Stealing the Show Page 10

‘Quite the opposite, I’m afraid. I was merely curious.’ Nell shook her head. There was a galaxy of freckles dusted across her skin, and her wrists were encircled by several thin gold bangles. Old rose gold like the rest of her jewellery. ‘I do hope you manage to sell everything to the right people on Saturday, Mr Morland. It’s been a pleasure to meet you both.’

  ‘And you,’ Jack said.

  Fiona was looking perplexed. ‘Am I to understand that you’re a fair person?’

  ‘A traveller,’ Nell nodded. ‘A showman. Yes.’

  ‘Good Lord. I’m dumbstruck.’ Fiona’s voice had a trace of reluctant admiration. ‘You’re so absolutely normal. Oh well,’ she linked her arm through Jack’s, ‘come on, then. Let’s go and see your anorak chums and get out of this dump. Having seen it, I still fail to understand how you find messing around with all this stuff interesting, darling. I simply can’t wait for Saturday to come, can you?’

  Chapter Nine

  The weather had been glorious ever since they’d left Oakton. The gaffs at Bicester and Sutton had been packed, the rides full, and now, on the last day at King’s Bagley, the scorching spell looked set to continue. Claudia sprawled on the steps of the inert waltzer, nursing a glass of cold lime juice, and lifted her face to the early-morning sun. She adored hot weather. Unlike the tawny-haired and freckled Bradleys, her dark skin tanned easily and she loved the scent of sunshine on her flesh. She rubbed the inside of her arm against her nose, then looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching. Strange, she thought, that she revelled in the senses of smell and sound, of taste and vision, yet would happily pass on touch.

  The air was heavy with sweetness. Butterflies, blue and orange, darted amongst the clumps of buttercups and, as if mocking their frenetic activity, small flies hung motionless like notes on a music score. Across the shimmering field the gaff lads, Alfie, Mick, Ted, and Barry, were lounging on the grass outside Nell’s living wagon. The smell of frying bacon hung on the still air. There was no sign of Terry. He only ever appeared for breakfast on pull-in mornings when he was out of bed by necessity.

  Nell appeared, leaping down the steps with the plates, singing rather discordantly to something by Doris Day, and waved cheerfully to Claudia. Claudia waved back doubtfully. Good God – Doris Day? And Nell was bubbly! And it was early in the morning. Claudia wrinkled her nose. Nell had been acting very strangely recently. Smiling a lot and drifting off into silences with a glazed look in her eyes. Even when Claudia had threatened to rip up her entire collection of CK T-shirts if she didn’t tell her what was going on, Nell had just beamed and said, ‘Yeah, all right, that’d be lovely.’

  If she hadn’t known better, Claudia could have sworn Nell was in love. But surely not with Ross Percival? Not after all this time?

  Love. She wriggled in the sunshine. She had tried really hard to be extra-loving to Danny since Oakton. It hadn’t been easy. His temper, already roused to incandescence by the Terry episode, had been explosive after the visit from the HSE inspector. The paratrooper had been out of action for five days while the appropriate safety bars had been fitted, examined, and tested. Sam, poor soul, had come in for the full force of Danny’s fury. Claudia smiled to herself and sipped the bittersweet juice, rolling it round her tongue. Sam made everything so much easier.

  For the sake of peace she had toned down the make-up and abandoned the tarty clothes, which had delighted Danny. But she’d quickly become bored with baggy sweat pants and T-shirts and, still needing a cloak to hide behind, had reinvented herself again. Her curls were now shaggy and glossy, and she’d rushed off to the nearest Laura Ashley and bought long flowing frocks and floral skirts with broderie anglaise tops. Nell had been pretty scathing and said that Claudia would be back in denim minis and skin-tight Lycra before they reached King’s Bagley. So far she’d been wrong.

  Claudia felt beautiful now, inside and out. Beautiful – and confident. She stretched her bare legs in the increasing heat, feeling the rough wood of the scarlet-and-pink platform scratching her calves, the grass silky-damp between her bare toes. Sam’s declaration had fulfilled all her fantasies. The one man who could never have her, wanted her. Although, she had to admit, the very fact that he loved her changed so many things. It wasn’t a fantasy. It was real. And reality had a nasty habit of getting out of hand. She’d have to be very careful to keep the situation under control. Even so, it was lovely to know that there was someone who appreciated her for herself – and not just as the potential mother of his children.

  Sam hadn’t said it again – just looked at her, smiled at her, laughed at her jokes. He didn’t seem embarrassed, Claudia thought, merely relieved that she knew. And, apart from that first rather surprising and gentle kiss on the cheek, they’d had no physical contact even when they were alone together. It suited Claudia admirably. She had always been very fond of Sam. It was the sort of love-affair that every girl should have. At least, every girl who pretended to ooze sexuality when in reality her body cringed at the very thought of love-making.

  She squinted through the misty heat haze. King’s Bagley was a pretty place. A very small village – practically a hamlet, Sam had said – where the fair was welcomed annually on the green. The green had a stream chattering through it, and was dotted with a church, a pub called the Nutmeg and Spice, and a smattering of cottages, all ringed by trees. Claudia was vague on trees. She guessed they might be beech because they had auburn leaves, but like all travellers, her seasons weren’t marked by the emergence of flowers, or the lightness of the evenings.

  The start of the season, just before Easter, meant Oldsworth and Swindon, Gloucester and Banbury; spring was the circuit they were on now. Summer meant places like Haresfoot and Witney, fetes and carnivals, Henley Regatta, Didcot and Faringdon. Then into the back end, autumn, and the huge charter fairs: St Giles’ in Oxford, Wallingford, Abingdon and Newbury, before returning to their winter quarters at Fox Hollow.

  Still no one moved. A radio murmured through the open windows of Mr and Mrs Mac’s living wagon, and she could hear some of the younger Mackenzie grandchildren playing something boisterous with bats and a ball on elastic. Nell was still singing. The gaff lads were scraping their plates and lighting cigarettes. Claudia drained her glass, still thirsty but reluctant to leave her perch. She was enjoying the indolence and the sunshine. And anyway, if she went back to the living wagon Danny might pounce on her.

  Saved! She watched as her husband closed their front door and unlocked the Shogun. He was probably going off to meet Ross. The Shogun bumped across the grass and squealed to a halt.

  ‘I’m going to do a bit of business.’ Danny looked happy. It had to be something to do with the Percivals, which was bound to upset Nell. ‘I’ll be gone all day. Back by opening tonight, though. Will you be OK?’

  ‘Fine,’ Claudia nodded. ‘No sweat. Have a nice time.’

  The Shogun roared off across the field. She hadn’t asked him what the bit of business was because he probably wouldn’t have told her. She didn’t really care. He could have his secrets – after all, she’d got hers.

  Hearing swishing footsteps through the grass and hoping it was Sam, she leaned forward. Bugger. It was only Terry and that scruffy girl he’d had hanging around yesterday evening. She looked as though she had spent all night in the Beast Wagon. Her dark-rooted blonde hair was in greasy clumps and her make-up was badly smudged.

  ‘You’ve missed breakfast.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ Terry pushed his floppy hair away from very slitty eyes and grinned at the girl. ‘Still, it was worth it. Can I ask you a favour?’

  ‘If it’s a sub then there’s no chance. I don’t hold the purse strings.’

  ‘Nah. I’m OK for dosh, ta. Karen wondered if she could have a shower. The Beast Wagon isn’t really equipped for that, is it? I mean, I know we’ve got a sink and hot and cold running – which is more’n most gaffs provide, but Karen’d really love a proper shower.’

  ‘Couldn’t she go home and have o
ne?’ Claudia looked up at the rather scrawny Karen. ‘You do live in King’s Bagley, don’t you?’

  ‘Nah.’ Karen ran a pink tongue over very bruised lips. Her neck was dotted with love-bites. One good reason, Claudia thought, for not wanting to go home immediately. ‘I live in Oakton.’

  ‘Christ! That’s miles away. Do you mean you’ve followed Terry here all the way from Oakton?’

  ‘Not exactly –’ Karen stopped.

  Realisation dawned. Claudia groaned. ‘You mean you’ve been with us all the time? Since Oakton? God Almighty! How old are you? What about your parents? Jesus, Terry, Danny and Sam’ll crucify you.’ She sighed and shook her head at the bedraggled girl. ‘OK. If you’ve been in that fleapit since Oakton you probably need hosing down. My trailer’s open. It’s the one with the walnut and chrome panels over there. Go and use the bathroom – but if you even think about pinching anything I’ll break your fingers. Understood?’

  ‘I ain’t a thief! I’ve been brought up proper. An’ thanks.’ Karen started to skip away, then looked over her bony shoulder. ‘You coming, Tel?’

  Terry shook his head and subsided on to the waltzer steps beside Claudia.

  ‘Wimp!’ Karen poked out her tongue again and skittered away across the grass.

  ‘She’ll wear me out,’ Terry said happily, lighting a cigarette and offering one to Claudia.

  She took it, holding her curls back as Terry flicked the lighter. He was very close. It didn’t do anything for her. ‘I shouldn’t. I gave up last New Year’s Eve.’ She inhaled and coughed and threw the cigarette on to the grass in disgust. ‘That’s bloody awful! That’s it. I’m a non-smoker. Oh, stamp on it! It could incinerate the whole village – and I’ve got nothing on my feet.’

  ‘Completely crazy!’ Terry laughed as he ground out the glowing cigarette. ‘You’re ace, Claudia.’

  ‘I’m certifiable. Don’t let the others know that Karen’s used my trailer, for God’s sake. They’ll skin me alive. Seriously, Terry, you’ll have to get shot of her before we get her parents, or the coppers, or both, on our tail.’

  ‘She’s over-age.’ Terry looked affronted. ‘I ain’t that daft.’

  ‘If she’s over-age then I’m Methuselah. Oh God, here’s Nell now. Don’t say a word.’

  Terry scrambled to his feet. ‘I think I might just go an’ keep an eye on her, you know? Make sure she don’t nick anything, like.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ Claudia said cheerfully. ‘Just don’t use our bed.’

  Nell, looking very swish in the Nicole Farhi suit, was frowning as she approached Claudia. ‘You were chirping your little head off just now. What’s wrong?’ Claudia demanded.

  ‘Nothing.’ Nell had wound her hair into a gleaming chignon and looked like a young and flame-haired Joanna Lumley. ‘Claudia – are you sure you know what you’re doing?’

  Claudia felt a momentary jag of panic. Surely Nell didn’t know about Sam? How could she? And they hadn’t done anything, anyway. ‘Doing? About what?’

  ‘Him.’ Nell motioned towards Terry’s departing back. ‘I know he’s very pretty and all that but, after the shemozzle at Oakton, you and Danny seem to be getting on together. Don’t you think –’

  ‘Terry?’ Claudia laughed in relief. ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Nell, love. You’re way, way off the mark. Terry’s amorous intentions are focused in an entirely different direction. An Oakton bimbo, no less. I was merely giving him some big-sisterly advice.’

  Nell didn’t look convinced, but true to recent form, had suddenly become glassy-eyed. Claudia tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘Petronella Bradley, what has happened to you?’

  ‘Uh?’

  ‘Give me strength. You’re in a trance most of the time. You’re all dolled up and Ross isn’t around, so –’

  ‘I’m going into Oxford. To the bank – I thought I ought to look the part.’

  ‘What part?’

  ‘Oh – businesslike, you know?’

  ‘No. Tell me.’

  ‘Not now. Later. Tomorrow – maybe. If Ross is foolish enough to ring, tell him I’ve been overcome by a surfeit of French cuisine and am gorging myself on fish and chips and don’t wish to be disturbed.’ Nell’s eyes snapped back into focus. ‘Christ! Terry’s going into your living wagon! Claudia, quick!’

  ‘He’s just having a shower. The Beast Wagon is hardly stuffed with mod cons. And Danny’s gone off somewhere wheeling and dealing, so what’s the harm?’

  Nell shook her head. ‘I’m not even sure I trust him with the takings on the dodgems – and you let him loose with a vanload of antiques – not to mention Danny’s cash drawer! You are having a fling with him, aren’t you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why is he wandering into your trailer? Gaff lads don’t – under any circumstances, not even life or death – set foot inside –’

  Claudia exhaled. ‘Nell, I’m not having an affair with Terry. I still feel sorry for what happened at Oakton. He wants a shower and Danny’ll never know. I don’t think he’ll pocket the porcelain or anything, and Danny’s money is so well barred and bolted that even I can’t get my hands on it. Anyway, to be honest I can’t see how we can keep running this feudal system of masters and slaves. He’s a good kid. Why are you laughing?’

  ‘You’re priceless. Since you’ve become a retro Mamas and Papas freak you sound exactly like Sam. Equality for all. Love and peace, man. If you start wearing ethnic beads and not shaving your legs, I’ll probably strangle you. I think I preferred you tarty.’ Nell shrugged. ‘Oh well, it’s your funeral. Just don’t come screaming to me when Danny finds out about Terry having the run of the trailer.’

  ‘I won’t and he won’t and aren’t you going to be late?’

  ‘God, yes.’ Nell glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll be back this afternoon and we’ll talk properly then. And don’t do anything stupid. Bye.’

  Claudia watched her drift dreamily towards the Volvo. Oxford … The bank … Again … That was it! Nell had fallen in love with the bank manager! Mind you, they must have had a recent change of personnel, because the last time she’d been to the bank with Danny, the manager had been shrivelled and weaselly with tufts of hair sprouting from his ears. She was pretty sure that even Nell’s taste couldn’t be that bizarre. And the bank manager was a flatty. No showman’s daughter – especially not one in Nell’s vaunted ride-owning position – would consider becoming involved with a flatty.

  ‘Trying to figure out the theory of relativity?’ Sam swung silently from the waltzer platform and dropped on to the grass beside her. ‘Or was it something more complex than that?’

  ‘Far more complex. Do you know what Nell’s up to?’

  ‘Nope. I know that she’s still dithering over Ross, which is pretty short-sighted of her. I know she and he had a flaming row at Le Manoir – no less – and that Danny has gone to meet him and Clem today about a new gaff that Percivals are letting ground on. Apart from that, I haven’t got a clue. My guess is that she’ll eventually eat humble pie, and we’ll be having the wedding of the year before we reach back-end. There – has that solved all your problems?’

  ‘Not really. So Nell’s gone off to Oxford and Danny’s gone off to the Percivals and –’ She faltered. There was no way, despite his lip service to parity, that she could let Sam know about Karen – or Terry – or the use of the trailer. And they could appear at any minute. ‘Do you fancy a drink? That is, I’m not inviting you or anything. I mean, the pub’s open and –’

  ‘I think I grasp the general concept,’ Sam said. ‘You’ve worked out this cunning plan to get me on my own – and you’re letting me know that the entire family is out of the way so we can romp happily and –’

  ‘I’m not!’ Claudia said in panic. ‘I didn’t mean – oh!’ She realised that he was laughing. ‘You bastard!’

  ‘Mum and Dad might argue with you on that point – but yeah, a drink would be great. My thirst is at your disposal, even if you don’t want my body.’

>   Claudia blushed and turned away. Sam caught hold of her arm. ‘Hey? What’s up?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She pulled away from him. She could still feel the pressure of his fingers. ‘I just don’t want you to talk like that. Not even as a joke.’

  He looked at her. ‘It’s no joke. At least, not to me.’

  ‘Sam!’

  But he was already striding off in the direction of the paratrooper, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunched tight beneath his T-shirt.

  ‘Bugger. Shit. Bugger.’ Claudia clenched her fists. ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’

  And sighing heavily, she ran across the bruised grass behind him.

  The sun was spiralling, casting short, sharp shadows, and turning the already gaudy colours of the fairground stark and garish. Would Terry and his nymphet have finished – er – frolicking? Would Mr and Mrs Mac spot them sprinting half-naked from the wagon and report back to Danny? Oh, God – Why did life have to be so bloody complicated?

  ‘You didn’t have to chase after me.’ Sam emerged from the paratrooper’s pay-box. ‘I would have come back. Sorry about behaving like a prat. Do you still want that drink?’

  ‘Please. And you shouldn’t apologise. I was being stupid as well.’

  They walked side by side across the bleached grass. It prickled her bare legs. He shrugged. ‘No you weren’t. I guess you’ve got every reason to be wary. I should never have told you.’

  ‘I’m glad you did.’ Claudia peeped up at him. ‘It was nice.’

  ‘Nice?’ Sam squinted against the sun. ‘You make it sound as exciting as an acceptable pudding. It’s been driving me crazy for years – and you think it’s nice. Jesus!’

  She bit her lip. ‘Maybe, not nice, then. Maybe, lovely – oh, I don’t know. It was just so unexpected. And well, funny –’

  ‘You certainly have a way with words.’ Sam gently pulled her round to face him. ‘Before you crush my already fragile ego to dust, perhaps we should just leave it. After all, it’s not going to lead anywhere, is it?’