Chapter 22: Chapter 22 – There´s no fortune in love… Maybe

By three in the afternoon Oscar had finished serving, wiping the tables, and discarding any traces of waste that might have fallen on the floor. It was a long time since lunch had passed, so the place was already free of customers and only the staff remained inside the tent. Some of them were already getting ready for tea time, when they would have to reopen the place for diners, and others, like Oscar, were now ready to take a well-deserved break.

He didn´t have much time, because although at four was his stipulated time to resume his work, the person in charge of the stall had asked him to be back half an hour in advance, to help them arrange the cakes and order the cutlery. So when Oscar left, he didn´t notice shows, stalls with artisan merchandise, nor did he return the greeting to Kenneth when he passed by for the second time - although, yes, he noticed that although all the cages were still the counter, most of the captured birds were gone. He wasted no time in finding Patrick.

It wasn´t an arduous task to find him, he was, in fact, in the area where Oscar assumed he would be: in the gambling stands.

In particular, Patrick was at a stall where he could test his aim by playing darts. There were about six ladies and two gentlemen around him. Making skeptical comments about his aim, just to sting him, because from their body language and tone, it was clear the men were friends of the protagonist. Women, for their part, were encouraging him to continue with exaggerated compliments.

Patrick threw one of the darts, hitting the bullseye. The women cheered as if he was a hero and the men remarked softly they were facing a lucky bastard. Either way, that last comment was pretty accurate to describe Patrick.

Oscar observed them for half a minute, until the protagonist hit his last shot and the owner of the stall gave him a choice about what he would like as a prize. Patrick chose a necklace that wasn´t too expensive, but just as colorful, and put it on one of the girls who kept him company. Without putting a stop in his flirtation with the other ladies, who looked at the lucky woman with envy.

When the little group moved to go to another stall, Oscar followed them.

In every group there was always some laggard, someone who wanted to fit in with all its might but didn´t have the power or ability to do so. In this case, the straggler was a girl in her twenties, with black hair and a turquoise dress. Oscar had used that very short space of time to watch her as she paid Patrick compliments he didn't hear. He had seen her pouting when the award was taken by other woman and, now, she was being the last to follow the protagonist's group of comrades and concubines.

In each group there was not only a straggler, but also a weak-spirited person. Oscar thought, rightly, that this girl must be both. That's why he had no qualms about approaching her and commenting on her as he passed by, as if he were actually speaking to himself:

"The woman at the fortune-telling station has real talent, definitely! Not only has she been able to accurately guess my future, but she has also managed to chase away my inherent misfortune.” Noticing the young woman was looking at him curiously, he continued, this time telling her. “It´s fortunate that she has come to this fair, as she is usually too busy in London. And it´s normal, because she has saved the lives of so many people with her predictions that she´s in great demand among the highest spheres of the country!”

"Just how famous is she?"

"Very famous," Oscar said with conviction. “See, she has to be so that someone like me, who barely has a chance to leave town, gets to know her. She doesn't charge much and her powers are genuine, what more could we ask for?”

"If she's as great as they say, maybe I should go get her read my cards."

Seeing that the young woman was thinking what she shouldn´t, Oscar intervened:

"You could also go tell your friends that there's such a celebrity at the fair today. I mean, the woman we are talking about has been successful in almost every case in which she has worked, it would be a delight for those of us who believe in these things to know that we have the possibility of meeting her” Giving one last push to convince her, he continued. “Sure, someone like the gambler and a good believer in superstitions would be very grateful to know this information.”

Hearing this, the girl's face lit up. Barely thanking Oscar, she ran off towards Patrick's group.

Well, one less problem, Oscar thought. And then he went himself to Madeleine's stall, to alert her so that she wouldn´t screw up for lack of preparation.

He could have been the one to tell Patrick about the famous position himself, but that would have been problematic. First, because his relationship with the protagonist was not so close that he would follow him where he indicated, no matter how superstitious he was. And secondly, because he didn't see himself sneaking into a meeting of people like that either. It would have been suspicious if someone dressed as a waiter approached Patrick for such a need.

Now, if one of the women after him did it… Patrick didn't usually put buts when she was a woman who dragged him like a lapdog through his own garden.

So Oscar walked until he came to a tent that stood out above any other. Not by size, but by color. Well, it didn´t look like the muddy white that other positions used, but a dark blue that simulated the sky. It also had some white dots of various sizes that simulated stars. It was too simple a design, for Oscar's taste, but for the time it must have been the best of the best.

Next to the entrance there was a sign nailed to the ground that, in large letters, read: "Madam Labelle reads your future and puts an end to your misadventures."

Oscar smiled to himself as he read this. Madeleine had insisted on using a foreign name because she said it sounded exotic, but using something like “Labelle” was too much of a stretch. And as for "ending misadventures," what the hell was she referring to? Because in the case that she was talking about people with such bad luck as him, the most effective thing would be to eliminate his existence from the roots.

He intended to approach the entrance and stop to listen for movement inside, so as not to interrupt Madeleine if she was with a client, but he had barely approached the space where the tent was entered when an old woman came out. If it weren't for Oscar having good reflexes and leaping away, he would have been run over in passing.

The lady had been whispering something like: “Excellent guess, excellent. And better person yet! Who was going to say that she´d be able to find my joint problem and provide me with a remedy for it?”

Oscar saw her walk away, puzzled, until he was sure it was Mrs. Cooper and it all made sense. It's not that Madeleine had done an extraordinary job with her, it's that that old woman was a crazy old hag who suffered from arthritis and didn't pay attention to her family when they asked her to go to the doctor. Now, all her skepticism towards doctors turned to blind trust when it came to pastors, healers or fortune-tellers. Anyway, the point was that everyone in Snodland knew what her health problems consisted of except herself.

"What do you think of this?" Madeleine had asked him when she saw Oscar come in, referring to everything; from her performance to the set. “Don't you think I'm doing a good job?”

Faced with that question, Oscar wouldn´t know what´d be the appropriate answer. Madeleine had put on, over her dress, a tunic made of the same fabric as the carp, which covered her from neck to toe. She wore glasses and a hat - which looked more like a hat like the one anyone would wear to sleep - that covered all of her upturned hair. Not that it cost a lot of her to recognize it, but when he saw her, Oscar thought that what she was wearing on top of her was a disguise halfway between the magician Merlin and Little Red's grandmother.

Inside the tent  light barely entered the place. And, with Patrick's fish memory, it was unlikely he would recognize Madeleine anyway. As painful as her camouflage looked.

"Go back to your place," Oscar asked him, refraining from commenting on what he was thinking. “Patrick Seymour must be about to arrive, as I just saw him heading here.”

Those must have been, without a doubt, the magic words. Because Madeleine gave up her efforts to elicit a compliment from the other and ran to sit at a round table, while she made sure that both her tunic and all accessories were well on.

"And what are you still doing here?” She asked nervously, looking toward the entrance. “Go away, what if someone look at here, see you, and think that I´m busy.”

Oscar sighed. Madeleine hadn't had the intelligence to leave an attendant outside or put up another sign to tell potential customers if the place was busy or not.

"I'll stick around to make sure you don't screw it up," he decided, in a tone in which he didn´t accept arguing. “So as not to get in the way, I'll hide over there. And no, don't worry about me, I can't intervene under any circumstances. It will be, for all practical purposes, as if I wasn´t there.”

Thinking that Oscar was being eaten up by jealousy, having to leave her precious friend in the same room that another man would use, and in the dark above her, Madeleine did not object. Perhaps she must have thought that some should learn to let go of what they loved, even in the most painful way possible, so that others could progress in the sentimental field.

As for Oscar, unsurprisingly, his only interest in staying was to make sure that everything went as it should. He didn't care if Patrick didn't believe Madeleine's words, or that he made unfavorable comments to her. The only important thing, no longer for his plan, but for the near future, was that Patrick take the time to listen to her.

Therefore, he hid behind some boxes, sitting on the ground to wait. From where he was, he couldn't see anything, but  could hear everything that took place there.

And the fact is that the tent, although on the outside seemed to have considerable dimensions, on the inside the space was quite small. Madeleine was sitting at table. This table remained covered in an old tablecloth and, on it, a small crystal ball and a deck of tarot cards rested.

The rest of the position, being that Cornell was asked to be decorated "eccentrically" to fit the theme of the show and knowing he was still short of cash, he had simply destroyed his attic and had his employees deposit all of them the old furniture, broken utensils and faded paintings that were no longer used at Rose Cottage. If you didn't look at the table Madeleine was sitting at, it could easily look like a garbage dump. In fact, there was a plague near where Oscar was that even he didn't know for sure where it came from...

Ten minutes after giving the warning, Patrick Seymour was already seated before a nervous Madeleine. Well, even if this was a pantomime, it should not be forgotten that this was the first intimate conversation the two protagonists shared. This conversation had only been delayed... How long? Fifteen chapters? It was not provable, but perhaps if those two were slow to get together, it would also delay the death of certain cannon fodder.

"Do me a favor, miss," Patrick had said, settling in front of Madeleine. “Take those cards and roll, I want you to tell me which will be the winning horse in the next Ascot race.”

"A race, you say?"

"Yes, at the racecourse. But that goes without saying, especially for someone as distinguished as you, right?”

"Of course." Madeleine spoke these two words without an iota of humility, but what followed was said in a tone that denoted uncertainty. “This... It's just that I don't work like that, you know. Usually people come to me to discuss heart problems.”

"I see, yes. But I´m not sick, so I shouldn´t worry about such necessities. I'm too young to walk around messed up, dying for anything.”

“I'm not doubting it, I was referring to the fact that my clients often consult me ​​on relationship matters. Either because they worry that their loved one will not notice her existence or because they have not yet found the right person with whom to share the rest of their life.”

"Do people care about such nonsense?" That must have been a rhetorical question because Patrick continued right away. “In my case, I wouldn't waste money knowing such a thing; Outside a large group of beautiful young women is waiting for me, all eager to remain in my company for as long as I require. Not only that! I am also waiting for someone... Someone who will come soon and with whom I have agreed to meet! Well, as I myself told her, she´s the most beautiful and intelligent woman that I have had the good fortune to come across. So, as you´ll understand, it´s not a lack of affection what I have.”

"M-maybe the person you´re referring to, the one you´re meeting, isn't the right one," Madeleine pointed out.

Her voice was shaking, Oscar couldn't see her expression, but imagined how cloudy it must have become. In any case, he wasn't the least bit worried. Patrick was not one to brag about his conquests by spreading their names everywhere (not out of shyness or out of consideration, but for his own good; so that rumors would not spread that he was dating one before leaving the other. ). And to Madeleine, during the last weekend that she had to prepare, he gave her some guidelines on what she should or should not do to take the conversation where wanted.

If Madeleine followed directions, there should be no obstacle preventing her from cheating on Patrick. However stubborn and unreasonable this one was.

"It doesn't matter if she's not the right one, she's the one I want now."

"Are you not afraid of reprisals? You could be altering the order of the universe, making such an important decision lightly.

"Fuck the universe. Anyway, it has never done anything for me.”

"W-well, it's a way of looking at it...”

"Are you going to tell me who will win the race or not?"

“I told you that it´s not so simple, to be certain in such a thing, for whom I would have to be throwing the cards is for the rider. In that case I could tell him if he´ll win or lose! But, as you should understand, I cannot read the future of a person who´s not here”

This was the hoax established by Oscar if someone got off the subject or, as he already guessed Patrick would, try to ask about something other than romance. In special cases, if the client was getting bored and had traces of wanting to leave, as Patrick seemed to be, they also had a plan B that Madeleine did not hesitate to use.

"Let's do one thing: I can give it a try anyway if you want, but I don't guarantee it's going to be successful," she said. “I will charge you half for this, and then for free, I´ll read your fortune in love.”

Patrick agreed immediately, more on the racing side than the romance side. And Madeleine made a throw that she interpreted as she suited her; In less than five minutes, she had already blurted out that the winning number at Ascot would be seven. She went without saying that said number had been mentioned entirely at random, although her choice was disguised with a series of phrases and observations about the cards that had been turned over, thus reaffirming that random decision on the part of the false medium.

Patrick was satisfied, because he agreed the horse that carried number seven was one of his favorites, and he wanted to continue inquiring about other upcoming races, figures to bet and riders in whom he could place his trust. Madeleine cut him off, indicating that she couldn't see people's futures more than seven days in advance; she had only been able to guess about this race because it would take place the following Thursday, of course.

So Patrick leaned back in his seat, resigning himself, while Madeleine threw another roll.

"Oh, what do I see!" She exclaimed with the same enthusiasm she lacked while she was talking about racing.

"Tell me," Patrick replied, now, with a total lack of interest.

"Cards say that today you will meet the love of your life."

“Ah? Well, like I said before, I am going to meet a beauty who´s been kind enough to accept the personal invitation that I sent her and...”

“No! Not that person!” Madeleine said this with cutting fury, leaving the other speechless. “Yes, this other card implies it perfectly. The person I am referring to is… is someone close to you.”

Patrick said nothing to such a statement, perhaps because he knew too many women "close" to him.

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

"She's someone at the fair and you´re sure to run into her." Seeing that Patrick still needed more clues, she continued. “I see that, the aforementioned in question, delivered an anonymous letter to you today.”

"I haven't received anything today."

"Have you tried looking in your pockets?"

And Patrick did, and must have pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket, because Oscar clearly heard the sound of the paper unfolding.

"And… And you say I'll meet her today?" Suddenly there was a hint of joy in Patrick's tone, as if he had just found something very precious.

"That's right, in the gazebo by the forest." Madeleine, she pretended that she should read it better in her letters before adding. “I would say that around five thirty you should find her there.”

It would be an understatement to say that Patrick was satisfied with the service. He was ecstatic! When he finally left and Madeleine had to deal with some of the girls who had accompanied him, and whom she dispatched saying that it wasn´t in their destiny to have any luck in love if it was with Patrick, the female protagonist didn´t lose the mood in no time. And minutes later, when Oscar was finally able to get out of his hiding spot, she told him in great detail about the change of expression in the protagonist as soon as he saw the letter. It was perfect! For once, things had turned out well!

It didn't seem very normal for a shallow being like Patrick to get emotional the way Madeleine said - apparently even he had shed a tear - but Oscar didn't want to think about it too much. Despite Madeleine's null skills with a deck whose name was not even learned, the bait had been successfully placed. And now it only remained for the protagonist to go to the specified place during the appropriate time.

Oscar's presence was no longer required, so he headed back to the restaurant area.

With his break over, he was already thinking that he only had a couple more hours of work left. It would be simple, he´d serve the guests again and, at around six in the afternoon, he´d be helping his people to dismantle the stall. An occupation that was nothing to write home about, if it had to be compared to dealing with characters from the same kind as the protagonists. And it is that, this could not be denied, he was already exhausted. As soon as the fair was over, and the cleaning jobs finished, he planned to go back to his room and sleep until the next day. He hadn't even had a proper lunch that day, but he wasn't even considering dinner anyway; Between the heap of responsibilities he had to face and the fact that he was snacking between meals — he didn't have time to sit down to eat quietly — he had no appetite.

Pondering the fact that tonight he would sleep comfortably, without worries, and without getting upset about the noise that the birds remaining from his companion might make, he barely noticed that Kenneth was calling him.

"Oscar, have you seen the Cornells?" he had asked, seeing him pass before him for the third time that day.

“No”

It was a cutting monosyllable, one that implied that he had been in excellent spirits up to that point, and therefore he wasn´t going to let any little thing the other invented destroy that state of mind.

"No, I say there they are!"

Oscar turned around, with every intention of telling Kenneth the Cornells hadn't come, nor would they be coming in the next few hours, but when he saw his partner pointing somewhere nearby, he couldn't help but direct his gaze there.

About fifty feet away, standing in front of a stage where artists had been passing by since midday, was the Cornell family. Except for Madeleine, who was to continue her fantasy of the super powerful medium, the Cornell couple and their three remaining daughters were there. Partly listening to a string quartet whose mediocre sound spread through the room, and partly talking to neighbors who had approached them.

As if seeing something that shouldn't be possible, Oscar hastened to walk towards these people, leaving Kenneth with the word on his mouth. Was he in such an urge to see Madeleine…? No, of course not, Kenneth realized that she wasn´t with them. But there must be a reason why Oscar seemed so eager to accompany them and that is why he, from his position, tried not to take his eyes off the little group that his new friend was addressing.

As for Oscar, he used the fact that four of the Cornells were so engrossed in their own conversations with people they didn't even see him approach, to come to Theresa. Who, a little apart from the rest, remained standing, listening to the musicians with a serious and imperturbable expression.

"Why are you here?" He asked as soon as he reached her.

A week ago, Oscar had forged another letter from Lilac Hall. The letter announced that, although the date of the fair remained the same day, he had moved to another venue about six miles from Snodland. It hadn't been difficult to sneak this fake missive into Rose Cottage, as Madeleine had an interest in having none of her sisters come to the actual location, and apart from this they already had an envelope from a letter that was actually written by Patrick. So Oscar, on his day, only had to write a few credible words and give the role to the protagonist.

She did the rest. That is to say, pretending that she received the envelope along with the morning mail and, as far as Oscar knew — and he knew because he had confirmed it with his uncles — the Cornells had swallowed it.

"We were halfway there when we turned around," Theresa explained, as if something like this was already expected to happen somehow. “We ran into the postman, and he told Father the fair was still at Lilac Hall. That there was no change or anything like that.”

"With Sayer? On a Saturday?"

Although it was stipulated there was still a courier service on Saturdays, Oscar knew well that Sayer was one of those who skipped completely on weekends. It was unheard of he was working just when he could screw up the whole plan!

“He said he was coming back from Cobham, as he planned to stop by as soon as he dropped the car back at the post office.”

"Great, as soon as I see him coming I'll go meet him. No, to be precise, my fist will receive his face.”

As Oscar said this, it might seem like a joke, but the truth is that he was very serious. Deep down, he knew it wasn´t Sayer's fault that he was in the wrong place, but at that moment his anger clouded his judgment. How the hell was he going to get on with his job if he had to be making sure Theresa wasn't kidnapped by some pervert? It seemed like he was solving one problem only to get into another!

"Did you give Mr. Northrop the money?" Theresa asked, oblivious to her plans.

"I did, at least that matter is solved."

"Well, don't worry about me anymore. I thought something unforeseen might happen and I would have to go to the fair anyway, so I am prepared for what happens.”

"Are you?"

"I thought a lot about what I'd say to Patrick if he insisted that I go with him. I know I can't say it out loud, as it might cause a scandal, so I wrote him a note.” Before Oscar had a chance to inquire further about it, she added. “I don't want to be the one to blame for my family getting on badly with the Seymours because of this, so that note will stick with me. I'll only hand it over if Mr. Seymour insists that I go with him.”

"But if you could avoid giving it to him today, you would, right?" Oscar asked, suddenly looking away.

A note where four truths were told to the protagonist wouldn´t be bad at all. But it ´d be much more effective, and its negative effects would splash less to the sender, if it were delivered after the fair and not in the middle of the event.

"Sure," Theresa had answered. “I don't want to argue in the middle of a crowd.”

Not in the middle of a crowd, not alone. Theresa hated confrontations, so her response was obvious. Oscar just asked to be sure, before turning to Mr. Cornell.

He greeted him in a normal way and he, too, returned the greeting just as calmly. Of course, this only happened because Cornell still hadn't seen who it was that had caught his eye from behind. When he finally spotted him, in shock he almost choked on the glass of champagne he was drinking. Although Mrs. Cornell wanted to ask her husband what the overreaction was about, Oscar focused on what was at hand. He asked Mr. Cornell if he could take Theresa away for a while, to introduce her to some friends.

In other circumstances, he would have refused. Even more so considering that Theresa was the youngest of his daughters and she wasn´t old enough to walk the world alone, meeting the filthy friends of a former stable boy. But, knowing that Oscar still had the upper hand even then, Mr. Cornell immediately agreed. The only thing left was asking him to please take Theresa away!

So that's what Oscar did; he motioned for Theresa to follow him, not waiting for the doubts and protests of Mrs. Cornell and her daughters. That he could hear them crucify the little man with scolding for having offered the girl without setting any conditions.

Having lost sight of the Cornells, Oscar made his way to a stall selling handcrafted figurines and ornaments. It was the same booth where a couple of minutes earlier he had seen the Northrops and Mullins entertaining themselves, chatting with the grocer and asking them to show them more of his art. Although during the meal they were a group of six people, now there were seven. Well, a man whom Oscar had never seen before, but who by his bearing and appearance assumed that he was Letitia's father, had joined them.

Oscar turned to Theresa to ask her opinion. His first idea was to leave her with these people, since she would be safer with them - if Patrick came looking for her and was with the Cornells, they wouldn´t hesitate for a second to deliver her in the same irresponsible way that they had endorsed her to him - . But he wasn't going to carry out that idea if Theresa didn't agree.

Luckily, Theresa instantly grasped what was going through his head, and dutifully as anyone, it was she herself who took the initiative to walk over to the Northrops.

It seemed she was the more aware of the two that it was a danger to stay with the Cornells.

So Oscar stood there for a moment, watching Theresa approach the ladies first, stopping to ask their permission to spend the remainder of the afternoon with them. Theresa was not friends with Letitia just because they hadn't had the opportunity to be too intimate, since they had only met three or four times in her life. But, the way it looked from afar, the two seemed to get along.

Oscar stared for a moment, like a father who has just dropped off her daughter at the gates of a new school and was fascinated by the result of seeing her socializing with people her age. Then, realizing that Albert Northrop had identified him in the crowd, and since his gazes met for a second, he ducked his head and headed toward the restaurant.

He thought about what time it was, that with all the nonsense he was already going to be late and that the noodle with legs that managed everyone's schedules was going to bark at him. But it wasn't that there was no other choice but to put up with it, right?

He was barely a few steps in that direction when someone took his arm. It was an abrupt action, like that of a pickpocket without much experience. And, taking into account that he was already starting to get in a bad mood because he did not have a good excuse to give if they asked him for explanations, Oscar disengaged from the grip with some abruptness. He was going to insult whoever had tried to stop him until, seeing who it was, he came face to face with the villain.

The reaction was immediate. Oscar went pale instantly, apologizing instead of blurting out the string of insults that came to mind seconds before.

"Can we talk for a moment?" Albert had asked, ignoring the apologies, as if nothing unusual had just happened.

"Does it have to be now?" Oscar regained his composure, shaking off the fear but still glancing in the direction of the position where he was supposed to already be working. “My afternoon shift has just started and I'm already late.”

"At what time do you finish?"

"Well, between serving tea, then being asked to bring the things to the kitchens, clearing the tables, dismantling the tent... Wouldn't it be better if I stopped by your house tomorrow? Anyway, I had already promised your sister that I would come by.”

"No, we have to talk today," he pointed out insistently. “If you want, you can come to our house tomorrow too, but...”

Oscar didn't understand anything. Patrick was one of those people who couldn´t go a week without getting someone into his bed but, at this moment, the one who seemed urged was the villain.

He didn´t want to be alone with him, but neither did he feel capable of refusing his request. So he said, cautiously:

"At six o'clock, okay? I think at that time I can slip away.”

"Okay, at six o'clock in the gazebo."

“No!” Oscar called this too fast, too loud, and even managed to startle Albert. “I mean, we better see each other somewhere else. There´s a medieval bridge downstream, about a hundred meters from the temple. Already leaving town.”

Albert nodded, confirming that they would meet there.

"Oh, and as for Theresa," Oscar had said before leaving, "don't leave her alone, don't let her go with anyone. Not even with his relatives. If it wasn't too much to ask, it would even be appreciated if when the fair was over if you accompany her to Rose Cottage.”

It was selfish to ask for all that, but by trying he didn't lose anything. Anyway, keeping Theresa entertained for the remainder of the afternoon was enough. And on the other hand, the little Cornell girl was not as much of a nuisance as her sisters. If she always remained as polite as she demonstrated, Oscar didn't think there was a problem.

Albert must have been of the same opinion, because he didn´t ask questions about that desire to protect her as if they were bodyguards and accepted the conditions without question.

Later, when Oscar was left alone, returning to his work, he finally had a chance to think without anyone interrupting him. Will he meet the villain alone, or with his entire group? He had no guarantees, but was almost convinced that it would be the last option. He and Albert had nothing to say to each other, right?

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