‘So, how was your first show?’ he asked.
‘Intense.’ Julia nodded. ‘You’ve got some incredible performers here. Just a shame some of them seem to be arseholes.’ She thought bitterly of Rachel.
‘You think so? I heard you’d been making friends already.’ Julia caught the tease in his voice and fought to stop herself from blushing. Had Robert been told about her encounter with Joe?
‘Your people aren’t what I would call welcoming,’ Julia said defensively, and remembered Rachel’s hissing, the hard stares of the roustabouts. She thought of Robert’s game playing the night before and felt a mix of arousal and shame as she remembered how she’d lain, naked and exposed on his couch. After the rush of the show, her emotions were volatile and she felt like confronting Robert, letting him know she couldn’t be so easily manipulated.
‘In fact, I’d call them twisted. There’s not a sane person in here.’ She controlled her voice with difficulty, trying not to let Robert see her agitation.
‘Nothing you can’t handle, Julia. It’s an intense environment, and not an easy way to live. I understand that.’ Robert was talking in a reasonable honeyed tone as though Julia were a teenager throwing a tantrum. She felt herself bristle.
‘You’ll understand, with time, what it’s all about.’ Robert reached out to rub a smudge of paint from Julia’s hairline and the tenderness of the gesture totally disarmed her. She was once again speechless in front of him, her body pulsing with adrenaline and her mind unsure of whether she wanted to fuck him or hit him.
‘It’s been a long day. Why don’t you unwind with the rest of the crew? They’ll be having a drink after the clear-up. Good chance to get to know them better, now that the first show’s over and everyone’s more relaxed.’
He lifted his can of beer to toast her, before turning and walking back to the exit. As he left she suddenly felt herself go limp, the tension of the day overwhelming her and leaving her with a mild buzz of exhaustion. Half of her wanted to follow Robert and slip into his caravan, sneak into bed beside him and press her body against his. But she couldn’t stand the thought of being rebuffed yet again, and instead walked listlessly towards the arena where the crew were stretching out on the crates and sitting on the edge of the stage. Julia slipped quietly into a seat aside from the chatting crowd, happy to watch from the sidelines for the moment.
The circus folk turned up gradually, dropping into seats and greeting each other with playful claps on the shoulder or kisses. Julia looked around. For the first time, everyone seemed relaxed. A warm glow was cast over the stage by the remaining house lights, bathing everyone in soft amber light. Sylvie sat cross-legged onstage, chatting with one of the trapeze girls. Half of the performers were still in costume, with T-shirts thrown on over the top and make-up half removed. Laughter rang out in the high vaulted space of the tent and Julia felt a pleasant buzz from the beer as she slouched in her seat. Feeling a little left out, she noticed Henri sitting by himself, staring vacantly at the floor between his feet. Julia approached him tentatively.
‘That was amazing, Henri. Really close to the edge with the knives.’
Henri looked up and smiled a little sadly, nodding. He had a soulful quality to his eyes Julia hadn’t noticed before, a kind of softness to the pale blue irises that was almost hypnotic. When he smiled, Julia saw the razor sharpness of his cheekbones soften, and a playful expression dance over his face.
‘To be honest, I wouldn’t have been all that unhappy if your hand had slipped,’ Julia admitted, feeling somehow that she could spill her secrets to Henri without fear of him betraying her. He laughed, the sound surprisingly deep and throaty. His freakish angular appearance reminded Julia of a gawky teenager, only with some deeper mystery to him that fascinated the eye.
‘Something tells me Rachel has not made a favourable impression?’ He whispered this to Julia so that the others couldn’t hear. ‘She can be a little challenging, Mizz Jones.’
As she sat there, feeling Henri’s wiry long-boned body next to hers, Julia found herself surprisingly drawn to his awkward personality. Though his silence and gaunt appearance had been alarming at first, she found that now she thought of him as complicated rather than intimidating. After seeing the utter focus of his knife-throwing and watching his muscles flexing delicately as he threw them, she had new admiration for his slim, bizarre body. She felt she was in the presence of a skilled artist.
‘So, is Rachel like that with everyone?’ she asked.
‘She’s a firework. She likes to cause trouble.’
‘You could call her a firework. Or you could just call her a bitch.’ Julia couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone.
Henri looked at her, amused. His dark eyes raked over hers, and she felt like some deep gentle force was probing her.
She really hurt you,’ Henri said, his voice more amused than sympathetic. Julia clenched her teeth, refusing to admit all the anxieties that seethed in her heart. She had performed well, but the circus was testing skills other than her dancing ability. Living among these people she felt she had to be constantly on the alert for games and traps.
‘Julia, this isn’t just a summer job.’ She looked up confused. Henri turned and surveyed the crowd who surrounded them, the tattooed, muscular men and the lithe women who laughed with deep throaty amusement as they sipped beer and discussed the night’s show. He nodded at the people in the tent.
‘We live this way. When we put on a show, it’s not merely work. It’s just the time we invite strangers to watch us. To watch us play our games.’ With a long, white-knuckled finger, he pointed at Sarah.
‘Take Sarah. When she’s climbing the pyramid, rubbing up against all those lovely glistening bodies –’ Henri raised his eyebrow at Julia, teasing her ‘– she’s not just acting a part, Julia. She’s doing it for her love of the feel of skin against skin, the desire to climb to the height of sensual experience. They developed the whole act around that idea, the slipperiness of oiled skin, the way you climb over your lover’s body as you rise higher.’ Henri’s voice was low and musical, and Julia felt a shiver run over her skin as he talked. ‘When I’m throwing knives at Rachel, it’s not an exercise in marksmanship. It’s a courtship.’
He paused to see if she had understood. She looked at him, the confusion evident on her face. He smiled, and again Julia saw an expression on his face that seemed tinged with some kind of sadness.
‘Will it be easier to understand if I tell you I’ve wanted Rachel for years? Since she joined us.’
‘She knows that?’ Julia was startled.
‘Of course.’ Henri shrugged. ‘It’s a one-way street, the way I feel about her. But if I didn’t feel for her, we couldn’t perform together. It’s playing out our desires. I want to undress Rachel, but I never will without trickery. And she loves to tease. Power play, you know.’ Julia saw the hunger in Henri’s eyes, and realised his gaze was fixed on Rachel across the stage, where she was sharing a cigarette with Joe. ‘I throw knives with anger as well as lust.’ He sighed, dropping his eyes to the ground.
‘It’s the sweetness of pain, Julia. Part of life’s rich tapestry. Why do you think you’re acting the part of a slave-girl?’
Julia’s face darkened as she considered Henri’s suggestion.
‘Robert thinks I’m a slave.’
‘Not unwillingly, Julia. You’re an acolyte of Sylvie.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Sylvie is the goddess of sexuality. You’ve been brought to worship at the altar. Robert takes you to Sylvie to awaken your own desire.’
‘This is bullshit.’ Julia felt herself growing angry again. ‘It’s a sex show, Henri, not some philosophy club.’ She was taken aback by Henri’s raucous high-pitched laughter.
‘No, my dear, it’s not a philosophy club,’ he said. ‘But you’ll understand more if you stop trying to fight everyone. Play the game.’
‘Game? I thought you said it was all for real?’
�
�Oh the game is real, Julia, very real.’ He gave her an enigmatic smile. ‘What else is there? Take the two of us, just now. You are a beautiful girl, so brimming with possibility, so full of sexual energy that your own desires confuse you. I’m a strange man offering you my own freakish ideas.’
‘What?’
‘Play the game, Julia. At the moment, I have the power, you are the one who is lost.’
Julia saw the strength in Henri’s body all of a sudden, the years of training and learned skill focused in his lithe sinewy muscles. His eyes were cold, deep and magnetic. Julia felt herself drawn into them.
‘But if I tell you that I suffer because of my desire for Rachel, you see how the game changes?’
Julia saw the sadness in Henri’s eyes again, and noticed his craggy asymmetry, his singular ungainliness.
‘It’s all a matter of perception, Julia. Learning to play the hand you have.’ He leant in dose and spoke in a low voice. ‘What if I tell you that I like the pain?’ Again, Julia sensed a subtle shift in the atmosphere between them. Henri was looking at her with a strange expression. She sensed a charge to his words.
‘There is more to sex than straightforward fucking, Julia. There’s a darker side too. Did you ever ask what turns you on?’
‘A horny man with a good body usually does it for me.’ Julia tried to keep the tone light, but Henri wouldn’t relent.
‘Is that so? What constitutes a good body? Would you call me horny?’
Julia felt suddenly like she had been trapped in a spider’s web – was Henri trying to seduce her? He was regarding her quizzically, lying back and propped on his elbows, with one long leg bent at the knee. Julia now realised she could see the tight crotch of his trousers. He licked his lips.
‘Did we cross the line, Julia? Is there tension between us now? Can you imagine me making love to you?’ With one bony white hand, he reached out to touch Julia’s thigh. The feel of his hand, cool and dry on her skin, was disturbingly intimate, and as he tickled his fingers slowly over her thigh, dancing towards her lap, Julia struggled to stop herself from slapping him in the face. His wheedling tone and the sparse angular beauty of his face fascinated her, but she was almost horrified to think of him trying to fuck her. A mix of repulsion and excitement surged within her – there was a perverse allure to Henri, but he was –
‘You don’t find me attractive? Does that disgust you? Make you angry?’
Henri seemed to be reading her mind as his hand reached higher, creeping towards the hem of her white wrap. Julia was on the point of pulling away, but something kept her frozen, mesmerised by Henri’s actions. She’d never experienced a conversation like this, so direct and intimate that it made her squirm with discomfort.
‘How does that make you feel? If I asked to lick your feet, what would you say? Would you hurt me?’
‘Hurt you? I don’t want to . . . I don’t want to sleep with you.’
She was aware how feeble her reply sounded, but was still shaken by Henri’s reaction: he laughed again, throwing back his head and squealing with a horse-like whinny. She noticed a few heads turning, as the two of them caught the attention of the crowd. She saw Sylvie, leaning with her head on her hands, watching them intently. A silence had fallen in the tent and Julia realised she and Henri were the centre of attention. Across the stage, Joe leant against the scaffolding, sipping at a beer and smiling at her grimly. As her eyes met his he gave her a wink.
‘What are you doing to Robert’s protégée, Henri?’ a girl’s voice called out at them, prompting a ripple of laughter in the crowd. Julia felt herself stiffen as she looked warily round the tent. She noticed the bodies lying prone in the heat, still slightly damp with sweat and brushed with stage make-up. Sarah was lying across the lap of one of the roustabouts, her bustier pushed up so that her breasts were loose, almost spilling out of the corset.
‘Trying to find out what makes her tick?’ Rachel cut in, walking across the stage to where Julia and Henri were sitting. ‘You could ask Joe.’ Another ripple of laughter. Rachel stood in front of them and put her hands on her hips. Julia felt herself prickle with distaste, looking up at the woman as she stood proudly over them.
‘Did you tell her what you really want, Henri? What you enjoy?’ Rachel slowly bumped her hips side to side, waving her crotch in front of Henri’s face. Julia saw his eyes darken, whether with anger or lust she couldn’t tell.
‘Give her a bite, Henri,’ another voice called out from the back of the tent. Henri ignored the comment, and Julia watched transfixed as he looked up at Rachel’s sneering smile. She thought he was almost begging Rachel, though there was a coldness in his face too.
‘You want to be careful you don’t make me lose concentration, Rachel.’
‘In case the knives slip? I know you wouldn’t do that to me, darling.’
Rachel leant down and kissed Henri, their faces so close to Julia she could hear the smacking noise as their mouths touched. She saw Rachel’s tongue dart between Henri’s thin lips and run over his teeth, and heard his sharp intake of breath as Rachel caught his bottom lip between her teeth. Julia knew she was biting him, hard. She heard the softest of moans escape from Henri’s throat before Rachel released him and stood back laughing.
‘It’s a piece of cake, girl. You want to hook someone, all you have to do is find out where your desires meet.’ Rachel looked triumphantly at Julia, while Henri reached out to stroke her ankle, his pale hand touching the leather of her boots with almost reverent fascination.
‘I like to hurt Henri, and he enjoys the pain.’ Rachel spoke with leisurely cruelty, ignoring Henri’s caresses before kicking his hand away sharply. ‘What’s your pleasure, Julia?’
‘I like some competition,’ Julia hissed, aware once again she was letting Rachel antagonise her. ‘Helps me rise to the challenge.’
Her dislike of the woman sent heat coursing through her veins, provoking her to react without thinking. She felt cornered between Rachel’s poisonous antagonism and Henri’s twisted overtures. Both of them were watching her intently, along with half the performers, who were fascinated at the prospect of a catfight to entertain them. The atmosphere between them crackled electric, neither woman breaking the silence.
Henri finally stood up to whisper something at Rachel. She spat with disgust, but Julia knew his words had defused the situation when Rachel’s haughty posture relaxed by a fraction.
Rachel continued to stare at her, one eyebrow raised as though sizing up the competition. Julia held her gaze.
‘Fabulous,’ Rachel declared finally. ‘In that case, let the games begin, sweetheart.’
7
MOTORS ROARED INTO life, engines revving loudly, till the field was full of noise and fumes. Trucks and caravans circled the field before leaving one by one for the motorway. Behind them tyre tracks criss-crossed over the grass, the only remaining sign of the circus’s two week occupation.
Julia settled into the passenger seat of Joe’s truck cab, ready for a long and deliciously flirtatious drive to Birmingham. Better prepared for the road this time, she wore sandals, a vest top and short denim cut-off skirt, her body lightly tanned from days of practice in the sun, her muscles already stronger and her body leaner than when she’d arrived.
‘Been a good run here,’ Joe remarked, looking over the site one last time. ‘I’m almost sorry to go.’
‘Yeah, I’m guessing you’ve developed a particular fondness for that patch of grass by the fence.’ Julia grinned.
‘Fuck the grass, girl. I was thinking of a different area entirely. The one you’re sitting on, in fact.’ Joe had to raise his voice over the old truck’s engine as he gunned it over the verge and onto the tarmac road. He swore as the gears crunched, working the accelerator with his foot and pulling hard on the wheel. Julia could see his skin glistening and smell the sweat from him.
‘It’s a beast to drive, this thing,’ he said. ‘Be better once we’re on the open road and can cruise. You up for a game o
f I-spy?’
‘I can think of better ways to pass the time, Joe.’
‘Discussing politics and art, you mean?’
‘Of course.’
‘Well don’t get any funny ideas, young lady. We’re in convoy and on a strict schedule. There’ll be no rest stops, I’m afraid.’
‘Who said anything about stopping?’
Joe grinned his lazy grin, eyes still focused on the road ahead.
‘Just as long as you don’t distract the driver. We’ve got a long way to go.’
As they gathered speed on the wider road, Julia felt a rush of exhilaration at the prospect of moving on. Touring life had its drawbacks – cramped conditions and a severe lack of privacy, to say the least – but she relished the chance to pack up and change the scenery every few weeks.
‘So you’re sure you want to stick with us, babe, or should I drop you off at London?’ Joe asked.
‘You mean, am I sure I’m cut out for the circus? I thought I was doing okay.’
‘Oh, you’re doing fine. Just wondered if the freakshow hadn’t put you off.’
‘You forget I’ve spent years in the theatre, Joe. I can handle a few tantrums.’
Joe nodded, still concentrating on the road ahead.
‘You’re enjoying it, then?’ he asked.
‘I love the show.’
‘And the people?’
‘They certainly aren’t easy,’ Julia acknowledged. ‘But they are . . . fascinating. I think it’s a learning curve. And,’ she added, ‘I’ve spent the past week so horny I can hardly sit still.’ Her words were calculated to prick Joe’s interest.
He glanced over to where she was curled on the seat. She had her legs tucked underneath herself like a Buddha, and was pushing her tits up against the seatbelt, letting the hard black strip press into her nipples. She rubbed gently against the edge of the seatbelt, looking up at Joe from half-closed eyes. His gaze dropped again to her nipples – from the way they stuck out proudly through her cotton top, Joe could tell she was aroused.
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