Zelda let go. She pushed her wheels a little forward and then back again. “People only see my chair, or a woman who looks like a bloody walnut. In my head, I’m still a young woman. My body just lets things down.”
Martha bit her bottom lip. When she was younger, she’d had her fair share of wolf whistles, and men had admired her face and figure. She found love with Joe. But when she started to look after her parents, she seemed to fade out of sight. She was no longer Martha in her own right, but Thomas and Betty’s caring daughter. Her pretty, colorful exterior faded like a magazine left in the sun. “I still see you in a skirt with a crazy cat print. I see you squeezing into caves and digging in the sand to find Australia,” she said.
“You do?” Zelda’s eyes grew glassy.
Martha nodded. She worked her tongue around her teeth. If she did something that her nana wanted to do, it might make her more willing to talk. “Now, where do you want to go?” she asked.
“This way.” Zelda wheeled forward, expertly avoiding people’s feet. “Beep, beep. Dalek coming through,” she called out.
They reached the carousel where wooden white ponies wore shiny red saddles and black leather reins. Their carved golden manes and tails seemed to flow in the wind as they bobbed up and down on twisted poles to the sound of organ music. Zelda halted her chair at the metal barrier. “Isn’t it the most glorious thing you’ve ever seen?”
Martha nodded. Despite her nana’s exaggeration, it really was magnificent.
“I can’t see the horses properly. Help me out.” Zelda wrestled off her blanket. She folded it roughly, then pushed herself up out of the wheelchair. Martha grabbed her arm and helped her to her feet. The ride slowed to a halt and laughter filled the air as people filed past on their way off. “Do you want to go on?” Zelda asked.
Martha laughed at the absurdity of her question. “It’s for kids, not us.”
“It’s for anyone.” Zelda looked around. “I don’t see a sign to say adults aren’t allowed.”
“It’s a long time since I went on a carousel.”
“They’re easy. All you have to do is sit down.”
The last time she’d been on one, Martha shared a horse with Joe. She sat up front with him behind her. They’d got lost in the music and sounds as he nuzzled the back of her neck. When they got off, a woman told them off for making out in front of her kids.
If Martha concentrated, she could still feel his breath on the back of her neck and the warmth of his arms around her waist. Thinking about him made her feel a bit drunk. “Gina said no rides,” she muttered.
“She would say that.” Zelda raised her hand and beckoned over one of the fairground workers. “Can you help me onto a horse?”
“Sure can.” The man’s biceps were almost the same width as Zelda’s waist. He was dressed all in black and his goatee beard looked like it was painted on. He wrapped his arm around her and shouted, “Hoopla,” as he helped to hoist her up.
“Now, Daisy,” the man said into the horse’s ear. “You look after this young lady.” He took money from Zelda and patted the horse’s rear end. “Do you want a leg up, too?” he asked Martha.
“No thank you, very much.” She tried to hold her skirt down as she clambered into the saddle.
“Giddyup,” Zelda shouted and shook her reins.
Martha cheeks glowed with embarrassment. She looked around her but no one else seemed to notice, or care, that two mature ladies were about to ride on the carousel.
The circular platform started to rotate and Martha’s horse rose and fell. His name was embossed on his collar. Dobbin. “Well then, Dobbin,” she whispered. “Zelda really wants to do this. Then I’ll ask my questions.”
“Yahoo,” Zelda shouted and lassoed her hand in the air as the ride grew faster. And Martha couldn’t help smiling.
Round and round they went and Martha couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. When she got off her legs shook.
“What do you recommend next?” Zelda asked the goatee-bearded man.
“The Tornado is pretty crazy.” He grinned. “Though I think you could handle it.”
“No.” Martha shook her head. “No. No. NO.”
The Tornado was a red-and-blue metal construction that looked like handwriting in the sky. It was thirty feet high with two loops in the rail. Passengers were secured in by harnesses that slid down over their heads, so their legs could dangle freely.
“We’re not going on there.” Martha gulped. Nausea swept over her when she saw the carriages turn upside down and heard the people scream. “Let’s go somewhere else. Somewhere more—”
“Sensible?” Zelda interjected. “Where you can question the life out of me?”
Martha hitched her handbag farther up her shoulder. “You must have things to ask me, too. Don’t you want to tell me about what happened, all those years ago?”
Zelda readjusted her headscarf, taking a long time. She didn’t speak.
Martha waited as the Tornado carriages shot past her, the screeches assaulting her ears. She raised her voice above the noise. “I want to know why you left Sandshift.”
Zelda twisted her head. She raised her hands to her ears. “Sorry. I can’t hear you.”
Martha closed her eyes, took a deep breath and held it in her lungs. She waited until the carriages rattled and swerved away. She moved closer to her nana and bent over so her mouth was near her ear. “Don’t you want to know about Thomas and Betty? About me and Lilian, and how we all coped without you? We loved you, Nana...”
Zelda patted her headscarf. She took hold of her wheels and spun them, almost running over Martha’s foot as she rolled away. “It’s much too noisy to talk here,” she said. “Let’s find another ride.”
Martha grimaced as she watched the back of her chair. Gritting her teeth, she strode after her. Peppering her nana with questions wasn’t working and she needed something to make her more amenable. After discounting the Waltzer and the fun house, her eyes settled on the ghost train. “Would you like to go on that?” she pointed.
Zelda gave a small, satisfied smile. “Okay. That looks ah-mazing.”
A giant skull’s eyes glowed tomato red and its jaw opened and closed, baring broken teeth. Kazoo-like noises and the screeches of passengers sounded when the wooden doors swung open. The carriages featured vampire heads, grinning and baring bloodied fangs.
Zelda parked up her chair again and hoisted herself out of it. They stood behind three men who wore white vest tops. “Do you want to go on before us, ladies?” one of them asked. He had a red devil tattoo on his left shoulder.
“That’s okay. You go—” Martha started to say.
“That’s very kind, gentlemen.” Zelda beamed and squeezed past them, to the front of the queue.
When they sat down in their carriage, Martha tugged at the strap to make sure they were fastened in securely.
The ride started off reassuringly slow. The carriage rattled along the track towards two swing doors. Then they were plunged into darkness. A neon-yellow tunnel rotated and their carriage seemed to rise sideways up the wall. Disorientated, Martha shut her eyes until they jerked around a corner.
Three skeletons rode bicycles around a gravestone, and a man lurched forward in his electric chair before the power supply dial on his chair revved up to full power. With a crackle, he slumped back, his head lolling to the side. Martha tightened her grip on the bar as the carriage veered tightly around a sharp bend and out into the daylight. The people in the carriage in front screamed and dipped out of sight. Martha and Zelda’s own carriage slowed, allowing a glimpse of the oncoming drop.
“Brace yourself,” Zelda shouted.
Martha did as she was told. “Argh.” The plunge made her teeth chatter and she nipped the end of her tongue. Zelda’s laugh bellowed, and Martha found that she was laughing uncontrollably, too, even though she didn’t want to.