Chapter 21: Chapter 21- Fair holiday, but it´s just another regular work day

Two weeks went by in a flash and everyone's mood, including Patrick Seymour's — who had gotten the confirmation letter for Theresa to be present at the event — had improved considerably. July was gone and, with August, the long-awaited fair finally arrived.

Oscar got up early that Saturday, like any other day at work, but instead of heading to the warehouse where the farming tools were kept, he went to the extensive gardens at the back of the mansion. It was barely eight in the morning and any contest or event was not scheduled to start until after ten o'clock, but there were already enough people milling around those meadows.

Most of these people were other workers from Lilac Hall, who were beginning to set up the stalls, pulling out some chairs for the guests and proceeding to serve refreshments for the few neighbors who were arriving to help with this holiday, also setting up their own stalls. There were also some carpenters setting up a small stage where a recital would take place in the afternoon and, beyond that, some children were entertaining themselves by playing with a ball instead of helping their parents with the decoration of the enclosure.

In short, Oscar had done all the gardening work that was required of him during the previous days, making sure that both the lawn and flowers were well pruned, that everything was pleasing to the eyes and nobody had a complaint. So now he only had to go to the end of the garden where it had been established that it´d be the space for lunch, with the intention of helping his companions to set up the tent and prepare the tables.

While this was his intention, he didn´t take three steps in that direction when he heard Madeleine call out to him.

As he stopped and turned around, he saw her come running towards him, overjoyed, as if she had already put her paws on top of Patrick. She still wasn't wearing "that horrible gypsy outfit", as she herself had described it when first saw it, but she was wearing one of her usual dresses. Perhaps, it should be added, too formal a dress for a field event. But then again, other girls her age were sure to wear similar outfits.

"Did you bring the letter?" Oscar asked as soon as she was next to him.

"Those manners! You must say hello to me first, just like I have,” she chided, although her current mood was too good to be bothered by such a small thing. “Then you must praise me for my appearance, although I already know you´re ashamed to do it in public and it is very possible that you wouldn´t have done it in a common situation... But you could make the effort on a day like today!”

"Good morning then. The compliments, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to skip them because I'm a shy and insecure person. So, especially now that you've mentioned it, I feel too overwhelmed to say something nice”

"It's okay to admit your faults, that makes you more human," Madeleine conceded. “I'll let it go this time, but you should practice being a little less grumpy, or else no girl will dare to accept you as a husband.”

"It's okay, I can make the pleasant sacrifice of staying single forever." Seeing that she was going to protest, surely trying to endorse some of her friends that he had little regard for, he asked again. “Where´s the letter?”

Madeleine pulled an envelope up her sleeve and waved it at Oscar.

“Here I have it. It´s not stamped or signed, as you told me.”

“Have you copied every word as I wrote it, without removing or adding anything?”

"Of course I have, who do you take me for? I´ve even placed the semicolons in their place, as they should be. I can't let Patrick get a bad impression of me.”

No, he couldn't. And that was the only reason Oscar had to believe her when she said she had made a proper copy of the letter. And it´s that that Sunday in which they were both talking about the fair, Oscar also had planned to stop by Thornfield for a moment. Ergo, he couldn't stay and wait for Madeleine to finish her masterpiece and show it to him. When he left for the neighboring house, she was still in the garden, concentrating on her writing.

"Well, in that case I won't bother you anymore. I suppose Mr. Seymour is about to show up," he said, looking for him and having switched to calling him by his last name, on the grounds that, at that moment, he was supposed to be at work. “Usually he gets up late, but today he´ll have no choice but to show up before his time. After all, he´s the host.”

"As soon as I see him I'll go for him. If Sophia comes and sees him first, there will be no way to make her disengage from his arm.”

"As for the stall...”

"Father didn´t object, as I am his favorite daughter," Madeleine said, smiling. “He hired some guys from London to come set up the awning. Which they´re doing over there, do you see them? And with the rest of the money I bought some ornaments and a costume in a second-hand clothing store where I hope that no one I knew saw me enter, because what a shame.”

"You'll see it´s worth it, just stick to the plan. Wait for your stall to be ready and then go change.”

"I will, I will, I'm just in a dilemma. I cannot go near the awning because they´d discover that I´m the fortune teller who will be exercising her gifts as such this Saturday, but I cannot go very far either because you know, my father is short of money and these people were no longer very willing to come to work. If I don't hurry them, they won't finish today.”

"I can't help you with that."

“I know. At least I'm glad my family didn't come! That way I won't have to be competing with Beverley and Eleonore for something that should belong only to me.”

"You came alone, you say?"

"Yes, I got up earlier with the excuse of having to prepare everything and went out." I came in the car of these gentlemen from London, they picked me up at Rose Cottage and I gave them this address. Ah, Oscar, I really admire your talent for falsifying documents. You had it very hidden and it is the second time since it is useful to us!”

Oscar didn´t reply, not knowing what the hell he should say when someone complimented him for performing, better than the average person, a criminal activity.

"Ah, here comes Patrick!" Madeleine exclaimed, looking away. “Look at that Sophia Tanner snake she's already hooked on him! And there´re already more blowflies hovering over him, as if he were the only man in the place. But wait for me to catch up with them! I'm going to get Patrick to just talk to me and I'll take the opportunity to give him the note.”

Saying this, Madeleine began to walk at a brisk pace, but not at a trot as before, for she did not want to appear desperate, towards the owner of Lilac Hall. Although she didn´t get to shorten even half the meters that separated her from him when she, to Oscar's surprise, retraced her steps.

"I was forgetting this," she said, pulling another envelope off her, "Theresa gave me this for you. She said it's payment for I don't know what services.”

"I told her it could wait," Oscar murmured, but took the envelope and kept it anyway.

A couple of days before, Theresa had written to him to say she was going to give him the money from her books, so that he would pay Albert what she owed him. The reason was that she wasn´t planning to show up at the fair to do it in person and, anyway, it would be more appropriate if Oscar was the one in charge of doing this. After all, he was the one who was dealing with the Northrops.

That was the official excuse, but Oscar knew well that Theresa's real motive was that she was so introverted the last thing she wanted was to have to deal with humans. Not that she disliked the Northrops, on the contrary, she was very grateful to them. What happened was that she didn´t know how to approach them, despite living door to door, and therefore had decided to take the easy route, paying her debts indirectly. Either way, for Oscar it was fine this way of doing things.

"Don't worry," Madeleine had said before, now, marching on Patrick, "you don't have to explain anything to me. I´ve seen what was inside the envelope and understood everything. I know it was Theresa's thing and that you had nothing to do with it.”

"Was it?"

“Of course! Poor thing, you must have had a bad time... Luckily Theresa paid you something to use you, because it would only be awful that she had abused for free. Who'd say? I didn´t think that she, as modest as she is, was one of those.”

It took Oscar a few seconds to understand, but by the time he protested, Madeleine was no longer listening, far as she was.

That damn woman every day that passed had fewer neurons, Oscar was thinking, as he walked to his stall. It was the second time in less than a month she had hinted that he was a prostitute! And this time it even seemed that there was evidence and everything!

He wanted to clear up the misunderstanding but, knowing Madeleine, he knew it wasn't worth it. Whatever he said, she would end up finding a way to twist it so that he was the one who´d look bad. And Theresa wasn't helping with that either, as he was sure that when she gave the money, she didn't explain anything to her sister. Letting her imagination run wild.

But, to be frank, Oscar didn´t have the time nor the desire to worry about how fried the single neuron of the female protagonist must already be.

When he walked past Kenneth's bug stall, he heard Kenneth's annoying voice asking him for "a little help" to transport all the birdcages that he had collected and kept during those days. Oscar refused, without stopping, with the excuse that he was in a hurry to help where the food stand. His partner didn´t insist, although Oscar could hear him fall behind and then shout various profanities as several robins flew off to freedom.

Kenneth had caught most of these animals in the last week, intending to sell them to the rich as exotic pets. The cages that he used to keep them hadn´t been made by him, as at first he claimed, because, apparently, the same talent that the boy possessed to capture live birds became a disaster when he had to make crafts. So he ended up buying the cheapest cages he found on the market. Besides that, there was no place in Lilac Hall where Kilduff would allow to keep the birds — which apparently bothered him a great deal — so for the past week Kenneth had been filling his room with animals.

It was difficult to sleep with a dozen birds of all races and colors serenading, so Oscar was so jaded with life he didn't even turn to see if Kenneth had hurt himself. What's more, he even was glad that at least some of those birds had managed to escape.

When he arrived at the position that would later serve as a restaurant, he didn´t linger any longer with trifles or people who were not worth it. He followed the directions of the person in charge to help them set up the tent and, assisted by five other individuals, they busied themselves with placing all the tables and benches under the established seal. They brought plates and cutlery from the house, along with flowers to decorate the tables. Three hours passed quickly and the post was already set up and ready to go.

By then, the property had already started to fill up. Most of the stalls were set up and serving visitors. Hundreds of neighbors -and even people who had come from other towns, having found out what was going on there- gathered around the main attractions. Music and games were the main protagonists of that day, so it was common to hear some isolated melody from afar, followed by a chorus of applause and the usual small group of children making noise and running through the crowd.

Oscar could ascertain with some ease the success that the fair was having, although he was so busy that until after eleven o'clock he didn´t had the time to stop by the entrance of the marquee and take a look outside, stopping his eyes at each stall, in each person satisfied with the shows, that caught his attention.

He was able to rest for fifteen or twenty minutes, after finishing placing everything inside the place. Then, starting at eleven thirty, people began to enter the stall to order their lunch and Oscar had to go back to work.

He had been employed as a waiter, and like a waiter he got around, going from table to table writing down the orders and then transporting each tray to its respective users. He had no problem with it, even with the arrival of noon, which was when more people came to occupy the tent. To the point that there were hardly any empty seats left and the four waiters they had even seemed to be few to serve so many guests.

You are reading story How to survive the worst novel ever written at novel35.com

Around one o'clock, people dispersed and there weren't so many seats taken. It was around that time that Oscar had to attend a table of five people, in one of which was a certain acquaintance in a wheelchair.

"I see that in the end you decided to take care of the guests at dinner," Letitia had said with good humor, as soon as she recognized Oscar. “How are you doing?”

"Better than I could have been had I joined Kenneth's Zoo, I think. I've heard people talk, and I don't know if that guy has already lost more birds than he has sold" Not wanting to delve into some misfortunes that, even if he didn't want to, he would find out that night, he said. “And you? Are you having a good time at the fair?”

"It´s certainly being a pleasant experience," agreed a middle-aged man. “It´s good to leave the monotony from time to time to attend one of these events.”

"It's a pity that there are no fairs like this in the city," confirmed a woman next to him, which Oscar deduced must be his wife, "the children have a great time and it is also good for us to clear up."

"So you're coming from the city, huh?"

"Oh, I'll introduce them to you," Letitia said, looking eager to play host. “They are the Mullins, old friends of our family,” she said, referring to the couple sitting across from her, then turning to the two children sitting on the bench next to her, she added. “And these are their children: Nigel and Beatrice.”

This Beatrice greeted Oscar with the same animosity that Letitia showed. They must both be the same age. As for Nigel, his "hello" was more reluctant, as if he had preferred to dispense with unnecessary formalities, not understanding why he should introduce himself before a waiter, no matter how "friend of the Northrops" he was, as Letitia told them afterwards.

"Beatrice and I met in our first year of boarding school and since then we have been inseparable," Letitia continued explaining. “The pity is that she lives in London, so when we aren´t at school we don´t see each other much.”

"How exaggerated," Beatrice laughed. “I'm here now, right? The thing is to make the effort to visit each other on vacation.”

"Yeah, yeah, but you don't know what it takes me to convince someone to let me leave Snodland from time to time."

"Don't worry about it, Letitia," Mrs. Mullins had said. “We´re delighted to have come today. Next time, if you want to take a trip with us, just let us know. We can talk to your father ourselves.”

Letitia said thanks for her consideration, although it was written on her face that her father was not the problem.

"Well, what are we going to eat?" Mr. Mullins asked, making it clear that some at the table were clear about their priorities. “I had never seen a menu board put in this kind of country stall before, no doubt Mr. Seymour knows what he´s doing.”

Although that was the chef's idea, Oscar preferred not to correct him. There was not much variety of dishes, but at least one could have the freedom to choose between two or three things. In the end, the five of them agreed to order.

"By the way, I wanted to ask," Oscar began to say, taking advantage of the silence that had been created while he wrote down the order in his notebook, addressing Letitia, "Haven't your father or your brother come?"

Because if not, he could pass her the money from Theresa´s books and thus refrain from another interaction that would only make him uncomfortable.

"My father has been attending to some important matters at home all morning, although he promised that he´d be here early in the afternoon," she replied. “As for my brother...”

Letitia stopped and, as soon as she had done so, Oscar suddenly felt a hand land on his shoulder. It was such a sudden action that he was startled and, had he not had enough self-control, he would have even swore. And there he was, Albert Northrop himself.

The aforementioned had not intended to be friendly with Oscar, patting him on the shoulder to celebrate his reunion, or anything like that. Albert was not that friendly. Nor was he such a bad human being that he decided it would be fun to scare the service. No. What happened was that the area through which he had to pass to get to his table was being quite busy and, at a certain point, he needed to hold onto something - or someone, in this case - to avoid being dragged by.

Albert nodded, either because he was a conformist about the food or because he didn´t want to open a debate again. Either way, Oscar ran out of there and it wasn't until he got to the kitchen that he realized he hadn't delivered the envelope.

He used the time in which he was busy preparing the tray with food to compose himself and, already calm, returned to the tent with the order ready to be served. This country restaurant had been located near the door that led to the Lilac Hall kitchens, so the journey was only twenty meters and it was no difficulty for the staff to spend the day carrying dishes and bringing them.

Once Oscar had finished serving, and using all the discretion that he could — for the Mullins and Letitia had again engaged in a lively conversation in which he did not want to meddle — he handed the envelope to Albert. He wanted to ask about it, but Oscar ignored the subject after noting:

"You'll know when you see it."

Well, even if Theresa hadn't written anything down, the money would say it all. Later, he excused himself and left, since someone was calling him from a table on the other side of the premises.

The one who called him was nothing more and nothing less than Madeleine who, having once again dressed in her casual attire, remained seated next to another girl her age. Oscar wasn´t familiar with the latter but, from the way the protagonist addressed her, he assumed she was one of her friends.

“What will you have?” Oscar asked when he arrived before them, maintaining all his professionalism and without the intention of engaging in any kind of banal talk.

"Ditch the formalities and let's get down to business," protested Madeleine, who seemed to be getting impatient. “I was just telling Dianne, I've been waiting all morning at my stall for Mr. Seymour to show up, and he hasn't come! I was waiting for him to stick to the plan and then take a break and come to eat, but I´ve had to put it off until now, since I could no longer endure the hunger. It's terrible! I hope he doesn't think of going to the stall now that no one is there.”

"I'm sure if he passes and doesn't see anyone, he'll come back later," said that Dianne woman, trying to reassure her.

"I left a sign at the entrance saying that I´d be back in half an hour, but how is he going to know when to start counting those thirty minutes? He would be in despair and leave!”

"Don't say that. Surely if he hasn't been there, it's because he hasn't had time yet; There are still many hours of the event, do not lose faith, he´ll surely come.”

"But Dianne, you haven't seen me wearing that hideous outfit and reading people's miseries. I look terrible! Just like a circus attraction, and on top of that, only old women who have weeks to live and children who want to know the answers to the school exams are coming to me. How is someone like the great Mr. Seymour going to notice a stall where only people like that enter?”

"Come on, if Mr Seymour give permission to put such a stall, it's because he liked the idea."

“You think so?”

“Of course!”

Dianne looked at Oscar for help, as Madeleine seemed to be on the verge of tears, but he had no intention of intervening. There may be requirements for Seymour employees, but not for neighbors. They could even set up a small human trafficking company at the fairgrounds, if Kilduff approved it.

"And you? You don't work for the lord?" Dianne prodded towards Oscar, tempting him to say something. “You should know better than anyone how the event works as well as the tastes of your patron.”

"Well, I do know a few things," Oscar admitted. “And, if I may give some advice... Madeleine, I would be quick if I were you. At this rate you´ll miss your lunch break and won´t get to your stall on time. Imagine that Mr. Seymour is there, waiting for you at the door, glancing inside the awning even to make sure the beautiful fortune teller he have been told about has not yet returned. Perhaps, after three-quarters of an hour waiting, he ends up leaving disappointed and not eager to try his luck again.

Hearing such a truth, Madeleine sobbed.

“You´re so cruel!” Dianne exclaimed, even more surprised than the protagonist herself.

"Oscar, couldn't you just go there and keep guarding the place until I get back?" Madeleine asked, as she wiped her crocodile tears away. “You don't have to dress up as a fortune teller if you don't want to, just stand in front of the stall and if he shows up, tell him I'm on my way.”

"I'm sorry, but I'm working." Before Madeleine could make a fuss, Oscar continued. “If you're so anxious, wait for my break and then I'll go make sure Mr. Seymour shows up there myself.”

This promise did calm Madeleine, who stopped crying and proceeded to order her food like any other normal person would.

In truth, Oscar always thought that if Patrick didn't show up at the fortune teller's booth, he would give him a little push during his free hour. That´s why when he attended to Madeleine and learned of her complaints, he was able to remain so calm.

Having finished taking the order from them, Oscar proceeded to continue with his work, without further interruption. And without realizing, either, that more than one person was watching his every movement from a distance.

 

You can find story with these keywords: How to survive the worst novel ever written, Read How to survive the worst novel ever written, How to survive the worst novel ever written novel, How to survive the worst novel ever written book, How to survive the worst novel ever written story, How to survive the worst novel ever written full, How to survive the worst novel ever written Latest Chapter