Candyfloss Read online

  Dad and I set off to the station. Dad manoeuvred the chip van out onto the forecourt and got everything set up. The chip fryer was being particularly temperamental, over-heating one minute and switching itself off the next. Dad fiddled and swore at it, despairing.

  ‘How am I supposed to cook anything halfway decent on this ropy old contraption?’ he said. ‘Oh Flossie, Charlie’s Café was hardly the Ritz but at least I could cook properly back at home. Try as I might I can only manage rubbish food here.’

  For a long time it didn’t look as if anyone wanted any food, rubbish or otherwise. We’d been busy on Saturday night and Dad had whistled as he fried, happy that he was keeping Billy’s business going and making a bit of cash for us.

  But this Sunday we weren’t making any cash at all. Dad sighed and fidgeted and shook the surly fryer. Then he came and squatted down beside me, his knees uncomfortably under his chin because he was so big and there was very little space.

  ‘What’s that you’re doing, sweetheart?’ he asked, watching me gluing bits of white tissue to the toothpicks.

  ‘I’m trying to make one of those sticky-out hoop petticoat thingies to go under an Elizabethan gown for my woolly elephant,’ I said.

  Dad blinked. ‘Ask a silly question,’ he said. He reached out and ruffled my curls. ‘You’re a funny kid, Floss. Thank God you’re so adaptable. Well, I’ll keep the blooming fryer bubbling for another half-hour or so and then we might well call it a day. The town’s dead, obviously.’

  Almost as soon as Dad said that a couple fetched up at the van and started tapping their money on the counter for attention – then another couple, a little gang of girls, a rowdy mob of boys . . .

  ‘So where have you guys all suddenly sprung from?’ said Dad, heaving masses of chips into the fryer.

  ‘There’s been a green fair down by the river,’ said one of the girls. ‘We’ve been listening to the bands.’

  ‘Oh Dad, the fair!’ I said, leaping up.

  ‘It won’t be our fair, pet. Green fairs are different,’ said Dad. ‘You cuddle down on your cushion and try to go to sleep. It looks like it’s going to be a long and busy night after all. We’re not going to get home till late.’

  I tried to finish Ellarina’s petticoat first but it totally defeated me. I ended up with little pricks all over my fingers and bits of tissue stuck everywhere. I gave up and had a go at making those baggy knicker things that Elizabethan men wore, but it was difficult fashioning them to fit a saggy woollen dog so I stopped trying. Maybe Susan would have to be chief dressmaker in our games.

  I curled up in a ball, closed my tired itchy eyes and tried to go to sleep. But it wasn’t easy. It got noisier and noisier as more and more people came to the chip van on their way home from the fair.

  I started dreaming a silly dream about wandering round Hampton Court with Ellarina and Dimble dressed as Tudor courtiers. I’d somehow turned into one of Henry the Eighth’s six wives, only he decided he didn’t like me any more and he started shouting at me. I ran away because I knew what happened to the wives who were out of favour. Then all his soldiers started pursuing me and they were all shouting too. I woke up with a start, still shaking.

  I told myself that it was only a dream, that I was safe in the chip van with Dad – but I could still hear the shouting. I heard Dad shouting too. I struggled up out of my corner.

  ‘Dad? Dad, what’s happening? Are you all right?’

  ‘Get back down, darling. It’s OK. It’s just some silly lads getting impatient. Pipe down, you guys, I’m frying as fast as I can. This isn’t McDonald’s – there’s just me, so you’ll have to wait.’

  ‘Stupid idiots,’ said this tall guy, who was waiting patiently, his arm round his girlfriend. ‘Don’t take any notice of that lot, mate. You’re doing a grand job.’

  I blinked, then rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. The tall guy was somehow familiar. He had long fairish hair down to his shoulders, a black vest, black jeans, a studded jacket – and large silver biker jewellery on almost every finger.

  ‘It’s Saul!’ I said, bobbing up behind Dad.

  ‘Get down, Floss! It’s who?’

  ‘Saul!’

  Saul saw me and grinned. ‘Yeah, I’m Saul. How did you know my name?’

  ‘Is she an old girlfriend, Saul?’ said his girl, grinning.

  ‘Saul rescued us at the fair, Dad. Our fair. He’s Rose’s son.’

  ‘Oh, great!’ said Dad. ‘Well, smashing to meet up with you again, Saul. Is the fair in our town again?’

  ‘No, no. I’m not actually with the fair at the moment. I’ve moved in with Jenny here,’ said Saul, giving her a squeeze.

  ‘Stop the chitchat, Chip Man, and get serving!’ some stupid guy yelled. His mates started chanting stuff too.

  ‘Yobbos,’ said Dad contemptuously, taking no notice of them. ‘Well, I bet your mum misses you, Saul.’

  ‘Yeah, she wasn’t too pleased, but she’s a tough lady, my ma, she’ll cope.’

  ‘She’s a lovely lady,’ said Dad, serving up a mega-huge portion of chips to Saul and Jenny. ‘Here you are, have these on the house.’

  ‘Thanks, mate, that’s good of you. Fancy you working here in this chip van!’

  ‘It’s just a temporary measure. Not quite sure what the future holds. Maybe I should go and see your mum and ask her to tell my fortune,’ said Dad.

  ‘Here, Chip Man, get serving us, you useless git!’ an ugly guy behind shouted.

  ‘Keep your mouth buttoned, mate, until you learn some manners,’ said Saul.

  ‘Yeah, so who’s going to make me?’

  ‘I might,’ said Saul, clenching his ringed fingers so they were bunched in a threatening fist.

  ‘Don’t come the heavy with me, mate! Who do you think you are, with your girly hair and your jewellery? You’re asking to be sorted out good and proper!’

  The ugly guy surged forward, all his gang following.

  ‘Now cut it out, lads. Any trouble and I’m into that station and phoning the police,’ said Dad.

  No one was listening. They were pushing and shoving, shouting and swearing. Then the ugly guy punched Saul on the chin. Saul whacked him one straight back with his ringed fist. The ugly guy staggered, bleeding. He fumbled for something. Then I saw a sudden frightening gleam.

  ‘He’s got a knife!’ I screamed.

  ‘Oh God,’ said Dad. ‘Watch out, Saul! Look, you stay right here where it’s safe, Floss, out of sight. Promise?’

  Dad squeezed my shoulder and then went rushing out of the door at the back.

  ‘Dad! Oh Dad, come back! Don’t get hurt!’

  I couldn’t stay in my corner. I had to peer over the counter to see what was happening. There were people fighting everywhere. Some lads were kicking. Someone was head-butting. I couldn’t even see Saul and the ugly guy now. And where was Dad? I prayed he wouldn’t get into the fight himself. What if was hit or kicked? What if he was knifed?

  I eyed the door, wondering if I dared go after him to drag him back. But I’d promised Dad to stay in the van.

  It wasn’t safe any more though. There were boys banging on it now, so that it rattled and shook. There were thumps and shoves. I cowered right up in the corner again, clutching Dimble and Ellarina.

  More fists, more boots. The van juddered and rocked and tilted.

  ‘Let’s turn it right over!’ someone shouted.

  ‘Dad!’ I yelled.

  They all kicked together and the van lurched sideways. The chips sizzled furiously and fat poured out over the fryer. Then suddenly there was an enormous whoomph! and flames leaped high in the air.

  ‘Dad! Dad! Dad!’ I screamed.

  I scrabbled for something to throw on the flames but it was too late. They were roaring right up to the ceiling, terrifyingly orange, while filthy smoke swirled all round the van, making me cough.

  ‘Dad!’ I croaked. The flames and fat were making such a noise no one would ever hear me.

  I had to get out