by Dilly Court
‘I don’t know how to thank you all,’ Effie said, her lips trembling. ‘You’ve been so kind.’
‘You’re one of us now, and you have the mark on you.’ Laila spoke in solemn tones that brought a ripple of assent from the small crowd gathered around Effie.
Effie was not certain that this boded well. ‘What does that mean?’
Laila tapped the side of her nose. ‘All will be revealed in good time. Now I must get back to my tent and polish my crystal ball. Them bleeding punters put their sticky fingers all over it when they think I’m not looking.’ She turned on her heel and waltzed off with her skirts swirling around her in a rainbow of colours accompanied by the merry tinkling of the coins.
Having eaten her own food quickly and given Georgie his breakfast washed down with a cup of milk, Effie made a pot of tea and took a cup into the caravan for Annie, who had taken down the curtains and was busy stripping the covers off the squabs.
‘I always said that two-headed woman was a slut,’ she said, holding up the stained material for Effie to see. ‘She might have had two brains but I’ll swear she never used either of ’em.’
‘I’ve brought you a cup of tea, Annie.’
‘Ta, ducks. Put it down on the table and I’ll get to it as soon as I’ve tossed these disgusting rags out of the window.’ With an energetic swing of her arm, Annie disposed of the offending material. She stood, arms akimbo, admiring her work. ‘This is going to take me all day, and you’d best get off to Arnoldo’s van. He don’t like to be kept waiting.’
‘What do you think he wants with me?’ Effie asked, unsurprised by Annie’s remark. She was getting used to the idea that the fairground folk knew everything that went on in their midst.
‘He’ll tell you soon enough,’ Annie said mysteriously. ‘Leave young Georgie here with us. Jessie will keep an eye on him and Gert is always there if they take a tumble.’
In the face of such a persuasive argument and with her curiosity running high, Effie brushed her hair and tied it back with a ribbon. It would have been nice to have a change of clothes, but she had left the barge with little more than a spare blouse and a clean pair of drawers. She had packed most of Georgie’s clothes but her best gown, the one in which she had married Owen, was wrapped in tissue paper and stowed away in the cabin on the Margaret. Owen had insisted on having it made for her by the best dressmaker in Bow, and the woman had excelled herself. Fashioned from many yards of lavender silk, the full skirts had billowed out over a nine-hoop crinoline. It had been the most beautiful gown that Effie had ever seen, let alone possessed, and it had cost her much heartache to leave it behind.
‘You look fine, ducks,’ Annie said, as if reading her mind. ‘Now get along with you. I’ll throw a few vegetables in the cooking pot for you later, and maybe one of the lads will come back with a rabbit or a couple of pigeons. We share and share alike round here, as you’ll soon find out.’
Effie smiled and nodded, completely overwhelmed by Annie’s motherly concern. It was a long time since she had had any female company, and she did not quite know how to respond, but Annie had already turned her attention to cleaning beneath the squabs. She pulled out a single, dirty and much-darned stocking and tossed it out of the window with a disgusted snort. Effie left her to it, and having made certain that Jessie was taking proper care of Georgie she made her way to the Great Arnoldo’s caravan.
She found him outside on the grass going through his elaborate routine with accompanying loud grunts and a great deal of posturing. He made her wait until he had completed a series of bends and stretches, and when he finally came to the end he untied a red and white spotted scarf from round his neck and mopped his brow. ‘You’re late,’ he said in a matter-of-fact voice.
‘I’m sorry,’ Effie murmured, dropping a curtsey. He towered above her and she felt very small and insignificant in his presence, but his scowl was wiped away by a shy smile and he looked almost apologetic.
‘I didn’t mean to shout at you, little girl.’
‘My name is Effie, and I’m not a little girl.’
He eyed her speculatively. ‘Well, Effie, you are very small and that is what I have been looking for.’
‘What is it you want, mister?’
Without saying another word, Arnoldo stepped forward and seizing her round the waist he spun her round and round like a Catherine wheel, ending by sitting her on his shoulders. ‘Perfect,’ he said happily. ‘And I don’t doubt that Nora’s costumes will fit you like the proverbial glove.’ He set Effie down on the ground but the world was still spinning and she struggled to regain her balance.
‘What was all that about?’
He picked up a pair of dumb-bells. ‘That was part of my act, until Nora decided to marry the local butcher. I tried to dissuade the poor girl, but she would have none of it and now she lives in Upminster over the butcher’s shop with a squalling baby and another on the way. She gave up all this for that.’ As if to underline his point, Arnoldo spat on the ground.
Effie blinked as the world righted itself and her head seemed to re-join the rest of her body. ‘Are you suggesting that I take her place?’
‘That is the general idea,’ Arnoldo said gravely. ‘In return for lodging in the caravan and for a small remuneration, you would become my partner in the act.’
‘And you toss me around like a spinning top? Is that it?’
‘That is part of it. You would attract the crowd, who are always drawn to a pretty girl wearing a short skirt and a low-cut bodice.’
Effie stared at him in dismay. ‘A short skirt, sir? Do you mean I would expose myself below the knee?’
‘There would be nothing indecent, young lady. Nora used to wear long drawers fashioned from the most costly silk stockinette. They looked completely natural, but covered her modesty.’
‘And you would expect me to do the same?’ Effie closed her eyes, thinking of Owen and his horror if such a suggestion had been vaunted within his hearing; but then commonsense began to reassert itself. Owen had gone to a place where he was unable to help her now, nor could he be upset or offended if his wife was obliged to sacrifice her modesty in order to support their son.
‘Of course,’ Arnoldo said sternly. ‘That is an important part of the act. What is your answer, young Effie?’
She was tempted, but she knew she must move on as soon as she was rested enough to travel on foot in her search for Tom. ‘I must be on my way as soon as possible, Mr Arnoldo. I thank you for your offer, but . . .’
He held up his hand. ‘I have heard that you are looking for the horse dealer. There is no surer way to find him than to stay with the fair. Tapper turns up where and when he feels like it, but turn up he will.’
Effie bit her lip as she tried to make up her mind. She was reluctant to postpone her search for Tom, but she also had to think of Georgie’s welfare. She had spent a little of the money she took from Jacob, but she would need every penny of it to set them up in a rented home of their own once she had found Tom. If she stayed with the fair for a week or two she could earn her keep and be on hand should Toby turn up as Arnoldo suggested.
‘Well, don’t keep me waiting all day,’ Arnoldo said, flexing his muscles so that his naked torso appeared to move of its own volition. ‘There are young ladies queuing up to be my assistant.’
Effie looked around and could see nothing other than the fairground people setting up their stalls and going about their daily routine. Myrtle waved to her from the sweet stall where she was stacking toffee apples onto a tray, and Elmo winked at her as he sauntered past carrying a ladder. They were kind people and they had taken her in; Effie nodded her head. ‘Yes, I’ll help you in your act, mister. And thank you for giving me the opportunity.’
Arnoldo’s shoulders drooped and he exhaled a great sigh, which could have been interpreted as impatience at being kept waiting or relief that Effie had accepted his challenge. He confirmed the latter by giving her a hug that almost knocked the air from her lungs.
‘I’m so glad, Effie. I was afraid you’d turn me down.’ He set her back on the ground, wiping tears from his eyes.
‘Why, you’re just a big soft thing after all,’ Effie said, patting him on the arm. ‘I was scared of you at first, but I’m not now.’
He gave her a watery smile. ‘I wouldn’t harm a fly, and that’s the truth. I was given this big body, but inside I quake every time I face an audience and sometimes I just want to run away. It will be so much easier with you at my side, little Effie. You may be a half-pint, but you have a brave heart, anyone can see that.’
‘Perhaps you’d show me the costumes I have to wear?’ Effie suggested. ‘I mean, they might not fit me and I would have to alter them.’
‘Of course,’ Arnoldo said, brightening. ‘Come into my caravan and you shall choose which one you will wear tonight.’
‘Tonight?’ Effie ran after him as he strode towards his van. ‘But I don’t know what to do.’
‘We’ll rehearse all afternoon, my little chick. By this evening you will be Miss Effie, assistant to the Great Arnoldo.’
Zilla altered Nora’s costume to fit Effie’s small frame and she was ready for the second performance which began at seven o’clock. Dressed in a bodice embroidered with glittering spangles and with her legs encased in pink stockinette drawers under an alarmingly short, semi-opaque white tarlatan skirt, Effie waited nervously in the entrance of the large tent. She could see Jessie sitting on one of the benches in the front row with Georgie on her knee, and he was staring at her outlandish costume with obvious delight. Effie waved to him, forcing a smile and hoping that her nerves did not show. She was grateful for the fact that it was Monday and therefore the audience was small. If she made a complete mess of things there would be few people to see her make a fool of herself. She stood aside as Ethel the bareback rider cantered past on her horse, a sturdy piebald pony named Brag, who normally pulled her caravan but was quite happy to trot round the small ring with Ethel doing not very much other than displaying a lot of leg and a daring amount of décolletage. Eventually she managed to rise onto her knees and then briefly rose to her feet to tumultuous applause, especially from the men who Effie realised saw a great deal more of Ethel’s plump body than was seemly.
Frank junior announced the acts and Effie thought him very handsome in his slightly green-tinged tailcoat and top hat. He had a commanding presence and a way with the audience that made them clap and cheer at the right moment. Although Effie had never visited a circus she found herself comparing this performance to those she had read about in magazines that Owen had bought to amuse her. There were no wild animals, unless you counted the World’s Largest Rat, Charlie the capybara, whom Frank junior had just introduced to a stupefied and slightly scared audience. Effie had come across Charlie by accident that afternoon when she almost fell over him as he grazed placidly in a shady spot between two caravans. Her screams had attracted his keeper, Fernando, a South American seafarer who explained in charming broken English that he had brought the animal to England when it was small enough to sit in his pocket. He had hoped to sell Charlie for a fat profit to the Zoological Society in London, but they had refused to buy the creature and anyway he had become fond of his rapidly growing pet. Fernando had jumped ship and had ended up travelling with the fair showing Charlie and tending to the horses. He had calmed Effie down, introducing her to the huge rodent who he said was as gentle as a lamb and loved being stroked, which made him purr like a cat.
Fernando led Charlie past Effie, and the capybara stopped to sniff her hand, looking up at her with gentle brown eyes before being led outside to be fed on cabbage leaves and carrots. In ringing tones, Frank junior introduced Arnoldo, the World’s Strongest Man, and Miss Effie, his beautiful assistant. As if in a trance Effie found herself following Arnoldo into the centre of the trampled grass ring.
‘Mama, Mama,’ Georgie trilled in his baby voice, causing a ripple of laughter to run around the tent.
Effie blew Georgie a kiss as she relieved Arnoldo of his red velvet cloak. A gasp of admiration was drawn from both males and females as they observed his bulging muscles and tanned flesh anointed with oil so that it glistened in the light of the lanterns that dangled overhead. Effie curtseyed and stationed herself in front of Arnoldo who picked her up and twirled her several times above his head. She came down to enthusiastic applause and she began to relax. Her job was relatively simple: she just had to remember in which order to hand his props to Arnoldo, and when to allow him to pick her up and spin her round or to toss her into the air and catch her as she plummeted back to earth. They were at the end of their act when something went drastically wrong. Arnoldo threw her up above his head, but somehow the timing went awry and as she came down she slid off his oiled chest and although he made a grab for her she fell to the hard-packed earth with a thud that winded her. She lay gasping and the audience rose as one to their feet. She could hear Georgie calling for her and his sobs echoed round in her dazed brain as she struggled to catch her breath.
Then, strong hands lifted her gently to her feet and she found herself supported by Frank junior. ‘The lady is not hurt, ladies and gentlemen,’ he announced calmly. ‘Miss Effie has survived and lives to perform another day.’
Effie leaned against him, struggling for every painful breath.
‘Are you all right?’ Frank whispered in her ear. ‘Try to smile for God’s sake and I’ll lead you out.’ He turned to Arnoldo who was openly weeping. ‘Get off, you jackass. Don’t let them see you sobbing like a girl.’ Frank hoisted Effie up in his arms and she managed a wave to the crowd as they left the tent to a round of sympathetic clapping.
Frank set her down on the ground. ‘Are you all right now, Effie? Can you stand?’
‘Yes,’ Effie gasped. ‘I’m fine. Thank you, Mr Junior.’
He threw back his head and laughed. ‘My name is Frank. Unfortunately my pa decided to share his Christian name with me and I am burdened with the title junior, but only to those who do not know me well.’ He took off the slightly battered top hat to reveal a fine head of hair the colour of ripe horse chestnuts and equally as shiny. His brown eyes gleamed with humour and he had a strong jaw. Effie was immediately attracted to him and instantly ashamed of herself for thinking of any man other than her beloved Owen. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and she put a respectable distance between them. She was bruised and sore but that did not explain the rate at which her pulses were racing or why she was inexplicably lost for words.
‘I have to go back inside,’ Frank said, seemingly oblivious to the mixed emotions that raged in her breast. ‘The punters will be getting restive and I have to introduce Elmo. You will be all right, won’t you, Effie?’
The genuine concern in his eyes and the sincerity in his voice only added to her confusion, but she managed to nod her head. ‘I’m quite all right, thank you, Frank. I’d better go and find Arnoldo; he seemed very upset.’
‘You do that, but don’t worry about old Arnie, he’s always boohooing about one thing or another. His mother was Italian, you see. They’re a very emotional race.’
Effie found that she could not take her eyes off Frank as he strode back into the tent. He was tall and broad-shouldered and despite the shabbiness of his clothes, he had an air about him as if he were meant for better things. She jumped aside as Elmo raced past her holding his flaming torches aloft and only narrowly missing setting fire to the flaps of the tent. Putting thoughts of Frank and the way in which he had swept her off her feet aside, Effie made her way to Arnoldo’s caravan. She found him slumped over the table amongst the remnants of his evening meal, and judging by the odour of sour milk and rancid bacon fat he had not cleared anything away since breakfast or possibly his supper last night. Arnoldo’s living space was a clutter of discarded clothes, books and old newspapers. His bedding lay crumpled on the bunk and the floor was littered with dumb-bells, barbells, boots and shoes.
Effie stood in the doorway, not knowing whethe
r to enter or to go away and allow him time to recover, but his shoulders were shaking and she could see tears seeping through his fingers as he clasped his hands over his eyes.
‘Are you all right, Arnie?’
He mumbled something unintelligible.
She picked her way carefully around the scattered items on the floor and, overcome with pity, she put her arm around his shoulders. ‘I’m not hurt and the audience thought it was part of the act. Didn’t you hear them applauding you?’
He stopped sobbing for a moment, gulped and sniffed. ‘You’re just saying that.’
‘No, cross my heart and hope to die if I tell a lie. They loved you, Arnie.’
He dropped his hands to his sides and lifted his head, smiling at Effie as though she had given him the best news in the world. ‘They loved me?’
She nodded vigorously. ‘I just need a bit more practice. I expect it was my fault that I fell, and maybe you had just a little too much oil on your skin. You were a bit slippery.’
He jumped to his feet and gave her a hug that made her wince. ‘You are a good girl, Effie. We will begin in the morning and perfect our act. I will make a star of you, my girl, although you will never eclipse the Great Arnoldo.’ Grinning like a happy child, Arnoldo swept the mess from his table, and scrabbling about in the tumble of bedclothes and cushions he produced half a loaf. ‘Will you stay for supper, little one? I have some cheese, I think, and a pork pie somewhere amongst all this clutter. As you can see, I am not the best of housekeepers. Perhaps . . .?’
The unspoken question hung in the air but Effie was beginning to understand her new boss and she smiled. ‘I’ll help you tidy up in the morning, Arnie, but now I must get back to my van and put Georgie to bed. But thank you anyway.’ She left him searching for the rest of his supper and with a feeling of relief that she had been able to help him out of his black mood, even if it had entailed a few white lies, Effie made her way back to her caravan.
The sun had set and the fair was in full swing. Naphtha flares illuminated the stalls and the merry-go-round was crowded with punters, their faces shining with delight as the horses waltzed in dizzying circles to the sound of the Dutch organ. Despite the odd shriek of agony from the booth where Jed the blacksmith was pulling teeth at a penny a go, the atmosphere was a happy one. Dusk was slowly swallowing up the world outside the brightly lit fairground, and the summer night was heavy with the mixed odours that were now becoming so familiar to Effie that she barely noticed them. She was still stiff and sore but the pain was lessening and she quickened her pace, eager to get home so that she could be there when Jessie returned with Georgie. It was comforting to know that they were safe here amongst the fairground folk. If only Tom were here, Effie thought as she threaded her way between the vans; how happy and excited he would be to share this life with her. She gazed up into the darkening sky where a silver fingernail of moon shone like one of the glass pendants on the merry-go-round, and the evening star twinkled like a friendly eye. She remembered what Leah had said about her lost child and how she imagined him looking down at her from the stars. Perhaps Owen and her ma were up there too. Effie felt a superstitious shiver run down her spine. What would Owen think if he knew that she had felt something awaken in her that she thought had gone to the grave with him? Would he ever forgive her if she allowed herself to love another man? She paused as she entered the circle of light from the camp fires and saw Gert sitting on the steps of her caravan.
