Chapter one
The trumpets’ sounded and the noise of the audience died away too an excited hush. The mixed scent of candyfloss and animals permeated the air. The canvas, surrounding the crowd, flapped quietly in the breeze. All around was darkness, broken only by the insensitive glow of the occasional cellphone, but no one cared. The children were on the edge of their seats, the adults’ attention drawn between the darkened ring and the look of exited wonderment on their child’s face. The sounds of the trumpets’ became urgent, building to a crescendo, but were then silenced by the stabbing beam of the spotlight, piercing the darkness and shining down from high above. The booming voice echoed in the bleachers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls… Welcome… too the Big Show”
The crowd erupted into applause as the Ringmaster stepped into the small circle of light with a swish of his red satin cape. Carnival music, piped through the speakers placed above the wooden bleachers, adding to the atmosphere. A child started crying.
“Tonight, we have a veritable feast of entertainment, brought to you from far and wide… You will gaze in wonderment at the exotic creatures…, laugh in merriment along with the Jesters…, and gasp in awe at the daring exploits of the trapeze artists… So…, for now…”
The Ringmaster stood in the dead centre of the spotlight, surrounded by his darkened audience, arms held wide, revelling in the moment. The carnival music died away, leaving silence. No one dared speak.
‘Ooh-Gah’, the sound of the old-fashioned car horn broke the hushed anticipation. The Ringmaster gestured towards the noise with another swish of his cape.
“Send in the clowns…”
The ring lit up with flashing lights, the music returned in frenzy, and a child size car ambled onto the sawdust-covered circle in the middle of the Big Top. Four colourful heads with painted smiles swayed back and forth, as the little car careered around in figures of eight. The old horn was blaring out its merriment and the Clowns clung on for dear life.
The Ringmaster stayed where he was, watching the clown car with practised amusement. The Clowns were shooting water guns into the crowd as they moved around the ring, the noise of the small 50cc engine drowned by the squeals of delight thrown out from the darkness. One of the Clowns fell off his precarious seat, rolling head over heels, as the little car turned sharply. The other Clowns laughed silently at him and made their escape as fast as they could. The stricken Clown tripped over his large shoes and rolled again as he gave chase to his callous chums. The laughter from the crowd grew, the music played on.
Outside the tent and unseen, restless animals stomped irritably in their cages, waiting for their turn in the spotlight. The generators placed under their cages that provided power to the concession booths, belched diesel fumes, adding to their confined agitation. Further away, on the roadside, silent objectors stood motionless, their faces anonymous behind masks. The silent protest vigil ignored by the majority, only there for the spectacle and not the morality. Back inside the tent lithe bodies dressed in tight sparkling spandex climbed rope ladders into the darkness above.
The Clowns tired of their amusement and tried soaking the Ringmaster with a bucket of water, the children loved it. “Away with you… we have no time for your shenanigans” The Ringmaster brushed off the Clowns with another swish of his cape, and they retreated with mock admonishment like chastised schoolboys. The Ringmaster went back to his audience, “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls… please turn your attention skyward and prepare yourself to be amazed.”
The lights turned up, illuminating a muscular man and a petite but strong woman standing high on wooden platforms either side of the ring. They were looking at each other across the darkness between them, a seemingly impossible gap. A slight nod of their heads, a trust passed between them, the crowd fell silent again. The dull thud of a drum bounced like a heartbeat around the bleachers, slowly building intensity, the crowd stamping their feet in approval. The drums stopped and the man swung out across the ring, thirty feet in the air. The crowd drew breath as he dropped from his perch and expertly caught the cross bar with his knees, swinging back towards his side, upside down. Carnival music returned to the bleachers.
Holding her own swing, the woman leapt gracefully from her platform on the opposite side and then swung towards the now returning male. It was a practiced move, delivered for the audience hundreds of times. It was a simple jump and catch, no need for a net… She let go with confidence.
The crowds’ collective breath held… There was no meeting of hands, no strong arms to grab her and take her to safety. She was tumbling in front of the shocked audience, watched by the male as he swung away helplessly. A child screamed…
The sparkly spandex clad woman landed with a dull thud at the feet of the stunned Ringmaster and then lay still. The carnival music played on…
Wasted Lives, a Detective Mike Bridger novel Page 37
