The Sweethearts Collection. Pam Jenoff

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.

Chapter 21

      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,’ Big Al said, appearing behind them.

      ‘No thanks to this godforsaken pitch,’ Jago said, quickly covering his bag.

      ‘Then you’ve got Bonbon here to thank,’ the swarthy man continued, winking at Colenso. ‘Make sure you play fair, Jago, know what I mean?’

      ‘Course, I will. You know me,’ he replied airily.

      ‘I do,’ Big Al replied, shooting him a level look. ‘Right, Bonbon, I take it you’ve had no trouble from Marco.’ It was more statement than question and Colenso guessed he must have had a word with the Illusionaire.

      ‘No, I haven’t, although I’ve given his tent a wide berth.’

      ‘Very sensible,’ Big Al nodded. ‘Got to help yourself. You’d do well to learn from your assistant here,’ he added, turning back to face Jago. ‘Remember what I said.’ With a curt nod, he swaggered over to where swing boats were now being dismantled. Colenso grinned wryly, remembering the first time she’d met him. How different everything seemed now. Dressed as a girl again, she’d been accepted by the travelling people and was beginning to enjoy her new roving life.

      ‘Ruddy Mr Know-All,’ Jago growled after him. ‘Lives off the back of us, he does.’

      ‘Mara says he works hard,’ Colenso replied. ‘As have I,’ she added, looking at him expectantly.

      ‘Yes, well when we get to Truro I’ll work out how much I owe you,’ he muttered, turning back to his packing-up.

      ‘But …’ Colenso began, not sure how to pursue the matter. ‘Look, Jago, it’s only right you should pay me something now. I can’t continue living off Mara’s generosity.’

      ‘When did a few wild leaves cost anything?’ His voice was muffled as he’d started taking down the Panam and was hidden under folds of striped canvas. Colenso shook her head. Although Jago was happy when money was coming in, it was becoming increasingly obvious he didn’t like paying any out.

      ‘I’m looking forward to meeting your sister,’ she said. ‘And