The Sweethearts Collection. Pam Jenoff
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around outside.’ She didn’t add that the woman had wanted her to stay in the van and had only relented when she’d insisted she couldn’t let Jago down.
‘Well, Mara will know who to speak to about that. Now, let me show you my little emporium,’ he quipped, gesturing round the compact stall, its red and white bunting flapping merrily in the light breeze. Cones already filled with sweets were attractively displayed alongside containers of assorted coloured confections. Setting down her latest batch of cones, she walked round the Panam, trying to take in the vast array of goods.
‘There’s always a good choice at the beginning of the fair,’ Jago explained. ‘Though, of course, I’ll be pleased if there’s little left by the end. Now, let me explain the different varieties. Feel free to try any,’ he offered, raising his voice to be heard above the peal of church bells.
‘These are striped bullseyes flavoured with lemon, Nelson’s buttons, barley-sugar twists, fruit drops, humbugs, striped lollipops, assorted flavoured rock, which as you can see are shaped like walking canes, and of course no Panam would be complete without gingerbread,’ he said, his fingers running along the various confections. ‘Naturally, it varies over the year depending on what’s available – nuts and apples in autumn, spiced confections in the winter.’
‘These are just wonderful,’ Colenso exclaimed, bending to inhale the various heady scents. ‘This rock gleams like polished serpentine.’
‘You sound an authority on the subject,’ he said, looking at her in surprise.
‘I used to fashion it into trinkets for the tourists.’
‘Did you now? And loved your work, by the sound of it. I’m sure Karla would show you how all of this is made. We’ll be stopping off at Truro next month and I’ll need to pick up more supplies. Hopefully her hand will have healed by then.’
‘That would be wonderful,’ she cried.
‘Right, better get ready for the rush,’ he said, rubbing his hands together as the organ started up to herald the opening of the fair.
The noise was deafening as it competed with the ringing of the church bells but nobody seemed to mind as they swarmed onto the field, laughing and jostling to be first on the rides. Colenso was kept so busy filling the cones to customers’ requirements she didn’t notice someone watching her from the shadows.
‘What’s your name, boy?’ Colenso jumped as a tall man leant over the stall and studied her closely. He was more formally dressed than the other customers, his hair slicked back under his topper. As his eyes lowered to her chest, she felt a prickle of unease. His look reminded her of the Ferret except, instead of leering, the man was frowning.
‘Is something wrong?’ Jago asked. Although his voice was casual, Colenso could tell from his eyes that he hadn’t taken to the man either.
‘What’s the matter, can’t the boy speak for himself?’ the man asked, emphasizing the word boy.
‘I pay him to work, not stand here talking,’ Jago replied. ‘Get to it, boy, those cones won’t fill themselves and there’s customers waiting,’ he grunted, pretending to cuff Colenso’s head but pushing her cap down lower in the process. ‘Now, sir, if there’s nothing you want, perhaps I could ask you to move, the people behind are waiting to make their selections.’
With a grunt of irritation, the man turned away and Colenso watched as he was swallowed up by the crowds.
‘Didn’t like the look of him,’ Jago muttered. ‘Let me know if you see him hanging around again.’
Although Colenso tried not to let the incident mar her afternoon, there was no getting away from the fact the man had unsettled her. As the sun began to sink behind the hill and the lamps were lit, she found herself jumping at the slightest movement, which didn’t go unnoticed by Jago.
‘Look, we’ve nearly used up all the cones. Go back and make some more for tomorrow, eh?’ he suggested, patting her shoulder.
‘I will,’ she replied, nodding gratefully. ‘I can come again tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘Same place, same time,’ he grinned.
As Colenso began making her way behind the stalls, a man stepped out of the shadows. With his blonde hair and muscular physique, he looked like a giant haystack. She quickened her pace but he reached out to detain her. She opened her mouth to scream but he smiled and shook his head.
‘I mean you no harm, miss,’ he said, his gentle voice belying his looks. ‘I work for Big Al and he’s sent me to escort you back to your trailer. Can’t be too careful round here.’
‘Oh, well, that’s kind of him,’ she murmured, reassured by his presence.
To her surprise, Mara was waiting when she entered the van. The stove was lit, emanating a welcoming warmth, and Colenso felt her spirits lift.
‘Titan see you back, did he?’ she asked.
‘Is that his name?’ Colenso replied, sinking onto one of Mara’s brightly embroidered cushions.
‘Heard you’d had an unwelcome visitor at the Panam,’ the woman continued, shooting Colenso a penetrating look.
‘Gracious, this place is worse than Cadgwith,’ she exclaimed. ‘But yes, there was this strange man.’
‘Top hat, slicked-back hair, smartly dressed.’ Colenso stared at her in surprise. ‘I spread the word for people to keep an eye out. You didn’t recognize him then?’
‘No, although the way he was looking at my, er, chest was strangely familiar. Except he seemed puzzled, disappointed almost.’ To her surprise, Mara hooted with laughter.
‘I’m sure he was. Comes looking for a female with nice womanly assets only to find a boy flat as the proverbial pancake. So what does that tell you, girl?’
‘That he’s a friend of the Ferret?’ she asked, the penny dropping.
‘More likely someone employed by him to find you. Don’t worry,’ she added as Colenso’s eyes widened in horror. ‘Old Titan’s a champion at Cornish wrasslin’ and he saw to him good and proper. Don’t think old nosey-nocks will be snooping round here again.’ As the kettle began to whistle and Mara went to make the tea, Colenso felt relief wash over her.
‘Mind you, that Ferret, as you call him, must be awfully keen on you to go to all this bother, so best be vigilant.’
With Titan assigned to escort her to and from the Panam, Colenso’s days fell into a comfortable pattern. In the mornings she helped Mara prepare their simple breakfast and then, whilst the woman went out to wash the dishes, she tidied the little van.
‘It’s a good job there’s always a stream next to the camp, isn’t it?’ she said when Mara returned carrying a kettle full of water.
‘Oh yes, the villagers always lay one on for us,’ Mara replied, her face deadpan. ‘Now young lady, although it’s three days since old nasty-nocks paid a visit, I don’t want you taking any chances,’ she told her, gesturing to the cap on the seat beside her. ‘So no going out without that.’
‘But surely it’s safe to wear my own clothes now?’ Colenso protested, reaching under the shirt to ease the band around her chest.
‘Big Al reckons if we’ve not seen hide nor hair of the man by the time we reach Bodmin, then you can resume being a girl.’
‘But these clothes are so scratchy,’ Colenso sighed, running her fingers under the collar of the coarse shirt, ‘and my chest feels tight.’
‘Well, if you can still feel then you know you’re alive,’ Mara pointed out briskly. ‘Now, I’ve people to see, readings to do and you’ve plenty more cones to make. Jago’s pleased