Zarconi’s Magic Flying Fish

by Kirsty Murray

  For a moment, their eyes met, like blue flints striking each other, before Doc turned his gaze back to the road. Gus stared at the black bitumen stretching ahead of them.

  ‘Is it much further?’ he asked.

  ‘Not much. We’re set up just the other side of Enfield. Been a good run – nearly a week now – but we’re heading west tomorrow. We’re not a city circus. We’ll be in WA by the end of the month, working the coast road – out bush, where we belong. You’ll be in the swing of things by then.’

  ‘Not if I can help it,’ muttered Gus.

  ‘What was that? Speak up, boy.’

  ‘Nothing. I didn’t say anything.’

  The truck bounced along Main North Road, and turned down a narrower street. The houses gave way to an industrial estate and then Gus saw some flags poking up over the top of a flat-roofed factory.

  The circus tent was pitched in a field beside a parking lot. It wasn’t very big – not at all what Gus had expected. Its faded canvas had yellow stars painted on a green backdrop. A handful of trucks and caravans and motorhomes were scattered around it, and a girl with long dark hair was doing handstands in the dry grass while a small dog leapt around her, barking.

  Doc stopped the truck next to the longest caravan. It looked sad and battered. A sign in black hung on the door: ‘ALL ENQUIRIES HERE’.

  Gus climbed down slowly and stood beside the truck. Doc pulled the caravan’s screen door open and called out to someone inside. Gus turned his back and watched the girl kicking her legs up into the air.

  ‘Augustus!’ called a woman’s voice.

  Gus looked around. The woman standing next to his grandfather was as tiny as he was huge. She held one hand out towards him.

  ‘I’m your grandmother, Augustus,’ she said. ‘Come on. You don’t need to be shy. I don’t bite.’

  Gus walked towards her, thinking she didn’t look like anyone’s granny. She had on a green cotton dress and a pair of riding boots. Her hair was red – but not a real red – and her face was thin and fierce. Gus couldn’t work out how she managed to look sad and angry at the same time.

  ‘Everyone calls me Gus,’ he said.

  ‘Everyone calls me Nance,’ she countered. ‘And so can you.’

  She looked at him straight as she spoke, with sharp green eyes – like an animal’s. He’d thought all grannies had white hair and were plump and cuddly-looking – like Pete’s granny, who made ‘spiders’ to drink with big dollops of icecream in them, and handed out lollies from a little jar on her mantelpiece; but Nance didn’t look like that was her style at all. He had a vague idea that he should want to hug her or something like that but all he could think to do was put his hands in his pockets and look at the dust on the toes of his new shoes.

  ‘Have you had any breakfast yet?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, come on over to the caravan and I’ll feed you.’

  Gus started to follow, but his grandfather clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Hang on there, boy. Haven’t you forgotten something?’ He reached up into the truck and grabbed Gus’s bag.

  ‘Here,’ he said, thrusting the knapsack against Gus’s chest. ‘Everyone around here has to pull their own weight. No slackers in this circus.’

  Gus sat at a little table in his grandparents’ caravan and ate the honey toast Nance put in front of him. A hot, dry wind blew in through the open door. Outside, the dogs all started barking at once as a noisy truck passed the circus camp on its way to the nearby factories. Nance made tea for all of them and Doc sat down on a couch that was built into the side of one wall and stretched out his long legs.

  Gus chewed his toast and looked around him. He’d never seen such a compact living space. Every centimetre of the walls was covered with photographs, every surface was cluttered with stuff – piles of paper, tins, notebooks, bits of junk, a hammer, a bell, a vase of plastic flowers. You couldn’t even see what colour the walls were, there was so little of it free. Everywhere you turned, there was something different to look at.

  The caravan was twice as long as any he’d ever seen. At one end was a kitchen, separated from the dining area by a long bench. Above the bench a silver and yellow cockatiel was sitting in a cage, watching Gus with sharp, bright eyes.

  ‘Silly bugger,’ it cawed.

  There were cupboards and drawers everywhere, set into every seat and wall. At the end of the room was a little passage, also lined with cupboards, that led to another part of the caravan. Gus didn’t want to seem nosy so he tried not to crane his neck and stare but he found it hard to focus on his grandparents.

  ‘Now, let’s sort a few things out, boy,’ said Doc O’Brien.

  ‘Gus,’ said Gus, ‘My name’s Gus.’

  Doc nodded and leant forward in his seat.

  ‘Zarconi’s is a family circus. In our show – whether you’re blood or not – everyone is family and this circus looks after its own. We’re happy for you to be with us and we’ll take care of you ’til your mum comes to get you. You’ve got sawdust in your veins whether she likes it or not and you’ll get the swing of how we do things pretty quick, but you gotta understand that this is a working place, and now you’re here, you’ll have to work too. We can’t carry dead wood – you’ve got to pull your weight. Understood?’

  Gus didn’t really understand what sort of work Doc was talking about, but he nodded anyway and took another bite of his toast. As far as he could make out, he was stuck here until his mum came to get him and he would have to make the best of it.

  4

  SNAKE-GIRL AND OTHER ANIMALS

  The door of the caravan never stayed shut for more than a minute. People kept looking in to ask a question, collect something or just call ‘Good morning’. No one noticed Gus any more than they noticed Lulu, the cockatiel that screeched ‘Silly bugger’ every time the door opened. Then a tall silver-haired man came in and started fixing himself a cup of coffee.

  ‘Ah, this must be our newest clown,’ he said with a thick accent.

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Gus, his mouth open in surprise.

  ‘Better shut that,’ Nance interjected. ‘You’ll catch a few flies leaving it open like that.’ She tapped Gus on the chin and he shut his mouth so quickly his teeth clacked together. ‘This is Augustus, Annie’s boy.’

  ‘Gus, my name’s Gus,’ he muttered.

  ‘Right you are,’ said Nance. ‘This is Vytas.’

  ‘Very charmed to meet you,’ said Vytas. His long white hair was brushed back into a ponytail but his face, though weathered, was strangely unlined. He took Gus’s hand and held it between both his own. His dark eyes held Gus firmly in their gaze. There were little gold flecks in his irises.

  ‘We will be great friends, little Gus,’ he said and Gus nodded in reply. ‘You must come and visit me.’ He turned Gus around and pointed out the smallest motorhome on the site.

  ‘My humble abode,’ he said. ‘My door will always be open to you. I am sure there is much we could discuss. I have many stories to tell that would interest you.’

  ‘Vytas…’ began Nance, her voice full of threat.

  ‘I am a creature of utmost discretion,’ he replied.

  Nance pursed her lips and looked cross but when she took in Gus’s bewildered expression she suddenly smiled. For an instant she reminded Gus of his mother – something about the way two little dimples formed on her right cheek and her eyes became like laughing crescents.

  ‘Right you are, Vytas,’ she said.

  ‘Madam,’ he replied with a flourish and left the caravan, but he winked at Gus as he climbed down the steps.

  ‘He’s full of old rubbish, that Vytas. Don’t you listen to him too much,’ said Nance.

  ‘Is he Zarconi?’ asked Gus.

  Doc and Nance both let out a shout of laughter and Gus blushed.

  ‘Well who is Zarconi?’ he muttered.

  ‘I am,’ said Doc.

  ‘I thought you were called O’Brien,�
�� said Gus.

  ‘Back round the turn of the century, when your great-great-grandfather was running this show, he called himself Alberto Zarconi. No one wanted to go and see another Irishman – the east coast was crawling with Irish showmen – so old Mick O’Brien, he cooked up Zarconi as his stage name.

  ‘A lot of circus folk changed their names in those days. Con Colleano, the most famous Aussie wire-walker ever, his real name was Sullivan. His dad was Irish and his mum was Aboriginal, but it didn’t pay to own up to it. The best circus performers were all meant to be Italian – seemed exotic.

  ‘You’re fifth-generation circus and as Irish as the shamrock, on your mother’s side anyway,’ said Doc, nodding at Gus as if he were almost proud of him.

  ‘What about my dad? Was he Irish too?’ asked Gus.

  Doc and Nance looked at each other and said nothing. Gus knew he’d dropped a clanger. He looked at his plate and crushed the last of his toast crumbs with his thumb. Suddenly, Doc slammed his hand down on the laminex tabletop.

  ‘We can’t sit here yabbering all day,’ he said crossly, getting to his feet. ‘Nance will find somewhere for you to put your things – she’s the boss of this caravan like I’m the tent boss. I’ve got to check on Kali. Didn’t like the look of her last night.’ Doc slammed the caravan door behind him.

  ‘Who’s Kali? Is she my auntie or something?’ asked Gus.

  Nance snorted and clapped her hand over her mouth as she choked on her tea. When she’d recovered, she said, ‘You go and find out for yourself. I’ve got things to do – can’t have you underfoot all day. See that little girl out there, you ask her to show you around. That’s Effie. She’ll set you straight about things around here. She’s eleven, same as you. Best little acrobat I’ve seen in years. Better than your mother, and that’s saying something.’

  ‘My mum! My mum was an acrobat? What sort of an acrobat?’

  ‘Don’t bother me with more questions,’ said Nance, suddenly clamming up. ‘That’s her – up there in that photo. Now just get yourself outside for a while. Go on.’

  Gus barely had time to glimpse the photo that hung near the ceiling above the couch. It showed a dazzling pink figure flying across a dark background, her body arched, her arms outstretched to catch something.

  The caravan door banged shut behind him. He lifted one hand to shield his eyes from the blinding sunlight. He felt dizzy and confused. He wanted to have a room he could go to – like at home. Somewhere quiet. He shut his eyes and made a picture in his head of his bedroom, the Chinese paper lanterns on the mantelpiece, his Star Wars posters, the glow-in-the-dark stars that his mum had stuck on the ceiling. He remembered the feel of the sheets against his cheek. He thought of his mum bending over him to tuck him up and a feeling in his chest that was halfway between a sneeze and a stab made him shiver.

  The dark-haired girl had stopped practising handstands and was watching Gus. Suddenly, she spun around and disappeared behind the big top. Gus chased after her. A small black and white dog shot out from under a caravan and snapped at his heels, catching his sock with its small sharp teeth.

  ‘Here, get out of it!’ He kicked at the dog.

  ‘Don’t you kick Buster like that,’ said the girl.

  ‘Well, make him stop.’

  ‘Buster!’ she said, snapping her fingers. The little terrier instantly stopped barking and trotted over to her. When she held out her hands, he leapt up into her arms.

  She stood there stroking the dog and staring smugly at Gus.

  ‘I’m Effie.’

  ‘I know. I’m Gus.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘My grandmother said you’d show me around. My grandfather’s gone off to see Kali. Whoever she is.’

  ‘Who do you think she is?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said with irritation. ‘I don’t know who anyone around here is. No one tells me anything. She could be my long-lost sister for all I know.’

  Effie made the same snorting noise as Nance had.

  ‘She probably is. Come and see for yourself,’ she said, tucking Buster under one arm.

  Gus followed her around the back of a huge truck and almost bumped into a wall of wrinkled grey flesh. The elephant swayed slightly and the chain around her leg rattled.

  ‘Meet Kali, your long-lost sister,’ said Effie.

  Gus took a step back but Effie got behind him and shoved him in closer. His mouth felt dry and he blinked. The elephant’s left eye seemed to roll back to stare straight at him, small and dark and wet.

  Doc was standing on the other side of Kali, stroking her trunk and talking in a soothing steady tone. Suddenly, Gus heard a rushing sound like a small waterfall and a huge puddle began to spread beneath the animal. A sharp smell filled the air and great clods of elephant dung fell in a steaming heap at Gus and Effie’s feet. Doc reached out and roughly pushed Gus back.

  ‘Here, get out of the way, kid,’ he said. ‘If she crushes you to death, it won’t be her fault. Effie, you should know better than to bring him in close to Kali. Get out of here, the pair of you.’

  ‘We didn’t mean to upset her,’ said Effie.

  ‘Well, you have, so clear off,’ he said crossly.

  They walked away through the long grass, little clouds of dry dust drifting up through the yellow stalks. Effie led him round to the shady side of a caravan and they flopped down in the grass. Buster climbed onto Effie’s lap and curled up to sleep. She stroked him while Gus watched enviously.

  ‘Seeing that elephant up close was so weird,’ said Gus. ‘I didn’t think there’d be animals with the circus.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be a proper circus without animals,’ said Effie. ‘Hey, you’re not one of those animal libbers, are you? My dad says the trouble with animal libbers is they don’t know nothing about animals. He reckons they should all be locked up.’

  ‘Take it easy,’ said Gus, putting his hands up. ‘I’ve only ever seen two circuses in my life, Circus Oz and the Great Moscow Circus, and that’s it. Circus Oz doesn’t even have any animals.’

  ‘Yeah, well, my dad says that you have to have people and animals performing together or it’s not really a circus at all. People and animals in a ring – that’s what my dad reckons is real circus.’

  ‘So who is your dad that he knows so much?’

  ‘Cassimer Cuelmo. He’s the animal trainer. He’s been with every big circus in the world. He can train any animal, but big cats are his specialty. Zarconi’s used to have a big cat act, ’cept we lost both our tigers up in Queensland last year. Some idiot shot them when they got onto his property.’

  ‘Must be pretty scary finding a tiger in your back yard,’ said Gus.

  ‘Zuzu and Zac weren’t scary. They hardly had any teeth left. Zuzu was just like a big pussy cat. Dad used to let her in our caravan and I used to sit on her. Anyway, Dad mostly looks after Kali and the horses now and he trains Buster and a couple of the other dogs around here. Oh, and Lily, of course.’

  ‘Lily?’

  ‘Yeah, come and meet her.’

  They walked across the hot, windy paddock, Buster trotting at their heels At the far end was a battered old caravan hooked up to a four-wheel drive. Effie pulled the door open and jumped onto the first step of the caravan. She was a little taller than Gus. Looking up at her, he got a sense of her being older too. Her eyes were black, her skin golden and she had a knowing smile which annoyed him a lot. He felt she was laughing at him.

  ‘This is my place,’ she said, flinging the door open.

  The Cuelmos’ caravan was nothing like his grandparents’. There were piles of dirty clothes everywhere and the kitchen sink was cluttered with unwashed dishes. A hazy light filtered in through yellow curtains. Effie pushed a kitchen chair aside and reached out for something that was lying across the windowsill. Gus thought it was just another piece of clothing but as his eyes adjusted to the light, it came to life, a thick and shining coil.

  Effie lifted up the long snake gently and wrapped
it around her neck.

  Gus took a step backwards.

  ‘This is Lily,’ she said, beaming. ‘It’s okay, she’s just a carpet snake. She can’t hurt you. I do an act with her sometimes – snake-girl stuff. Sometimes we charge people to have their photo taken with her. You can have a hold if you want.’

  Gus moved closer and Effie lifted the snake over her head and laid it across his stiffly outstretched arms. The feel of the scales against his bare skin made his flesh creep, but he wasn’t going to let Effie know that.

  ‘She’s beautiful,’ he said breathlessly.

  ‘Most snakes are. She’s really old. Dad’s had her longer than me!’

  Gus felt a bit shaky so he moved towards the windowsill and let the snake slither out of his arms into the sunshine that streamed through the glass. He pushed his hair back from his face and grinned at Effie. She smiled back.

  ‘C’mon,’ she said. ‘I’ll show you around the place.’

  There wasn’t a lot to show off: a handful of caravans and trucks and the ‘big top’ circus tent which wasn’t really big at all; the ring – it was tiny, smaller than he’d imagined any circus ring could be. Effie seemed proud of everything. She didn’t seem to notice how grubby and knocked around it all looked.

  ‘So where’d you live before you joined the circus?’ asked Gus.

  ‘I’ve always been with a circus, but not always Zarconi’s. Dad came out to Australia to work with Wirth’s but then they folded and he shifted around a bit. We were with Perry brothers when I was really little, but then they folded too,’ said Effie.

  ‘Do circuses do that a lot? Fold up?’

  ‘Well, not really. They sort of change shape. I mean, everyone joins another circus and sometimes it’s all the same anyway, same people, same everything – just with a different name.’

  ‘What about school?’ asked Gus.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Don’t you have to go?’

  ‘Sometimes, if we stay a few weeks somewhere – but mostly we only stop a couple of nights at each place. Dad teaches me and I have to do this correspondence stuff too. But it’s not so important. I know what I’m gonna do when I grow up anyway.’