out. As the applause erupted, George heard Alice laugh with astonishment. The trick was truly amazing.
She turned to him. “Wasn’t that fantastic? I’d love to know how they did that.”
“Who knows?” he replied, pleased that she was enjoying herself so much. He would do anything to make her happy, anything at all.
~~~
Jackson joined in the clapping merely for form’s sake. The trick was clever, to be sure, but there was obviously a logical explanation for it, not that he was interested in what it was. Beside him, Kitty was applauding enthusiastically. No doubt she would fill him in on how the trick was done later on. For now, Jackson kept his attention fixed firmly on Alice and George, still sitting in their places near the front of the audience. Unless Jackson was blind, they had moved even closer towards each other during that performance. Well, well, well. For his own part Jackson couldn’t have cared less, but he knew Henry would care an inordinate amount if he found out and Henry was paying Jackson to make sure his future bride didn’t stray. It was in Jackson’s own interest to ensure this situation didn’t progress, otherwise it would be Jackson who would ultimately pay the price.
~~~
Rose and Dan wound their way through the crowds, trying not to lose sight of the two men, but staying far enough back so the men wouldn’t suspect they were being followed. They lost sight of them by the Dodgems but then Rose spotted them heading towards the lorries, trailers and caravans parked on the far side of the field. It was quiet over here, away from the crowds. Rose felt uneasy, like they were trespassing on private property, but Dan seemed intent on following the men.
Outside a battered, old caravan, a couple of bare-footed children, a boy and a girl, were playing with a ball, tossing it to each other in sullen silence. They paused in their game to stare at Dan and Rose as they walked past. They turned a corner and a black dog suddenly sprung at them out of the shadows, letting off a volley of vicious sounding barks.
“Bloody hell,” cried Rose as she jumped back. The dog was a monster and looked like some kind of cross between a Rottweiler and a Pitbull Terrier.
“It’s OK,” said Dan, taking her arm. “It’s tied up. It can’t hurt you.”
Rose wasn’t so sure. Weren’t breeds like that supposed to be banned? The dog wore a studded collar around its thick neck. One end of a thin, fraying rope was tied to the collar, the other end was tied to a metal hook in a wooden post. It seemed like a totally inadequate means of restraint for such a vicious dog. And even if the animal didn’t break free, its incessant barking was sooner or later going to attract attention and someone would come and ask what they were doing snooping around the homes of the fairground travellers. Or the men might realise they were being followed and come after them. She gave the animal a wide berth, not trusting the rope to keep it under control. The dog chased after them as far as it was able to, snarling and barking all the time. She was starting to regret her decision to accompany Dan on this foolhardy venture. What was he hoping to achieve anyway?
“Hold on,” whispered Dan, once they were past the dog.
The two men had stopped beside a vehicle at the very edge of the field. This wasn’t just an ordinary towing caravan like the others, but a much more substantial camper van, more like a small lorry, with a sleek, modern exterior, a luxury home on wheels. There was a light on inside and they could hear the beat of loud rock music. The men climbed the short flight of steps to a door in the camper van’s side, knocked once, then disappeared inside.
“Come on,” said Dan. “Let’s go round the back.”
Before Rose had a chance to protest, Dan was crouching low and running across the grass towards the camper van. What is this, thought Rose? An action movie? She didn’t want to get any closer to the camper van, but neither did she want to go back on her own for fear of the dog. They’d come this far, so they might as well see the thing through, she supposed. She ran as lightly as she could across the grass and joined Dan round the back of the van.
>
“I can’t see what’s going on in there,” whispered Dan. “The window’s too high. Is there anything to stand on?”
“No,” said Rose, looking around. She didn’t want to find something to stand on. It sounded like a really bad idea.
“Over there,” said Dan, pointing to a shabby caravan with a pile of empty packing crates outside on the ground. Dan ran over, grabbed the top crate and ran back with it, placing it directly under the rear window of the camper van. Thank goodness for the loud music, thought Rose, otherwise the occupants would surely have heard them moving about by now.
Dan climbed onto the crate, then held out a hand for Rose to join him. Oh, what the hell, she thought, climbing up beside him. She might as well take a peek now they’d gone to all this trouble. Keeping as low as possible, Rose peered inside.
Wow, thought Rose. To say the camper van was luxurious was an understatement. This was not your typical family caravan with tartan sofa, narrow bunk beds and Formica-topped table. The interior gleamed like something out of a glossy magazine. There were cream leather sofas on either side with minimalist white cabinets overhead. A high-tech kitchen area sparkled with chrome fittings. Rose noticed a well-stocked drinks cabinet and a huge flat-screen television. The men they had followed were seated on the sofas. There was a third man who occupied a swivel, leather armchair, the sort that would recline at the push of a button. They couldn’t hear the conversation inside the caravan, but from the way the third man was gesticulating and pointing, it was clear that he was the boss. Everything about him, from his shaven head, his bronze tan, his expensive-looking linen suit and the gold medallion he wore around his neck made Rose think of a mafia boss. Good grief, she thought, what movie set did he crawl out of? He reached out a hand for a glass of whisky on the table beside him. On his knuckles, tattooed in bold capitals, was the name MAX.
“So that’s him,” muttered Dan under his breath.
Max stood up, opened one of the overhead cupboards, reached inside and brought down a black box. He put the box on the table next to his glass of whisky and opened the lid. From inside, he produced two small handguns. He gave one each to the two men who examined the weapons with an air of indifference, as if people gave them guns every other day. They put the guns in an inside pocket of their leather jackets.
Scarborough Fair (Scarborough Fair series Book 1) Page 7
