Pieces of Us - Carrie Elks Page 0,74
for later. Talking of sharks, where’s the pleasure king?”
“Helping set up the stage.” Autumn nodded at the end of the pier, where a stage and rig rose up from the wooden planks, electrical leads trailing from the speakers and lighting equipment as the electricians deftly wired everything up. Behind, she could see the Ocean Explorer, lights wrapped around the railings, ready to be illuminated as darkness fell.
The pier was exactly as she’d pictured it all those weeks ago when she’d started making plans with Frank. A white flower garland was woven over the rails and around the buildings, and over-sized black and white canvases were fixed in front of them, depicting scenes from the pier throughout the ages. From the early days when bustled women and sharply dressed men walked along the planks just to be seen, to the days when a fleet of fishing boats launched from the end of the gangway, bringing back cratefuls of seafood to the town every evening.
One canvas showed the construction of Delmonico’s, Carla’s proud great-grandad standing in front of the half-built restaurant, his arms crossed proudly in front of his chest, his sleeves rolled up, and his straw boater perched over his dark hair.
Another showed a huge crowd lined up for the first sailing of the Ocean Explorer. A small boy stood by the captain, a huge grin on his face.
“Oh my god, is that Griff?” Lydia asked as she leaned in to take a closer look.
“Yeah. Though he tried to deny it when I showed him.”
Lydia laughed. “There’s no denying that dark hair, or that smile. I can’t believe he was ever that small.” She gave Autumn a sideways glance. “He’s very cute. Maybe your kids will look like that.”
Autumn shook her head at Lydia’s jibe. “Come and look at the rides,” she said, pulling at her sister’s hand. “They’re a lot of fun.”
They’d only managed to fit a few fairground rides onto the pier, thanks to the space restrictions and safety requirements. But she’d chosen them carefully, smiling that she’d found an old fashioned fairground company to supply them.
Her favorite was the red and white helter skelter, which stood proudly at the center, rising like a lighthouse as it overlooked the ocean. A bright red slide circled around it, spiraling to the bottom where a large cushioned landing area would catch the slipperiest of children.
Then there was the carousel, piped music already echoing out of the speakers as the owner gave it a test run. The horses were beautifully painted, each one with a different expression, hair flowing from their manes as they rose up and down in circles.
For the more brave-at-heart there was a wooden rollercoaster. At the top, the owner reassured her, the riders would feel like they were about to be launched into the ocean, only to dip and careen downward toward the pier, making them scream and laugh as they enjoyed the view.
“I love it all,” Lydia declared, clapping her hands. “And all these actors look fabulous.”
People dressed in old fashioned clothes were weaving in and out of the rides. The women wore their hair in intricate updos, and carried pale umbrellas to protect their skin from the sun. The men wore bow ties and straw boaters, which they lifted up to greet Autumn and Lydia as they passed by.
“They’re from the local amateur dramatic society,” Autumn said, smiling as she saw Frank Megassey perfectly dressed in Edwardian attire. “They’re donating their time for free.”
“Good day to you, young miss,” Frank boomed out, taking Autumn’s hand and lifting it to his lips. “What fine weather we have for such a wonderful event. Pray tell, is there anything you need assistance with?”
Autumn swallowed her amusement at his old fashioned language. “No, I think we have it all covered. We’re due to open in a half an hour. Maybe you can help cut the ribbon then?”
“It would be my pleasure, ma’am.” Frank doffed his hat to them, then walked jauntily up the pier, swinging the white-painted cane he was holding in his right hand.
“Is he English?” Lydia whispered into Autumn’s ear.
“No. I’ve no idea why he’s talking like that. Maybe he thinks it makes him more authentic.”
“He’s like a weird cross between Charlie Chaplin and Dick Van Dyke.”
“You should tell him that,” Autumn said, shielding her eyes as she looked around. “He’ll take it as a compliment.”
“Sure. Hey, Frank, wait up!” Lydia shot her sister a grin then ran off, reaching Frank within moments, leaving Autumn alone by the