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  Taking a last draw from her cigarette, she stubbed it out into an ashtray and then smiled to herself. Jenny’s mother, Gem, had roped Jenny, Ren and Julie, along with Fran, Jenny’s aunt, into helping her organise a surprise birthday party for Velda, the fairground fortune-teller, who was turning 66 in a weeks’ time. Although her actual birthday was on the Monday, the party was planned for the previous Sunday afternoon, when the fair was closed, so those attending could relax and make merry. If the weather was fine, it was going to be held outside Gem’s van, and if not, then inside.

  Gem, Fran, Jenny and Ren would be doing the setting-up and the preparation of the food and drink, and it was Julie’s job to keep Velda out of the way whilst that was in progress then, at the allotted time, to get her to Gem’s van. She was still not sure how she was going to keep the older woman occupied for several hours, but she still had time to come up with an idea, and a backup plan if that failed.

  She was looking forward to the do, which promised to be fun. This was the first party hosted by the owners that she and Dicky had been invited to since they had joined Grundy’s. She just hoped that Dicky behaved himself and didn’t rile any of the other men with his supercilious attitude, or flirt with any of the wives as he had a habit of doing with a few drinks inside him.

  She stiffened as the tall, dark-haired man in her thoughts arrived in the van. She didn’t need to look at him to know that his mood wasn’t a good one; she could tell just by the way he had thrust open the door and stomped inside.

  Before she had a chance to explain her reasons for not returning to the wall after going off to fetch the ladder, he was furiously waving his arms about and shouting, ‘Bloody imbecile could have killed me! I wish I knew which damn idiot it was and they’d be sorry after I’d finished with them. I knew it wasn’t anything I’d done that caused the accident.’ He slammed his hand on the dining table. ‘There was a patch of grease on the wall that must have come off one of the bikes and wasn’t cleaned off when the wall was given its once-over this morning. That was what caused my front wheel to slip.’

  Julie jumped up and went over to him in a desperate effort to calm his rage before it reached a point of no return. ‘It was just a mistake, Dicky,’ she soothed. ‘Any of us could have made it.’

  Glaring darkly at her, he erupted. ‘You insinuating it was my fault? It was me that left that glob of grease on the wall?’

  To her horror, she saw him ball a fist. Fearing it was about to come her way, she hurriedly blurted, ‘No, no, not at all, Dicky. I know you don’t make mistakes like that. No, as I said before it could have been any one of us.’

  His eyes narrowed menacingly as a thought occurred to him and he cut in. ‘It was you. You put that grease there on purpose. Put a dollop of it on the end of a mop or something and smeared it on the wall. You want rid of me. That’s it, isn’t it? Got your eye on someone else, have you? Been playing around behind my back with him? Huh, it all makes sense now. That accident I had three weeks back when I dislocated my shoulder … I knew I’d checked all the wheel bolts on the bike before I went out for a smoke. While I was gone, you loosened the bolt, you bloody bitch, so you could be with your new man.’

  She gawped at him, appalled, and frenziedly blurted, ‘No, no, how could you even think such a thing, Dicky? I would never look at anyone else. It’s you I love. You know that.’ He would never consider that the blob of grease might have come from his own bike, or that he hadn’t tightened the bolts properly either. ‘I remember now, I came out for a smoke with you and none of the other lads were with us at the time. Speedy and Rod were in the repair van. Frank and Harry … I’m not sure where they were, but I’m positive it was only us two around the wall at that time. It was an accident, Dicky, it couldn’t have been anything else. And what reason would any of them have to want to do away with you? You’ve had words with them all, but nothing serious enough for any of them to risk a long stay in jail.’

  He sneered nastily as he grabbed her chin, squeezing it hard and pulling her up so she was standing on tiptoe. Pushing his face into hers, he snarled, ‘Yeah, yer right. If they know what’s good for them, none of the lads would dare cross me. As for you … If I ever as much as catch you looking at another man …’ He balled his fist and swung back his arm.

  She froze in terror. His need to vent his wrath had risen to such a pitch now that it was stopping him thinking straight. She cried out, ‘No, Dicky, no. I love you. No other man would ever compare to you.’ Then she lowered her voice and, despite her inner turmoil, managed to say in a soothing tone, ‘Listen, love, if you hurt me, I won’t be able to ride for a while, and think how that will affect your share of the takings.’

  He bawled furiously, ‘You saying the punters only come to see you?’

  Although she was not yet quite as accomplished as Dicky at performing daring and dangerous tricks, in truth she was the main draw, but nevertheless she vehemently insisted, ‘No, no, absolutely not. I could never hope to perform as well as you. It’s you that’s the star, Dicky. You have to be the best daredevil rider in the country. The crowds love you, especially the women. I’m so lucky that you’re my husband and they can only dream of having you.’ She lowered her voice. ‘You’re hurting me, darling. Please let me go.’

  One hand still tightly squeezing her chin, the other balled and aimed at her chest, he glared manically at her for what seemed like an age, and then the wisdom of her words appeared to penetrate his anger. He released his grip, pushed her forcefully from him and smashed his fist down on the kitchen table so hard that the small caravan shook. Then he turned and stormed out of the van, slamming the door shut behind him.

  She stood frozen for a moment, fearing that he might return and finish what he’d started. It was several minutes before she dared exhale in relief at her escape from a beating and sink down on a chair at the small kitchen table. She rested her arms on the top and stared blindly across at the wall opposite her, worrying thoughts tumbling around inside her brain. Despite his inexcusable behaviour towards her at times, she still loved Dicky. But if that was the case, why was it that as he had lain motionless after the accident this morning, just for a brief moment a feeling of great relief had surged through her that she was finally free of him? And as she had seen his eyelids fluttering, a sense of doom had replaced the relief that Dicky's reign of terror upon her was not over yet.

  Chapter Two

  A week and a half later, outside a parked one-bedroom bow-top wagon, two women were sitting in wicker chairs sharing a pot of tea and a plate of Garibaldi biscuits whilst they chatted together.

  Fortune-teller Gypsy Velda May, her large hands clasped over her mound of a stomach, was saying, ‘It’s not often I’m shocked. I’ve never been attacked before because someone didn’t agree with what the cards were telling. He came into the tent looking every bit the gent in his suit, tie and bowler hat. I told him to sit down and asked what sort of reading he wanted – tarot, palm or crystal ball – but then the next thing I knew he had his hands around my neck and was screaming at me that I should be jailed as a marriage breaker. Nearly throttled the life out me before I managed to wrench his hands away.’

  She paused long enough to issue a deep throaty chuckle. ‘Then it was him that was shocked from the left hook I gave him. Knocked him flat to the ground and it took him several moments to realise how he’d come to be sprawled on the floor. I’m not a violent person as you know, Gem, but I’m not going to let anyone try and murder me and not defend myself.’ She flashed a meaningful look at her companion before she added with a spark of humour in her shrewd brown eyes. ‘Well, he certainly picked the wrong woman to have a go at when he picked on me, didn’t he? I wish I’d had a camera and taken a photo of the look on his face when I knocked him flying.’

  37-year-old strawberry blonde Gemma Grundy laughed as she eyed her friend with deep affection. The wife of the owner of the fair, Solly Grundy, her figure was still very shapely for a woman who had given birth to three ch
ildren, and she wore a flattering pair of black slacks with a pink crew-necked jumper, a broad black belt circling her trim waist. Velda was dressed as usual in a flowing tent-like dress, which today was black with large red and yellow flowers embroidered all over it. A black scarf was tied gypsy-style around her head, a long greying plait hanging over one shoulder. When working, she would attach a band of coins across her forehead. She looked every bit a woman and acted more feminine than many women Gem knew, but the fact was she had been born male.

  Velda had been Grundy’s fortune-teller for over thirty years. Gem had known her for twenty-two of those, and never once had she or any of the rest of the Grundy community found reason to suspect that Velda was anything other than the woman she presented herself to be. That was until several months ago, when Gem had accidentally walked in on her whilst she was in a state of undress, and Velda had had no choice but to take her into her confidence and reveal her tragic history. Whilst listening to the harrowing tale, Gem’s initial disgust and hurt at Velda’s deception, not only of herself, but of the community of people she lived amongst who had come to greatly respect her, turned to unadulterated sympathy, and to Velda’s enormous relief, she agreed to keep her secret. Velda knew that Gem wasn’t the type who looked for repayment for any favour she did, which in this case was a good thing, as the debt of gratitude she owed Gem for keeping her silence on such a controversial matter could never be settled.

  With a dark scowl on her rotund face, Velda went on. ‘What an insult to my profession to blame me for his wife chucking him out. I told him in no uncertain terms that an honourable clairvoyant would never tell a client what to do. We are just vessels for the spirits, and it’s them that offer the guidance to those who seek it. In his wife’s case she chose the tarot cards, and they informed me that she was a very miserable woman, and until she got rid of whatever it was that was making her unhappy, then she’d never know peace. He bawled at me that he didn’t believe in all that bunkum, but as I told him, his wife obviously did, and as she’d gone straight home after her reading and thrown him out, it was clear that he was the reason for her unhappiness. He slunk off then with his tail between his legs. Oh, and a black eye to boot. Odious little man. I sensed that he was the sort that took great joy in making those close to him miserable, if you understand me. I really don’t like to see any marriage break up, but she was a nice, unassuming sort of woman and I hope she finds herself a man who gets pleasure in making her laugh rather than cry.’

  She paused for a moment and looked upwards. ‘I don’t like the look of that big black cloud heading our way. Hopefully it’ll have done its worst and passed over before we open this afternoon. Not the most picturesque place, Grimethorpe. Hardly a tree to be seen, and surrounded by slag heaps. But the people are such a friendly lot. I look forward to when we first arrive to set up and the locals come out in force to wave and cheer at us as we drive through the town, with the Grimethorpe colliery band leading the parade.’

  She pulled a grim face. ‘I feel sorry for the womenfolk – it must be a constant battle for them against all the coal dust. It gets everywhere, doesn’t it? No matter how I try to keep my van door closed as much as possible, and the windows shut tight, the coal dust still manages to get in somehow and invade every nook and cranny. As soon as we get to our next place, it’s a good spring-cleaning of my van for me, and a launder of all my clothes. I can’t imagine how frustrating it must be for the poor housewives to put out a line of white washing and find it covered in the black stuff by the time they come to take it in. I never do any washing while we’re here, just save it all up until we move on. But in all the thirty years I’ve been coming here with Grundy’s, I can’t ever remember a time when for half the week it didn’t rain, and when I say rain, I mean bucketing it down for hours on end. Having to deal with mud is bad enough, but mud mixed with coal dust is a nightmare to clean up.’

  Gem readily agreed. ‘Yes, it is. Like you, I’m sorry when it’s time for us to move on, because the folk are so nice, but in other respects I’m the first in the queue. But I suppose it is only April, and April is well known for its showers, so it’ll be a miracle if we get to the end of the week and we haven’t seen any. Do you remember the storm we suffered while we were here the year before last, when we were worried the big wheel was going to buckle under the force of the wind? Your tent ended up wrapped around the top of the helter-skelter. Several times during that storm I thought we were going to end up like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz and our caravan be sucked up and thrown down some place miles away.’

  Velda bellowed with laughter for a moment at the vision Gem had conjured up, before her guffaws died away and she said seriously, ‘Didn’t it rock your van so badly on one occasion that Robbie was thrown out of his bunk?’

  ‘Oh yes, it did. My poor son was lucky he didn’t break any bones, but he was covered in bruises. None of us got any sleep that night except for Jimmy who snored through the whole thing, oblivious to the mayhem going on around him. At least Robbie got off lightly compared to the poor Cramp and Evans families. The Evanses’ van was almost destroyed when a rotting part of its roof disintegrated from the force of the battering rain and water poured in, and the Cramps’ van was smashed to smithereens when the wind blew it into a tree.’

  Velda pursed her lips. ‘I did feel sorry for the Evanses, as they’re nice people. We all pitched in to help them dry out the van and fix the roof, and had a whip-round to replace some of the furniture and possessions that the storm ruined, and how grateful they were: laid on a party by way of thanking us. Can’t say the same for the Cramps. They have always been the money-grabbing type, and never volunteer any help to others in the community if they can weasel their way out of it. It was awful them losing their van and hardly anything inside salvageable, but Big Sam put up a sizeable donation himself and all the rest of us chipped in with whatever we could afford, and all Ada Cramp did was grumble that the living area in her new van wasn’t as big as the last one, and Horace moaned that it hadn’t got anywhere for him to fix a box to at the back to keep his tools in.’

  Gem sighed. ‘Yes, those two can be very selfish. I remember at one community party a few years back, I saw Ada acting very oddly. She sidled up to the food table, had a look round to make sure that no one was looking, then brazenly picked up a fruit cake and a plate of sausage rolls and handed them over to Fran as her own contribution.’

  Velda gawped. ‘What a nerve she’s got. Did you let her know you’d seen her?’

  ‘Indirectly I did. I said to her, “Oh, what a coincidence that you’ve put glacé cherries on the top of your fruit cake just the same as I have on the one I made, and Elsie has cut a cross in the top of her sausage rolls exactly the same as you have too.” She never batted an eyelid, just stuck her head haughtily in the air, took a sausage roll off the plate and went off to get herself a drink.’ Gem chuckled. ‘There’s good and bad in all communities, but thankfully Grundy’s has far more of the good.’

  ‘Yes, thank goodness. On the whole, I couldn’t wish for a better bunch of people to be living amongst. Oh, talking of the Cramps, your Jimmy’s got himself a new girlfriend, I see.’

  Gem stared agog at her. ‘Has he? He hasn’t mentioned it. Mind you, on subjects like girlfriends, he never tells me anything. Who is she? And why has talking about the Cramps made you think of his new girlfriend?’ Suddenly her face filled with horror. ‘It’s not their daughter Doreen, is it?’

  Doreen was a sour-faced, dowdy girl who slouched around looking like she’d the weight of the world on her shoulders; she certainly wasn’t the sort whose personality encouraged punters to spend their money on her parents’ Derby horse-racing stall, and Gem couldn’t for the life of her see her outgoing, fun-loving son taking a fancy to her. It wasn’t the possibility of having Doreen for a daughter-in-law that horrified her the most, though. Her parents she could tolerate at a distance, but as her son’s in-laws, the humourless, miserly couple would have an open invitation into
her own family’s life, having to be invited to any special occasion or social event Gem organised.

  Before she could have her worrying question answered, a visitor arrived to join them. Renata Shawditch was a midget at four foot three, but what she lacked in height was more than made up for by her bubbly personality. The 25-year-old, who owned the candy floss and confectionery stall, was a slightly built, pretty girl and a much-loved and respected member of the Grundy community. Her disability attracted much verbal and at times even physical abuse from ignorant types, but Ren never let those responsible see they had got the better of her, and any upset she did suffer was always expressed in private behind closed doors.

  Ren had had her fair share of life’s ups and downs. Having lost both her beloved parents several years back, she had then suffered intolerable heartache witnessing the man she had loved more than life itself since childhood being swept off his feet by another woman and marrying her. But then her grief was to turn to unadulterated happiness on the discovery that Suzie had only married Donny for the material benefits he could give her, and that since their marriage she had been unfaithful on numerous occasions in her mission to find herself a man who could give her an even better life. Her betrayal had served to show Donny that her clever manipulation had blinded him to the fact that it was only infatuation he felt for her, and that it was his lifelong friend Ren he truly loved.