Zarconi’s Magic Flying Fish

by Kirsty Murray

  ‘Fly little fish, fly,’ whispered Vytas and at his words Gus’s body began to swell and change, fins like wings sprouting beneath his arms, his legs merging together to form a tail. He dived from the boat, a flying fish, skimming the surface of the pale sea. Vytas let out his fishing reel and Gus realised he was still connected to the tiny boat, linked by a shining slender line as he flew across the ocean.

  Above him soared a giant albatross. Its wings cast a warm shadow across his finned body and beneath him, just below the waves, a gleaming black dolphin sped through the water. Wind and water surged around Gus, and the little boat and its passengers followed, sailing to a distant shore, bound by a silken thread to the magical boy-fish.

  25

  UP IN SMOKE

  They camped on a clifftop at the edge of Port Hedland, overlooking the Indian Ocean. As soon as the big top was set up, Gus made tracks for the water. The beach was rocky and the water murky but he didn’t care. Feeling the embrace of the sea around him was like heaven after weeks in the desert. He floated on his back and drifted away from the beach until he could see the whole of the port sprawled along the coast.

  Port Hedland was the biggest town they’d played since Perth. Doc was hopeful of a couple of days of audiences before they headed up to Broome, but the tent looked lonely and easy to bypass on the clifftop. Gus prayed they’d get a good audience. Hannah had told him tonight was the night. They’d try to time it so that Nance was backstage. Cas would concoct a problem with Rosa to distract Doc while Gus made his way up to the trapeze tower. Gus laughed to himself and did a somersault in the water.

  Hopefully by the time they made it to Broome, Doc and Nance would have accepted that Gus was a competent trapeze artist and when his mum arrived, he’d dazzle her with his new skills. Gus couldn’t think beyond that moment. The idea of returning to his old life in Melbourne made him feel muddled and unsure of himself. He’d shed the skin of that life, like a grub breaking out of its cocoon, and he couldn’t imagine how he could squash his beautiful new wings back into the chrysalis.

  He dived underwater and came up for air to find Effie frantically waving him in from the shore, Buster yapping wildly beside her.

  ‘Quick, Gus,’ she called, ‘quick!’ And she turned to run up the winding beach path, back to the circus lot.

  Gus grabbed his towel. ‘What is it?’ he called out after her, but the afternoon breeze blew the scent of smoke into his face, and instantly he knew the answer.

  Gus ran, fear giving speed to his feet despite the rocky ground. When he reached the top of the path he saw a thick column of black smoke stretching into the sky. The big top was on fire, the weathered canvas sending up long tongues of flame. People were running everywhere and shouting, dogs were barking. Rosa reared up on her hind legs, neighing in terror while Cas tried to grab her harness. Miette and Anouk had already broken away from where they had been tethered and were bolting down the highway as the howl of the fire engine drew closer.

  Gus ran in closer, but the heat drove him back. Doc was in the thick of the smoke, trying to tear sections of the canvas away from the body of the tent to stop the spread of the fire, but it was no good. Within minutes, every panel of canvas had burst into flame. Gus joined the tenthands and Vytas in the work of moving everything that could be saved as far away from the fire as possible. Flaming cinders drifted across the lot, threatening to set something else alight. Hannah and Nance emptied the water tanks dousing down the caravans to save them from catching alight.

  By the time the fire brigade arrived, it was too late. They doused the smouldering canvas and soaked the charred and smoking king poles. Gus walked around the sodden black circle where the big top had stood only an hour before. The bleachers and most of the aerial rigging hadn’t been set up inside, so at least something could be saved, but Gus couldn’t see how they could put a show on. A sea breeze blew flecks of soot through the air.

  Doc’s face was grimy with smoke and ash. He sat on a campstool beside his caravan while Nance wrapped a bandage around his forearm. Gus stood behind them, aching to offer some consolation.

  ‘That’s it Nance, we’re all washed up,’ said Doc. ‘If we can’t do a show tonight, we can’t pay wages. We’ll have to lay off the tenthands and see what Cas and the rest of them want to do.’

  ‘You don’t reckon there’s enough rigging to do a show without the canvas?’ said Nance.

  Doc groaned and got to his feet.

  ‘Let’s just take the kid to Broome, hand him over to Annie and head south again. Maybe he’s been the Jonah with us all along. Get rid of him and we can cut our losses and start again.’

  Doc’s words took Gus’s breath away. He turned to go, but Doc and Nance heard him and turned around, startled.

  ‘Didn’t know you were there, boy,’ said Doc defensively. ‘You shouldn’t hang around eavesdropping on people like that.’

  Gus felt his face burning. He turned on his heels and ran. Buster racing after him, yapping at his heels. He jumped over scattered pieces of rigging and torn canvas past the restless ponies and the defeated-looking circus crew. The sea breeze whipped his hair back off his face and he took in big gulps of air as he ran down the cliff path.

  He lay in the sand and stared up at the sky, feeling as burnt as the big top canvas. There was no hope of a show now. The curse of Zarconi’s was complete. No one would ever see him fly.

  He lay there for a long time before Doc came down on the beach to look for him. When Gus looked up at Doc standing above him, he felt a sick lurching feeling in his stomach.

  ‘I’m sorry, kid. It’s not really you. You’re a real trooper and I’ll miss you when you’re gone. These are tough times for circus and what with losing Kali, and now this…’

  ‘Vytas said we could have saved Zarconi’s. We just needed a new act.’

  ‘Yeah, well Vytas doesn’t know everything,’

  ‘He knows enough to call me by my real name.’

  ‘What are you on about?’

  Gus got to his feet and dusted the sand from his palms.

  ‘I know you reckon I’m just a Jonah. Maybe you should have called me that from the start.’

  ‘Look, I said I was sorry for that. What more do you want?

  ‘I want you to call me by my real name. Why can’t you say it, Doc?’

  ‘Leave off, boy,’ said Doc wearily.

  ‘No, you have to say it. You owe me that much. Say my name properly. I’m not just any boy, or ‘the kid’ or sonny Jim or Zippo Zarconi or your mate, or your cobber. I’m me, Gus – Gus McGrath – not all those other names. Just Gus – You gotta say it, Doc. Before I leave this circus, you have to call me Gus.’

  ‘Look, son…’ ‘No!’ shouted Gus. ‘You look! You look at me.’

  He stepped close to his grandfather and reached up to hold the old man’s face in his hands, staring straight into his watery blue eyes.

  ‘I know about that other Gus. I know about your son called Gus. I know he died and all that and it must have been real bad for you. But I’m not him, and I want to be called by my real name. That other Gus, he’s gone, but I’m here now. Call me by my name and not all that other stuff ’cause when you do, it makes me feel like you don’t see me, like I’m invisible or something – like you don’t want to know me. I don’t want to feel like that any more. I don’t want to carry that feeling away with me.’

  Doc took hold of Gus’s wrists with his hands.

  ‘Gus, eh? You cheeky bugger. She may have called you McGrath, but you’re an O’Brien through and through.’

  He laughed and shook Gus gently by his arms.

  ‘Thanks, Doc,’ said Gus.

  ‘Don’t know what you’re thanking me for. More like a curse than a blessing, being an O’Brien. Lucky you’ve got that other blood in ya too. Keep you safe from the bad luck we’ve had to put up with.’

  They walked back up to the circus lot together and Doc slipped one arm around Gus, leaning on him just a little as they clim
bed the last few metres of the path.

  26

  SAVING ZARCONI’S

  That afternoon, Doc took the old Dodge and the bunkhouse caravan into town and sold them. When he came back he gave Stewie his final pay and wished him luck finding work in Port Hedland. There was no point keeping him on with no tent to put up.

  One by one, Nance took Hannah, Vytas and Cas aside and explained the situation. Zarconi’s was finished. She offered them each a payout from the sale of the Dodge and what cash was left from the tour, and suggested they head south and find work where they could. She and Doc would continue on to Broome to hand Gus over to Annie but they had no plans beyond that. The performers took the news in stunned silence.

  Doc and Nance went to bed early that night while everyone else sat around a bonfire that Vytas had built on the blackened site of the fire. Hannah brought out a trayload of tea for everyone and they each cupped their hands around their mugs and stared listlessly into the flames.

  ‘This is not the end of Zarconi’s,’ said Vytas.

  Cas looked across the fire and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I know this is tough for you Vytas, but I can’t see any future in this troupe.’

  ‘Look, Cas. Maybe for you it’s different. You have not been with Zarconi’s so long. But for me, I owe Doc and Nance. Many times, they have carried me. Is it fair, now, that I will not try and help?’

  ‘I feel the same,’ said Hannah. ‘At least, we should wait a bit longer, give it more time. Doc and Nance, they’re tough. They’ll bounce back. Things will turn around and I would like to be there for when they are ready to try again. Besides, there are worse things than a holiday in Broome.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Cas doubtfully. Effie glanced up at him with a frightened expression.

  ‘Please, Dad. Let’s just go to Broome. Muck around for a while.’

  ‘Effie, it’s not that simple,’ he said. He stood up and Gus realised he looked more worn than ever. There was a grey streak in his curly dark hair and his black eyes were wide and hollow. ‘I’ll leave you all to your conspiracy, but Effie and I will be heading south tomorrow.’

  ‘Dad…’ pleaded Effie.

  ‘Not now, Effie,’ he said. ‘Time we both went to bed.’

  ‘No,’ said Effie folding her arms. ‘I want to go to Broome.’ The firelight reflected in her black irises. Her mouth was fixed in a stubborn line. She looked so fierce Gus felt sorry for Cas.

  ‘We’ll talk about it in the morning,’ Cas said, wearily. He slumped towards their caravan and shut the door behind him.

  There was an embarrassed silence.

  ‘Well,’ said Effie, raising her eyebrows questioningly. ‘So how are we going to save Zarconi’s?’

  It took the better part of the day to drive to Broome. Doc and Nance looked both grateful and bewildered when the rest of the troupe announced they were coming too. Even Cas grudgingly admitted that he needed a holiday and that Broome was as good a place as any to take it.

  As soon as the troupe had settled into a caravan park and they could sneak away, Gus, Effie and Buster headed for the nearest beach. Gus was dying for a swim but the tide was so far out that they couldn’t even see where the sea began. It was just a sheer silver and purple line beneath a sky the colour of flame. Kilometres of glistening mud flats stretched before them. Buster ran down to the watermark and started digging in the silty mud, barking at the tiny crabs that were burrowing out of his reach. Effie and Gus flopped onto the flat white sand and watched the sun set over the Indian Ocean. Just the smell of the sea was satisfying after six hours in the car.

  Gus looked along the beach and spotted a camel train at the northern end.

  ‘Hey! Effie – check it out!’

  Effie had been lying down in the sand looking dreamily at the sky. She gave a little groan when she saw the camels and rolled over onto her stomach, covering her face with her hands.

  ‘Wouldn’t you love a ride on one of them?’

  ‘No way. I hate them.’

  ‘I thought you loved all animals,’ said Gus.

  ‘Except camels.’

  ‘What’s the matter with camels?’

  Effie thought for a while before answering. She sat up and stared at the camel train.

  ‘A camel killed my mum.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

  ‘Why should I? It’s not the sort of thing you talk about much. I mean – it sounds pretty horrible. I hate hearing about it. I even hate hearing my own voice tell it…’ Her voice trailed off and she sighed.

  Gus gently put his hand on her arm.

  ‘I’m sorry, Effie.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said. She put her head down on her knees, mumbling something incoherent.

  ‘What was that?’ asked Gus, apologetically.

  Effie sat bolt upright and stared at him angrily.

  ‘I said that was all bullshit and I can’t believe you’re so stupid that you believed it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘What kind of idiot are you? You wouldn’t believe me when I said your uncle died on the trapeze, but you believe me when I crap on about my mother being killed by a camel!’

  ‘You’re twisted!’ said Gus, growing angry. ‘Why do you keep putting shit on me?’

  ‘Because you’re such a wimp and a traitor. You said you were going to help save Zarconi’s. You said we were in it together. And now you’re a bigger bullshit artist than me.’

  ‘I am not. I’m still going to help.’

  ‘Oh yeah, right. Like how? I sat up all night, talking my dad around, telling him how we had to come to Broome. Your sicky-poo mummsy-wummsy is coming to get you tomorrow and I bet you’ll go back to Melbourne without an argument. I’ve heard you on the phone. “Yes, Mum,” “No, Mum,” “Whatever you say, Mum”.’

  ‘Shut up, Effie! Just shut up!’

  They were standing, shouting at each other. Buster was running round them in circles, yapping madly. Gus had never seen Effie so furious, he took a step back to put himself out of punching distance, tripped over Buster and lay sprawled in the sand.

  ‘You’re just like my mother,’ she shouted. ‘She gave up too! I lied about her being dead but she may as well be. She runs a stupid business in Sydney.’

  ‘I’m not like her.’

  ‘Yes you are! You’re gonna clear off and go back to your nice normal life and forget about me and everyone else, just like she did.’

  ‘Look, Effie,’ he said, dusting the sand from his hands as he got to his feet, ‘I’m not your mother and I’m not giving up. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but there’s no way I’m leaving Broome before I fly. I’m not going anywhere until you and me and Hannah have shown everyone what we can do.’

  27

  UNDER AN OPEN SKY

  That night, Effie and Gus had dinner in Hannah’s caravan.

  ‘We have to do something, Hannah. It’s no good waiting to see what will turn up. We’re running out of time,’ said Gus.

  ‘Then, there is only one thing to do,’ said Hannah. ‘We have to tell Nance everything. If she will organise to set the rigging up, we can do an open-air show.’

  ‘No way,’ said Gus. ‘She’ll never let us do it.’

  ‘Gus, you underestimate your grandmother. She is one of the bravest women I have ever known. Effie, you go and fetch her.’

  Nance listened with her head bent as Hannah told the story of their secret training. She pursed her lips tightly and frowned.

  ‘He’s good, Nance,’ said Hannah. ‘The sawdust is in his blood. He will be safe. I will make sure he will be safe.’

  ‘I’ll sleep on it,’ she answered. ‘You’ll have your answer in the morning.’

  Gus pulled the cover off Lulu’s cage. She blinked and unfurled her crest.

  ‘Silly bugger,’ she cawed.

  ‘Isn’t it about time you came up with something new?’ he asked.

  He sat around in the front part of the caravan, waiting for Nance to em
erge in her dressing-gown to fix her ritual morning cup of tea. At nine-thirty, when she still hadn’t appeared, he gave up and wandered over to Hannah’s.

  Effie was already there, lying on the floor in shorts and a T-shirt, sucking on an icypole.

  ‘Any news?’ she asked.

  Gus just shook his head and opened the freezer of Hannah’s tiny bar fridge to grab the last icypole.

  At eleven-thirty, Nance opened the caravan door and sunlight flooded in.

  ‘Put your glad-rags on, loves – your best frock, Hannah – we’ve got some real talking to do. We’re gonna talk that council mob into letting us do an open-air show on Cable Beach. Can’t think of a better place to watch my grandson fly!’

  They drove into town and Effie and Gus sat in the back seat of the car outside the council offices. They waited for nearly an hour. Their backs were drenched with sweat and stuck to the vinyl seats. Gus wound the window up and down, then leant over into the front seat and fiddled with the radio.

  ‘Do you have to keep messing with everything? That old radio hasn’t worked in years.’

  ‘Then I can’t break it, can I?’ said Gus.

  ‘When’s your mum arrive?’

  ‘Around six o’clock,’ he said, pulling the knob off the dial.

  ‘Doesn’t give us much time to get ready for the show.’

  ‘It’ll happen,’ he said trying to jam the knob back in place. He banged the panel of the radio with the flat of his hand before slumping back into his seat.

  Finally, Nance and Hannah came out of the council offices.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ said Effie. ‘Looks bad.’

  Nance got in the driver’s seat and glanced over her shoulder at the kids. Gus held his breath. He couldn’t bear to ask

  ‘Well?’ said Effie.

  ‘Show starts at eight o’clock!’ said Nance.