It was gone. Instantly he knew he’d been betrayed. He let out a scream that scraped his throat. There followed a frantic and fruitless search of his room, then JJ sat down and stared straight ahead, teeth grinding, every so often lashing his fist against his pillow and convulsing with anger. ‘Jamie,’ he whispered, ‘this is war.’
Winston was tired, feeling the full weight of his extended years hitting him. The face paint may have been what kept them all going for as long as they did — he himself had stopped counting the years — but Winston was starting to think just being on the showgrounds was what did it. He’d stopped using the paint long ago, but his body just kept plugging on. He’d heard rumours of tricks who’d visited the show living long miserable existences after they’d been here; soulless creatures, meat and bones whose only claim to life was that their bodies still ticked over. That was certainly how Winston felt right now.
He was trying to meet up with Randolph, a tricky stunt with both clowns and acrobats on full alert against each other. Things hadn’t been this tense for a good while, not since the acrobats had lost three of their performers in the last major feud. The clowns had lost two of theirs. Winston was recruited in 1836 to replace Wendell, the legendary obese clown, a 400-kilogram obscenity. Many had said Wendell’s stage act — wearing a tutu, gyrating grotesquely — would have been more at home in the freak show. Some time back, that was, when the circus had moved from France to this out-of-the-way prison colony, which went and became a nation right under their feet. Before France it had been Scotland, before Scotland Greece, and before that … There the record got a little hazy. Winston could remember the show unpacking after the move right as he joined, after each part of the carnival had been broken to small parts and carried through the ticket gates, piece by piece.
Though Winston wore the body of an old man, he was a relatively new face here. Rufshod was newer than he, Doopy and Goshy had appeared well before him, though their history was long forgotten. They were both too warped to be younger than multiple centuries each. And Gonko? Winston had no idea. He’d heard that Gonko had been chummy with Pilo Senior … and Pilo senior was long, long gone.
Winston stood outside the acrobats’ tent and gave a loud wolf-whistle, the signal to Randolph that he needed to talk. It got an instant response — two acrobats ran out, yelling threats. Randolph strolled out after them. ‘No, he’s not worth it,’ he said contemptuously, standing between Winston and the others. ‘Not this one. Old fogey’s about to drop dead without our help, I’d say.’
‘Don’t come down here,’ said Sven, his leg wrapped in thick bandages. ‘I’m telling you, if I see you by this door again, I will snap your neck.’
‘That goes for your friends, too,’ said Randolph. Winston could hear the relief in his voice.
‘Don’t know what your problem is,’ said Winston. ‘I always come by here on my way to the freak show.’ His eyes met Randolph’s for an instant — message sent.
‘Get out of our sight,’ said Randolph, spitting at Winston’s feet and turning on his heel. The other acrobats followed him inside.
A few minutes later they met in the shadows of the freak show.
‘What is it?’ said Randolph.
‘What’s going on?’ said Winston. ‘One of your guys tried to bump off Jamie.’
‘Yes. Retaliation.’
‘Why Jamie? He’s one of us. Why not take out Rufshod, or Doopy?’
‘Jamie — no, JJ, is more dangerous than the others, Winston. He knows about us, for God’s sake. It was a bad move to bring him to the meeting.’
‘We’ve got that covered. Jamie’s found a way to keep his thoughts hidden from JJ. Blocks his memory with the powder. JJ wakes up not knowing a thing.’
‘And how do we know this?’
‘I live with them. I see JJ every day.’
Randolph looked exasperated. ‘And how am I supposed to get the others to change their minds about him?’
‘I don’t know, maybe you can’t. But there’s better targets than him, that’s all. JJ could come in useful, somehow.’
‘He could also get us all fucking killed, Winston.’
Winston sighed and rubbed his temples. ‘I can’t let you do it. Jamie’s a good kid. JJ’s an utter bastard, but I think Jamie’s got him worked out.’
‘Jesus, Winston …’
‘It would take a load off my mind having him dead, believe me. But I have enough on my conscience. He didn’t ask to be here, Randolph.’
Randolph said nothing but gave him a look that said plenty: Neither did I, nor you, nor anyone the hell else who works here, nor any of the visitors lured here, nor the victims of what the fortune-teller does, nor, nor, nor …
Winston sighed again. ‘Just … I don’t know, warn me if they’re going to attack. Okay? Some signal. Let me know. I’ll save him myself.’
Randolph turned to leave without argument or agreement. Winston watched him go — and came very close to calling him back and telling him to go ahead and do it, go ahead and kill him. Very close.
Around three in the afternoon a letter arrived for each performer, hand-delivered by Doopy. Doopy had a hard time giving the letters to the acrobats and came away with a black eye for his efforts, which he told Gonko he got from ‘falling over, honest’ (though why he lied he wasn’t even sure himself).
The letters were invitations to Goshy’s wedding. Gonko had suggested they fast-track the event to tonight, as it was doubtful the priest would be in any shape to read vows much longer. Doopy had a hell of a time convincing Goshy this was the way to go, because (he guessed) Goshy wanted a little longer to bask in anticipation. (He was certainly not getting cold feet.) What Doopy would never tell anyone — never ever in the whole wide world, honest — was that it was he who put the ring on her stem.
There wasn’t much time to prepare the vows, and Doopy wasn’t all that literary-minded, so he asked Kurt Pilo real nice if the priest could do it for him. As Doopy left Kurt’s trailer he passed Shalice on her way there, and something about her body language and the smile she shot him worried him more than a black eye ever could.
‘It’s an I’m gonna get you smile,’ Doopy mumbled to himself, scratching his head. Then, straightening up in panic, he cried, ‘It’s an I’m gonna get you smile!’
He sprinted back to Kurt’s trailer, muttering, ‘Uh, gosh, uh, oh, gee, gosh …’ and stood with his ear to the door. Spying on the boss was a bad idea, but spying on Shalice was just fine, which resulted in an okay idea. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but Kurt’s voice carried through the trailer door clearly. ‘Are you sure it’s him?’
Silence. Then: ‘Are you positive?’
Silence. Then: ‘Well, I’d never have guessed it would be him. I thought it was George. Oh well. We’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?’
Doopy heard footsteps approach the door and he sprinted away as fast as he could.
Who’s him? Doopy wondered fretfully. Him’s not me, is he?
When he got back to the clown tent he heard Goshy making the kettle noise and soon forgot his other troubles — Goshy was upset! He ran to Goshy’s bedroom and saw his brother standing still, arms locked at his sides, the skin on his face peeled back in distressed rings. Goshy was about to scream, oh yes he was. ‘Goshy!’ Doopy whispered. ‘What is it? What is it, Goshy?’
And then he saw: the ring had fallen from his fiancée’s stem and lay on the floor. ‘Oh, Goshy!’ Doopy cried. ‘Oh, oh no! Oh noooo!’
‘HEEEEEEEE — EEEEEEEEEE!’ Goshy screamed, ‘HEEEEEEEE — EEEEEEEEE!’
‘What the bleeding Christ is that RACKET?’ Gonko roared. In Goshy’s room he saw the commotion. ‘Oh you fucking morons,’ he snapped. ‘Here.’ He picked the engagement ring up off the floor and stuffed it back on the stem.
‘Thanks, Gonko,’ Doopy called as Gonko marched off. ‘By the way, she’s gonna get him, but I don’t know who him is, but it could be us.’
‘Yeah, great,’ Gonko
said over his shoulder. ‘Ever considered being a writer, Doops? Shakespeare would be jealous.’ As Gonko passed the parlour he heard Kurt’s voice calling, ‘Knock kno-ock!’
Shalice was standing beside him at the doorway — how curious. ‘Hey boss,’ said Gonko, frowning. ‘What brings you here?’
‘Oh, sad business,’ Kurt said, stepping inside. ‘I heard from someone —’ he nodded none too subtly at Shalice, ‘that the crystal ball thief is here in your tent.’
‘Crystal ball?’ said Gonko. ‘What, hers? Who do you think has it?’
‘Winston,’ said Shalice, giving Gonko a cold stare. ‘Your friend Winston.’
‘Winston? No way,’ said Gonko. ‘What the hell makes you think he has it?’
Shalice smiled and tapped her forehead with a long manicured nail. ‘My “spooky powers” as you would put it. So tell me, was he acting alone or under someone’s instructions?’
Kurt smiled serenely as he looked from one to the other.
‘You tell me,’ said Gonko, ‘use your spooky powers.’
‘Which room is his?’ Kurt said pleasantly.
Gonko led them to Winston’s room. It was locked and Winston wasn’t home. Gonko kicked the door in. Shalice brushed past him and started digging through the clothes and boxes. ‘It’s here somewhere,’ she said. ‘I saw the old pervert this morning. He has been enjoying free peepshows every day.’
Gonko watched with narrowed eyes as the fortune-teller turned over everything in sight. Peepshows did not sound like the Winston he knew. She started tapping on the walls, looking for an echo to reveal some hidden hollow. ‘All right, cut the shit,’ said Gonko. ‘Winston’s one of my most trusted performers and —’
‘Aha!’ Shalice said, a gleam in her eyes. She pried with her nails at a patch of wall painted a slightly lighter colour than the surrounding wall, and with a crack it came away. She reached her arm down into the hollow and, grinning, brought the crystal ball out from its hiding place.
Gonko ran a hand over his face and sighed. ‘Ah, boss, I’m as shocked as you are.’
Kurt was still smiling serenely, but Gonko knew Kurt and could see the disappointment in his face; and he was glad it was only disappointment. ‘Oh, I understand,’ said Kurt. ‘We’ll talk about it after the wedding, though, don’t you think?’
‘Your call, boss,’ said Gonko.
‘It is, isn’t it?’ said Kurt. He loped away. Shalice followed him, not glancing at Gonko as she passed. He watched them go, then slammed his boot into the wall, punching a hole in the plaster. ‘Winston …’ he said with a sigh, and left it unfinished. The rest of it went something like this: You have some explaining to do, old feller.
While Shalice was finding the crystal ball, Winston was at Mugabo’s tent on George Pilo’s instructions. Rumour had it Mugabo was in a bad state, letting no one near his hut, which spelled trouble the day before show day. Winston had no luck getting in there either; the magician was worked up like never before. After calling platitudes through Mugabo’s door for an hour Winston gave up and headed home. Now at least two acts were scratched from tomorrow’s show, and the afternoon was young — with a little more pandemonium, maybe they could get the whole show day cancelled. It would be the first time a show had been cancelled in Winston’s memory.
Just before he stepped through the door to the clowns’tent he was hit by a sudden bad feeling, and a second later saw Gonko sitting at the card table, staring at him through narrowed eyes. He did not look happy. ‘Have a seat, Winston,’ he said.
A wild fluttering thought flashed through Winston’s head: Something’s wrong — JJ told. He remembered everything and he told. It’s all over.
He sat down and it struck him that Gonko looked saddened rather than angry, which seemed more ominous still. Gonko looked him in the eye and said, ‘What have you got to say for yourself?’
Winston shifted on his chair and fought to keep a quaver from his voice. ‘What do you mean, Gonks?’
‘Kurt and Shalice found it,’ Gonko said, slowly and quietly. ‘In your room. I don’t care that you had it, but how could you let them find out? I thought you were smarter than that.’
For a moment Winston was genuinely confused, then a rush of relief came on him. The ball, that was all. The bigger secrets were still secret. ‘Ohh,’ he said. ‘They found it.’
Gonko’s eyes flashed. ‘Don’t sound so damn happy about it.’
‘Happy? No, just didn’t understand you at first.’ Winston tried to think fast. ‘I saw the ball lying around, out in the open. Knew it’d be trouble if it got found, so I put it in a safe place. Thought it was a safe place, anyway.’
Gonko nodded; he looked satisfied with that, though it was very hard to read him in situations like this. ‘Bad timing, Winston,’ he said. ‘We needed to cash in on Kurt’s birthday, but that’s fucked it now. Good and proper.’
‘Ah, damn it — I’m sorry, Gonks.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Gonko said, sighing. ‘I don’t know how they found it; probably she had one of those visions. But that doesn’t matter. You don’t put a foot wrong too often, so I’ll let this one slide. I will, but I don’t know if Kurt will.’
Winston straightened up in his chair and wiped his brow. ‘Kurt? What did Kurt say?’
‘He wants a chat with you. Wants me to send you over there right away. He probably sees this as serious shit, after he specifically asked for the ball back. He’d see it as directly disobeying his orders — which it was, actually. And Kurt’s not in the best of moods lately, with all this … freedom stuff.’
‘Jesus …’
‘Nah, don’t sweat it too much,’ said Gonko. His eyes looked closed, but he was watching Winston very closely. ‘Go see him, get it over with, then forget about it. You ain’t let me down before … I’m guessing you won’t do it again.’
Winston nodded and stood but his legs gave from under him and he grabbed the table for support. He left and Gonko’s eyes followed him out. The clown boss sat there for a while, lost in thought.
In stunned calm Winston knocked on Kurt’s trailer door. He wondered whether Shalice had really had a vision or whether JJ had squealed on him out of spite. ‘Hmmm?’ Kurt’s jovial voice called from within.
Winston managed to keep the stammer from his voice. ‘It’s me, Mr Pilo.’
‘Oh, Winston! Come in.’
He opened the trailer door, stepped inside and froze when he saw Shalice sitting in a chair beside Kurt’s desk. Oh, wonderful, he thought. This was going to make lying very tricky work, and the excuses he’d come up with on his way to the trailer were now useless.
Kurt clasped his hands together on the desk, resting them on a thick Bible. ‘Winston,’ he said, ‘I wanted to ask you something … What was it again? … Oh yes. What were you doing with the fortune-teller’s crystal ball?’
‘Well, boss,’ said Winston. ‘I don’t really know. Can’t say what possessed me to keep it in my room after I found it. But I want you to know I’m very sorry.’
Kurt didn’t react to this at all. There was a very thick silence, and when Shalice spoke Winston was almost grateful, even though she said: ‘You did not find it. You are lying. I can see it on your face.’
Winston kept his eyes fixed on Kurt. ‘Boss, I’m sorry.’
‘Was thou shalt not steal one of those, what do you call them?’ said Kurt.
Unsure who he was addressing, Winston stayed quiet. After a moment Shalice said, ‘Commandments? Yes.’
‘Hm,’ said Kurt, tapping an index finger on the Bible. ‘Then this is a bit serious, isn’t it? I don’t approve of stealing. And you were spying on me, too. Was that one of those commandments? Don’t spy on me?’
‘No sir!’ Winston said, wondering how JJ could be so unbelievably stupid. ‘I never even looked in the thing. Swear to … to God. I didn’t steal it from the fortune-teller either.’ With effort Winston stopped himself from saying more.
Kurt glanced at Shalice and while Kurt’s e
yes were averted Winston felt like he’d been released from a hard grip. She nodded reluctantly. ‘Truth. This time.’
‘Hmm,’ said Kurt. ‘It’s not so serious then, I suppose. What worries me, Winston, is that since Shalice lost her ball, there’s been a number of incidents. Do you know the ones I mean?’
This was the moment. Winston summoned what willpower he had left to keep every muscle in his face completely still, his voice even. ‘Yes sir. I think so.’
‘Hmm.’ Kurt tapped on his Bible again with a thick finger, his long sharp nail gouging into the hard cover, tap tap tap. ‘I’m all for a little sport here and there,’ said Kurt. ‘Competition helps the show. Would you repeat that for me, Winston?’
Winston swallowed. ‘Competition helps the show, sir.’
Kurt nodded. ‘That’s a very good point, Winston. But the acrobat tent was a very expensive piece of equipment. It’s going to take a long time to get it up and running again.’
Tap tap tap. The drumming got faster, drilling into Winston’s head like Chinese water torture. He tried to concentrate but there was no hiding the quaver in his voice now. ‘Yes sir, I imagine so,’ he said.
Tap tap tap. Two monstrous eyes bored into Winston like hot white lights, and he felt he was about to scream. One more second of that glare and he was going to wet his pants, turn tail and run.
Suddenly Kurt sat back in his chair and unclasped his hands. Winston flinched back at the sudden movement. The Bible on the desk had a hole in its cover as though it had been shot. ‘Very good,’ Kurt said lightly. ‘I’m glad we had this chat, Winston.’
Winston started. Had his ears deceived him? The way Kurt’s questions were headed, with a living lie detector by his side, he had been bracing himself for catastrophe. ‘Thank you, Mr Pilo,’ he said after a moment’s silence.
‘Hmm,’ said Kurt. Then, as though an afterthought, ‘Oh, but stop by the funhouse tonight, please. I’d like you to see the matter manipulator. Can’t have people thinking I’m a soft touch, I hope you understand.’
The Pilo Family Circus Page 25
