Granny turned, gave Hannah a secret wink, and left, miraculously swerving between every tassel, frippery and frill without disturbing a single one.
And that was how Hannah came to make her circus debut.
Don’t fall, Hannah, don’t fall!
DRUM ROLL, PLEASE.
Darkness.
Spotlight.
Trumpet fanfare.
Whipcrack, whipcrack.
Applause.
And then . . .
Hannah was watching from the wings as Ernesto strode onto the stage in his ringmaster’s outfit – top hat, crimson tailcoat, billowy shirt, tight (but not too tight) black trousers, and shoes so dark and shiny they positively glistened. My, he looked fine.
Hannah had never been more excited. The whole show drifted past her in a blur of delight and terror, nerves fluttering and twitching in her stomach. She barely took in Delia de la Doolah and Vonda van der Venda’s contortionist knitting routine, and Chancey Bris’s knife-throwing hardly sank in, either. Bellagio Spigot looked good, and the gasps from the audience were unmissable, but Hannah didn’t hear a word he said. Only when a stray custard pie flew off stage and almost hit her in the face did she even really notice that Hank and Frank were in the ring.
The second half went even faster: Jesse, Halle Tosis and Mitzi Schnitzel each appearing to be on stage for only seconds each, and even though the sound of the Caapaaks’ motorbike routine was deafening, this was the act that went by fastest of all, because Hannah’s head was entirely filled with one thought, ‘I’m next, I’m next, I’m next, I’m next,’ which pounded round and round her skull even faster than those Finnish motorbikes.
Then it was time.
The tightrope was up. The safety net was in place.
Hannah could see Wanda in the front row, mouth open, hands over her eyes. But that wasn’t important right now. At this moment, Hannah wasn’t a daughter. She was a performer.
Hannah strode out and took a bow. As she straightened and looked up at the audience for the first time, an extraordinary sensation flowed through her body, starting in her heart and pulsing outwards through her veins, until it tingled in every part of her, right to her fingertips. For an instant she couldn’t identify the feeling, then she realised it was the sensation of being perfectly, completely, utterly happy. This was her place. At long last, she was where she belonged.
Hannah spun on her heel and walked – no, pranced – without even intending to prance – it just seemed to happen on its own – to the rope ladder that led up to her tightrope. Time seemed to be charging ahead at a bewildering pace, while also moving with such precision and clarity that everything seemed to be in slow motion. Hannah’s mind was now just a beam of pure, intense focus on the tightrope ahead of her.
Billy, at this point, was more nervous than Hannah. Even Narcissus, at his side, was nervous, which wasn’t a sensation he’d ever had before.
‘Haphuphuphuphkaglerp,’ said Narcissus, which was his way of saying, ‘I know you don’t realise you’re even doing it, but could you please stop pulling the hairs out of my neck.’
Billy was entirely lost in the sight of his at-least-half-sister’s performance. Her audition had been good, but this was better. Billy could see, immediately, that Hannah was the real thing. If you are true circus, something happens when you’re in front of a crowd that lifts you to a new level. Hannah was soaring. Every single trick and twirl and twist and leap was timed to perfection, not just for maximum beauty, but in tandem with the audience. She was playing their emotions like a musician plucking a harp: building and releasing tension, worrying then reassuring them, frightening then wowing them. This girl was special. If she was a civilian, Narcissus was a caterpillar.
Just as Hannah was reaching the climax of her act, with flaming torches flying up and down from both hands while a plate spun above her chin, there was an enormous bang, followed by a loud metallic clatter, followed by an astonished howl. It was a sound resembling an explosion, a safe door flying off its hinges, and a howl of bewildered dismay.
The sudden noise made everyone in the Big Top jump, which isn’t much of a problem when you’re sitting down, but is more serious when you are juggling on a tightrope.
Hannah wobbled. She dropped one of her torches, her body tipping one way and another, then found her balance again, focusing her gaze directly ahead of her. But at the edge of her vision, she couldn’t miss the sight of that burning torch swivelling down through the air and coming to rest with a soft bounce on the safety net. The flame seemed to die for a second, then with a small crackle a circle of fire spread outwards. This only lasted a few seconds, but it left behind a hole in the net – a hole big enough for a young girl to fall clean through – directly below her.
Hannah began to wobble again, both arms flailing, and dropped her plate, which plunged to the ground, through the hole in the net, shattering into a hundred pieces.21
A moment ago, balancing on this tightrope seemed like the easiest thing in the world. Now Hannah was stricken by the idea that she couldn’t sustain it a second longer. Perfect balance was as much a feat of the mind as the body, and her mind had lost its equilibrium.
She tried not to think about what happened to her mother. Her birth mother. But, of course, trying not to think about what happened to her mother was thinking about what happened to her mother. (Hannah’s mother, you will remember, was a trapeze artist who would have still been alive if, during one particular performance in New Zealand, many years earlier, there had been a safety net.)
Hannah’s body began to sway and tip.
Wanda screamed.
Billy pulled out a fistful of camel hair.
Narcissus let out an anxious and fishy burp.
Don’t fall, Hannah, don’t fall!
But . . .
Armitage’s unsurprising surprise is interrupted by a surprisingly smelly surprise
BEFORE I TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED to Hannah, I’m going to have to go back a little to explain the noise that distracted her.
Some of you may have guessed already.
Some of you probably have no idea.
Some of you might have dozed off.
If so, WAKE UP! Because Armitage is a-thieving again. Or trying to.
His first theft of the day was of Ernesto’s audience. As ticket-holders, circus fans and passers-by wandered across Hockney Marshes towards the two Big Tops, Armitage positioned himself directly in front of the Ernesto Espadrille box office, holding a loudhailer.
‘ROLL UP, ROLL UP,’ he shouted. ‘A CIRCUS LEGEND RETURNS TO THE STAGE! ARMITAGE SHANK’S VERY EXTREME IMPOSSIBLE CIRCUS. FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY! PREPARE TO BE REALLY AMAAAAAAAAZED!!! DON’T BUY TICKETS HERE. THIS SHOW’S RUBBISH AND IS ROUGHLY A HALF TO A THIRD AS EXTREME AS MINE AND ONLY A QUARTER AS AMAZING. IF YOU WANT TO BE AMAAAAAAAAZED, GO NEXT DOOR. ROLL UP, ROLL UP!’
Hannah and Billy tried to stop him, telling people it was all lies, but Armitage drowned them out with his loudhailer.
‘LOOK! CHILD PERFORMERS! EXPLOITATION OF MINORS! IF YOU WANT TO SEE CRUELTY TOWARDS CHILDREN, THIS IS THE PLACE, OTHERWISE IT’S SHANK’S VERY EXTREME IMPOSSIBLE CIRCUS YOU WANT. RIGHT NEXT DOOR. LOOK AT THESE POOR WAIFS! SEE THEIR MISERY! ALL THEY WANT IS A SAFE HOME AND A GOOD STURDY PAIR OF SHOES LIKE ANY OTHER CHILD. ISN’T IT HEARTBREAKING?’
It was Narcissus who finally put a stop to him, with a carefully aimed projectile of camel goo, right into the loudhailer, after which all Armitage could manage was, ‘ROglogglegloggleLL UP, RObobobobobobleLL UP. A CIRglibibibibibibiCUS LEglubbaglubbaglubbaGEND RbleblebbleblebleETURNS – oh, this is useless.’
Armitage tossed his loudhailer to the ground and marched off in a huff, muttering something about one day cooking a camel casserole with hump sauce, but the damage had already been done. Much of Ernesto’s audience had bought tickets for Armitage’s show.
By the time the curtain went up, there was one Big Top’s worth of audience, divided more or less equally between the two shows. This was
phase one of Armitage’s plan. Phase two was more elaborate, and was due to commence during the circus.
Since the defection of Hank, Frank and Jesse to Ernesto’s troupe, Armitage had hired some replacements, which meant a change of direction for his circus, and not just by adding the words ‘very extreme’ to the title, which was a temporary measure.
With only Maurice, Irrrrena and Fingers O’Boyle left from his original show, Armitage had needed new performers, but there were three problems:
1) Armitage demanded a high level of circus expertise, combined with at least two years of advanced criminal experience, from all his acts.
2) It wasn’t possible to advertise for criminals, so he had to hire people he already knew.
3) Everyone who knew Armitage disliked him intensely, and would never want to work for him.
These problems foxed Armitage for a long time, until one day, after a long broody, grumpy sulk, he came up with a single solution to all three.22
Animals!
Even though Armitage hadn’t been impressed by Queenie Bombazine’s pathetic, paltry, putrid, pitiful puddle of a circus, he had to concede that the audience had liked the animal stuff: the synchronised otters, the piano tuna, the sea lion thing, all that malarkey had gone down a treat with the punters. Perhaps he could do something a bit like that. But dry.
So it wasn’t even a stolen idea – it was completely original – because he was going to do it out of the water! Armitage wouldn’t steal other people’s ideas. Oh, no. He was an impresario, a Svengali, a creative visionary, not some mediocre rip-off merchant. He’d steal pretty much anything off anybody, but never an idea. Queenie’s work was simply a launch pad, an inspiration, a starting point for Armitage’s unique imaginative endeavours.
Or so he claimed.
Plus, if he got the right animals and trained them well enough, perhaps he could teach them to take part in the odd burglary. If they got caught, so what? The police don’t lock up animals, even if they’re caught in the act of taping explosives to a safe.
It would be the perfect crime. A sort of mafia zoo.
But that was for the future. For now, he just needed performing animals.
Armitage had been formulating his comeback for a while, and so far he had recruited:
- Six performing monkeys, whose act involved pick-pocketing things from the audience, then returning things to the wrong people, to comic effect. (Yes, they were already in training for future criminal projects.)
- A mathematical pig. Which was a pig who did maths. It’s more entertaining than it sounds. (Armitage had his eye on a little creative accountancy in the long term, but hadn’t yet figured out how to make this work.)
- A lleaping llama. (Self-explanatory. No criminal outlet yet devised for this one.)
- A canary choir, capable of singing a quite brilliant medley of Eighties hits, including ‘Eye of the Tiger’ and ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’. Armitage had paid through the nose for these birds, purchasing them direct from the legendary duck breeder Mac McMack, but it seemed worth it. (They’d pan out as top-of-the-range lookouts in the long run.)
Maurice and Irrrrena were unimpressed by this change of direction, until Armitage pointed out that the proceeds of their crimes could now be divided into fewer, larger chunks. As long as the animals were fed, they didn’t need to be paid. After that, Maurice and Irrrrena’s ‘un’ evaporated, leaving them impressed.
Fingers loved the idea, especially the monkeys. And the more disobedient and mischievous the monkeys became, the more he loved them. Disobedience and mischief were the two qualities Fingers strove for in his own work, so this was hardly surprising.
In order not to get confused, Fingers named the monkeys Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Cuddlecakes. There was an element of favouritism here, but you couldn’t help noticing that Cuddlecakes had star quality. His pick-pocketing skills verged on genius. In Cuddlecakes, Fingers had at long last found his soulmate.
Fingers taught him to play chess, and Cuddlecakes soon began to win, even though Fingers cheated, mainly because Cuddlecakes cheated, too, but better.
Even Maurice got over his initial scepticism, and ended up teaching the canary choir to sing the ‘Marseillaise’.23
Irrrrena took a shine to the mathematical pig, who had the unusual name of 3.14159 (or Pi for short, which is, in turn, short for pig). Irrrrena and 3.14159 often whiled away whole afternoons together doing Sudoku. 3.14159 also gave great back massages. Irrrrena had to keep it to herself just how good these massages were, because Maurice was prone to fits of atrocious jealousy.
It isn’t necessary to go into all the details of Armitage’s show right now. What’s important is that roughly halfway through the second half, Armitage, as usual, sneaked out. You can probably guess where he went.
He headed straight for Ernesto Espadrille’s box office – and not to buy a ticket. This was the big surprise he had been bragging about, which, to be honest, wasn’t really much of a surprise at all.
It didn’t take him long to pick the lock.
Nor did it take him long to attach explosives to Ernesto’s safe.
But when the safe-cracking device went off, he discovered something unexpected and deeply unpleasant. Not a penny was in there. The safe wasn’t empty, however. It was filled with a black, glutinous, gloopy, fishy and very, very stinky substance. Squid ink. Two-week-old squid ink.
Take it from me. This stuff honks. It honks about as much as three hundred geese fighting over one nest. That is pretty honky.
If you are unfortunate enough to blow up a safe filled with this stuff, and you are standing in the same room, you are going to emerge from that room smelling worse than you have smelled in your whole life. Quite probably, you will also be angrier than you have ever been, which in Armitage’s case made you quite extraordinarily angry – about as angry as two hundred and ninety-nine homeless geese.
Armitage knew straight away what had happened to him, which isn’t to say that he could identify the variety of stinky gloop that had doused his body, but he realised Ernesto had booby-trapped the safe.
Yet again, Armitage had been kippered – or, in this case, squidded. The burglary had not gone to plan. This was more or less as off-plan as a burglary could go.
But little did he know, worse was to come. Because while he’d been away drenching himself in a surprise explosion of rancid cephalopod juice, something truly bizarre had taken place in the Circus Impossible Big Top – something so bizarre it was almost, but not quite, impossible.
Zachary rises and devises more surprises in disguises
WHO WAS BEHIND THIS BIZARRE-TO-the-point-of-impossible event?
Zachary Shank, of course. But to explain his scheme we must rewind to earlier in the day.
Chippy, Zachary, Vince and Frankie had holed up in Zachary’s van on Hockney Marshes for most of the afternoon, watching events unfold,24 trying to figure out how it was that these two rival circuses had suddenly popped up in the same place at the same time to compete for the same audience. It didn’t make any sense.
But Zachary wasn’t worried about that. His mind was on one thing and one thing only: diddling his brother.
Zachary knew his window of opportunity would be when Armitage went out stealing. All he had to do was wait, watch and be ready to pounce.
Sure enough, halfway through the second half, the four men watched Armitage tiptoe from the bigger Big Top to his caravan, pop in for a moment, then pop out again dressed in full burglarising gear. He then scurried off in the direction of the Espadrille box office (unaware at this point that an anti-squid scuba-diving outfit would probably have been a wiser choice of clothes).
This was the moment.
‘This is it,’ said Zachary. ‘Action stations, lads. Let’s go. Danunununununa noo noo nunanuna boof boof digadigadig!’
‘What’s Danunununununa noo noo nunanuna boof boof digadigadig?’ asked Vince.
‘It’s my action stations theme m
usic. But that’s not important right now. Let’s go!’
They sprinted towards Armitage’s caravan, where Zachary stilled the other three with an outstretched arm. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Chippy, you stand guard at the Big Top. Not the little Big Top. The big Big Top. Frankie, you stay here. Vince, you come in with me. You’re going to do my make-up.’
‘Your what?’ said Vince, who really wasn’t getting any less confused by what on earth was going on.
Circus of Thieves and the Comeback Caper Page 5
