Voices: Son of the Circus

by E. L. Norry

  Polly set down her sewing and she nodded. “Pablo’s son.” She smiled kindly, her cheeks bunching up into two apples.

  “Yes, m-ma’am,” I stuttered. Whenever George and I had attended Sunday school we didn’t sit with the girls, and there hadn’t been any in our section of the factory, so I hadn’t had much occasion to speak with many young ladies, certainly none as pretty as this one. Her eyes were the bluest blue; a striking combination with such dark tresses.

  She burst into sweet-sounding laughter before leaning forward to pat me on the shoulder. “Ma’am? Oh, I like that! Larkin – you’d be best placed to listen to this gentleman’s manners, he could learn you a thing or two! Here, have this.” She handed me a lump of bread. “I’ll make tea and fetch some more food.” She left her material on the wagon steps and strolled across the field towards the smaller tent.

  “What happens now?” I asked, watching Larkin’s eyes follow Polly.

  “We eat, dummy,” he muttered, clearly not listening.

  “I mean today. What do we do?”

  “Mornings is rehearsal time. Those are the Bellini brothers over there. Learn from them while you fill your belly and then we’ll get to them horses. I’ll grab the grub from Pol, you wait here.”

  I sat on the wagon steps Polly had vacated. The three men Pablo had mentioned earlier – Edwin, Hugo and Sid – were now all barefoot, wearing navy one-pieces. They threw each other around, looking loose and bendy, as if they were connected to each other by rubber bands.

  Were these tricks Pablo thought I would be able to do? Because there wasn’t a chance of that.

  After the brothers had finished bouncing and throwing each other, they stopped and took a breath. They looked very much alike: short and stocky with expressive hands and animated faces, all with handlebar moustaches. It was difficult to tell their age; they could have been fifteen or twenty-five.

  I walked over to them. “How did you become so skilled?” I asked in awe.

  “We put in a good many hours practising.”

  “Rehearsals from six o’clock, all morning, every day.”

  “We’ve no other interest apart from whether Sid has learnt his double somersault on and off the pony, or whether Hugo should learn how to dance on the tightrope.”

  I was becoming dizzy, having to turn my head to follow their rapid flow of conversation as they spoke over each other; it was impossible to tell which words came from whom.

  That had to be Edwin speaking then. “But how do you balance on one another at all?”

  They had thick accents. I couldn’t tell where they were from.

  “You need to consider balance and counterbalance to achieve the variety of moves and lifts.”

  They spoke quickly. “One person might lift and support the other, or maybe even throw and catch them.”

  They smiled round at each other, and one clapped another on the back. They all seemed in perfect harmony with one another; happy, and at ease. Would I ever become this comfortable in my own skin?

  Larkin trotted across to me carrying two large bowls. I grinned, seeing steam rising off them, catching the same mutton smell that I had earlier. Perhaps it was a little early for such a heavy meal, but I wasn’t going to complain.

  “Here,” he said, thrusting a bowl into my hands. “The brothers are good, aren’t they? They’ve been doing this since they were five years old, in Russia or somewhere. The more you practise, the better you get.”

  “Can you juggle?” one of the brothers asked me, his blue eyes sparkling.

  I blew across the top of the steaming bowl I held.

  “I can’t do anything.” I had the feeling I’d become familiar with hearing myself say this. Here, it seemed the things I could do – read fluently, help Mother bake, and dash along neighbours’ walls whilst avoiding their outhouses – wouldn’t serve me too well, now that I was a circus boy.

  Edwin chortled. “If you’ve a mind to learn, there’s nothing that can’t be done. I started with juggling. The basic move is easy enough; make the objects follow each other in a circle—”

  “—but then there’s crossing,” Sid interjected, raising his eyebrows.

  “What’s that?” I asked, slurping a mouthful of the thick, salty stew, full of watercress.

  “That’s not so simple. It’s when objects are thrown alternately by both hands and cross each other in mid-air.”

  “Sounds impossible!” I said, between mouthfuls.

  “No such thing!” Hugo climbed up on to Edwin’s shoulders, to a standing position. “Sid, you’ve finished eating. Throw me those potatoes.”

  Sid took two potatoes off the plate at his feet. He threw them to Hugo, who juggled with them before Sid threw him another one.

  “How are you doing that?” I coughed on a stray leaf of watercress.

  Hugo kept talking whilst juggling three potatoes, so focused and fluent. “Maybe you start with a balled-up bit of paper. Then you’d throw it from one hand to the other, gradually increasing the height and speed. Show the boy!”

  Larkin put his bowl down on the ground. Larkin and Sid demonstrated with another potato, making it look effortless.

  “Hugo!” Edwin yelped, suddenly rubbing at his shoulder. “Ow! Did you cut your toenails?”

  Hugo laughed and jumped down, still juggling, until Sid swiped all the potatoes to the ground. “Aha!”

  “And the tumbling?” I asked. “How do you start?” Perhaps I might learn something simpler; anything rather than having to ride horses.

  “Handsprings, or flip-flaps, is basic tumbling. A handspring, Larkin!”

  Larkin threw himself around us in a circle as the Bellinis once again talked me through their various moves and training methods.

  “You fling your body forward on to your hands. Then your legs are thrown up over your body,” Hugo explained.

  Edwin added, “A flip-flap is the same move, but done backwards. Somersaults? You can do them balled-up, arms hugging your knees to the chest—”

  “—or laid-out with your body and legs extended,” Sid chimed in.

  Larkin stopped, out of breath. He smirked. “Fancy doing them tricks on a horse, do you, Ted? You’re nothing if not ambitious! Pablo will be pleased.”

  I glared at him – not sure if he was mocking me.

  Edwin said, “Boys! We’ve costumes to prepare. Come!”

  The three of them sprinted across the field and around the back of the big circus tent.

  Polly emerged out of the costume tent. It seemed like she was looking for something, searching about in the grass.

  Larkin had perched himself against the wagon, munching the remains of his stew, watching her. “Polly is a fine girl.”

  “She certainly makes a good stew,” I said.

  “She’s good at everything,” he sighed dreamily, mopping up the last of his juice with his bread.

  I had no interest in hearing him mooning. “Will we stay here long, at this ground?”

  “Probably two or three days,” Larkin explained. “That’s usual. Has Pablo not explained how his circus works?”

  “Not yet.”

  “He’s leaving it to me then. I s’pose he has business to drum up. Coin to find, since it’s scarce. There are two shows a day; one in the afternoon, about two, then we eat and rest till the next show around seven-thirty. They last about two hours.”

  “That’s late!”

  “It’s tiring work, make no mistake. When the last act finishes, if we’re moving on, Brown will tell us what time we need to set off. Depends on how far we’ve got to travel and the weather, but it’s always early – five or six. You’ll see more sunrises than you’ve seen before, I’ll tell you that!”

  “Five AM?!”

  Larkin bit his fingernails before spitting them into the grass. “How can you be circus-folk and know nothing?”

  “I’m not ‘circus-folk’! I’d never even seen Pablo before yesterday.”

  “He says you stayed with him a few times whe
n you was a baby.”

  I said grumpily, “I don’t remember.”

  Larkin did the splits and then went over into a back bend. “Don’t get so cross. You’ll learn our ways quick enough.”

  I wasn’t sure I would – this wasn’t my world. I didn’t belong and Larkin would make sure I was constantly reminded of the fact, despite any surface similarities we might share. Why couldn’t the Bellini brothers take me under their patronage instead?

  “Ted. You learnt to walk, didn’t you? And you can read? It’s like that – none of us were born doing tricks or stunts.”

  “But you don’t understand! I can’t bend or jump or twist like you, and … well … Pablo will send me home when he finds out how useless I am. He won’t want me here any longer.” I crossed my arms sulkily. “And that’s just fine.”

  “Ha!” Larkin crowed. “You got another think comin’ if you reckon that’s your way out!”

  Polly poked her head out of the smaller tent and called over. “Come and get your tea while it’s hot!”

  “Come on, Teddy boy – I take it your legs work all right?”

  Larkin and I raced over to the tent, almost elbowing each other on the way.

  7.

  After our tea, Larkin said we should head to the stables.

  “But I’ve seen the horses already,” I whined, as we made our way through the big tent, behind the curtains, to the makeshift stables. I didn’t want to spend any more time with the horses than I needed to.

  Larkin asked, “You ever had a horse?”

  “No.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Well then, I best explain everything. Six o’clock, or earlier, the stables get cleaned out and the horses fed.”

  I should show some interest; maybe I could become a stablehand. “How often do you feed them?”

  Larkin scattered oats from a sack into a long, low tray set out in front of the horses.

  “With hay about three times a day, according to how hard they’ve worked. We graze them if they’re not working. Pablo pays Brown extra to remove the dung, sweep out the stables and replace the straw. Those jobs need to be done every day.”

  “But if Brown does this, why tell me?”

  “Everyone needs to know how to look after the horses. Don’t you understand yet? A circus works together, as a team. Horses are like big dogs, each with their own personality. Look after them and they’ll look after you. Know how to groom?”

  I shook my head.

  “You take a currycomb and curry him all over the body. Start at the neck.”

  Take a what and do what? “You may as well be speaking a different language!”

  “Look!” He held up a comb that had a wooden handle and metallic teeth. “This is the currycomb.”

  He demonstrated on a chestnut horse. He moved swiftly and the horse remained calm under his expertise.

  After I’d watched for a while, he said, “Here. Now you try.”

  I took the currycomb off him and slowly approached one of the brown ponies in the next stall. I was more at ease because they were smaller, and not as powerful-looking as the bigger breeds.

  “Let him sniff you and then pet his head,” Larkin called from the stall he was in. “They don’t like being crept up on.”

  I faced the pony, but was trembling inside. “What if he bites?” I coughed, manure burning my nostrils.

  “What are his ears doing?” Larkin sounded as if he couldn’t believe he had been tasked with talking to someone so ignorant.

  His attitude irritated me. “What have his ears got to do with anything?”

  “His ears – are they sticking up, pointed at you?”

  I nodded.

  “You’re fine then. If his ears are pinned flat against his head, don’t approach. Let him sniff first.”

  I held out my hand, my stomach a tight ball. The pony sniffed at my palm lightly, his nostrils wet. I relaxed a little and petted his neck gently.

  “You needn’t be so gentle! He’s no lady. A light touch will tickle. A firm pat is best.”

  My hand, stroking its neck, had only just stopped shaking. This was plenty for one day.

  “Now that I’ve told you some of the basics, we can begin your training. Follow me, we’ll go into the main ring where there’s space.”

  “How about … starting off simple?” Larkin said, sitting on a bench in front of me. “Take your boots off. Can you touch your toes?”

  I unlaced my boots and slipped them off. Then I bent over, straining my fingertips towards my toes. Nope. Not a chance. My hands reached to my shins, at best, and there was a terrible tight pulling feeling in the back of my thighs.

  “Is that it?” Larkin asked, his tone incredulous. “Is that as far as you can go?”

  “Even this isn’t … comfortable,” I wheezed from my bent-over position.

  “It’s not supposed to be COMFORTABLE!” Larkin roared. “You’re going to have to practise every day or you’ll never be flexible enough to turn tricks on a horse.”

  I snapped back, “Sleeping on a bench hasn’t helped!”

  He sighed. “Look, just … start trying to pick up things with your toes. Try coins and stones and whatnot, and practise opening and closing your toes. You should wear your boots less too.”

  “When do the lions and elephants arrive?”

  “Less talking and more stretching!” Larkin groaned. “We ain’t got any of that. Sanger’s had a lion that killed someone; Pablo doesn’t want any more deaths on his hands. I’ve seen lions do tricks at other circuses, and they’re glorious, but I’ve never seen them … look happy.”

  I was finding it hard to breathe bent over like this. “You could say that about horses!”

  “Look, copy me.” Larkin stood up and started lunging up and down. I tried my best to keep up.

  “No. Wild beasts ain’t the same as horses. Wait till you get used to them – they’re so clever and they like us, if we’re good to them. Anyway, a tiger cost more’n a week’s profit and a lion double that! Business ain’t the best. Pablo’s not said much to me, not direct, but I’ve heard him complain to Brown. You hear a lot if you keep your ears open.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “There’s been fights about money.” He lowered his voice. “Some people have left. I don’t think Pablo can afford to hire in the acts he needs. And in the papers, there’s people claiming circuses are bad. Polly said they’re saying it’s improper for ladies to be riding horses.” He put his hand over his mouth and winked. “Especially with them hardly wearing any clothes!”

  Then he changed, quick as storm clouds. His dark eyes flashed, and his mirth vanished. He pressed his lips together. “We need to prove them all wrong. They have to come and see that Pablo’s is still the best.”

  “Is business so very bad?” Had I been brought here to help turn his fortune around? How was I to do that, knowing no tricks, having no skills?

  “Other circuses are bigger. People will only go and see one ’cos that’s all they can afford. The days of Pablo putting on free performances is over. We needs to show them something they ain’t seen before. I’m working on a new turn, but Pablo’s not had time to see it yet. We need novel ways to bring the crowds in!”

  He sounded desperate, but this was his life and his home. And now it was mine too. I had a father. What did that even mean? Was Pablo only going to teach me how to ride, or were there other things he’d teach me too? And if his business was in trouble, would I be held to account if I couldn’t come up with the goods? Or maybe he’d realize I wasn’t worth the trouble and just send me home.

  Larkin narrowed his eyes. “Are you tryin’ to get out of training? Come on, back to it. Sit on the ground, put your feet flat together and make your legs into a diamond. Try to reach the ground with your knees.”

  As I grunted and strained, Larkin could barely keep his laughter in.

  Eventually, I couldn’t do it any longer. My thighs burned with effort and my toes were frozen. “I can’t
do this!” I wailed.

  “You sound like a bairn.”

  “I don’t care.” My cheeks flamed. I wanted to be far away from this horrible stinking place.

  “You won’t get far with that attitude, I can tell you.”

  “You’re not to tell me anything!” I sat on the bench, pulled on my boots and laced them angrily. I had a fierce temper. Sometimes, when George and I fought, as all brothers do, I said things in anger that I regretted. Mother often said I needed to think before I thought, let alone spoke.

  I realized there was nowhere to go, but I needed to get away to clear my head.

  “Where d’you think you’re going?” Larkin asked, as I headed out of the tent. “We’ve barely started!”

  “I need some air.”

  “There’s plenty in here!”

  “I want a rest. I’m tired. My legs hurt.”

  “They’ll be hurting a good deal more than that soon. We haven’t even gotten you on a horse yet! You can’t just run off when things get burdensome. If you think that way, you’ll spend half your life running!”

  I didn’t care to listen to any more of Larkin’s wisdom. I dashed out into the fresh air, leaving his stupid words inside the big tent with him.

  8.

  Polly was washing out some bowls. Feeling sorry for myself, I went over to her, hoping for a smile or a kind word, perhaps.

  “Hallo,” she smiled briefly, but went back to cleaning her crockery.

  I kicked at the ground, annoyed with myself, now that I was standing in front of her with an empty mind. “Anything I can help with?” I asked.

  “Actually, there is. See that wagon?” She pointed about fifteen feet away. “It’s packed up, but up on the top is a bag of material samples that I need. If you could reach them for me, that’d be very kind.”

  I sprinted to the wagon and hopped on to the back of it, which was narrow, almost like a beam. I walked along, balanced carefully, so I could stretch up to reach the top of the pile. I thought of George and me running along the walls at home. What were Mother and George doing at this moment? Had they set off to find his medicine? Did they miss me as much as I missed them?