Switchback Fair

Flashback!

Deep underground in an abandoned salt mine, Agent Sapphire took her place behind a perfect replica of a Switchback Fair stall. The cavern was otherwise empty. She waited.

A flicker of movement in her peripheral vision…

‘Nice day today, isn’t it?’

A customer had dropped from the ceiling. Agent Sapphire was ready. Months of training would see her through.

‘Oh, it’s lovely, isn’t it?’ she replied.

‘I might go down to the stream later, have a little paddle,’ said the customer.

Agent Sapphire executed a perfect double somersault over the stall and pinned the customer to the ground.

‘What do you know about the stream?‘ she barked, slapping the customer repeatedly about the face.

Another figure rushed out of the shadows to intervene.

‘No no no!’ he said. ‘That’s not the way you deal with customers! Cadet Sapphire, report back to barracks. You’re going back to basic training.’

End of flashback!

Deep in the heart of Switchback Fair, Agent Sapphire was setting out a real stall for the first time. She felt calm. Her training had not prepared her for light drizzle, but she felt calm. Deep breaths.

‘That’s summer over for this year then!’

Burt von Jam had wandered over from his own stall.

‘Oh, it’s – I mean, yes, typical, isn’t it?’ said Agent Sapphire, her heart racing.

‘Burt von Jam, pleased to meet you.’

Agent Sapphire gave her false name and they shook hands.

‘I trust you’re settling in without too much trouble,’ said Burt von Jam. ‘Any problems, you call me, OK? And we hold a meeting of the Stall Holders’ Association every Wednesday lunchtime. When it’s nicer weather than today we go down to the stream and have a picnic. Do join us, won’t you – er – are you all right?’

Agent Sapphire was bracing herself against the stall, gasping for air.

‘Picnic – lovely,’ she managed.

‘You look like you could do with a nice bit of jam,’ said Burt von Jam.

‘I’m fully trained to eat jam,’ murmured Agent Sapphire.

‘That’s marvellous!’ said Burt von Jam. ‘I was thinking of instituting a training programme myself. The way the younger generation eat their jam today, with their hoodies on, typing out “I’m eating jam” on Twitter at the same time, I just don’t know what to make of it – ‘

In the sewers beneath the fair, Agent Sapphire hunted for her prey like an unhygienic shark. Her GPS tracker indicated that the first target was near.

‘Turn – right – at the intersection, second exit,’ it said.

Agent Sapphire peered through the murk.

‘That’s not right, it’s straight on!’ she shouted at the tracker. ‘If this is another dead end, I’ll leave you here for the rats to eat.’

‘After – thirty – yards, you have reached your destination,’ said the tracker hurriedly.

‘I hope so, for your sake,’ said Agent Sapphire.

After thirty yards, she reached her destination and pulled out a state-of-the-art bugging device. She attached it to the roof of the sewer tunnel and switched it on. A green light blinked at her.

‘How refreshing not to have back chat from a gadget,’ she muttered in the tracker’s direction.

A second green light appeared on the bug.

‘Hello!’ said the bug cheerily. ‘It looks like you’re trying to bug someone. Would you like to run the espionage wizard?’

‘No!’ said Agent Sapphire. ‘Shut up, you stupid machine!’

The second light turned red, and flashed.

‘I was only offering to help,’ said the bug. ‘Was there any need to throw it back in my face like that? I get it, you’re too smart to need a hand from the likes of me. That doesn’t mean you can be rude. You’ve got a real attitude problem, young lady.’

The second light turned green again.

‘Have you finished?’ said Agent Sapphire.

‘Are you ready to say sorry?’ said the bug, both lights flashing.

‘Fine!’ said Agent Sapphire. ‘I’m sorry! OK? You’re a valued member of the team. Now start recording or I’ll fix you to the bottom of the tunnel. The reception’s just as good down there.’

A third green light hastily appeared. Agent Sapphire put on a pair of headphones, tensing at the possibility of another synthesised voice, but to her relief she heard only the sound of people above her.

‘Fancy a cuppa, Nora?’

‘Ooh, that’d be lovely, Kev. I think I’ve got some biscuits somewhere.’

‘Jim’s got ‘em, I think.’

‘Oh look, he’s asleep at the wheel again. Wake up Jim! Tea’s brewed.’

Agent Sapphire took off her headphones and pulled out a radio.

‘Aladdin, this is Sapphire, over.’

‘Sapphire, report,’ crackled the reply.

‘Security lodge objective complete, moving on.’

‘Roger that, Sapphire.’

The first light on the bug winked off.

‘You’re off, then,’ it said.

‘Not a moment too soon,’ said Agent Sapphire.

‘You … you won’t forget me, will you?’ said the bug. ‘It’s so dark in here … and cold … and the smell!’

‘Forget you?’ said Agent Sapphire. ‘I’m going to have nightmares about you. I’ll be back to get you in a few weeks, all right? Hang on in there.’

‘My cousin gets to live in a wall socket, you know. Lucky sod,’ said the bug, as Agent Sapphire disappeared along the tunnel.

At the second target, Agent Sapphire pulled out a manual and made sure the bug was in silent mode before she switched it on.

‘Jam, jam, jam,’ said the voice in her headphones. ‘Jam, jam, jam jam jam.’

‘Industrial target located,’ said Agent Sapphire into the radio. ‘Moving on.’

The final target was several hundred yards further on. Agent Sapphire, already caked with sewage from her journey, finally misstepped and fell into the stream. The last bug flew out of her hand and smashed against the side of the tunnel, where it turned itself on.

‘If you dare say anything…’ said Agent Sapphire.

She picked the bug up and stuck it on the ceiling. Grimacing, she put the sewage-covered headphones back on. The signal was as clear as ever.

‘It’s imperative that we maintain our information advantage. So what I propose is to send an agent into the sewer system at Barnaby Fair, and place these fancy new bugs under strategic locations. What do you think?’

‘Quack!’

Agent Sapphire switched the radio back on.

‘I’ve got Fip,’ she said. ‘I’m out of here. And next time, it’s Agent Emerald’s turn to get the sewer assignment, OK?’

Burt von Jam looked nervously at his revenues for the last financial year.

‘Latvia’s dead,’ he muttered.

‘I told you no good would come of it!’ said Mrs von Jam.

‘The wholesale trade has collapsed, too. Chinese industrial jam demand is down 35% this year.’

He paced up and down the kitchen, financial summary in one hand, ladle in the other.

‘Is there a future in jam?’ he said.

‘How can you say that?’ said Mrs von Jam. ‘Your family have been making tolerable profits from jam for generations. Do you really want to be the last in the line?’

But before Burt could answer, another voice came from the table.

‘Jam!’

‘What was that?’ said Burt von Jam.

‘Jam! Jam!’

‘Is that you, Apricot?!’

‘Jam!’

‘She’s said her first word!’ said Mrs von Jam.

Apricot von Jam beamed to her audience, while taking the opportunity to bring forward her plans to flick a big dollop of jam onto the floor.

‘You’re right, of course,’ said Burt.

‘What do you mean?’ said Mrs von Jam.

‘I can’t fail the future. If I surrender our jam heritage over one bad year, how will I ever be able to look Apricot in the eye again?’

And with that he moved over to kiss Apricot, but slipped on the jam slick and fell flat on his back.

‘Looks like she’s a master of slapstick as well as speech,’ said Mrs von Jam.

‘This is all very symbolic, but it would be nice if you could help me up,’ said Burt.