Authors: Jenny Tomlin
‘Can you remember the last time you went to a funfair, Mich?’
‘I was just thinking that, it must be years. Great, innit?’ The two women smiled excitedly at each other. God, it felt good to be out and having fun.
The music filled their heads and they swayed as they walked. Soon, without thinking, they were both singing the familiar words out loud.
‘We’re definitely going on the waltzers!’ Michelle skipped along, holding Aisha and Trinity by the hand.
The two girls looked gorgeous in their little summer dresses and with their hair braided. Compared to 334
Michelle’s girls, Potty’s Sara and Jessica looked like a pair of scruffy orphans and Potty resolved to sort them out with some nice clothes from her next pay packet.
‘No way, I’ll be as sick as a dog!’ she protested, laughing.
‘Oh, you always say that! You’re just chicken, Potty!’
As they drew closer the words of another familiar song rang through the night. ‘
Sugar! Ah, honey,
honey, you are my candy girl, and you’ve got me
wanting you . . .
’
Michelle exclaimed, ‘Oh, I love this song!’ and punched Potty on the arm. Lucy felt happy just to see her mum smile. She was looking better and younger than Lucy could ever remember seeing her, as if she’d been sleeping for years and had suddenly been kissed by a handsome prince and brought back to life. Potty twirled girlishly in her new jeans and Lucy noticed how tight her T-shirt was. Mum had stopped wearing baggy gear and looked lovely for the first time in years.
‘Now, nobody wander off. I mean it. We stick together or there’ll be no candy floss, do you lot hear me?’ said Potty.
The girls all nodded eagerly and drew closer into a huddle, moving en masse through the gathering crowds as they advanced towards the heart of the fair.
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‘Right, we’d better sort these little ’uns out first, Potty,’ said Michelle, leading them to the stall where they could fish for ducks. Sara and Jessica fished out the first numbered duck they could grab and were happy with the little furry spiders they won, but Trinity took her time, studying the toy ducks as they whirled around in the water. She was deter mined to win a goldfish and the stallholder became engaged in her game, gently encouraging her to keep her hook low. Occasionally he would look up and catch Potty’s eye and wink.
Michelle saw the way he looked at her and nudged her in the ribs, sniggering. ‘Oh, sod off,’ Potty whispered, trying to suppress a laugh. The man was in his late twenties with startling blue eyes and a shock of dark hair which hung over his forehead. He was handsome and cheeky, and his flirting reminded her of how things had been for her in days gone by.
She watched the stallholder as he took his time with little Trinity and remembered how it had been when she’d first met Michael. He had been handsome and cheeky once, too, and she had been swept off her feet by him. It was the attention he gave Lucy, too.
The fuss he made of her, the way he didn’t seem to mind that she was someone else’s child. All this had made her love him more, and she realised now she’d probably felt grateful too, because she was being given a second chance at love. He’d never asked her questions about Lucy’s father, didn’t seem to want to 336
know about the past, just seemed to care about her and the baby.
Lucy would have been about four at the time and he used to spend hours with her, playing silly little games, making up stories, tickling her so that she laughed so hard she couldn’t breathe. Lucy adored him and for a while all had been golden. But then something went awry, Potty didn’t know what, life got in the way, the two younger girls came along, and then they didn’t have the time for each other that they used to. They had fallen out of love, she supposed, but it still hurt her. How horrible Michael had become to her and to the kids.
Potty wanted to cry then for what she had lost. She wasn’t really afraid of the future, but she was definitely wistful for past happiness with Michael, and the realisation that it was too late to get it back.
When Trinity had finally chosen a duck – her little tongue poking out of her mouth with concentration as she painstakingly raised it out of the water – it didn’t have the right letter underneath for her to win a goldfish. Her face crumpled and her huge brown eyes filled with tears. The stallholder told her to choose a fish anyway and smiled broadly at Potty as they all gushed their thanks at him. She noticed that he had the most incredibly white teeth. ‘Come back later,’ he said, looking straight at her. He had the direct gaze of a man who knew his way around women.
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Potty could feel herself blush and Michelle cackled loudly, ‘God, it’s good to laugh, innit, Potty?’ She placed her arm through Michelle’s and kicked her heels in the dust of the dry earth. Too right it was good to laugh! They had been living under so much pressure, crushed by the fear that had held them in its grips for months, that they had nearly stopped breathing. How good it was to remember that there was nothing better than a man’s eye on you for making you feel special. The stallholder looked at Potty like he wanted every bit of her, and she was warm and receptive to the idea of a man’s arms wrapped around her.
Potty smiled a seductive smile at the young man before turning on her heel to leave. She felt light as air as they drifted past the shooting range and the haunted house where the girls squealed in protest, adamant they would not go in. Potty nearly jumped out of her skin as a siren suddenly went off and announced the beginning of another ride, voices shouted at them to ‘’Ave a go, lovie’ and the pungent air was filled with the sweet smells of fried apple fritters and sarsaparilla drinks. Potty was heady with happiness and squealed with delight as another stallholder pulled gently at her arm and whispered in her ear that he’d like to go round the back with her for a kiss and a cuddle.
Lucy hung back, smiling, and kept an eye on the four little girls as Michelle and Potty wandered arm-338
in-arm about the fairground. She thought the two women looked like schoolgirls together, and had a sense for the first time in her young life that her mum had once been a girl too and must have had her dreams, just like Lucy did.
Her dream was stronger than ever now. Back in June, before the attack, she’d been for trials for the London Youth Judo Squad. She hadn’t told anybody except Maria. If she got through, she wanted it to be a surprise for her mum. It had been nearly six weeks since the trials and she still hadn’t heard so she doubted it would come to anything. But if not this time, then next, and she would keep going until she got where she wanted to be. ‘It’s all about stamina, this game,’ Lucy’s coach had told her, ‘it’s the people who keep at it who get the prizes.’ She had secret high hopes for herself and was sure that one day she would get her chance.
He lurked in the shadows, dizzy with all the wonder -
ful sights around him: the nubile young things in their shorts and little skirts. It all made his mouth water and his head feel so light that he had to grip the side of a caravan for support. He was comfortable here in the shadows where he could gaze uninterrupted at the wonderful sights that walked past him. No one noticed him, no one knew he was watching. Now that darkness had fallen he could really get down to business. He desperately wanted to pluck one of 339
them, to feel their soft skin under his hands, to embrace them . . . and then watch the life slowly leave them as he fucked their brains out.
But tonight it seemed everyone was holding on tight to little hands. He already knew that pickings would not be easy here, and it could prove a little dangerous. No, tonight he would just content himself with watching, and as he did he rubbed himself and climaxed over the thought of what might have been.
Twilight slowly gave way to the first stars of the evening and Lucy breathed in a deep lungful of fairground air. The scent of candy floss and diesel oil and hot dogs filled her nostrils and lifted her spirits.
There was excitement blowing on the breeze. Their group came to a shuddering halt when Michelle and Potty stopped by the ghost train and insisted they all get on. Squeezing into a couple of carts, the girls all squabbled amongst themselves. ‘Stop squashing me, Jessica!’ her sister shouted.
The bell rang and the wheels moved jerkily down the track, meeting the metal swing doors with a loud crash. They all screamed in joyful unison. A few seconds into the ride, however, as the simulated sounds of horror blared in the darkness, the little ones became afraid and hid their faces against their mothers’ breasts. Michelle and Potty told them not to worry, reassured them that it would soon be over, but the ride was longer than expected, the little cart 340
jerking on its track in a stop-start fashion, and even Lucy was beginning to feel anxious. By the finish Sara and Jessica were nearly in tears and Potty had to bring them round with the promise of a hot dog.
‘Think I might have gone a bit over the top with them there, mate, I was starting to freak out a bit myself,’ Potty said quietly to Michelle.
‘Nah, they’ll be all right in a minute. Get a bit of grub down ’em,’ Michelle said reassuringly. Her large gold hoop earrings were twinkling in the darkness and her teeth looked whiter than white against her dark brown skin.
The little party stood around, munching on their hot dogs and chips and debating which rides to go on next. The girls wanted the carousel while Michelle demanded that Potty should come on the waltzers with her. ‘Over my dead body,’ said Potty flatly, turning to find a bin for her greasy tissue. As she did, a white caravan lit from within by a soft light through warm orange curtains caught her eye. A blackboard hung outside reading: Madame Marla, Fortune Teller. ‘Oh, look, Mich, they’ve got a clairvoyant!’
‘You won’t get me going in there. I don’t want to know what the future holds, thank you very much.
Come on, Potty, let’s go on the waltzers. Lucy’ll mind the girls.’
‘No, wait up,’ begged Potty, ‘let me have a look.’
Michelle rolled her eyes and tapped her foot 341
impatiently while Potty walked over to study the board outside the caravan. It was a bit steep at £1, but for that she could choose between crystal ball, palm reading or tarot. She looked in her purse, which was bulging with change, and had a quick count up.
A woman of about sixty in a flowered dress and vivid eye make-up opened the door to let a customer out. She looked at Potty without smiling and said,
‘You coming in?’
She turned back to look at Michelle who just shrugged as if to say, It’s up to you. ‘Five minutes,’
Potty shouted over to them. ‘Lucy, keep an eye on the girls.’
Still not smiling or offering much of a welcome, the clairvoyant looked Potty up and down as she settled herself on a bench behind a table covered with a white lace cloth.
‘Close that curtain behind you unless you want everyone looking in,’ she instructed. She sounded surly and Potty wondered for a minute if this was a mistake. ‘OK, let me get settled here,’ said the woman, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, ‘now give me your hand.’
Potty reached across the table. As she placed her hand in the clairvoyant’s, she noticed that in contrast to her own it was tanned and warm and covered in gold rings. The nails were beautifully manicured and painted red. They sat like that for a minute and Potty began to wonder if the woman was ever going to 342
speak when she raised her head and opened her eyes to look straight into Potty’s. She had that same direct stare as the guy on the fish-for-a-duck stall. Potty wondered for a moment if the clairvoyant could be his mother. Then she felt like the woman could see right inside her, and shifted uncomfortably on the bench.
‘Cards for you,’ said the woman, reaching behind her to an occasional table and picking up a velvet scarf wrapped around a set of well-worn tarot cards.
Unwrapping the deck from the velvet, the woman handed the cards to Potty. ‘Shuffle them, then split the pack into three.’ Potty did as she was told. ‘Right, now I want you to put them back into one pile, in any order you like.’ Potty studied the cards for a moment then shuffled them back together, left first, then right, then middle. ‘OK, let’s have a look,’ said the woman, turning the cards over, three in the middle and the rest around the edge.’
Potty scanned the illustrations on the cards, some beautiful, some bleak.
‘Right then, this is you, the High Priestess. What this card says is that you’re coming into your own, you’re growing and becoming a wise and loving woman. It tells me your judgement is good, that you can be a leader of others.’
Potty nodded. She liked the sound of that.
‘But you see this one here?’ continued the woman, pointing to a skeleton on a black background. ‘That’s 343
the death card.’ Potty drew in her breath sharply. ‘It doesn’t always mean somebody is going to die, but it does mean that some part of your life has ended and needs to go. Does that make sense?’
She swallowed hard and nodded, not looking at the woman, still staring at the card.
‘And this one here, the Tower. You see it’s crumbling and falling down? That’s the same thing.
Something has to fall apart before it can be built up again. Does that feel right?’
Potty looked up at the other woman and for the first time saw a glint of warmth in her eye. ‘Don’t worry, love.’ She allowed herself a small smile. ‘It normally just means you gotta get the dead wood outta your life. It’s for you to decide what the dead wood is.’ Then she ran one long red nail along the cards down the side. ‘You got three kids, right?’
‘Yeah’ said Potty, impressed.
‘Girls?’
‘How’d you know that?’ she asked. The woman just tilted her head to one side as if to say, Well, it’s my job, love.
‘One of them is going to have a lot of success. I can’t see which one it is, or how old she’ll be, but that’s the Star there, one of your girls.’
‘Bloody hell!’ said Potty.
‘Hold up, there’s more.’ The woman’s face clouded into an expression that Potty couldn’t read.
‘It’s not clear,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘but it’s a 344