Anne was only the person in the circus, other than Molly, to know about Clicker’s past. When he was a young man he’d had a romance with Margaret Field. Billed as the most daring high wire act in the world, she and Clicker had spent almost a year together. They had made plans to give up this life for something a little more conventional but then Margaret, discovering she was expecting Clicker’s child, disappeared. He had received one letter from her the following year telling him of their daughter, Molly. He had kept the letter all those years, heartbroken that he would never again see the love of his life or his daughter.
His world was turned upside down again when, seven years ago, Molly arrived looking for her father. When she found him she seemed to be happy and, with her husband, joined the same circus as trick horse riders. Clicker felt he had at least found some happiness with his daughter close by – and she looked so much like her mother.
Things went well for a few months, then the demands for money started. Molly had told Clicker that her mother was very ill in Switzerland and that she could no longer keep up the payments for her mother’s care. Clicker hadn’t hesitated; this was the least he could do for Margaret. And so, most of his money earnings went to Switzerland while the old man lived a frugal existence, pretending to be happy and funny just to earn enough to pay the bills.
Anne looked at her watch.
‘Oh my – I didn’t realise how late it’s getting. Time just flies by with you, Clicker. You always make me feel better. I must go and get ready. Thank you for the tea – and good luck for tonight.’
Clicker grabbed Anne’s arm.
‘Anne, don’t stay here if it’s making you unhappy. I’m so sorry I can’t help you with money at the moment. If I could do it, I would, but I’m sure something will turn up for you soon.’
‘I know you want to help but please don’t worry. I’m sure you’re right. I’ve already got almost ten pounds saved up – that’s a start isn’t it?’
‘Yes, of course it is. Mind you keep it safe too.’
‘’Bye, Clicker.’
The old man closed the caravan door and drew the curtains across the tiny windows. It was time to get ready.
Peter Trevarthen held his mother’s hand as they walked from their house on Greenbank and made their way to the recreation ground and to the circus. As May walked with her father, she looked up at him.
‘Daddy, are lions dangerous?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose they are – if they escape.’
‘Peter says lions can eat you.’
‘Well, May dear, these lions will all be in the circus ring and nowhere near us – so you don’t need to worry. What are you most looking forward to, Peter?’
‘I think I shall like the clown best. I’ve got a book all about clowns. Do you remember, Daddy – Auntie Jane gave it to me when I was five, for my birthday?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I do remember.’
The family reached the entrance to the circus. Violet Trevarthen put her hands to her ears.
‘It’s very noisy, Charles.’
‘Oh, no it’s not, dear. Come on, you’ll enjoy it when it starts.’
Chapter Two
The Big Top fell silent. The lights were dimmed. Nothing was happening. Everyone waited.
‘CLICK. CLICK’.
A beam of light pooled in the centre of the circus ring and there stood a solitary clown. As he walked to the edge of the ring, his shoes could clearly be heard. ‘CLICK. CLICK.’
Peter laughed loudly.
‘Oh, Daddy – it’s Clicker … the clown on the poster. He’s so funny.’
The boy’s father smiled and looked at Violet. He winked, pleased that Peter was happy – at least for now.
Two more clowns joined Clicker, one of them driving a small car which promptly ran the other two over. Now even May was laughing – May who had said clowns were “childish and not in the least bit funny”. As the evening wore on, more and more acts came out to entertain including the juggling sisters, the trick ponies, dogs, lions, elephants. By the end of the show, most children there were exhausted.
‘Come along, you two – it’s very late.’
Violet Trevarthen gathered up the children’s coats and the family made for the exit. Peter ran on ahead, taming lions with a stick he had pulled from a hedge.
‘May, I’m going to be a lion tamer when I grow up.’
‘No you’re not – that would be stupid.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it would.’
‘Why?’
‘Mummy, tell Peter to stop saying “why”.’
‘I think you’re both very tired – you’re usually in bed by now. Did you enjoy yourselves, dears?’
Both children expressed their delight at having spent the evening at the circus and both begged to go again next time. By the time they reached the house, Peter was asleep in his father’s arms.
George Bartlett poured himself a cup of tea and lit his pipe.
‘Cuppa, Boase?’
‘Just had one, sir, thanks.’
Archibald Boase sat behind his desk and drew out a paper bag from his desk drawer. He carefully unwrapped it to reveal the contents, a large saffron bun.
‘Want a piece of bun with that, sir?’
Bartlett looked over the top of his glasses at the younger man.
‘No thanks, Boase – wouldn’t want to take food from a starving man. My word, no – you might waste away to nothing!’
‘All right, sir, no need to be sarcastic – I didn’t have much breakfast this morning … and I only had time for one cup of tea before I left.’
‘Well, I just offered you another. Here you are, pass your cup.’
Bartlett walked over to Boase’s desk with the teapot and filled the cup.
‘I think we’ll ask Penhaligon for some more, I’m rather thirsty myself this morning. Now, talk to me about the theft at the church.’
Boase took a small notebook from his pocket.
‘Well, sir, I was thinking about this Mr McCarthy – you know, the organist.’
‘Go on.’
‘What he said about the circus … do you think there’s anything in that?’
‘I don’t know, but I suppose we shouldn’t overlook it. When I was growing up in London we often had the circus coming to town – no one trusted them. I always thought they were a nice bunch of people on the whole, didn’t seem to cause much trouble, although …’
‘Although what, sir?’
‘Well. People did say the crime rate went up when they were in town – just petty thievery really, nothing, what you might call dangerous.’
‘Well, thievery is what we’re looking at here, sir, and in the absence of anything else, I think the circus might be a good place to start our enquiries. After all, they’ll be gone again soon and then it’ll be too late. I thought I’d take a couple of men up there this morning – see if we can find out anything.’
‘Right you are – I think I’ll come with you.’
Within the hour, Bartlett and Boase were at the recreation ground and, together with Constables Coad and Eddy, were talking to some of the circus troupe. Boase went inside the Big Top where the trapeze artists were practising. He watched in amazement, almost afraid to look up at their antics on the high wire. He walked over to the group and spoke to a young woman.
‘Excuse me, miss. My name is Constable Boase, from the police station. I was wondering if you could help me, please?’
The girl called out to the other members of the group who stopped what they were doing and came over. The girl, speaking in Italian, introduced Boase.
‘My name is Allegra. This is my sister, Rosa, my brother, Angelo, and my father, Giovanni Marziani. If you want to speak to my father, I’m afraid I will have to interpret – he doesn’t speak any English … well, only a very little.’
Giovanni shook Boase’s hand and said, ‘Very little, very little.’
Boase told the family his business and abo
ut the break-in at the church. When Allegra explained to the father, he made the sign of the cross across his chest and spoke hurriedly.
‘My father says he is shocked that someone could do this. We attend church as often as we can if we are not working. This is a terrible crime, constable.’
‘Yes, it is, miss. And none of you can offer any help? You haven’t heard anyone around the circus talking about it?’
‘No, I’m so sorry – nothing.’
‘I’m sorry to have troubled you all – thank you for your help.’
Boase walked towards the entrance to the tent and turned for one more look as the trapeze artists carried on rehearsing. As he left the tent, he saw Bartlett walking in his direction.
‘Any luck, Boase?’
‘No, sir, afraid not.’
‘Have you made an account of who’s here?’
‘Yes, I spoke to the ringmaster, Chester Martin – he seems to be in overall charge. He says everyone here is well-behaved, never seem to cause any trouble – well, not outside the circus.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘He said that there are often altercations amongst the people who work here – you know the sort of thing, squabbles about the acts or money, but these things are always resolved.’
‘So, who’s here? I’ve just been speaking to the lion tamers – Pearl and Arthur Wayland. They’re a strange pair … they were actually talking to me with three enormous lions roaring right next to me. I could barely hear a word.’
Boase laughed.
‘Well, aside from them, there’s, let me see … there’s the trapeze artists I’ve just been talking to – the Marzianis; they’re very good, sir. Irene will love their act. Then, well, then there’s the fire eaters, they’re called Howard and Gregory Smith, father and son those two.’
‘Have all these people been spoken to, Boase?’
‘Yes, looks like it, sir. Where was I? Right, three sisters, surname Warner, nice girls. Also, erm … here we are, yes – there’s a high wire act, they’re the Beauchênes … French, I suppose they are. And there’s a married couple called Edward and Molly James.’
‘What do they do?’
‘They do tricks on ponies or something I think, sir. Nearly at the end, wait a minute … oh, how could I forget the clowns – the lead clown is called Clicker …’
‘Real name?’
‘It doesn’t say here, sir.’
‘You’d better have a word with those two constables.’
‘What? Coad and Eddy?’
‘Yes – looks like they’re a right pair of clowns too. Their note-taking is dire. Did they add anything when you spoke to them?’
‘No luck, they say, sir. I’ve sent them back now. Two other clowns called Billy Jones and Brendan Hoyle. Just one more character – ooh, we don’t want to cross him.’
‘Cross who?’
‘Gwynfor Evans.’
‘Why – what’s the matter with him?’
‘Well, he’s Hercules – you know, sir, the strongman. You should see the size of him – about seven feet six, I’d say.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, but the hilarious thing is, sir, he’s got this little squeaky voice – really girly.’
Bartlett started to laugh at the thought of Hercules the Strongman having a girly voice. He pointed to the exit.
‘Come on, Boase. We may as well join the two clowns back at the station – this burglary had nothing to do with the circus. We’re wasting our time here.’
Clicker sat on the step of his little caravan and drank a small bottle of beer. He smiled as he watched Billy Jones trying to master the unicycle. As the younger clown fell to the ground for the seventh or eighth time, he turned to see Clicker laughing at him.
‘I’ll learn to do this if it kills me – and you can stop laughing. I’ve nearly got the hang of it.’
‘How long have you had that bicycle, Billy?’
‘About a year. I just need a bit better balance, that’s all. I will get it in the act soon.’
‘I’ll be dead before that happens – I’m not getting any younger, you know.’
Billy fell once more from the bicycle and, picking up the source of his frustration and embarrassment, headed for his own caravan.
Clicker shook open the Falmouth Packet and quickly flicked through the pages. He liked Falmouth well enough. Yes, this might be the sort of place he would retire. But, wait … no, Clicker would never retire. His family was right here in the circus. Everything he wanted was here. Well, almost everything. As he cast his mind back many years and thought of his beloved Margaret, a tear came to his eye and he hastily wiped it away, just in time to see Molly coming towards him. He stood up from the step.
‘Hello, Molly. You all right?’
‘Yes thanks. Better than Mum.’
‘Oh no. How is she, Molly dear?’
‘I had a letter from the clinic. Her doctor says she’s up and down, you know. Sent me another bill too.’
Clicker sat back down on the step.
‘How much is it, Molly?’
She pulled a sheet of paper from her coat and handed it to the old man. He drew some reading spectacles from his pocket and looked at the bill.
‘This is such a lot, Molly dear.’ ‘I know – but I can’t pay it. You want her to get better, don’t you?’
‘Oh, of course I do. But I also want to go to see her. I can’t afford to travel to Switzerland when all this is costing so much.’
‘Look, Dad. You and Mum had a thing going years ago – it didn’t work out and that’s not my fault. Why should I have to pay for your mistakes?’
‘Don’t be like that, Molly, please. I’ve tried to help you ever since you came here to the circus, you know that. But I haven’t got pots of money.’
‘Don’t blame me for your shortcomings.’
‘I would have given anything to be able to stay with your mother – but she just left. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye – or to even see you. I would have loved nothing more than to be a proper little family with you. I loved your mother so much.’
Molly snatched the bill from Clicker’s hand and marched off. The old man turned, went inside his caravan, and locked the door.
‘What time are you and Irene off to the circus tonight, Boase?’
‘Well, I thought I’d call for her about six, if that’s all right, sir?’
‘Yes, that should be fine. Come in for a cuppa afterwards if you like – you should be out by about nine … unless you have other plans, that is?’
‘No, I don’t think so, sir.’
Boase blushed and didn’t know why. He and Irene Bartlett were engaged now – and he needed to stop blushing when anyone spoke of his lovely fiancée; no, that wasn’t befitting a soon-to-be married man, rather a silly schoolboy.
‘Any more news on the church business, my boy?’
‘No, nothing at all. They’ve taken the precaution of extra locks on all of the doors – but that’s literally closing the stable door after the horse has bolted.’
‘Well, we’d better keep an eye on it. Come on, let’s go before Greet finds us something else to do – we’ve been here quite long enough today.’
Boase didn’t argue and the two men took their coats down from the stand and left for home.
At five minutes to six Archie Boase was knocking at the Bartletts’ front door. He waited and heard Topper, the Airedale Terrier, barking from the other side. The door was opened and there stood Caroline Bartlett.
‘Hello, Archie – how lovely to see you again. Come on in.’
Boase entered the hall and went forward into the parlour, negotiating Topper as he went. The dog picked up a red rubber ball and dropped it at Boase’s feet.
‘I can’t really play with you in here, Topper boy – we might break something.’
Topper lay down and, resting his head on his paws, let out a long sigh.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Topper. Have I upset you? I’m sor
ry. Here, have a little pat.’
Boase knelt on the floor next to Topper and patted the dog’s head. Caroline smiled.
‘You’re very silly with that dog, Archie. Anyway, how are you?’
‘I’m very well, thanks, Mrs Bartlett.’
‘Archie! How long have you known me – it’s Caroline to you.’
‘Oh, yes. Sorry – I keep forgetting.’
Boase still didn’t feel comfortable calling his prospective mother-in-law by her Christian name – any more than he could call his boss ‘George’.
‘Sit down for a minute, Archie. Irene will be here presently; she just went up to change her shoes.’
As Boase sat and waited, Bartlett came in from the kitchen.
‘Evening, my boy. Everything all right?’
‘Yes thanks. You?’
Bartlett signalled to a bottle of his beloved Leonard’s London Beer on the sideboard and grinned.
‘Oh, I’m more than all right – got time for one of these, Boase?’
Boase looked at the mantel clock which was just striking six.
‘No, thanks, better not; we don’t want to be late.’
At that, Irene came into the room. Boase stood up and looked at her.
‘Evening, Archie – do I look OK?’
‘Oh, yes, Irene. You look lovely.’
‘Well, you’re not so bad yourself. Shall we go?’
‘Yes, come on then.’
Irene kissed her mother and father and then she and Boase went out into the hall. Caroline called after them.
‘See you both later – have a lovely time.’
The front door was shut and the house was quiet. Topper, who had been to the door to see them off, came back into the parlour and lay down on the rug.
‘I think I’ll have my beer now, Princess. Can I get anything for you?’
‘No thanks, George. I’ll make myself some tea in a minute. They make such a lovely couple, don’t you think, George? George?’
Bartlett was patting Topper on the head and concentrating on his pipe’
‘George!’
‘Sorry, Princess, what was that you said?’
‘Oh never mind. You’re hopeless.’
‘I’m sorry. You said something about them being a lovely couple?’
‘So you did hear me.’
A Fool and His Money Page 2
