Voices: Son of the Circus

by E. L. Norry

  He was disappointed. He thought me only fit enough to be off with the women. He wanted Larkin. Of course he did. Larkin was more his son than I’d ever be.

  I wandered slowly out of the tent into the field, wiping at my eyes, which kept filling with tears as I realized what a failure I must be to Pablo.

  The sky had darkened, and rain was on its way. I trudged past the sleeping and costume tents and down to the end of the field we’d settled in, by the trees at the bottom.

  I rubbed my eyes, not sure what I was seeing. Larkin was sneaking a bag off one of the wagons. By the way he checked around and then dashed behind a tree, he was clearly doing something he shouldn’t have been. Most of the troupe were busy fixing gas lamps around the tent and I don’t think anyone else had noticed him.

  I rounded the thick tree trunk to see him leaning against the other side, stuffing bread and cheese into his mouth with the speed of a locomotive.

  “What are you doing?”

  He jumped about three feet and with his other hand, pushed something down deep in his pocket.

  “What are you doing here? You should be practising stretching and bending, like yesterday. Unless …” His eyes glittered. “Don’t think by doing nothing that Pablo will give up on you. That ain’t gonna happen.”

  I couldn’t take his nonsense any longer. “Who made you Lord and Master?”

  “We’ve a tour booked. If Pablo wants you in the show, then you’ll be in the show. That’s all I’ll say.”

  “All you’ll say? Pah! You’ve said a fine lot and more besides! What are you doing here more like.”

  Swallowing his mouthful, he struggled to speak. “I’m hungry!”

  “What’s in there?” I asked, pointing to his bulging pockets.

  He grimaced and pulled out three fat sausages, shamefaced. They smelled glorious and my mouth fair watered at the sight of them. They’d been cooked last night and were supposed to be our lunch.

  “Want one?” he asked, sullenly.

  Yes! my stomach growled. That’s why he’d sneaked down to this secluded end of the field.

  He smirked, holding one out and waving it. “Go on, mate.”

  I didn’t want to be associated with his thievery. “Not likely!” I shouted.

  He sniffed. “Don’t say nothin’. Please,” he wheedled.

  “Why not? You’re a fraud – talking about teamwork but then stealing!”

  “You’re impossible to help.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  Larkin grumbled, “You complain all the time. Looking down your nose at us.” Staring at me defiantly, he crammed a whole sausage into his mouth. “Likes of you have had it easy, at home with Mother, never getting your hands dirty.”

  “I have not! Me and George worked.”

  Larkin spat, just missing my boots. “Haven’t we all?”

  He was only a year older than me but presumed he knew everything! My blood sizzled again. I gritted my teeth and glared at him.

  “Ever been in a steel mill? Up close to those blistering sparks?”

  He stepped so close that our noses were almost touching. “You? A mill? Ever been up a ruddy chimney? Them places are so cramped that every day I crawled up one, I thought my chest would cave in. They’re dark, they stink, and it’s boiling more than a pig on a spit; you don’t think you’ll ever make it out. Every day could be your last. Know what that’s like? Living like that – all the time believing death is coming?”

  We glared at each other, eyes like red-hot fire irons. Were we really competing for whose life had been harshest?

  Larkin broke off eye contact first. He muttered wearily, “Ted. If you’ve slept in a bed, no matter how small or hard, and no matter how hungry you’ve been, none of that compares with what I been through.”

  He rubbed his hands over his face. “You don’t know what I’ve had to do. I been in jail.” His voice cracked.

  “Jail?” I rested my hand on the tree trunk, the cool firm bark comforting. “That doesn’t surprise me with your light fingers!”

  Larkin bowed his head and gazed at the ground for such a long time that the fire in my stomach died away, leaving only embers.

  “It was no joke, Ted. I was in jail for two months. Felt like half my life. I had to work in silence all day, till I practically dropped down dead. I’d only taken a scrap of coal to keep my little brother warm.” His confidence was stripped away now; he sounded fearful and miserable, and as if he’d forgotten I was even there.

  Jail?

  He started shaking his head and didn’t stop, still disbelieving. “We got flogged; I got scars all over. I was hungry for so long that I stopped being hungry and … felt like I was floating instead, like I was already dead. That’ll happen when people stop treating you like a person. When they kick and punch and call you names. Couldn’t sleep. Needed to stay alert ’cos sometimes the older ones started beatin’ on me, for no reason, like it was a sport.

  “Up and down chimneys weren’t much better, but then, least I was too busy just tryin’ to stay alive … so my head had no room for wondering if life might be any different.

  “But being locked up? Your mind gets to thinking, and that’s not the best thing for a mind, is it? ’Cos once you start, you can’t stop. What if Ma and Pa and Bobby hadn’t got the cholera? We never had much, but we always had each other.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I’d been unfair in my judgement of Larkin, without knowing the facts. No wonder he never stayed downcast for long. He and Pablo had that in common; I could see now that was how they survived. By bouncing back and never giving in. They lived like that because for them, there was no other way. Seeing the best in things, their unfailing optimism wasn’t a quality to be scorned, it was … admirable, and absolutely necessary for their survival.

  “Larkin, I’m sorry. That sounds … horrible. Terrible. But if you’re hungry, just ask Pablo for more; I’m sure he’d give it. Stealing is no way to behave.”

  “But I already had my share. What if Pablo can only afford to feed one growing lad? What if …” He turned away slightly, started scuffing his boot along the ground. “What if there ain’t enough food to go around? What if he had to choose between me and you, eh? I don’t want to put that idea in his head ’cos who d’ya think he’d choose?”

  I sighed. “You, probably.”

  “Not bleedin’ likely. You’re his son. His flesh and blood. Listen. I promised him I’d make you the best young rider – next to me – but ’cos of your pigheadedness, he reckons me a liar! He’s cross you ain’t made progress yet. I can’t have it. I been trying to help you. Even though—”

  “Even though what?” I snapped.

  “Even though … helping you might be the end for me! Don’t you understand?”

  “What?”

  “You might end up better than me. Riding is in your blood, isn’t it? Riding horses is what you were ‘born to do’, so Pablo keeps telling everyone.”

  “As far as I can tell, I’m not born to do anything. Well, nothing related to the circus,” I said.

  Larkin scoffed, “Don’t let Pablo hear you say that. He believes the circus – family – is everything, with every bone in his body. Never seen him so happy as he is now with you knocking about the place.” He shrugged, rubbing his head and frowning. “Maybe it’s time I moved on, anyway. I can’t see he’ll have much use for us both, not once you can ride. He’s hardly looked my way since you came; I showed him new flips, tried to tell him about ideas for a new act, but he wasn’t even interested.”

  “Come on…” I patted his arm. “No need for thinking that. I won’t say a word about it, but please … don’t steal food again. We all have to eat.”

  “You’re not so bad at giving out lectures yourself.” He sounded brighter.

  “If we try to get along, there will be room for us both. I’m not your rival. Pablo wants me to ride, but I’m useless. I’ll never be any good with the horses. But perhaps you could help me find som
ething I am good at instead?”

  “I seen you run. You’re fast. Can you balance? What about the rope?”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t want to do that. Not after seeing that woman fall. There must be other things. And you’re right, I should try to do what Pablo wants. I’ll try, if you’ll teach me.”

  “Lemme look through that picture tube in that sack of yours every now and then and you got yourself a deal. We’ll find something that ain’t the horses.”

  11.

  I’d been with Pablo’s troupe for almost three weeks now and I’d done little more than a trot around the ring, white-knuckled, my heart in my throat the entire time.

  I was feeding the horses, not as frightened of them as I once was, finding their presence peaceful in a way … when Pablo marched over.

  “Getting to know the horses, are you?” he smiled, pleased.

  I fussed with a bridle. “I like the ponies.” And I did, though it didn’t mean I wanted to ride them. I carefully washed the bit that went into Nightingale’s mouth, and dried it.

  Pablo winked. “They remind me of women; sweet-natured, if things are going their way!”

  I wasn’t expecting him to find me here. I’d heard him and the tent master having a heated discussion about wages and thought he had important circus matters to attend to.

  I’d been wondering about Pablo’s life. Mostly while laying on my lumpy mattress night after night, trying to drown out Brown’s snoring and Larkin’s night-time mutterings while I flipped through Varney the Vampire.

  “Sir, when you were my age, what was your favourite circus thing?”

  “Horse stunts and then rope walking. The rope tells us much about life.”

  “How so?”

  “Rope walking lets you determine whether you play it safe, or take a risk. You determine everything. On a horse, there is speed, certainly, and you must consider the animal, as well as yourself and how you affect one another. But up on the rope, it is only you and the rope. It’s focused and … pure.”

  “It’s dangerous,” I said, polishing a harness with wax paste. “I saw a woman die at Aston Park.”

  I had no idea if Mother had told him about the event or not.

  “I know,” he replied quietly. “It must have been an awful shock, Ted.”

  “It was.”

  “But, it wasn’t her who slipped, it was the rope that broke. Snapped right in two. Only a monster would have put a woman who was with child up on that rope. I knew Selina well. We knew each other for many years. She was very talented. She should have stopped performing, but she had her husband Edward, seven children and her mother to support. A tragedy that easily could have been avoided.”

  “I don’t think I’m cut out for the circus, sir,” I almost held my breath saying these words. “Could I be … could I be a stable boy instead, perhaps? Or, how about your next manager, going on ahead?”

  He roared with laughter. I had no idea why – what was so amusing? – but his laugh was infectious, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Ted! I was born in a workhouse. How is that being ‘cut out’ for the circus? We managed to leave the workhouse after a few years, but life inside was hard. Must have been over six hundred of us cramped up in that dark place, spinning wool and twisting it into threads all day. Where is your spirit of adventure? There’s no limit to what you can achieve if you’re prepared to work. I made my way.”

  “But you did that because you had to!” I said, peevishly.

  “I viewed every opportunity that came my way as an adventure, that’s how I managed. I never said ‘No’, or ‘I can’t’, until I’d tried! And I was always smiling and polite. I made extra effort, Ted. Even if everyone I met believed a workhouse orphan might never amount to much, I showed them that’s not true. You can do the same!”

  I wasn’t convinced. From what I’d observed, it struck me that one needed a certain temperament to be a proper circus person; a person who could stand up and talk in this way. Larkin had the same attitude. I doubted it could be taught.

  This … circus spirit was either in you or it wasn’t. I saw nothing of myself reflected in this bold, confident man.

  Pablo put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. “I wanted you … I hoped you’d have a better start in life than I had, Ted. That was why, when your mother wished to settle down and move away, I didn’t mind. I’d already lost one woman I loved. I did not wish to lose another. But I always wanted to have my boys back with me one day.”

  “I’m sorry about your wife.”

  “It was a dreadful night. I rushed to move the heavy timbers that had fallen on her. I carried her in my arms to the nearest tavern. I ran! A surgeon was called for, but there was nothing that could be done.”

  I didn’t know this before. Larkin and Brown’s accounts of the accident had never said how he tried to save her.

  He coughed. “Come, we need to get ready.” Pablo slid the bit into Bessie’s mouth and held the bridle up over her nose.

  “What for?”

  “Advertising, my boy! Who will know where or who we are unless we tell them? We need to thrust handbills into people’s hands. Make them curious. That’s how we draw in the crowds. Sheldon used to advertise our arrival; he was a genius. But it falls to us these days.”

  I didn’t think before I asked, “Can you not afford Sheldon now?”

  He busied himself fixing up Bessie ready to ride. I had spoken out of turn.

  “Well,” he said eventually, “Sheldon moved on. But the more we do ourselves, the more we work as a team, then there is less to pay others and … the more there will be for us. Advertising is essential. You, Larkin and Polly take a wagon into town. Polly can buy supplies, and you and Larkin can stick billposters about.”

  *

  The weather was clement for a ride. The three of us rode for just less than an hour, travelling about ten miles, to Bolton, near the abbey, which was where we’d be performing next.

  Larkin secured the horse and wagon outside The Craven Arms and helped Polly down, smirking. He’d hardly said two words to me the whole journey, though he’d kept his tongue wagging at her. Every time Polly was near, he acted as if I didn’t exist.

  “Where shall we start then, Larkin?”

  “We?” He slipped an arm around Polly’s waist, and laughed when she playfully slapped his arm away. “You don’t expect me to leave this lovely lady on her lonesome, do you? You can take care of the leaflets. Meet us here in a couple of hours. We’ll hand out some across town.”

  But Pablo had said for us to do it together! Fine. I thought Larkin had changed his tune after our recent discussion, but if he didn’t want to come along with me then I didn’t want him around.

  I’d give out so many handbills, and shout about the circus so loud, that Pablo would have only me to thank when the crowds were so thick that there wasn’t enough seating!

  Larkin and Polly headed up the road away from me, so I turned on my heel.

  From the village green I went through a gap in the wall. “Afternoon! Lovely day!”

  A couple out walking looked at me, frowning a little. I’d seen similar frowns before. Probably because of the colour of my skin. Well, what did that matter now? I had a job to do, and no amount of frowning was going to stop me!

  They didn’t even glance at the handbills I waved in front of them. No wonder Pablo wanted Larkin and I to do this together! Larkin probably would have turned a tumble or two to impress them.

  I’d need to try harder, that was all. I could do this. I needed to show Pablo something I was good at.

  “Hello! How are you? Here, please would you like a bill about the circus? We’re coming to the green soon.” I smiled, pressing handbills into the palms of passers-by.

  I’d handed out a few and had been glad to notice old playbills stuck up on hoardings. I stopped to read the full advert.

  People clearly liked the circus; their faces lit up when they read their handbills. “Ooh, the Afr
ican Prince!” a couple said, nodding at each other.

  That was Pablo! Inside, I beamed.

  Some people just hurried on by, of course. I steered clear of the busier roads, smiled at a flower girl and wished I had pennies for a pie. My belly grumbled. I had no idea of the time. I must have been walking for at least an hour. The road thinned out to quiet lanes and the sound of my boots echoed.

  There were large hollows, dips, on either side of a meadow. I followed the path past the priory towards the river. I figured I’d stumbled across a shortcut, but I shouldn’t have come this way; there were fewer people around.

  I heard animal noises behind me. “Ooo-ooo!”

  I recognized the sound: the noise a monkey might make. And there was no mistaking it – this was no friendly ‘coo-eee’. This wasn’t young children having fun; these noises were guttural and threatening.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I quickened my pace. The noises coming from behind me grew louder.

  12.

  I clenched my handbills and walked faster. I didn’t turn around because if I stopped to acknowledge them, things might get worse.

  I knew it was a group of boys because of their snorting laughter. How many might there be?

  “Oi! Show us yer tricks, circus boy!” a boy hollered.

  Another boy started making ape noises.

  George and I had been called names in the street because of our skin colour, although not too often. Further trouble had been avoided because we’d just run straight home and got ourselves safe behind closed doors, where we didn’t have to consider those horrible names, or how angry and sad they made us. But here, now, there was nowhere to run, and worse still, I was alone.

  What would George do if he were here? What would Larkin do, or Pablo for that matter?

  “You show-off circus folk think you’re special.”

  “We want an advance show. See if it’s worth paying pennies for later, which it probably ain’t!” Gales of laughter followed.

  “Oi!” A harder voice, full of thunderclouds, chimed in. “My father says the darker the skin the smaller the brain – that true?”