The Guest Who Stayed

Chapter 4 - Spring 1920

The fair opened on Friday, 30th April, but for most towns folk this was still a working day with Saturday and Sunday set aside for the main celebrations. Jed was occupied in the workshop, angered by the absence of Dan who had met former cronies amongst the travellers and itinerants who had flooded into Frampton and was spending increasing time drinking with them in the Fox and Hounds. He relied on Dan for conversation and normality. Now, working alone in the cluttered workshop, he began to feel himself drifting back towards that feeling of isolation that he'd tried hard to put behind him.

Saturday morning dawned bright and warm. Everywhere there was evidence that the long cold winter was now a distant memory. Cherry trees were in full blossom and Frampton had taken on a distinctly pink hue.

At midday he stopped his work to go and fetch some bread from the bakers. The town square was surprisingly empty. Jed assumed that most people had already gone to the fair. He felt a morose apathy start to take hold of him. Back in the workshop, he tore with his teeth at the bread loaf, bit chunks from a lump of cheese, belched loudly and passed wind - regressing in minutes to a primitive state that evolution had taken countless generations to eradicate.

Jed's meal was interrupted by the door of the workshop bursting open and Dan tumbling into the room, his legs giving way beneath him. Jed stayed seated.

"You been drinkin' again? Seems all you been doing the last few days, is drinkin'," observed Jed, tetchily.

He tore another chunk of bread from the loaf with his teeth as Dan pulled himself up from the floor and dusted down his clothes.

"Don't you go insinuatin' nothin'," Dan slurred as he grabbed at the work bench for support. "These people I'm 'avin a drink with are my friends. Known 'em on and off for years I 'ave. But I suppose you don't know nothin' about friends on account of the fact you ain't got none."

Dan let out a growl from deep within his stomach and crashed onto a chair.

"Anyway, what you doin' workin' 'ere when everyone else is up the fair? I don't want folks thinkin' I'm treatin' you as some sort of a slave."

There was silence as Jed tried to swallow the bread that he had forced into his mouth and Dan searched for a rag to wipe saliva from his beard.

"I ain't interested in fairs," retorted Jed. "Can't see what all the fuss is about. All them silly side shows and people gettin' drunk and pukin' all over the place."

"Your problem is you ain't got no guts. You're so bleedin' sorry for yerself you don't act normal."

"I been working, runnin' your bloody business whilst you drink with them gypsies."

"What you been doing boy is hiding 'cos you ain't got the nerve. You idolise your dead brother, but d'you think he'd be sittin' round with the fair in town? No, he'd be up there with the others, drinkin' and womanising like the best of 'em. That's what you should be doin'. "

Goaded by the mention of Matt, which struck to the core of Jed's insecurity, he leapt from his seat and grabbed Dan's collar, spitting his words into the old man's face.

"You bastard, Dan. That's what I get for all the help an' work I been doin' for you. I thought we was goin' to be partners, build this business together. But what chance of that now, eh? No way I'm going to work with a nasty old bastard who turns on 'is partner. So keep your bloody workshop, I don't want none of it anymore."

With that, Jed pushed open the stable door and rushed into the street beyond.

Dan remained sitting. He chuckled nervously to himself. Jed had it coming. It was a risk but he had to do it. He'd seen it in the army when a young recruit first went into action and was filled with fear. There was no use being kind to the fella because he would cry like a baby. He'd seen the sergeant major shout and bellow at the recruit in front of all his comrades till he was broken. Then he didn't care what happened. He didn't care whether he lived or died. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't.