A Mother's Wish (12 page)

‘I think I might know him a bit better than you, Frank,’ Effie had said defensively. ‘And I’m getting a bit tired of everyone warning me about Toby.’ She had realised that he was about to argue and she managed to change the subject, but his words still rankled.

Even now, as she threw a log on the fire and waited for him to return with the water, she was still a little angry with him. But perhaps Frank was simply jealous? The thought warmed her chilled heart, although she could not quite forget the steel in his eyes or the harsh tone of his voice as he had spoken of Toby.

Effie sighed heavily as she started peeling potatoes to put in the pot. She had a small supply of carrots, onions and cabbage, bought from a stallholder in one of the many market gardens through which they had passed. There was no meat for the stew but she had flour and lard which she intended to form into dough and bake in the hot wood ash. Zilla had shown her how to make this unleavened bread and it served to fill an empty belly, even if it could not compare with a loaf hot from a baker’s oven.

Frank returned moments later and set the bucket down on the ground. ‘I’ll get back to my own van now then, Effie. Have you everything you need for tonight?’

Looking up into his liquid brown eyes, Effie forgot that they had ever had a disagreement and she smiled. ‘Won’t you stay and have supper with me, Frank? It seems the least I can do after you’ve been so good to me.’

He knelt down by her side, taking the paring knife and the half-peeled potato from her hand. ‘I’d be pleased to, my dear. I hear from Zilla that you’re a very good cook and my old folks won’t mind if I miss a meal with them. It will mean all the more for Pa, who has an appetite like a horse.’

The supper of boiled vegetables flavoured with wild garlic and mopped up with the
smoky-tasting, slightly burnt bread might not have been food for the gods, but seated close to Frank with the sun sinking slowly behind a curtain of violet and crimson clouds, Effie felt as though she was in a delightful dream. She could feel the warmth from his body and as he reached out to place his wooden bowl on the grass she saw the muscles ripple in his sun-tanned forearm, bare to the elbow where he had rolled up his shirtsleeves. As he turned to her with a smile, she allowed her eyes to travel down the strong column of his throat to where the open neck of his shirt revealed a tantalising hint of golden flesh, warmed by the sun like a ripe peach.

She raised her eyes to his face and almost drowned in the depths of his ardent gaze. His arms enfolded her and she abandoned herself to the moment, parting her lips and sighing as she returned his passionate embrace.

It was over so suddenly that she opened her eyes, blinking into the darkness that seemed to have embraced the encampment like a velvet blanket. In the glow of the camp fire she saw Frank rise to his feet. He bent down to brush a lock of hair back from her forehead and his lips grazed her cheek. ‘Goodnight, Effie, my love.’

Despite the heat from the fire and the warmth of the evening, Effie shivered. She felt
cold suddenly and very much alone. She leapt to her feet and caught his hand as he was about to walk away. ‘Frank?’

He glanced down at her hand clutching his arm and he frowned. ‘I’m sorry, my dear. I should not have kissed you. It was a mistake.’

The whole day seemed to flash before Effie’s eyes; they had been so close, as if they had known each other for years instead of days. Surely he could not have kissed her with such tenderness if he had not felt something for her? ‘A mistake, Frank? I don’t understand . . .’

He unclasped her fingers, one by one, but he did not look her in the eyes. ‘I like you very much, but I have an understanding with someone else.’

‘You are in love with another woman?’

A wry smile twisted Frank’s lips. ‘I didn’t say that, Effie. We fairground folk marry within our own circle. It makes sense and marriages are arranged by our families long before we are old enough to make a choice for ourselves.’

‘But that is dreadful,’ Effie exclaimed, shocked to the core. ‘Who is this woman? It isn’t Ethel, is it?’

‘It isn’t Ethel. The young lady in question travels with another fair. We are going to be married when we meet up at Lammas.’

‘But that is only a few weeks away.’ Effie
controlled her raging emotions with a determined effort. ‘I wish you every happiness then, Frank.’

She turned away so that he would not see the hurt and chagrin in her eyes but he caught her by the shoulders and twisted her round to face him. ‘I am sorry, Effie. I didn’t mean to hurt you and I didn’t intend to fall in love with you, but it happened all the same.’

‘You – you love me?’ Effie raised her startled gaze to look him in the eyes. ‘You say that you love me, Frank?’

‘From the first moment I saw you, but I thought I could control my feelings and I find that I can’t. I never meant to hurt you or to give you false hope.’

His last words stung her like a whiplash and she broke free from his grasp, backing away from him. ‘False hope? You make it sound as though I am desperate. I loved my husband, and this was just a moment of – of silliness. It was nothing, Frank. I am not hurt and I wish you well, but I won’t be here to dance at your wedding. I will leave the fair as soon as I get word of my brother.’

Frank bowed his head. ‘If it could be any other way, Effie.’

‘Go back to your van, please. It’s been a long day and I’m very tired.’ She did not watch as Frank walked away, but turned her attention
to dousing the fire and making it safe for the night. She was so absorbed in her task that she did not hear the soft footfalls on the springy turf and she turned with a start at the sound of Leah’s gruff voice.

‘I could have told you it would end in tears, girl.’

Effie turned to face her. ‘I hardly know him, so no harm done.’

‘You like him though, Effie. I can see it in your eyes, and Frank wants you; that’s clear for anyone to see.’ Leah knocked her clay pipe on the heel of her boot, sending a shower of ash into the embers of the fire. ‘He’s spoken for, but I think he must have told you that.’

Effie nodded her head. ‘He did, and I understand. It was just a little flirting, nothing more.’

‘I hope so, for both your sakes, but be careful, Effie. Passion is an unruly monster when it’s unleashed.’ With a hearty slap on Effie’s shoulder, Leah strode off to join Zilla who was reclining on a pile of cushions by their camp fire.

Effie sighed as she saw them embrace and then settle down side by side like an old married couple. A hazy mist hung over the water and darkness was consuming the camp, layer by layer. The babble of voices was gradually fading away as more and more people retired to bed, either in their vans or outside
under the stars. A gentle breeze rustled through the reeds and moths fluttered drunkenly in the light of oils lamps hanging from the caravans. Effie wrapped her arms around her thin body and closed her eyes, reliving the tender embrace she had shared with Frank. Old desires which she had thought long dead had been stirred and flooded her with longing for a man’s arms to hold her close. She realised now how much she missed caresses and whispered words of love culminating in the joyous union of two bodies and souls. She had loved Owen with all her heart but she was young and healthy and the thought of living alone for the rest of her life was daunting to say the least.

She made her way slowly up the steps of her van, determined to put all such thoughts behind her. She had something infinitely more precious than a fleeting dalliance with Frank Tinsley, and she closed the door, shutting out the rest of the world as she prepared to sleep close to her son, Owen’s child, the only person in her life who mattered apart from Tom. She would devote herself to raising Georgie to be a healthy, happy boy and she would find Tom if the search took her to the ends of the earth. They would be together as a family and no one else mattered. She could only hope and pray that they would be reunited soon.

Each day, Effie looked in vain for Toby amongst the crowds that thronged the fairground. However much effort she put into avoiding Frank it was almost impossible to keep out of his way altogether. If their paths crossed, she would greet him cordially, but when their eyes met she could see that it was just as hard for him as it was for her. They were drawn together as if by some mystical power and she always knew when his eyes were upon her; she could feel him willing her to look his way and she was powerless to resist the compulsion. Even Ethel, who Zilla said was not the sharpest knife in the box, realised that there was something going on between Effie and Frank and she did not hesitate to say so.

‘You want to watch him,’ Ethel whispered as she and Effie waited to go into the ring one evening towards the end of their time in Wanstead. ‘He’s spoken for, you know.’

‘I’m aware of that,’ Effie said stiffly.

Ethel tossed her dark curls. ‘No offence meant, I’m sure, but he’s a good-looking cove and I wouldn’t blame you if you was flattered by his attentions. I’m no stranger to having men fall at me feet, so I know how you must feel.’

Relieved to be able to change the subject, Effie smiled. ‘It must be hard for you, knowing
that you must break one man’s heart in order to make another happy.’

Ethel’s painted lips drooped into a pout. ‘I suppose you mean Arnoldo, the great soft thing.’

‘And Jed,’ Effie prompted. ‘I believe that he has his eye on you too.’

A round of applause signalled the end of Elmo’s act and Brag, seeming to know that it was his turn next, jerked his head back and snorted. Ethel tightened the reins with a practised hand. ‘Stop that, Brag. If you’re a naughty boy you shan’t have your sugar lump treat.’

‘Does he really understand what you say?’ Effie asked curiously as Brag stopped prancing and nuzzled Ethel’s small hand.

‘Of course he does. Horses are so much more sensible than men,’ Ethel said in a loud voice as Elmo strode past them reeking of raw alcohol and singed hair.

‘Get on and do your act,’ he muttered, frowning at his sister. ‘And no larking about afterwards. I want you where I can keep an eye on you – you Jezebel.’

With a self-conscious giggle, Ethel leapt nimbly onto Brag’s back and urged him into a trot.

‘She’s very young, Elmo,’ Effie said gently. ‘And very pretty too; you can’t blame the men for fancying her.’

‘I blame her for encouraging them, and you can mind your own business, missy. In my opinion you’re no better than she is.’

Elmo strode off leaving Effie staring after him. So everyone in the fairground was talking about her and Frank. She had not thought it had gone so far, but in such a small community she had already learned that gossip was the main source of entertainment. She turned her head as she felt someone enter the tent and come to a halt at her side, but it was only Arnoldo and he was not looking at her. His gaze was fixed on Ethel as she rode round the ring with her arms outstretched and a wide smile on her face.

‘She’s an angel,’ he breathed. ‘Just look at her, Effie. Have you ever seen her like before?’

Effie watched Ethel as she knelt on Brag’s wide back revealing frilly drawers and a great deal of bare leg; then, with more determination than grace, she clambered to her feet before sliding to a sitting position with her legs wide apart, which exacted a grunt of sympathy from the audience followed by a standing ovation. Effie had seen it all before and really it was not terribly clever, but it was obviously quite new to the audience and they loved it, calling for more. Ethel did another circuit of the ring, blowing kisses to the men which caused Arnoldo to bristle with indignation.

‘Just look at them yokels leering at her,’ he groaned. ‘I’d like to go out there and smack them in the teeth, and for tuppence, by golly, I will.’

He made as if to carry out his threat, but Effie caught him by the arm. ‘No, Arnoldo. It’s just an act on Ethel’s part and the men don’t mean any harm. They are just showing their appreciation of a lovely and talented girl. You can’t blame them for that.’

She stared up at Arnoldo but he was so tense that she could see the veins standing out in his neck and forehead. He shook his head, unable to speak, and she could feel the emotions raging inside his bosom. Effie squeezed his hand. ‘Look, she’s coming now and she looks so pleased with herself. Don’t spoil it. Anyway, we’re on now.’ She gave him a gentle push and Arnoldo said nothing as Ethel rode past them giving him the brightest of smiles. He hunched his shoulders and waited for Frank to announce them. Effie followed him into the ring, avoiding Frank’s eyes, which she knew followed her during the act. She hoped that Arnoldo was not too upset to concentrate on catching her after he had tossed her so easily into the air, but he appeared to have his emotions under control as they performed to the crowd.

Their long hours of practice paid off and
the act went smoothly, exhorting gasps of admiration from the audience and cries of ‘Bravo’ when they took their final bow. Effie followed Arnoldo out of the ring trying hard not to look at Frank, but somehow he managed to bar her way just long enough to entreat her to meet him after the show. She shook her head, but he repeated his request, telling her to meet him where the animals were left to graze overnight. ‘It’s urgent, Effie. We’re moving on soon. I must speak to you alone.’

She looked up and was lost in the depths of eyes that sparkled like vintage sherry wine when he smiled, but were darkened now with emotion. The audience were becoming restive and beginning to demand the next act. Margery the Midget sent them meaningful looks as she waited to go on with her husband, Johann the knife-thrower, who spoke very little English but was pointing one of his stilettos at Frank in a rather menacing manner. ‘Very well, Frank,’ Effie said reluctantly. ‘I’ll be there.’ She hurried out of the tent, leaving Frank to appease Johann and Margery and to announce their act, which was the finale.

Effie returned to her caravan to reassure herself that Georgie was sleeping soundly. She found Jessie sitting outside on the steps telling a story to her younger brothers, and judging
by the looks on the boys’ faces it was not a tale for the highly strung or over-sensitive child. They jumped and almost fell off the steps as Effie came round the corner of the van, but Jessie was unrepentant. ‘They’re a couple of big babies, ain’t they, Effie?’ she said with a throaty chuckle.