Close to Home

by Janet Gover

  ‘Hello, Aunt Alice.’

  Alice ignored the girl and focused on Jenny. ‘What’s going on here?’

  ‘This is Paolo. He’s from the circus. He was showing us how to juggle.’

  Paolo looked to be in his early twenties. He was slender and casually dressed in jeans and a tight T-shirt that emphasised the muscles in his shoulders and arms. His hair was dark and flopped over his forehead in a way that Alice just knew would appeal to the girls around the town. Girls like Jenny and Kate. She really didn’t like the way they were looking at him. Paolo smiled at Alice, but the smile faded a little when it wasn’t returned.

  ‘Jenny, you should know better than to talk to strange men on the street.’

  ‘But, Aunt Alice, he’s not—’

  ‘And you are teaching your cousin to do the same. The whole world is not like Nyringa. Not everyone can be trusted the way the people here can.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I won’t hear any more. You all should be doing something useful. And you.’ She didn’t try to hide the rancour in her voice as she pointed at the juggler. ‘You need to be on your way back to your own people.’

  He shrugged in a manner that suggested this wasn’t the first time he’d been told that, then turned away. Little Davey waved at him, but the wave was not returned. Alice noticed Billy Grady at the edge of the group. He was scowling. Good. At least that boy had some sense. She would speak to his mother the next chance she got. Maybe hers was another voice she could add to her campaign.

  ‘Aunt Alice!’ Jenny sounded horrified. ‘That was rude.’

  ‘He’s not one of us, Jenny. And he won’t be here long, so I don’t see why you or anyone else should get involved with them.’

  ‘But they seem nice,’ Jenny insisted.

  ‘Nice? I’m sure they seem nice. That’s their job, isn’t it, as carnie people? To seem nice and then trick us into giving them money? Or worse. They can’t be trusted.’

  ‘They’re not like that,’ Jenny said. ‘They’re kind. They’re even coming to school to teach us about circuses. Miss Walker promised she would arrange it. And they’re doing that for free.’

  ‘Really?’ That was not something Alice had anticipated. Nor was it something she wanted, but it was not too late to put a stop to it. ‘I shall go and have a word with Miss Walker.’ Alice set off in the direction of the school, Jenny walking in silence slightly behind her.

  Alice found the teacher sitting on a bench in the school grounds, in the shade of a tree. She and the primary school teacher were poring over some paperwork and they stood up as Alice approached.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Dwyer. It’s nice to see you. Please have a seat.’

  ‘I am perfectly happy standing, thank you. I just wanted a word with you about this plan to have the circus people in the school.’

  ‘Yes. The students are very keen, Aunt Alice. It’s going to be …’ Anna’s voice trailed off at a withering glance from Alice.

  ‘I spoke to Simon from the circus this morning,’ Meg said quickly. ‘He seemed to think it was a good idea. He was sure—’

  ‘I won’t have it.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘I don’t want those circus people coming into the school.’

  ‘Why not, if I may ask?’

  ‘Well, you don’t know who they are. They could be criminals. Perverts.’

  Alice heard Jenny gasp at that. Well, she wasn’t a little girl any more. It was time she started growing up a bit.

  ‘I’m sure that’s not the case.’ Meg spoke very slowly. ‘And I can assure you they will be supervised.’

  ‘They can’t be trusted. They are a threat to our kids.’

  Something about the teacher’s demeanour changed as Alice spoke. To Alice, she looked upset, possibly even frightened. But the look lasted for just a few seconds, and when Meg spoke, Alice could hear the anger that had replaced it.

  ‘With all due respect, Mrs Dwyer, I hope you are not implying that I would allow harm to come to the children. Because I would never, ever allow a child in my care to be placed in danger or to come to harm.’

  Alice’s small flicker of guilt was not enough to make her back down on something that meant this much to her. ‘My apologies. Of course you wouldn’t, but you might not be able to prevent it. Some things just get away from us.’

  ‘Mrs Dwyer, thank you for your concern; however, I can assure you it will be fine. And while I am principal here, I will guide the school in the way I see fit. Now if you will excuse me, I have papers to mark.’

  At their first meeting, Alice had thought the teacher seemed quite timid, almost afraid of the whole world. But she’d stood up for herself this time and Alice appreciated that. She just wished it had been about something different.

  She glanced at Jenny, who was looking after her teacher with admiration on her face. ‘Come on, Jennifer. You may walk me home.’

  ‘Why don’t you like the circus people?’ Jenny asked quietly as they walked away.

  ‘Because they are dangerous, with their freewheeling lifestyle and their smooth ways. If we don’t watch out, someone in this town is going to get hurt by them.’

  Lucienne stood with her eyes closed and felt the circus envelop her: the sounds; the smells; that special air of excitement and creativity and wonder. Even after a lifetime on the road, there was still magic all around her. The circus was the very best of everything and she could feel her tired body drawing energy from the thing she loved most in the world.

  ‘Lucienne? Are you all right?’

  Of course Simon was watching over her. She opened her eyes. ‘I am fine, chéri. Just enjoying the feeling of home.’

  The bare paddock around the big sheds had been transformed. Caravans and trucks and motor homes of various shapes, sizes and ages had shaped three sides of a square. During the season, the fourth side of that square would be the big top—the public entrance to their special world. There was no need for that, not here, but circus folk are creatures of habit. Although the big top remained packed on its transport, the fourth side would be used for nothing else.

  Outside, the vans, tables and chairs had been set up, and a few people were relaxing with a drink or something to read. The circus was on holidays, and no-one was working today. There would be more than enough work to keep everyone busy in the month ahead. But in any job, there are always some who find it hard to take a day off and above, two women were swinging on the newly constructed practice trapeze. They hung by their knees as they swung over the big safety net. They slowly increased the speed and arc of their swing, then, with a swift, sure movement, changed their grip on the trapeze bars so they were hanging by their hands. At the apex of the next arc each let go and seemed to hover for a few seconds, before twisting their bodies to switch places, completing the steady swing in the opposite direction.

  Lucienne felt the tension gather in Simon’s body. She understood. She too could barely stand to watch the women as they performed moves that seemed so easy, but were not. She knew that in both their minds, there was another young woman up there on that trapeze. The ghost of a lost loved one.

  ‘You have to stop blaming yourself, mon cher.’

  Simon remained silent.

  ‘She loved flying with you. The trapeze was her gift and her life. She would have done it without you if you’d tried to stop her. She would have hated doing it alone, but she would have done it.’

  ‘I know …’

  ‘It was not your fault. You were lucky to survive.’

  ‘There are times it doesn’t feel lucky.’ Beside her, Simon raised himself onto his toes, stretched and lifted one leg in a basic acrobatic move. He got halfway there, and then the weight-bearing leg started to fold. He staggered as he fought to keep his feet.

  ‘Give yourself time, chéri. It will take time to heal.’

  ‘No, Grand-mère. Some things never heal.’

  She placed her hand on his arm, her delicate fingers and wrinkled skin looking fragil
e against the strength of his body. His heart was also strong. She knew that he would recover. ‘They do if you let them. We have lost our belle Michelle. Your sister. My granddaughter. We feel her loss every day. This is how it should be because we loved her. But we should not stop living because she has left us. That is not what she would want.’

  Simon didn’t reply.

  ‘Now, we must talk to Ron about next year. He has never done a full schedule before as ringmaster. I am still not certain that he is the right person for that role. You should be ringmaster, Simon.’

  ‘No. I should be here with you, resting until my leg heals.’

  It was an excuse; Lucienne knew it and she suspected Simon did too. He was born to the circus just as his sister had been, and would never be truly happy without it. But she couldn’t tell him that. One day, he would get past his guilt. The day he stopped blaming himself was the day she would know that he was going to be all right.

  ‘Just give me a minute to get some accounts from the house,’ Simon said. ‘There are a few things about the last couple of months that I want to check with Ron. Some discrepancies. Nothing too serious, but we may as well get it all done at once. I’ll meet you at his van.’

  The door to Ron’s van was open. As Lucienne approached, she heard angry voices.

  ‘I will not have it, you hear me, boy? You’re an acrobat and that’s all you’ll ever be. You’re just not good enough. You have a job here because of me, for no other reason.’

  ‘I can be something more. Look at Connor. He’s—’

  The boy’s words were abruptly cut off and Lucienne heard a dull thud from inside the caravan.

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you? I never want to hear that name again.’

  ‘He left because of you. And what about Mum? She left because of you too, didn’t she?’

  Finn’s voice rose and, to Lucienne, he suddenly sounded very young and vulnerable.

  ‘Why do you do that? Are you trying to make me angry? Don’t defy me, boy. You know what will happen.’

  There was a crash inside the van and seconds later a figure appeared in the doorway. Finn glanced at Lucienne, standing near the foot of the stairs, then leaped to the ground. Lucienne caught what might have been the glint of tears on his face as he walked away, tall and angry, but still a boy of sixteen.

  Lucienne waited a couple of moments to give Ron time to compose himself, then called his name.

  Ron appeared in the doorway. His face was flushed and she noticed he was clenching and unclenching one hand as if it hurt. As if he had just hit something. When she stepped into the van, she saw a broken coffee mug on the floor. She looked at Ron and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Please excuse Finn, Madame.’ Ron guided her to a chair and then cleared away the broken cup.

  ‘He looked very angry, your boy.’

  ‘He’ll get over it. He has this crazy idea of …’ Ron caught himself and paused to take a deep breath. ‘It’s nothing for you to bother yourself with, Madame. I am ringmaster. I will sort it out.’

  ‘But perhaps it would be good for Finn to try something different. You cannot wrap your children in cotton wool forever. They will stretch their wings. And if this is where his heart truly lies …’

  ‘No. I will not have him defy me. Not while I am ringmaster of this circus.’

  Lucienne didn’t like the harshness of Ron’s tone, nor the anger still painted on his face. It was a father’s task to raise his son, but Lucienne was beginning to wonder if perhaps she had been too absent from the circus. Ron’s role as a father she could not rightly question. His job as ringmaster was another matter.

  She heard footsteps outside as Simon arrived to join their meeting. She would talk to him about Ron later, in private. For now, she settled herself to study the account ledgers and maps that Simon was spreading on the table.

  CHAPTER

  12

  His dad was a bully. And a dinosaur. Full of old-fashioned ideas and out-of-date theories. He wouldn’t know a modern circus act if it drove right over the top of him. And he was never ever going to stop treating Finn like a child. For God’s sake, Finn was sixteen. He was practically an adult, but not in his father’s eyes. As far as Ron was concerned, he was still a kid. Ron was never going to let him become his own person, and he was never going to stop raising his fist. Finn heaved on the spanner but the rusty nut didn’t give way. A bit of WD-40 would fix that. Sadly nothing was going to fix his father. Ever. He was who and what he was, and he was just getting worse.

  ‘He’ll never change his mind about the act,’ Finn muttered as he gave the unmoving nut a liberal dose of rust remover. He glared at it for a few seconds. His father had set him to maintenance tasks on the tiered seating. There was nothing wrong with the seating—his father was punishing him. Since he’d become ringmaster, he’d been worse than ever. Finn flexed his stiff shoulder and applied himself once more to the offending nut. This time, it gave way. He tossed the nut and bolt into a bucket and started work on the next one. Finn was an acrobat, and a good one, but that wasn’t enough. He could and would be so much more. It was all right for his father, he was in charge, just as he always wanted, while Finn was one of the buffoons who made people laugh, or kept the audience occupied while the crew set up for the real stars. The only way he was ever going to get to do what he wanted was to move to another circus. The motorcycle act was his ticket out of here. A better act. A better life. A life without his father and without fear.

  ‘Finn. Have you seen this?’ Dino, the younger of the Mancini brothers, strolled up, an iPad in one hand.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It might get the bike idea past your father.’

  The three motorcycles parked inside the shed belonged to Dino and his brother. As the Fearless Mancini Brothers, their act was one of the highlights of the circus. They rode in the famous Globe of Death, the one thing Finn wanted to do more than anything else in the world. The thing his father was determined to stop him ever trying. Dino had recently bought a new bike, and had no further use for his older one. That old bike had circled the Globe of Death hundreds, thousands of times without a single accident, and Finn wanted to buy it. He’d saved most of the money, but his father was having none of it. Dino was on Finn’s side, and more than happy to lend him the old bike and help him practise in the hope of one day changing Ron’s mind. But time was limited; when the circus moved on, Dino was going to sell the bike, if not to Finn, then to someone else. He had to. Like most performers, he was working to a tight budget.

  Finn took the iPad from Dino’s outstretched hand and looked at the frozen image on the screen. It was a circus performer on a motorcycle. Frowning, Finn hit play and watched as the rider first circled the ring, then performed a series of acrobatic warm-ups, while in the background, two men fixed a platform on the back of the bike. The performer moved to the bike in a seamless flow of movements until he was standing on it. An assistant handed up a chair, which he placed on the small platform. This was followed by another, and then another, which he carefully stacked, climbing up the precarious pile until he was well above the motorcycle, where he bent and gripped the top chair and lifted himself into a handstand. It was the sort of act Finn had seen a hundred times before, often in the mirror as he practised. But—

  ‘On the back of a motorbike?’

  ‘Yeah. Isn’t that cool? That’s just a start. You could build a whole act from it. Maybe that would help your dad get used to the idea of you on a bike.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘You could maybe do something with the aerialists. Get them starting their lift from the bike. Or do something like Madame used to do on the horses in the old days.’

  Dino might have something there. ‘Yeah. Maybe. Thanks, man.’

  ‘No worries. What do you reckon we put in some practice? Paolo’s off somewhere with his girlfriend. I could use you.’

  Finn didn’t need asking twice. He’d be in trouble if his father found out what he was doing
instead of maintenance on the grandstand seats, but his father didn’t have to find out. He tossed the spanner aside.

  About two hundred metres from the house was a cleared area set aside for the motorcycle act to practise. Several poles had been placed carefully to mark the practice ring. It seemed a very small area to contain two speeding motorcycles. There was already a path in the shape of a cross formed by the brothers during the past couple of days. Daily practice was a must for all the performers, but none more so than for a motorcycle act that required split-second timing.

  ‘We’ll start with crossovers,’ Dino said. ‘Remember what I said—watch your speed. It’s all about timing and—’

  ‘Listening to the engine. I know.’ Finn pulled on his helmet. Immediately he felt different. The world seemed to contract as the helmet muffled all sound except for the roar of first his and then Dino’s engines. He circled back to his starting point, holding with one foot on the ground as Dino did the same. He watched Dino’s head—one … two … three … As Dino nodded, Finn twisted the throttle. The engine sound doubled as the bike jumped forward. The two machines crossed at right angles and as he reached the opposite post, Finn braked, dropped one foot to the ground and hit the throttle hard. His bike spun out, the back wheel sliding around him until he was again facing the way he’d come. Dino had done the same and this time, as they headed for the centre of the ring, they increased speed. Three times they repeated the manoeuvre, each time increasing their speed and decreasing the gap between the two motorcycles as they crossed. Finn’s whole world now was the roar of the engines, the smell of the fumes and the feeling of power that he only had when he was doing this.