A Fool and His Money (3 page)

Boase laughed.

‘Well, aside from them, there's, let me see … there's the trapeze artists I've just been talking to – the Marzianis; they're very good, sir. Irene will love their act. Then, well, then there's the fire eaters, they're called Howard and Gregory Smith, father and son those two.'

‘Have all these people been spoken to, Boase?'

‘Yes, looks like it, sir. Where was I? Right, three sisters, surname Warner, nice girls. Also, erm … here we are, yes – there's a high wire act, they're the Beauchênes … French, I suppose they are. And there's a married couple called Edward and Molly James.'

‘What do they do?'

‘They do tricks on ponies or something I think, sir. Nearly at the end, wait a minute … oh, how could I forget the clowns – the lead clown is called Clicker …'

‘Real name?'

‘It doesn't say here, sir.'

‘You'd better have a word with those two constables.'

‘What? Coad and Eddy?'

‘Yes – looks like
they're
a right pair of clowns too. Their note-taking is dire. Did they add anything when you spoke to them?'

‘No luck, they say, sir. I've sent them back now. Two other clowns called Billy Jones and Brendan Hoyle. Just one more character – ooh, we don't want to cross him.'

‘Cross who?'

‘Gwynfor Evans.'

‘Why – what's the matter with him?'

‘Well, he's Hercules – you know, sir, the strongman. You should see the size of him – about seven feet six, I'd say.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes, but the hilarious thing is, sir, he's got this little squeaky voice – really girly.'

Bartlett started to laugh at the thought of Hercules the Strongman having a girly voice. He pointed to the exit.

‘Come on, Boase. We may as well join the two clowns back at the station – this burglary had nothing to do with the circus. We're wasting our time here.'

Clicker sat on the step of his little caravan and drank a small bottle of beer. He smiled as he watched Billy Jones trying to master the unicycle. As the younger clown fell to the ground for the seventh or eighth time, he turned to see Clicker laughing at him.

‘I'll learn to do this if it kills me – and you can stop laughing. I've nearly got the hang of it.'

‘How long have you had that bicycle, Billy?'

‘About a year. I just need a bit better balance, that's all. I will get it in the act soon.'

‘I'll be dead before that happens – I'm not getting any younger, you know.'

Billy fell once more from the bicycle and, picking up the source of his frustration and embarrassment, headed for his own caravan.

Clicker shook open the
Falmouth Packet
and quickly flicked through the pages. He liked Falmouth well enough. Yes, this might be the sort of place he would retire. But, wait … no, Clicker would never retire. His family was right here in the circus. Everything he wanted was here. Well, almost everything. As he cast his mind back many years and thought of his beloved Margaret, a tear came to his eye and he hastily wiped it away, just in time to see Molly coming towards him. He stood up from the step.

‘Hello, Molly. You all right?'

‘Yes thanks. Better than Mum.'

‘Oh no. How is she, Molly dear?'

‘I had a letter from the clinic. Her doctor says she's up and down, you know. Sent me another bill too.'

Clicker sat back down on the step.

‘How much is it, Molly?'

She pulled a sheet of paper from her coat and handed it to the old man. He drew some reading spectacles from his pocket and looked at the bill.

‘This is such a lot, Molly dear.' ‘I know – but I can't pay it. You want her to get better, don't you?'

‘Oh, of course I do. But I also want to go to see her. I can't afford to travel to Switzerland when all this is costing so much.'

‘Look, Dad. You and Mum had a thing going years ago – it didn't work out and that's not my fault. Why should I have to pay for your mistakes?'

‘Don't be like that, Molly, please. I've tried to help you ever since you came here to the circus, you know that. But I haven't got pots of money.'

‘Don't blame me for your shortcomings.'

‘I would have given anything to be able to stay with your mother – but she just left. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye – or to even see you. I would have loved nothing more than to be a proper little family with you. I loved your mother so much.'

Molly snatched the bill from Clicker's hand and marched off. The old man turned, went inside his caravan, and locked the door.

‘What time are you and Irene off to the circus tonight, Boase?'

‘Well, I thought I'd call for her about six, if that's all right, sir?'

‘Yes, that should be fine. Come in for a cuppa afterwards if you like – you should be out by about nine … unless you have other plans, that is?'

‘No, I don't think so, sir.'

Boase blushed and didn't know why. He and Irene Bartlett were engaged now – and he needed to stop blushing when anyone spoke of his lovely fiancée; no, that wasn't befitting a soon-to-be married man, rather a silly schoolboy.

‘Any more news on the church business, my boy?'

‘No, nothing at all. They've taken the precaution of extra locks on all of the doors – but that's literally closing the stable door after the horse has bolted.'

‘Well, we'd better keep an eye on it. Come on, let's go before Greet finds us something else to do – we've been here quite long enough today.'

Boase didn't argue and the two men took their coats down from the stand and left for home.

At five minutes to six Archie Boase was knocking at the Bartletts' front door. He waited and heard Topper, the Airedale Terrier, barking from the other side. The door was opened and there stood Caroline Bartlett.

‘Hello, Archie – how lovely to see you again. Come on in.'

Boase entered the hall and went forward into the parlour, negotiating Topper as he went. The dog picked up a red rubber ball and dropped it at Boase's feet.

‘I can't really play with you in here, Topper boy – we might break something.'

Topper lay down and, resting his head on his paws, let out a long sigh.

‘Oh, I'm sorry, Topper. Have I upset you? I'm sorry. Here, have a little pat.'

Boase knelt on the floor next to Topper and patted the dog's head. Caroline smiled.

‘You're very silly with that dog, Archie. Anyway, how are you?'

‘I'm very well, thanks, Mrs Bartlett.'

‘Archie! How long have you known me – it's Caroline to you.'

‘Oh, yes. Sorry – I keep forgetting.'

Boase still didn't feel comfortable calling his prospective mother-in-law by her Christian name – any more than he could call his boss ‘George'.

‘Sit down for a minute, Archie. Irene will be here presently; she just went up to change her shoes.'

As Boase sat and waited, Bartlett came in from the kitchen.

‘Evening, my boy. Everything all right?'

‘Yes thanks. You?'

Bartlett signalled to a bottle of his beloved Leonard's London Beer on the sideboard and grinned.

‘Oh, I'm more than all right – got time for one of these, Boase?'

Boase looked at the mantel clock which was just striking six.

‘No, thanks, better not; we don't want to be late.'

At that, Irene came into the room. Boase stood up and looked at her.

‘Evening, Archie – do I look OK?'

‘Oh, yes, Irene. You look lovely.'

‘Well, you're not so bad yourself. Shall we go?'

‘Yes, come on then.'

Irene kissed her mother and father and then she and Boase went out into the hall. Caroline called after them.

‘See you both later – have a lovely time.'

The front door was shut and the house was quiet. Topper, who had been to the door to see them off, came back into the parlour and lay down on the rug.

‘I think I'll have my beer now, Princess. Can I get anything for you?'

‘No thanks, George. I'll make myself some tea in a minute. They make such a lovely couple, don't you think, George?
George
?'

Bartlett was patting Topper on the head and concentrating on his pipe'

‘George!'

‘Sorry, Princess, what was that you said?'

‘Oh never mind. You're hopeless.'

‘I'm sorry. You said something about them being a lovely couple?'

‘So you
did
hear me.'

Bartlett chuckled and winked at his wife.

‘Yes, they're a lovely couple. Any more idea when the wedding is going to be?'

‘They haven't said. They don't even know where they'll be living yet. I suppose they could come here until they find somewhere of their own.'

‘Now, Princess … stop there. I love Irene more than my own life but I'm drawing the line there. We had to live with your mother, sneaking around like two schoolchildren for the first two years we were married … don't get me wrong, I loved your mother but it wouldn't have been my first choice to live in her house. No. I'm putting my foot down. They'll have to find somewhere soon or delay the wedding – it won't hurt them to wait. We're getting old together – on our own! It's time I had you all to myself. They'll have to sort themselves out.'

Caroline didn't argue. She knew how Bartlett felt on the matter; this wasn't the first time they'd discussed it. She respected his thoughts and felt he was probably right.

Boase and Irene took the short walk from Penmere Hill to the recreation ground and joined the long queue for the circus. Irene slipped her arm through his and he patted her hand.

‘Looking forward to it?'

‘Yes, very much, Archie – I hope they won't be cruel to the animals. Do you think they look after them properly?'

‘I'm sure they do – don't worry.'

As Boase spoke, he was watching two figures standing in the shadows. There was a young woman speaking intently to someone he could barely see. She was holding a newspaper up and the pair were looking at it. Suddenly she leaned forward to embrace the other person. Boase leaned further forward to try to see what was happening. Irene saw what he was doing.

‘Archie – you must be the nosiest person I've ever met. Apart from Dad, that is. What
are
you looking at?'

‘Oh, nothing.'

Boase continued to watch as the woman walked away and the other person came forward towards the queue.

‘Look, Irene. That's Clicker – you know, the old clown I was telling you about. He looks a bit fed up … do you think he's all right?'

‘I thought clowns were supposed to be fed up – isn't that part of their act?'

‘Well, maybe.'

Boase pushed Irene further forward in the queue and kissed her head. He didn't want to ruin her evening.
That was a strange business, all the same
.

The young couple were enjoying the circus immensely. Irene loved the juggling sisters. She whispered to Boase, ‘I'd love to do something like that. Can you see me in a band of jugglers, Archie?'

‘Um … no, Irene – I don't really think I can.'

Irene poked him playfully and giggled. Suddenly the Big Top fell into darkness. A car horn was heard.

‘PARP. PARP.'

‘Oh, Archie – it's the clowns. Look, here they come.'

The crowd cheered and clapped as two clowns entered the ring, one in a funny little car, the other on foot – on very big feet. Suddenly the crowd fell silent. All at once they began to chant.

‘We want Clicker! We want Clicker! CLICK-ER! CLICK-ER!'

The chanting was now accompanied by the stamping of feet as the crowd became louder.

As the people waited, a large spotlight lit up the ring and there stood the ringmaster.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, can I have your attention please.'

They all listened and waited.

‘I'm afraid Clicker can't be with us tonight. He's a very old clown and is feeling rather unwell this evening.'

At that, the crowd booed loudly and several objects were thrown in the direction of the ringmaster.

‘Boo! BOOOO!'

‘Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please.'

As the ringmaster tried to gain some control over the situation, the people fell suddenly quiet and then burst into uncontrollable laughter. They had spotted the two clowns playing leapfrog, very badly, and one had got his enormous shoe trapped inside the coat pocket of the other. The ringmaster, seeing his opportunity for escape, fled to the back of the ring and was gone.

Irene looked up at Boase.

‘What do you think happened to Clicker? You
thought
there was something wrong.'

‘I don't know – maybe he just wasn't well enough to perform. Hope he's OK.'

The pair settled down along with the rest of the crowd to enjoy the remaining entertainment.

Back at the Bartlett house, Boase sat down in an armchair and drank a cup of tea.

‘You should have seen them, sir, it was hilarious – they were even throwing things at the ringmaster.'

‘Well, I really don't know – what a carry on.'

Bartlett was puffing on his pipe.

‘Why were they so angry?'

‘Well, Dad, I suppose because Clicker didn't turn up – they say he's the star of the show.'

Irene went out into the kitchen. ‘Anyone want more tea?'

‘Not for me dear, I'm going up to bed – I feel quite tired.'

Caroline rose from her chair and, patting Topper on the head, went to the door.

‘You all right, Princess?'

‘Yes, I'm fine, George, dear. Goodnight. Goodbye, Archie – we'll see you again soon, I hope?'

‘Yes, I hope so, Mrs Bartlett – I mean, Caroline. Goodnight. I should be going home too. Thanks, Irene – that was such good fun.'