by Janet Gover
He started the bike’s engine with a roar that set Jenny’s pulse racing. But that was nothing to the way her heart felt when, following Finn’s instructions, she swung onto the bike behind him.
‘Hold on to me.’
She slid her arms around his body, feeling the warmth of him.
‘Slide up close.’
She was pressed against his back. She hesitantly laid her cheek against the soft cloth of his T-shirt and inhaled. He smelled a little of engine fumes, and a lot of … of Finn.
‘Hold tight.’
She wanted nothing else in the world but to do just that. She hugged him a little tighter, and he caught his breath. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, I’ve just got a bit of a bruised rib.’
‘Oh my God. I’m sorry.’ She instantly let go.
‘No. No. It’s all right. Just don’t hug me quite so tightly.’
‘How did it happen?’
He shrugged. ‘I just tripped and fell into the corner of the grandstand. That’s all. My own stupid fault really.’
Gingerly she placed her arms around him again, holding a bit more gently this time. ‘Is that all right?’
‘Better than all right. Let’s go.’
The engine roared again and they were moving. Despite her best intentions, Jenny clutched Finn a lot tighter as they swerved between two caravans and onto a dirt path away from the sheds. The trees were flashing past, but all Jenny could think about was being here with Finn and how it was better than anything else in her life. They emerged into a clearing. Four old oil drums sat at the corners of the clearing, well worn paths between them. Finn turned the bike and began a series of circles and turns around the drums. It was exhilarating.
When finally he braked and turned the engine off, Jenny was breathing heavily, as if she had run a race. ‘That was amazing!’ she gasped.
Finn’s face was glowing. ‘You did really well hanging on. You went with me on the curves and everything.’
Jenny felt herself blushing in the face of his praise.
He started the engine again and, more slowly this time, headed towards the circus camp. They pulled into the shed and Jenny hopped off the back of the bike with the greatest reluctance. She looked at the iron cage—for that’s what it was: a dangerous cage—and realised that she was afraid for Finn. It seemed far too risky. But at the same time, her heart understood his need to break free. It was an echo of what she felt every time she walked down the main street of this dusty one-horse town. He might not be able to perform the tricks he wanted, but at least he hadn’t been stuck in the same place for what seemed like forever.
Finn wheeled his bike back and pulled the canvas over the Globe of Death. Then he absently picked up the juggling balls that he’d been fiddling with earlier. He tossed them with one hand, barely looking at them.
‘Finn?’
He came back to her without so much as faltering in his one-handed juggling.
‘Isn’t there any way you can convince your father to let you do what you want?’
‘Well … Dino reckons that if I find a way to incorporate the bike into my existing act, I might be able to.’
‘That’s a great idea.’ Jenny’s face lit up. ‘How are you going to do it?’
‘I’ll show you. Hang on.’
He lifted the bike onto its stand. ‘I’d have to secure it. Prop it up with something. A frame of some sort.’
‘I could hold it, if that would help.’
‘Okay, I’ve only just started thinking about this, so I’m not sure what I need. Definitely something under the front wheel.’
Some bits of timber he found in the corner of the shed solved that problem, then he led her towards the rear of the motorcycle.
‘Can you hold here, and here?’ He placed her hands where he wanted them at the back of the bike. For a few moments his hands held hers in place, and even in their excitement, it gave them a moment’s pause. They looked at each other. Jenny thought how lovely his grey-green eyes were when he was excited. They shone like gemstones.
‘Hold tight now.’
Finn resumed the riding position, both hands gripping the handlebars. With a sudden swift movement, he was crouched on the broad black leather seat, still holding the handlebars.
‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’ He didn’t look around. The bike had barely moved in her grasp.
Finn lifted his hands from the bars and slowly stood up on the seat. He spun around until he was looking down at Jenny. ‘If anything happens, you make sure you get out of the way, okay?’
She nodded.
‘I’m going to try a handstand first. Ready?’
He was asking her? He was the one doing the trick. She nodded wordlessly.
Finn shut his eyes and crouched slightly. She could feel him gathering his concentration. Then he placed his hands either side of the seat, his long fingers feeling for a safe purchase before he kicked up into a handstand. Jenny gripped the metal bike frame hard, but it hardly wobbled. His balance was perfect. He stood on his hands for what seemed a very long time, then lowered himself into a crouch on the seat.
‘Wow!’ was all she could say.
‘I think this might work—we’re on to something, I reckon,’ Finn said. ‘Give me a minute.’ He leaped lightly and gracefully to the ground and disappeared out the shed door, leaving Jenny standing there, holding a motorcycle.
She was starting to wonder what was happening when he returned, his arms full of brightly painted cylinders and planks and a couple of skateboards.
‘This is the stuff I use every day,’ he said. ‘Balancing and stuff. I thought …’ Instead of finishing the sentence, he laid a short, broad plank along the back of the bike, testing its stability with his hands. ‘That’s not too bad. Okay. Here I go again.’
This time, when he stood up on the bike, he was standing on the wood.
‘That’s better. Weight is more evenly distributed. So …’ He looked down at her. ‘Can you pass me up that cylinder? It’s okay. I’ll be fine.’
She let go of the bike and quickly did as he asked, before resuming her deathlike grip.
He seemed to forget Jenny was there as he spun the cylinder in his hands, testing its weight and balance even though he must already know it intimately. He carefully placed it across the board, then got Jenny to pass him a second board to balance on top of the cylinder. The cylinder and the top board wobbled. Jenny caught her breath, but Finn just nodded happily. He gripped the top board and stepped onto it. Then he let go and stood up. The cylinder rolled and Finn shifted his weight from side to side to find a point of balance. The motorcycle shook and Jenny gripped it even harder. Then the shaking stopped.
‘So far, so good,’ Finn said softly. ‘Jenny, can you pass me the skateboard now?’
She did as he asked, her heart in her mouth as she watched him step off the board and add an extra layer—a layer with wheels rolling back and forth on top of a board that was already rolling on a cylinder.
Finn barely seemed to notice as he once more stepped carefully onto the teetering pile. He spread his arms wide. The motorcycle seemed the most stable part of the whole thing, and Jenny let go just long enough to applaud.
Finn flung his arms wide in a dramatic gesture, then his eyes widened as he lost his balance. Jenny gave a little scream as Finn, the skateboard, cylinder and wood all tumbled to the hard ground.
‘Finn!’ She darted to his side and dropped to her knees. ‘Are you all right? Oh my God, I am so sorry. It was all my fault.’
His face broke into a grin. ‘No, it wasn’t your fault, silly. It was me. And I’m fine. That sort of thing happens all the time.’
‘Finn!’ The voice echoed with a mixture of anger and fear as Simon stepped through the doorway, Miss Walker at his side.
Finn scrambled to his feet. ‘I’m fine, Simon.’
‘Jenny.’ Her teacher’s voice had an edge of panic.
Jenny stood hastily. �
�I’m fine too. We were just trying a new trick, that’s all.’
‘Finn. You know the rules. Safety first at all times. You could have been hurt,’ Simon said. ‘Even worse, you could have hurt Jenny. I won’t allow that sort of risk. You know that.’
‘Sorry,’ Finn mumbled.
‘Jenny, I think we’d better go.’ Miss Walker pushed her gently towards the door.
Jenny struggled for a moment, then gave up and glanced over her shoulder. Finn was looking after her. He winked and she knew everything was fine with them, and their secret plan.
‘I won’t have it.’ Alice wasn’t one for stamping her foot. She didn’t have to—her voice did it for her. ‘I just will not have Jenny hanging around with those dreadful circus people.’
‘Now, Aunt Alice, there’s no harm done. It was the boy who fell, not Jenny.’ Barbara’s voice was little more than a whisper as she almost trotted to keep up with Aunt Alice, who was walking under a full head of steam.
‘This time, perhaps.’ Alice wasn’t in the mood to be placated, and certainly not by Barbara Harden. ‘But what about next time? And the time after that? And if not Jenny, then someone else who is foolish enough to get involved with some circus boy or girl. It’s just not right. They’re not our sort of people and I won’t tolerate it.’
‘They seem all right to me. Look at all the money they’re spending locally. That’s helpful. And there hasn’t been any trouble with any of them.’
‘Not yet.’
‘I know you don’t like them, but I don’t know what you can do about it.’
Alice stopped walking and looked at her companion. ‘Don’t you worry about that, Barbara. I’ve looked after this town for a long time; I’ll find a way to sort this out. And Peter agrees with me.’ She started off again in a purposeful fashion, Barbara following.
They hadn’t gone far when they spotted a group of girls chatting in excited voices on the next corner. As they drew closer, Alice saw they were looking up into the branches of a small stringy tree.
‘Girls, what is this all about?’
‘Hi, Mum. Aunt Alice.’ Jenny was obviously unaware that she was, temporarily at least, in Alice’s bad books. ‘Look. There’s a kitten stuck in the tree.’
Alice followed Jenny’s pointing finger. Sure enough, there was a small bundle of black and white fur clinging to a branch just out of the girl’s reach. It mewed pitifully.
‘Poor little thing,’ Jenny said. ‘We have to rescue it.’
‘How?’ one of her friends asked. ‘We can’t climb up there. The branches aren’t strong enough to hold us.’
‘If it got up there on its own, surely it can get down again,’ Barbara said.
Alice suspected she was right, but she wasn’t going to admit that. While the teenagers continued discussing what to do, a ute pulled up on the side of the road. Alice glanced at it and bristled as she saw the logo painted on the door.
‘Is everything all right?’ The man who had taken her pew in church got out of the cab.
‘Oh, hi, Simon.’ Jenny darted to his side, causing Alice to frown even more.
‘Hi, Jenny.’ The man looked at Alice. ‘Can I help here?’
‘Aunt Alice, this is Simon. From the circus. Simon, this is Aunt Alice.’
If he called her Aunt Alice, she would slap him for impertinence. ‘Of course. We didn’t quite meet officially at church. It’s a pleasure.’
Alice inclined her head graciously, only because good manners demanded it.
‘There’s a kitten stuck in the tree. We don’t know how to get it down.’
Simon looked up and smiled. ‘So there is. I think I can help.’
‘It’s too far up for you to reach.’
‘It is, Jenny, but we can try this.’ Simon crouched down. ‘Get onto my shoulders.’
‘What—’ Alice started forward.
‘Okay.’ Before Alice could do anything to stop her, Jenny was sitting on the man’s shoulders. He rose easily to his full height. ‘Now, do you think you will be able to reach it?’
‘I think so.’
‘Careful it doesn’t scratch you.’ Alice took a couple of steps back and waited, her lips pursed. She didn’t wish the poor kitten any harm, but she didn’t like the way Simon had taken over the situation. She didn’t like that he had so casually picked up her niece. And most of all, she didn’t like the way Jenny seemed to take his presence for granted, as if he belonged in Nyringa, which he most certainly did not.
‘Ow!’ Jenny flinched, but Simon didn’t move.
Alice took half a step forward. ‘See? I told you it would scratch you. Come down, you stupid girl.’
‘It’s all right, Aunt Alice. She’s just frightened. Come on, little one. Let me help you.’
This time Jenny took a firm hold and the terrified creature released its grip on the tree branch. Simon crouched to allow Jenny to get off his shoulder. In her hands was a tiny bundle of fur that was too tired and frightened to even struggle.
‘Oh, the poor thing.’ Jenny had obviously fallen in love. ‘It’s so tiny. And so sweet. I’m going to take it home and look after it.’
‘No, you’re not.’ At last Barbara joined the conversation. ‘You know your father is allergic. He won’t have a cat in the house.’
Jenny’s face fell. ‘But we can’t just abandon it.’
‘Maybe you should give it to Miss Walker?’ This was Simon again. ‘She’s new in town and might be a bit lonely. The kitten would be good company for her.’
Jenny’s face brightened. ‘What a good idea. Come on, let’s take it around to her place.’
‘I don’t think that’s going to work,’ Alice said in her sternest voice. ‘She may not stay in Nyringa long, so she probably doesn’t want the responsibility of a kitten.’
Jenny frowned. ‘What do you mean, she mightn’t stay long?’
Alice loved it when she knew more than everyone else did, and she made sure that was most of the time and about most things. ‘When she applied for the job, the parents’ association saw her employment record. She doesn’t stay anywhere very long. She’s had a different school every few months for the past year. So I wouldn’t get your hopes up that she’s going to stay here.’ Alice didn’t add the words ‘and good riddance’. But she felt them. They could do better than a teacher who would take a student on a visit to some outsiders’ camp without permission from her parents—or anyone else.
Simon had gone quiet. That was a bonus.
‘Give the creature to me.’ Alice pulled her cardigan off her shoulders and, as Jenny passed over the kitten, she wrapped it carefully and held it against her bosom.
‘I’ll take it home. It needs some peace and quiet. It has to have come from somewhere. It probably has a home. Ask around at school tomorrow, Jenny. And in the meantime, go to the store and get some cat food.’
‘Yes, Aunt Alice.’
Alice gave Simon the briefest nod. She had been raised with manners, but had no plan to encourage any friendships with the circus folk. Barbara started to follow her and Alice turned around.
‘For goodness’ sake, Barbara. I am perfectly capable of walking back to my house and settling a kitten without you looking over my shoulder.’
‘Of course, Aunt Alice.’ Barbara seemed relieved.
By the time Alice had walked home, the kitten was quite relaxed in her arms. It looked up at her with round green eyes and blinked a few times as Alice set it down in a wicker basket that had once held magazines. The cardigan could stay with the kitten; Alice didn’t particularly like it anyway. The kitten clawed the wool fabric gently and made little mewing noises.
‘I know you’re hungry. You’re simply going to have to wait until Jenny gets here with some cat food.’
The kitten mewed in response.
‘Talkative, aren’t you?’
Another mew, then the tiny creature curled itself into a ball and settled into its bed. Its claws slowly retracted as its eyes closed and it started to pu
rr ever so softly.
Alice watched it. Those tiny claws were sharp. If she was going to save her furniture, she needed to give the kitten a toy. She found some string in the second drawer of the sideboard, then paused, her fingers hovering near the curved metal handles of the top drawer. There was no dust in Alice’s house, but if there were, this is the place it would be, because this drawer was so rarely opened. After another long hesitation, Alice lifted the handle and pulled the drawer open. The photograph lying on top of a jumble of papers had faded over time, but her own face was still recognisable in the black and white image, at least to her. She had been so young and innocent when this photo was taken. Young, innocent and desperately in love with the boy standing next to her. His face wasn’t as clear in the photo as it used to be. But the pain had never really faded. Nothing hurts so badly as first love.
The largest sheet of paper was a cheaply printed pamphlet, advertising the day that Alice had never forgotten. The red and white tent drawn on that page had haunted her dreams for the longest time. During her marriage, she had hidden these things away, thinking she was done with the past. But now everything was coming back to threaten her once again.
The third object was a bundle of letters. Some of the ageing envelopes showed signs of much handling, of re-readings over many years. But one was plain and by comparison quite pristine. It had no stamp and no address and the letter it contained was the most heartbreaking thing of all.
She slammed the drawer shut and started rolling the string firmly into a kitten-sized ball. As she did, she looked down at the small face staring up at her from the basket.
‘Don’t look at me like that. You’re not staying.’
CHAPTER
16
The face that looked back at Lucienne from the mirror was old. There were lines around the green eyes that had once entranced the heir to a throne. Those eyes now simply reminded her of a loss so painful it sometimes made breathing hard.
‘I am sorry, chère Michelle.’ In her mind, she saw the twins as they had been: Simon and Michelle—both talented in the extreme. Her heirs and her legacy. She saw them under the glare of the spotlights as they swung above the admiring crowd. She heard every gasp as they flew without wings, performing feats that, in her day, had never been imagined. They had seemed like angels, up there in those lofty heights, sparkling with beauty and life and energy. Gods even, high above the earthbound mortals.
