A minute later they were lighting Eddy’s prizes. Eddy was in seventh heaven, and Sam was calculating how much money he had lost. He could have bought a pack of cigarettes. Twenty Embassies for one bad cigar—it made one think.
The men exchanged knowing glances when they came to the bumper cars. Almost immediately, they were each in their own car, flooring the accelerators and smashing into one another as hard as possible. The women watched from the sidelines in amused incomprehension. At the end of the round, they dragged Carol and Alice to a shooting parlor. Anton’s aim was the best, and he hit the bull’s-eye until he won a little porcelain teapot for Alice.
While this was going on, Carol was absentmindedly gazing at the carousel, with its old wooden horses turning beneath the wreaths and garlands of colored lights. Anton came up behind her and took her by the arm.
Carol sighed. “I know it’s a kids’ thing. But would you believe me if I told you I’d never ridden on one?”
“Not even when you were little?” asked Anton.
“I grew up in the country, and the fair never stopped in our village. When I finally came to London to study, I was already too old, and then the war came and . . .”
“And now you want to go for a ride. Follow me.” Anton took Carol to the ticket booth. “Your first wooden horse is my treat. Go on. Get on that one,” he said, pointing to a horse with a brassy blond mane. “The others look a little skittish, and I think it’s best to choose a reliable mount your first time.”
“You’re not coming with me?” asked Carol.
“Uh, no, not me. Just looking at them makes me dizzy. But I promise I won’t take my eyes off you.”
A bell rang, and Anton stepped down from the platform as the merry-go-round began to turn. Sam, Alice, and Eddy came over to watch Carol. She was the only adult in the middle of a ride full of children. By the second turn, tears were streaming down her cheeks, in spite of her efforts to brush them away.
“Nice going,” said Alice to Anton, punching him in the arm.
“I don’t understand. She said she wanted . . .”
“She wanted to go on the ride with you, not public humiliation.”
“He said he didn’t do it on purpose,” said Sam, butting in.
“Why don’t the two of you act like gentlemen for a change instead of just standing there?” Alice said.
While Sam and Anton were still bickering about who should rescue Carol, Eddy had already jumped on the turning carousel and made his way up through two rows of horses until he reached her.
“In need of a groom, milady?” he said, resting his hand on the horse’s mane.
“Oh please, Eddy, just help me down from here.”
But instead Eddy hopped in the saddle behind her, squeezed her in his arms, and leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“What’s all this? Where’s the strong Carol I used to know? You shouldn’t forget that when I was loafing around in pubs, you were carrying stretchers under the bombs. The next time we turn past our friends, I want you laughing like a fool.”
“How do you expect me to do that, Eddy?” asked Carol with a hiccup.
“Well, if you think you look silly on this nag in the middle of all these kids, just imagine me here behind you with my terrible cigar and my newsboy cap.”
On the next turn, they were both chuckling as though nothing had happened.
To show he was sorry for abandoning Carol, Anton bought everyone a round of beer at the refreshment stand. While they were drinking, Alice noticed a sign announcing that Harry Groombridge and his orchestra were playing in the old theater that had been transformed into a café after the war.
“Shall we go?” she asked the others.
“What’s stopping us?” said Eddy.
“We’d miss the last train, and I don’t fancy the idea of sleeping on the beach this time of year,” Sam said.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Carol. “When the first set is over, we’ll still have half an hour to walk back to the station. It’s cold, and a little dancing would warm us up. What could be merrier just before Christmas?”
The men didn’t have a better idea, and Sam quickly realized that the tickets were only twopence. If they didn’t go dancing, his friends would want to have dinner in a pub, which would be far more expensive.
The hall was full of people eager to hear Harry Groombridge and his men. Nearly everybody was dancing. Anton took Alice and pushed Eddy into Carol’s arms. Sam watched the two couples from an amused distance.
As Anton had predicted, the day had flown past. When the orchestra stood up and bowed, Carol made a signal to her friends that it was time to head back. They maneuvered their way through the crowd to the exit.
The lanterns swinging in the breeze of the winter night made the pier seem like an ocean liner steaming full speed ahead into an ocean it would never cross. Alice and her friends were almost off the pier when they noticed a fortune-teller smiling at them from her small caravan.
“Have you ever wondered what the future has in store for you?” asked Anton.
“Never,” said Alice. “I don’t believe in that kind of thing.”
“At the beginning of the war, a fortune-teller told my brother he’d stay alive as long as he moved house,” said Carol. “He’d forgotten all about it when he joined up, but two weeks later, his block of flats got hit by a bomb. None of the residents survived.”
“Amazing,” said Alice dryly.
“Nobody knew that the Blitz was coming back then,” retorted Carol.
“Why don’t you go and see what she says?” Anton asked Alice, visibly amused by the idea.
“Don’t be silly. We have a train to catch.”
“There’s time. Go on, I’ll pay for it.”
“No, really. I don’t feel like hearing a lot of nonsense.”
“Leave Alice alone,” said Sam. “Can’t you see she’s scared?”
“Listen to the three of you. I’m not scared. I just don’t believe in things like tarot cards and crystal balls. Besides, why are you all so interested in my future?”
“Maybe one of them is secretly dreaming you’ll end up in his bed,” said Carol.
Anton and Eddy looked stunned. Carol blushed and wished she hadn’t said anything.
“You could ask her if we’re going to miss our train,” added Sam, pretending not to have heard Carol’s gaffe. “That way we can test her accuracy without having to wait too long.”
“Joke all you like,” said Anton, “but unlike you, I believe in these things. If you go, I’ll go after you.”
Alice’s friends surrounded her.
“You’ve all gone quite mad,” she said, trying to push past them before finally giving up. “But since I’m dealing with four children bent on missing their train, I’ll go and listen to whatever foolishness that woman has to say, and then we’ll go home. How does that sound?” She held out her hand to Anton. “Are you giving me twopence or what?”
Alice went over to the caravan. A gust of wind made her lower her head as though she had suddenly been forbidden to look the old woman in the eyes. Maybe Sam was right. The thought of having her future read bothered her more than she had expected.
The woman invited Alice to take a seat on the stool across from her. Her eyes were large, her gaze penetrating. She never stopped smiling an eerie but enchanting smile. She had no crystal ball or tarot cards, just long, age-spotted hands that she extended, taking Alice’s fingers in her own. When Alice touched them, a strange, gentle feeling filled her body, a comforting sensation of well-being that she hadn’t known in a very, very long time.
“I’ve seen you before, my girl,” said the fortune-teller.
“Ever since you started watching me just now, I imagine.”
“I see. You don’t believe in my gifts.”
“I’m a rational person,” Alice replied.
“No, you’re an artist, an independent and free-thinking woman. Although it’s true that your fears—what you call ‘being a rational person’—sometimes hold you back.”
“Why is everybody calling me a coward this evening?”
“You didn’t look very sure of yourself when you decided to come and see me.”
The fortune-teller leaned over and peered deep into Alice’s eyes. Their faces were only inches apart.
“Where have I seen those eyes before?” the old woman asked.