Saffron & Bruno and the trip to the fair!

Saffron lay on her bed, Bruno cwtched in the crook of her arm, and she was lost in a world of rabbits.  The book she was reading told the tale of a brave bunch of bunnies trying to find themselves a new home.  Her eyes were burning bright as fire as she swam in the story.  She was so caught up in her rabbits’ tale that Saffron failed to notice the noise coming from up above her.  When eventually she did, it took a moment for her to realise that the noise wasn’t the regular noise of walking through walls practice; it was an “ahem” noise and a “Saffron” noise and an “excuse me” noise.  Saffron looked up.  Andrew was floating through the ceiling and smiling.

“I didn’t really want to get any louder,” he said, “ you looked so engrossed in your book, it was such a delight to see.”  He smiled even wider.

“Sorry, Andrew,” said Saffron, “it’s just such a good book, I was completely in another world.”

“Well,” said Andrew, “now that I have your attention; would you like to have a look through your window?  I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by what you can see outside.”  Saffron dropped her book on her bed.  She hopped across the room to the window and took a look out.  The evening was drawing in and the multi-coloured light-bulbs of a ferris wheel arched through the air, fairy lights twinkled and drifted in the breeze, colourful stalls were being erected and cuddly toys and inflatable hammers and crocodiles were everywhere in the hustle and bustle.

“Is that a fairground?”  She asked, a note of joy in her voice. 

“It most certainly is,” Andrew replied.

“Yippee!  A fairground!  Right in the fields across from our house!”  Saffron exclaimed, “How lucky are we, Bruno?”  She asked her frog and danced him around the room.

“I thought you’d like it.”  Said Andrew, and he disappeared back up to the attic.  Carrying Bruno with her, Saffron hurried up to the attic too.

The Sixteen Stephens were gathered at the attic window.  There was a buzz of conversation surrounding the sixteen ghosts.  A buzz of conversation measuring ten out of ten on the “we’re-very-excited-there’s-a-fairground-out-there-o-meter”!  There were a smattering of ooohs and aaahs and lots of finger pointing.  All at once, a sharp intake of breath from one of the host brought the Sixteen Stephens to silence.  One ghostly hand raised and pointed a ghostly finger through the window toward a very specific area of the fairground.  A spectral figure zoomed forward, completely forgetting, in all their excitement, that they had not yet learned how to walk through walls … or windows.  BUMP!

“Ouch!”  Went Stephen Number Eight.  He ignored the redness of his sore nose and pressed up against the glass.  He smiled.  The smile grew. The smile reached from ear to ear.  In fact, the smile very nearly wrapped itself all the way around his head and back again to the front.

“What are you looking at?”  Asked Stephen Number Four.

“Candyfloss,” said Stephen Number Eight, and then he slurped.  He slurped the biggest slurp Saffron had ever heard.  The biggest, noisiest, slurpiest of slurps!  And then the rest of the Sixteen Stephens were cheering, careering and arm-in-arm jigging around the attic, all were wearing party-hats, some popping party-poppers and some blowing out kazoos and tiny toy trumpets.  There was confetti and streamers and a big banner that said “CANDYFLOSS!” in large, fluorescent pink lettering.  Then, they were all back at the window, staring at the candyfloss stall.

“I wonder when it opens?”  Asked an extremely curious Stephen Number Eight.

“I’ll go and ask Mum,” said Saffron, and she left the drooling Sixteen Stephens and chuckling Andrew to go and find out.

*

All day, all the way through school, the only conversation anyone seemed to be having was the one about the fairground.  Pupils and teachers alike were alive with excitement about how much fun they were going to be having that evening when the fairground opened for business.  Mr Dressing had been boasting about how may coconuts he was going to win at the coconut shy, Rachel had been buzzing about the waltzers, because it makes you so dizzy, and the ferris wheel, because it gets up so high, and the ghost train, because it was so scary!

“Huh!” interrupted Agatha Bartholomew, “Scary!?  Hah!”

“Hur hur,” said Agatha Bartholomew’s round friend.  Rachel poked her tongue out at the two bullies and Saffron turned her back on them.  The girls carried on giggling and getting ever-so-het-up about the fun they were going to have later that evening.

Saffron carried that excitement with her all the way home, all the way through tea, all the way up to the attic to collect the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew, and all the way to the fairground and a night out to remember.  She waved to her parents and ran over to where Rachel was waiting by the waltzers.  The two girls grinned big grins and almost tickled each other in greeting.

“What shall we do first?”  Asked Saffron.  Rachel pointed.

“The waltzers, please,” Rachel replied with glee, “ I love the waltzers so much, I just know I am going to go on them about twenty times tonight!”  Saffron laughed, “And I know I’m going to be so sick!”  Saffron laughed again.  The two girls joined the queue.   Moments later they were in their seats.  The car shifted and twirled as they waited for the ride to start.  Rachel was incapable of speech.  She was smiling and squeaking in anticipation.  The music started and the ride began to turn.  Faster and faster the waltzers went.  The car span lazily as momentum took hold.  It allowed the girls their first “woooooah!” of the ride!  The ride span faster still.  One of the ride workers came over to the girls and span their car.  Saffron and Rachel shrieked as they slid from one end to the other.  They could feel themselves being pulled along and everything was becoming a blur.  The car span round and round.  The girls loved it.  The ride went faster, the louder they screamed!

They stepped off the waltzers dizzy and elated.  Saffron’s laughter was made all the harder for seeing the state of the Sixteen Stephens.  Andrew had sensibly sat out the ride on the waltzers but the Sixteen Stephens had not been so clever.  Fourteen of the sixteen were various tinges of green, four of whom had little yellow and blue birds flying around their heads.  Stephen Number Ten had a manic grin on his face and was twirling his custard pie with a lot more vim and vigour, and Stephen Number Eight had spent the ride with his eyes out for the quickest way to get to the candyfloss stall.

“What next?”  Saffron asked.

“Um….” Went Rachel as she looked around and tried to make up her mind, “…what about the carousel?”

“Great!” Said Saffron and off the girls sped.  The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew rushed to keep up.  They were mostly looking their healthy white-as-a-sheet selves and one of them was doing a fine giraffe impression, stretching his neck to see any hint of candyfloss.

The carousel, by contrast to the waltzers, was a lovely, sedate ride.  Throughout, Saffron could hear approving comments coming from all around her.

“Oh, this is much more like it.”

“This is a much more appropriate level of fun.”
“I’m enjoying this ride because it is adequately quick, but not too quick and not too not quick, for it to be fun.”  Saffron laughed.  The Sixteen Stephens definitely had a way with words.

After the carousel, Saffron and Rachel went on the twister, the helter-skelter and the pirate ship.  Each was met with less, then slightly more, then much less enthusiasm from the increasingly green about the gills Sixteen Stephens.

“I didn’t realise that having so much fun meant feeling quite so ill!”  Said Stephen Number One.

“People are funny,” agreed Stephen Number Fifteen, “apparently, if you aren’t a bit sick on yourself it isn’t a good night out!”  The ghosts groaned as the girls leapt in excitement and headed off to the next ride.  The groans turned to cheers when they saw the girls were heading not for a ride but instead for a sweet treat.

“Is that what I think it is?”  Asked Stephen Number Eight.  The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew hurried after Saffron and Rachel.  The fairground had arranged a space where all the food stalls were set up next to one another.  There was a fish and chips stall, a stall serving cold drinks and hot dogs, a stall serving hamburgers and hot drinks and the candyfloss stall.  Stephen Number Eight slurped the big slurp once again.

“I’m going in,” he said.

Saffron, the remaining Fifteen Stephens, and Andrew watched in growing amazement and with increasingly gaping jaws.  They were watching Stephen Number Eight engaging in not Mission Impossible so much as Mission Imflossible!

Stephen Number Eight flopped down on to the floor and crawled forward.  He sidled sideways and slid under the fish and chip stall.  His eyes peeped out and glanced from right to left.  He slipped back out and commando rolled to the side of the hamburger stall.  He quickly poked his head around the corner to judge the distance between him and the candyfloss stall and then ducked back.  All around her, Saffron could hear a low rhythmic tune coming from the mouths of the fifteen other Stephens.

“Duh, duh, duh-duh; duh, duh, duh-duh…”  They could see Stephen Number Eight speaking to himself.  It appeared to the rest of the ghosts and Saffron that he was counting.  The group counted with him.  They hit five and off Stephen Number Eight went.  He was up and rushing across to the metal container that contained the pink gold. 

“He does realise he can just float over and help himself, doesn’t he?”  Said Stephen Number Twelve, “He is a ghost.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”  Admonished Andrew, “Look!”  The fifteen of the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew and Saffron stared opened eyed and opened mouthed.  Stephen Number Eight leapt, adopted the pike position, did a triple forward roll and dove straight into the floss making machine.  Round and round he span, mouth open and increasingly pink.  There was a howl of delight from the spinning Stephen Number Eight.  He looked like he was in a peculiar kind of washing machine!  The heads of the other ghosts moved round and round in time with the spinning Stephen Number Eight.  Something was happening to him.  He was growing unable to move and scoop up any candyfloss in his mouth.  He was growing larger and larger.  All at once, Stephen Number Eight was wedged in the candyfloss machine and he was pink, and flossy.  Stephens Number Twelve and Fifteen rushed forward and pulled him free.  Candyfloss draped and dragged behind him and Stephen Number Eight worked furiously to drag it in and stuff it in his mouth!

Rachel came back from the hot dog stall and wondered what Saffron was giggling about.  The vendors of the candyfloss stall were trying to work out where all their candyfloss had gone.

*

The ferris wheel had been fun, although it did get a little wearing after a while when all Saffron could hear was, “Ooh, I can see our house from up here!” sixteen times in a row, and with every revolution of the wheel.

As the girls approached the dodgems and voice came from behind them.  It was a voice they weren’t particularly pleased to hear.

“Come on, I love the dodgems,” said the voice of Agatha Bartholomew, “I can really get stuck into some of the losers from school on there.”

“Hur hur,” went her round friend.

“Oh, no,” said Saffron, “Agatha Bartholomew!”

“Hmm,” went Rachel, “Let’s just ignore her and carry on having fun.”  The girls paid their money and took their place in their bumper car.  The music started and off they went.  Some of their other friends from school were on the ride too.  Everyone was laughing and shrieking as the cars bumped up against one another.  There were cries of “We’re going to get you!” and “Catch us if you can!”  Saffron was steering and Rachel was accelerating.  Everyone was having so much fun.  CRUNCH!  Agatha Bartholomew smashed her dodgem into the back of the car Saffron was driving.  The two girls jerked forward.

“Hey!”  They shouted.

“Get outta the way then!”  Shouted Agatha Bartholomew.

“Hur hur,” went her round friend.  Saffron and Rachel tried to steer their car away from the bullies but every time they turned Agatha Bartholomew was able to bash them.  Saffron and Rachel found themselves boxed in to a corner.  Agatha Bartholomew gave a sinister chuckle and reversed her car back up.  She snarled and hit the accelerator.  Saffron and Rachel closed their eyes and prepared for the impact.  The impact never came.  Saffron opened her eyes.  Agatha Bartholomew was pumping the accelerator in her car but she wasn’t moving forward.  Her car was thrashing about but not moving forward.

“What’s going on!?”  She shouted.  Her round friend shrugged, perplexed.  Rachel was really confused.  Saffron, however, was not.  Behind Agatha Bartholomew’s car was Andrew and he was effortlessly holding the car still.  He gave Saffron a wink.  She drove her car back out and re-joined the fun.  Agatha Bartholomew snapped and wailed as her car slowly slid into a corner and would not move, no matter what she tried.  Saffron and Rachel laughed and enjoyed getting back into dodgem fun with their other school-friends.  Agatha Bartholomew climbed out of her bumper car, gave it a kick and stormed off.

*

The girls walked around the fairground.  The lights and the noise washed over them.  They had to shout to make themselves heard.  They had pretty much not stopped laughing all night.  In fact, pretty much everybody at the fair had not stopped laughing and having fun all night – well, except for one or two, of course.  Everything was right again.  The candyfloss stall had got themselves back up and running.  Saffron and Rachel each held a bag of pink candyfloss and munched as they walked.

“It’s getting late,” said Saffron.

“Yes,” said Rachel, “Time for one more ride, don’t you think?”
“I do think,” said Saffron, nodding her head.  “But, I don’t think we should go on the waltzers again.  Three times is enough for one evening.”
“Are you sure?”  Asked Rachel in an ironic tone.  She laughed.  “I know, we haven’t been on the ghost train, yet!”
“Of course!”  Agreed Saffron, “ That’s a terrific idea!”  Off the girls went.  Behind them the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew followed on.  Stephen Number Eight seemed, somehow, to be a brighter pink than ever!

The ghost train was set up right at the back of the fairground.  The area around the ride was quite dark and the owners of the ride had only set up green, blue and purple lights to add to the feeling of spookiness.  The sound system for the ride played out lots of screams and creaking doors and demonic laughter, this filled the air as you queued to take you turn.  Saffron and Rachel were pointing at the pictures of ghosts and monsters that decorated the front of the ride.  Saffron was laughing at the pictures of the ghosts the most, as, of course, she now knew exactly what a ghost looked like – well, her seventeen ghosts at least.  All of who were now in the line behind her and all terribly excited about going on the ghost train.

“I’ve never been on a train specifically for ghosts, before,” said Stephen Number Seven.

“Me neither,” said Stephen Number Eleven, “ I do hope it’s a steam train.  I’ve always wanted to go on one of those.”
“Nah,” said Stephen Number Three, “I reckon it’s going to be one of them Intercity 125s, the ones that go at one hundred and twenty five!”

“One hundred and twenty five what?”  Asked Stephen Number Eleven, a little confused.

“I don’t know,” said Stephen Number Three, “but they go at one hundred and twenty five of them!”  Saffron could not help giggling at the silliness.  Then there was another voice behind them.  One they could quite happily have done without.

“Well, this better be scary, otherwise I’m going to be demanding my money back!”  Announced Agatha Bartholomew, all still in a huff from the dodgems.

“Yur, yur!”  Said her round friend.

“This is the stupidest fairground I’ve ever been to, and this ride had better make up for it or there’s just going to be trouble!”  Agatha Bartholomew was in a foul mood.

“Yur, yur!”  Said her round friend.  Saffron listened and then tutted.  Agatha Bartholomew was really spoiling a fun night out.

Saffron and Rachel took their seats in the train car.  She could hear the “budge ups!” and “Make room for a small one!” coming from behind and knew the Sixteen Stephens were coming along for the ride too.  The train began to move forward.  It went through some doors and into darkness.  It was, in fact, pitch black the moment the car went through the doors.  The darkness was accompanied by an echoing, sinister laughter and the sound of a gate slamming shut behind the car and locking.  It was so dark and disorientating, Saffron and Rachel reached out to each other to make sure they were still both together.

“I can’t see a thing!”  Exclaimed Saffron.

“Me neither!”  Agreed Rachel.

“Nor us!”  Shouted the Sixteen Stephens.

“Bother,” said Stephen Number Sixteen, “I seem to have left my torch back in the attic.”  It was so dark you couldn’t even see the pink glow that was coming off Stephen Number Eight; and he was so preoccupied with licking the sugary goodness of himself he completely did not realise he could not see!  More puffs of air touched the side of Saffron’s face.  She jumped in surprised, as did Rachel when the currents of air tricked her too.  The girls yelped in fright and laughed.  They held each other’s hands tightly.  Luminous spiders dropped down in front of them, vampire bats swished too and fro in front of the car and then all around it.  The swish of the wings and the shrieking bat-calls were unnerving.  The train took the girls around a corner and into a dead end.  Low green lighting began to fill the air.  The wall in front of the train car began to shake and crumble.  It smashed to pieces and through the hole came a snarling werewolf-like creature, all gnashing mouth and crazy eyes!  The girls shrieked again, as the car reversed away and turned to get back on track.  Back in the darkness and surrounded by echoing screams and macabre growling, the car moved forward.  The girls screamed louder than ever when the car drove through a nest of cobwebs, they could feel the stringy sticky mess covering their hair and faces.  The screams turned to squeals of delight when they realised the cobwebs were a candyfloss type creation and tasted delicious.

“I’m just popping back for some more,” Saffron heard Stephen Number Eight say.  As the girls were getting the cobwebs out of their hair (and into their mouths), they were blinded by a bright white light, then a strobe effect meant they could just about see vampires and mummies and Frankenstein monsters and zombies and banshees sweeping around them.  The noise rose to a horrendous cacophony and then the car and the whole building began to shake.  The car shot forward, the place went dark again and the girls screeched as they were sprayed with luminous silly string.  The doors to the ride opened and there they were, back at the beginning.  Stephen Number Eight just made it out as the doors closed.  He was licking his fingers and to his immense pleasure was basically still pink.

The two girls jumped out of their car and giggled and double-checked to make sure they’d got all the candyfloss cobweb out off themselves.  They walked down from the ghost train jabbering away about which bit had been the best bit, and that there weren’t really scared but were actually sacred a little bit, without a doubt!  As they chattered away, the doors to the ride opened again and there, sat stony still and stony silent were Agatha Bartholomew and her round friend.  They were covered in cobweb and silly string and silence.  Their car pulled to a halt and, silently, they both got out.  Saffron and Rachel turned, drawn to the two bullies by the vacuum of silence they’d created around themselves.  It was like a black-hole for fun.  It wasn’t just Saffron and Rachel who went quiet.  All the other fairground goers had gone quiet and watched the two grumpy girls as they dismounted and came down from their train car.  They watched as the two of them walked over to the ticket booth for the ride.  They watched as the complaining started.

“That,” said Agatha Bartholomew, “was the least scary ghost train I have ever been on!”

“Yur, yur,” said her round friend.

“I have got a kitten at my house who are scarier than that ghost train!”

“Hur, hur!”

“The darkness wasn’t dark enough.  The lighting wasn’t spooky enough,” Agatha Bartholomew counted her complaints on the fingers of her hands, “The monsters were not monstery enough.  The werewolf coming through the wall wasn’t surprising enough.  The cobwebs are a disgusting taste and the silly string is silly!”

“Hur, yur!”  Said her round friend.  The owner of the ghost train groaned.  This grumpy girl was giving all the surprises away.  He didn’t quite know what to say to quieten Agatha Bartholomew down.

“And now I am covered in stupid string and stupid cobwebs and I am minded to go to the manager of the fairground and complain!”

“Yur, hur!”  The owner of the ride was flabbergasted and stunned into silence.  Saffron decided to step forward.

“Excuse me,” she said, “Could I suggest that this customer and her friend receive a free ride on your ghost train by way of compensation for their complaint?”

“Huh?”  Said the ride owner.

“Huh?”  Said Agatha Bartholomew.

“Hur?”  Said her round friend.

“Yes,” Saffron continued, “I suggest they both have another turn, and if they are not scared this time, they can go to the manager and complain all they like and get a full refund!”

“Whu?”  Said the ride owner.  Agatha Bartholomew and her round friend smiled smug smiles.  They could not believe anyone would be so stupid as to fall for their pretending not to have had fun on the ride.  Just before they came back out at the end of the ride, the two of them had agreed to pretend that they weren’t scared and to pretend that the ride had been boring.  A free go was more than they could ever have wished for.

“I think Stupid Saffron is right,” said Agatha Bartholomew, “We’ll take our free go, and you’d better hope we get scared this time, otherwise we’ll definitely be wanting our money back!

“Yur!”  Said her round friend.  Dumbfounded, the owner of the ride nodded his agreement.  Saffron gave him a wink and followed the two bullies up to the ghost train.  Agatha Bartholomew and her round friend had big smiles on their faces when they sat in their train car.

“Make sure you’re buckled in properly,” said Saffron, smiling.

“Get lost Stupid Saffron,” said Agatha Bartholomew, “But, thanks for the free ride, though.”

“Hur, hur,” laughed her round friend.

“Just remember,” Saffron said sweetly, “The louder you scream, the faster the ride.”  And she gave them a wink, too.  The ghost train started.

It was dark.

“Remember,” said Agatha Bartholomew, “really try and see where that candyfloss cobweb comes from.  We need to try and get as much as we can this time.”

“Hur, hur, ok,” said her round friend.

“Ok,” said a smiling Andrew, “I’ll try.”

“Huh?”  Said Agatha Bartholomew, but before she could look across to see who had spoken, the car dropped down and kept dropping.  Agatha Bartholomew and her round friend’s stomachs were up in their ears!  The car fell and plummeted and fell and descended and fell!
“AAAAHHHHHHH!”  Screamed to two bullies.  Before they knew what was happening, the car was racing along the track.  The luminous spiders and puffs of air were gone.  All the two bullies could hear were the shrieks and growls of ghostly apparitions, none of which they could remember from the first time around.  In amongst all the noise came a faint voice, “Will you all stop twirling around and making that racket?  I can’t get a clear shot with this pie!”  The two girls couldn’t quite make sense of what they heard.  They weren’t given the chance to.  The car started to rise and spin and twist and turn.  At every side came a ghostly apparition, right up to within an inch of each of the girls’ faces and every time they were met with a “Boo!”  At each instance, the smiles of the ghosts were becoming more and more ghostly and more and more creepy.  Agatha Bartholomew and her round friend held on to each other tightly.

“Are you scared yet?”  Asked a voice at their side.  They turned to see Andrew smiling at them.  He blew out a puff of air and its ice-cold weight caressed their cheeks, turning them blue with cold and giving them goosebumps.

“AAAAAHHHHHHH!” Screamed the girls, once again, and then they held on tighter as the car sped forward, heading right towards the dead end brick wall.  Faster and faster the car went, louder and louder the screams were.  Just as it seemed they were going to smash through the wall, the car came to a halt and Agatha Bartholomew and her round friend pressed against their seat belts, losing their breath and going red about the cheeks.  They felt hands tapping them on their shoulders.  Every time they turned to look and see, there was nothing there…except in one instance a hint of pink.  Back in front of them, the wall began to creak.  Brick by brick it began to collapse.  The low, teeth-grinding sound of stone on stone crawled up the backs of their necks.  Their eyes widened and their screams stopped in their mouths.  Gravity took hold and the wall collapsed.  Stephen Number Six appeared, dressed like a bus conductor – a spooky one – and said, “Tickets, please.”  Automatically, Agatha Bartholomew’s round friend reached for her pockets.  “Oh, silly me,” Stephen Number Six continued, “You don’t have tickets for this ride, do you?  This one was for free.”  And he laughed a manic laugh.  The girls sped backwards, the crazy figure of Stephen Number Six fading in the darkness.  They crashed forward once again.  This time, the strobe lighting picked out cobwebs and also picked out Sixteen Stephens and an Andrew and all manner of custard pies.
“Food fight,” whispered Stephen Number Ten right into the girls’ ears, and the pies flew.  It wasn’t so much a fight as a one sided pieing!  Agatha Bartholomew and her round friend were indistinguishable from the train car.  Bits of piecrust and globs of custard covered the two girls.  Then came the silly string.

Outside the ghost train, the noise of the two girls screaming was one of the best adverts for the ride the owner had ever had.  He was all smiles as the queue grew longer and longer.  The chatter of the crowd hushed, however, when the doors to the ride opened and the custard encrusted, silly string smothered duo came out.  The hush remained as the girls descended from the ride and walked purposefully but slowly away.

“Did you enjoy the free ride?”  Asked Saffron with sudden volume, making both girls jump.  They said nothing.  They just kept walking.

“There you go,” Saffron said to the ride owner, “all sorted.  I doubt you’ll get any more complaints from those two.”  In the distance, one custard covered girl turned to another custard covered girl and said;

“Why was one of them pink?”  Saffron laughed, and so did the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew.  Andrew gave a click of his fingers and the custard disappeared, as did the memories of the falling and the twisting and the turning and the ever-so-creepy smiles and the “tickets please” but not the thought of never, ever, complaining again about ghost trains.

“What happened to those two?”  Asked Rachel.

“I think they got a bit more than they asked for,” said Saffron.  She took her friend by the hand and led her back into the heart of the fairground.  The lights, the music, the atmosphere was infectious and they knew they’d had a wonderful night.  Mr Dressing walked past them smiling and carrying an armful of coconuts.  Saffron’s parents saw her and gave her a signal that said she only had five more minutes before home time.

“Come on,” she said, seemingly to Rachel but just as much to the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew who were waiting besides them, “One last go on the helter skelter and then some more candyfloss before we leave!”  The girls rushed off toward the gigantic slide.  The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew rushed after them.  Stephen Number Eight could be heard to say that, yes, he just about had enough room for a little bit extra candyfloss before the night was done… or words, you can imagine, to that effect.