Sapphire

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Sapphire Page 5

by Rebecca Hammett


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  We are moving to my home town, Aberdeen, today. I have to get out for the ride and join the circus parade. I wonder if … No, Mum and Dad will never watch. They hate my training for the circus. But I wonder if Sylvie would come …

  I have just come in from the long, tiring parade. We do it every week, but I only do the parade if there are big crowds around. I was able to choose from my seven costumes: one hot pink dress with a knitted bolero and white frothy petticoats underneath; one silky black with a clingy waist, a velvet belt with a shining buckle and fishnet tights; another a magical frosty sky-blue, with a string of pale topazes on my wrists and waist, and I had sparkling pumps with little straps to keep the shoes in place while tumbling.

  My favourites were a purple strapless dress, which had a frothy edge of lilac lace. When I twirled around, my long, lavish skirts flew out gracefully, matching my shoes. I also loved my dark blue top and short skirt that were connected with a string of topazes, dark blue marbles and amethysts. My skirt showed rather a lot of leg, so I bought dark, shimmery glittery tights too. They contrasted with my gorgeous rings – all amethysts with blue edges. I had a sparkly collar around my neck, covered in glitter like my matching bracelet and anklet. The dark blue and the purple dress fought it out inside my head. Dark blue won. But after showing the midnight-blue frothy dress to Riel, he objected strongly and made me wear a loose gym top with sparkles on the chest tucked safely into my tight gym shorts.

  We all waited outside, and Madame Lilia noticed that I was shivering uncontrollably. It was early May, but I was frozen on this chilly night. She rode over on Chestnut, riding him because he’d given a fabulous performance in the ring earlier. He stood proudly, his head high and chest out. She gave me a hug, her violet and lavender perfume smelling sweet and tropical. Carefully, she wrapped a silk sari around me. It was dark blue with paler swirls and looked magical. Thanking her fervently, I ran to warm up for my somersaults and flips in the parade.

  “And here are the Girl Tumblers – little gems, each one of them!” shouted Riel through his loudspeaker. “Watch them twist and turn, spin and tumble! Amazing miracles, marvel at them!” By now, the crowd was roaring its approval, cheering when my friends or I turned a flick or double somersault. I launched myself and turned a round-off back tuck, landing in the right leg splits. The crowd surged forward, screaming, shouting, cheering and waving. Riel pushed Diamond forward, shouting, “Diamond Wayne, a somersaulting beauty! Only twelve years old, but so talented!” The crowd burst into a babble of clapping and shouting again when Riel pushed forward Rose Quartz and announced, “Look at this little sweetheart! Only eleven, though she works her little socks off practising her springboard tricks! Rose Quartz, the amazing little tumbler!” Rose Quartz proved his point by leaping naturally and somersaulting onto my shoulders. I ran forward, and Rose Quartz decided to backflip down. We stood together, hands up, beaming. I hope she is my friend again!

  “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, marvel at this little one! Sapphire Burne, the tumbling star! Watch her tumble and turn at the slightest instruction!” I started up my flicks, turning over and over and over, not stopping until Riel stopped watching. I flew backwards and jumped into a double back somersault, connected to a front handspring. I stood up and presented proudly. Everyone clapped and cheered uproariously.

  As the parade grew faint, my ears and hands began to throb. The heaving crowds had left, leaving only a few deserted families waving and shouting. My ears were ringing because of the constant noise for so long, but I was happy. I retreated to my wagon for the last hour or so, the four old carthorses (not Madame Lilia’s horses – they are far too important) pulling the train of about fifteen wagons along the dusty lanes and busy roads.

  As we sat in a ring when we’d arrived, Riel said to me, “Poor Sapphire – you’ll be getting too old for my circus soon. You’ll have to save up, Missy. Not too much longer, no, no, no!” I stared at him, depressed and despairing.

  But he was right. I realised the crowd didn’t love me, they loved Diamond and Rose Quartz who were little and dainty and sweet. What was the use of being in a circus when no one appreciated my hard work, and all I had to show for it was endless hours falling on my bottom, landing on my head, hurting my back? I was nearly nineteen. I should have a proper job, where I didn’t have to earn a tiny amount weekly when I practised daily and spent hours dealing with pain.

  Maybe I should consider taking my savings and breaking free? I wasn’t bought by any of the circus artistes – really I was as free as a bird! What stopped me?

  I only had £21 – how would I survive on that? Maybe people would turn me down, push me away, if I tried to apply for a job? Maybe I was just as well here, trapped in the life of performing every day and practising late at night. How would I get a job? I only had my five flouncy dresses and an odd selection of bracelets and necklaces – and they aren’t worth a penny. I couldn’t very well wear my slinky red leotard or black gym shorts around town. My options are limited as I can’t do sums at all, nor even use a simple calculator, and I wouldn’t be able to pen a one-verse poem, let alone write a book. I could read, of course, but I often couldn’t be bothered. The only thing I shone at was gymnastics, but I had only just realised that and there aren’t a lot of careers involving that. Maybe I’d stay at the circus forever, until Riel’s grandson took over, and until Madame Lilia’s daughter was the main equestrian performer. I sighed, heartbroken. No one wanted me or cared about me. It wasn’t fair.

  Sitting in the wagon that night (I was back in my old wagon, sharing with Diamond and Rose Quartz) I thought about what would happen to me. I was eighteen. I wouldn’t be able to carry on with gymnastic tumbling for too much longer. My back and neck were beginning to ache even more now, despite the fact I bathed each day for hours to try to soothe it and stretched for ages before I began gymnastics. What would happen if I was chucked out in the streets? I fumbled in the silvery shadows, moonlight snaking its way in from the corners of the limp felt curtains.

 

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