Genius

by Clare Nonhebel

CHAPTER 28

  Lulubelle hadn't intended to end up in the lions’ den.

  The day had seemed to get better, after she'd seen Marisa. The sky, which had been overcast and threatening rain all day, cleared. And the rehearsal had gone quite well.

  She was a bit worried, when she started. They rehearsed in order of actual performance and as she was so young and was always billed for the first half of the show, she was always called for the early shift of rehearsals. Lulubelle usually had no trouble arriving on time, but she had been trying to find herself another costume; she was afraid to wear white, in case Marisa's cotton wool provided inadequate protection.

  So the first thing that went wrong was that she arrived slightly late and out of breath and the second was that Mr Mannfield remarked on her wearing a plain black leotard under her white tutu skirt, instead of her usual spangled white one. She could have said the white one was in the wash,but that would have landed either her mother or Emma, the wardrobe lady, in trouble.

  Artistes were responsible for their own costumes but Emma was in charge of making sure they were all assembled in the changing booth on time, and in practice she often helped out with washing and ironing or organizing dry cleaning, especially for performers like Lucinda who were liable to turn up in grubby costumes and laddered tights. When that happened, it was Emma who got into trouble with Mr Mannfield, as well as Lucinda, so it was in her interests to do Lucinda's laundry herself and required less strain on her patience, in the long run, than chasing her with reminders to check in her clean costume before the performance.

  Lulubelle thought it was safer to say it was torn. Luckily Mr Mannfield didn't pursue the issue. It didn't save her worrying about next time because surely no one could tear a white costume once a month, regularly as clockwork, and take four or five days to repair it. She would have to ask Lucinda to explain that Lulubelle had changed her image and would appear in black or red from now on. Mr Mannfield wouldn't be keen; he had said before that he liked white on his young girl performers because it looked both glamorous and virginal, though in fact, Lulubelle reflected, she hadn't technically been entitled to look virginal since she was nine.

  But still, the rehearsal went well. Her fears that this new burden of womanhood might impede her skill were unfounded. She was slightly distracted at first, worried in case the cotton wool might slip during her more ambitious routines, but once she got past the warm-up exercises and the simpler part of her act, she regained her normal total concentration. Even her new routine, walking up a plank on her hands, with her knees bent outwards over her ears and her toes tucked under her chin, went better than ever and drew a spontaneous cheer from the site build-up men who were fixing the last of the tiers of seats.

  She thought she saw someone she recognized among them, and froze for an instant, but she was upside down at the time and couldn't be sure and when she flipped upright and looked again in that direction, whoever it was had gone.

  So it couldn't really have been that that unsettled her; it was more likely to have been the moment when, back in her normal leggings and sweatshirt top, Lulubelle returned to the Big Top to watch Lucinda rehearsing and found only Juan and Pedro on the trapezes.

  'Where is she?’ they shouted, as soon as Lulubelle came in. Lulubelle's heart stopped.

  'I'll get her,’ she promised. In her haste to run to the caravan, she tripped over a guy-rope, fell and cursed herself. Starting to run again almost before she was up, she nearly bumped into Molly.

  'Where is she?’ Lulubelle gasped. 'She's late for rehearsals.’

  'I don't know and I couldn't care less,’ said Molly.

  Lulubelle stared at her. 'Didn't she come back from town with you?’

  'She came back with Sam,’ said Molly, 'and I was there too but I may as well not have been, for all either of them noticed.’

  Lulubelle kept running. Taking the steps in one leap, she pushed open the door of the caravan and found Lucinda on the pulled­down bunk bed with Sam, half-dressed.

  'You'll get us sacked again!’ Lulubelle yelled. 'They're all waiting for you! Where's your costume?’

  'Get the fuck out of here,’ growled Sam.

  Lucinda pushed him aside playfully, laughing. 'It's only my minder; you mustn't mind!’

  Lulubelle stood in front of her. 'You're drunk,’ she said, 'aren't you?’ Her voice was flat. This was it, she thought, or if not this evening then another evening soon. And she didn't want to have to leave Mannfield's. 'Please,’ she said. 'Please, Mum ... Lucinda,’ she amended, seeing Lucinda pouting. 'Please get up.’

  'She's staying here,’ said Sam. 'In the warm. She's got a bit of a cold, haven't you, Luce?’

  'You don't have to rehearse!’ Lulubelle flared at him. 'If you don't get your rides started on time, it's only your own money you lose out on. We could lose our jobs.’

  Sam got up, pulling his clothing together, and advanced towards her. Lucinda, behind him, held him back. 'Leave her alone. All right, Lulubelle, go on and get my costume. I'll follow you. I promise,’ she affirmed as Lulubelle still hesitated, though Sam was towering over her threateningly.

  So she ran ahead to the costume tent where Emma, too, was annoyed, because Lucinda had upset her schedule of dressing times for the artistes - not that Lucinda demanded one of the tiny booths; she had no objection to changing in full view of anyone who walked in or out but she got in Emma's way when she did that and it was unprofessional, in Emma’s opinion.

  Emma, before her little problem developed into a more significant one, had been a wardrobe lady in Covent Garden and never liked anyone to forget it. She knew how things should be done, she said, and even when she had just been paid and had sniffed too much of the powder Lulubelle used to think was a different type of resin for the acrobats’ shoes, she expected her own part in the evening's schedule to run like clockwork - and it usually did.

  Lulubelle managed to pacify her till Lucinda arrived.

  'Drunk,’ said Emma, after one expert glance.

  'Stoned,’ Lucinda retaliated.

  Lulubelle pushed her into a booth and pulled Lucinda's dress up over her head. Emma, offended but ever-professional, helped her into her spangled tights and feathered, bejewelled costume while Lulubelle held her steady.

  'You doing tightrope tonight?’ Emma asked her.

  'No, she isn't,’ said Lulubelle firmly. 'You're not,’ she told Lucinda. 'I'm telling Mr Mannfield you're not up to it. Just do the trapeze, all right?’

  'One of my migraines, is it?’ Lucinda's smile was unpleasant.

  'Whatever you like,’ Lulubelle said.

  ‘Just not that I've had a few gins and been bonking the owner of the Waltzers, huh?’ said Lucinda, with a tinkling laugh.

  Lulubelle gritted her teeth. 'Don't talk, then no one will know you're pissed,’ she advised.

  'Until she flies off her trapeze,’ Emma sniffed. 'I wouldn't be risking my job if I was in your place, Lucinda. There's not much call for trapezists nowadays.’

  'What would you know about it?’ challenged Lucinda.

  Lulubelle pushed her towards the tarpaulin tunnel leading into the artistes’ entrance to the Big Top.

  'Shut up,’ she said. 'Concentrate.’

  There wasn't time for Lucinda to get into an argument, especially with Emma who knew how to hit her sore spot about how employable she would be in the future. Drunk or sober, Lucinda wasn't getting any younger and it was true that trapeze and high wire acts, though as popular as ever, were not easy to stage in the smaller arenas many circuses had resorted to now that circus audiences were smaller, and were often excluded from the repertoire.

  Lulubelle had heard every trapeze joke in the book and hated them all; they were too near the truth for her liking. ‘Trapeze work is a dying art ‘– that one was the worst. ‘There's many a slip between grip and ... aaargh!’ closely followed it. And, 'Trapeze artists do it with a swing,’ made her squirm as well.

  She seemed to give in to tears easi
ly these days; she must learn to be less sensitive, as Lucinda said: 'It's a tough world out there, honey, and only the tough guys survive it. But we are the tough guys, aren't we?’

  Perhaps it was to give herself time to recover her calm, and perhaps it was to avoid having to watch Lucinda brave Mr Mannfield's reprimand first and then face the shaky climb to the high platform to start her rehearsal, that Lulubelle looked around for a quiet dark corner to hide in for a while.

  She had the bright idea of squeezing through the half-open outer door, made of reinforced steel mesh, of the vacant lion cage, and then through the wide bars of the inner cage. The lion act was part of the second shift of rehearsals, with half of the act before Lucinda's trapeze work and half later on. In between, and for the duration of the circus's stay, the lions were kept in a secure compound adjoining the Big Top. This cage was only their travelling quarters so from now until a week on Monday it would be unoccupied.

  Except that it wasn't. As Lulubelle settled herself on a pile of clean straw in the near corner of the cage, there was a rustling response from the far end. In the gloom she could just see the shadowy bulk of Savage, the youngest lioness, rising slowly from her haunches. She growled under her breath as she stood on the bandaged septic paw that was the cause of her unaccustomed isolation in the travelling cage.