The Sweethearts Collection. Pam Jenoff

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did you?’

      She shook her head. ‘Don’t know exactly how much I took,’ she said truthfully.

      ‘Well, you’ve sold twenty times more than I have. Do the same tomorrow and I’ll pay you double, my little bonbon girl,’ he said, grinning as he filled her basket with paper to make yet more cones.

      ‘Twice of nothing is still nothing,’ she quipped, grateful the subject had been diverted away from Big Al and Marco.

      That night over a simple supper of the cold meats and onions Mara had brought back to the van, Colenso told her about Jago not getting any customers and how she’d taken her sweets around the fair.

      ‘Well done, dearie. Good to see a bit of initiative. Hope everyone was nice to you.’

      ‘Mostly, apart from that Marco man.’

      ‘Marco?’ Mara frowned, setting down her dish with a clatter.

      ‘Don’t worry, Big Al came along and told him to leave me alone or he’d be off the fairground. Jago said his last assistant just disappeared.’

      ‘Hmm. She did. Not sure whether she scarpered or … Anyhow, you’d do well to steer clear of him if you can.’

      ‘I didn’t realize Big Al charged protection money,’ Colenso said, collecting up their empty dishes. Mara reached out and placed a hand on her arm.

      ‘Got to make a living, has Al,’ she said, eyeing Colenso intently. ‘Ours is a funny old world, dearie. Most people are honest and easy to get on with, but others …’ she shrugged. ‘That’s when it’s useful to have Big Al and Titan looking out for us.’

      ‘But to charge …’

      ‘Look,’ Mara interrupted. ‘Things aren’t always as they appear, so don’t go judging people by what you assume. Like I said, there are some funny people around.’

      ‘I know,’ she shuddered recalling some of the sights she’d seen earlier. ‘There were these two girls joined together here,’ she said, her hand going to her side. ‘And this horrid, tall man was making a show of them.’

      ‘That horrid man, as you call him, is Tiny Tim. He and his wife bought the twins when their mother was going to abandon them after they were born.’

      ‘You mean she took money for them?’ Colenso gasped.

      ‘Only too happy to be rid of them, apparently. Anyway, Mr and Mrs Tiny nurtured the girls and gave them a happy childhood when they would otherwise have been destined for the poorhouse, or worse. They share a blood and nervous system, so who knows what might have happened to them,’ she sighed. ‘In return, Lisa and Lana are happy to put on a show – freak shows, they’re called – for the benefit of the public. They use their, er, unique condition to satisfy people’s curiosity, which pays for their keep. Can’t argue with that, can you?’

      ‘No, I suppose not,’ Colenso muttered, swallowing hard. ‘But it doesn’t seem right somehow.’

      ‘Who’s to say what’s right? Look, dearie, when you’ve lived life as long as I have, you learn not to judge.’

      ‘Gracious, you make it sound as though you’re old,’ Colenso laughed, embarrassed by her assumptions.

      ‘Well, I’ve seen more than a few seasons and many a moon, my girl,’ she said, yawning loudly. ‘And sometimes I feel every one of them.’ Remembering Sarah’s words, Colenso stared hard at Mara. Despite the relentless sun of the past few days, there was a pallor to her skin and dark smudges under her eyes.

      ‘Are you feeling all right, Mara?’ she asked. ‘Only you look a bit pale.’

      ‘Well, I’ve been stuck in my tent all day, not gallivanting in the sunshine like some. It can be tiring telling plain, pudgy ladies that their prince will soon arrive to sweep them off their feet.’

      ‘You never do!’ Colenso giggled.

      ‘Afraid so. That’s all many of these country spinsters live for. It doesn’t do any harm for them to have something to dream about while they’re churning butter and milking cows.’

      ‘But I thought you said the crystal ball never lies?’ she asked.

      ‘It doesn’t,’ Mara said, looking serious. Then she shook her head as if clearing it. ‘Sometimes I just embellish a little. Now, what say we have an early night?’

      Her mind still buzzing from the events of the day and the weird sights she’d witnessed, Colenso lay back on her cushion and stared out of the window. The inky sky was studded with sparkling stars. As she watched them winking and twinkling like tiny lanterns, she wondered if Kitto was looking up at them too. Only a few days more and she might hear from him. She imagined him reading her card then sitting down at his battered old table to pen a reply. Except …

      ‘Oh no,’ she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright on the little bed that served as a table during the day.

      ‘Whatzat, what’s the matter?’ Mara mumbled.

      ‘I’ve just remembered something.’

      ‘Can’t it keep it till morning?’

      ‘No, it’s too important and I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.’

      ‘What is this mighty revelation that won’t wait?’ Mara sighed, propping herself up on her own cushion.

      ‘Kitto won’t be able to reply to my card. He can’t read or write,’ she wailed. Mara stared at her in the gathering gloom and let out a long sigh.

      ‘Blimey, is that all? I thought you’d forgotten to feed old Ears, the fuss you were making.’ Mara huffed. ‘Look, if Kitto’s the resourceful lad you say he is, he’ll find a way. Might even turn up at Truro. I mean it is the Cornwall Show, after all. Now for heaven’s sake, let me get some sleep,’ she muttered, pulling her blanket over her head.

      Colenso stared at Mara, desperate to ask if she’d look into her crystal ball but, remembering the last time, didn’t have the courage. Besides, the woman was snoring now. Colenso laid back on her little bed and stared back out at the stars, except they were fast disappearing behind a carpet of cloud. It was a bad omen, she could feel it in her heart.

      Reassured by Mara telling her that Kitto was resourceful and would think of a way to contact her, Colenso threw herself into her new job. With the Panam’s pitch on the edge of the fair still failing to draw many customers, she continued taking her basket around the attractions, selling the cones filled with brightly coloured sweets. By the end of the week, she had become known to the children as ‘the bonbon girl’ and they were eagerly looking out for her. To Jago’s delight, his stocks were almost depleted.

      ‘Hope Karla’s been making lots of confections while I’ve been gone,’ he said as they began packing up the stall in readiness for the journey to Truro. ‘This fair has turned out to be surprisingly lucrative,’ he grinned, patting his bulging money pouch.

      ‘Good to hear it,’

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