by E. L. Norry
Wistfully, I watched Alma and Polly cross the field to the big tent. With no Pablo or Alma to distract me, that left only rehearsals and … Larkin.
I still needed to find something I was good at. With money scarce back home … well, I’d never be sending home much, or have a circus life for long, if I couldn’t find my talent. And what if I didn’t have one? What if there was nothing I was good at? What if I couldn’t ride a horse, or balance, or juggle a ball? What would become of me then?
Larkin emerged from the sleeping tent and ignored me so blatantly I was shamefaced. He grabbed himself a slice of bread and smeared it with dripping.
I moved alongside him. “I’m sorry,” I said.
He didn’t look me in the eye. “What for?”
I lowered my voice because Hugo and Sid, standing next to a wagon the other side of the cooking pot, were both listening in, and pretending not to. “You know what for.”
Larkin didn’t smile. He said, callously, “Maybe I do, and maybe I don’t. Maybe I want to hear you say it. Maybe I reckon you should squirm, so you have some idea of what that feels like.”
“All right!” I grabbed a hunk of bread and swiped it round my broth bowl. “All right. I shouldn’t have accused you of stealing the takings.”
“You remember what you said, hm? Remember what you called me?”
I nodded and stared at the ground. My voice was as small as I felt. “I do.”
“Well?”
I cried, “I’m sorry for that ’n’ all. I’m sorry! What about you breaking my things!”
“Well, you broke my … feelings. Enough. Apology accepted.” He bent over and grabbed three bread rolls from the dish in front of the cooking pot. “There’s practice to do. Still gotta find you something to be good at. Gotta earn your keep.”
“I haven’t seen any wages yet.”
“That’s ’cos he ain’t seen nothing worthy from you. You gotta prove yourself as an investment first, ain’t ya?” He pressed one of the rolls into my hand. “Don’t eat that.”
He was forgiving me already? I followed him over to an empty space.
“Right,” Larkin commanded. “Juggling. The basics. Let’s see if you can catch, to begin with. Face me. You’ve a bread roll in your right hand. Now, I’m your partner, see? Throw that to me – no, not yet! I’ll catch it with my left hand, throw it into my own right hand, and then back to you. Catch it with your left hand. Understand?”
“I think so,” I said, stiffly. No, he was definitely still smarting.
“We carry on doing that until the move is smooth and practised without us dropping any.”
We threw the bread roll to each other a few times, back and forth, but before I knew it, he was hurling them hard and fast at my head, with no intention of juggling at all!
“You think a ‘sorry’ is good enough?”
Ducking and dodging from the bread rolls flying my way, I yelled, “How else am I to make things right?”
“I haven’t thought about it. But … maybe your stinking apology ain’t enough. Maybe my time here is done. Maybe I’ll be moving on.”
He stalked off towards the circus tent. Although Pablo had been decent enough to not name Alma as the thief, I wanted to let Larkin know who had actually stolen the money; I owed him that much. I sprinted across the field and caught up to him. I touched his elbow lightly.
“Don’t go.”
He span round, startled. “What do you care?” He spat into the grass, very near to my boot.
“I do care! Who else will …” Understand what it’s like to be me? I nearly said, but instead all that came out was, “ …teach me to tumble and juggle? Please, Larkin. Don’t leave. There’s space for us both.”
“I ain’t seen you making much effort, even though you keep saying you’re trying.”
“I nearly got thrown the other day. Not been on a horse since. Anyway, after the … well, my ribs still ache, you know?”
“Ah.” He nodded slowly, as if he knew something that I didn’t. “Right. What about … balancing things, like we talked about?”
“I tried balancing something light in my palm, but I couldn’t move it to the back of my hand. Kept falling off. I tried for ages.”
Larkin peered at me. “How many times did you try?”
“A few.”
“Really? Look,” He dug out a shilling from his pocket and put it in his palm, then tossed it into the air, catching it on the back of his hand. Then he did the same thing with another shilling, both hands at the same time. How did he do that?
“Slowly move the things up your arm and on to the elbow. It’ll teach you how to keep balance.”
“What’ll Pablo do if I don’t find any talent, if there’s nothing I can do and I end up being … just another mouth to feed?”
Larkin shrugged. “You’ve less appetite than the last permanent fixture.”
“I’m serious! It’ll be a waste, won’t it? Me being here if I can’t do nothing.”
“It’s not as if you’re here to save the circus – how could you? We all know business is tough. But you bring the Fanque name with you and that’s what he wants: a good enough reason to draw the crowds. Pablo’s Family Circus … well, without you there ain’t much ‘family’, is there?”
Larkin was right. Pablo wasn’t going to give up on me; he wasn’t going to stop trying.
“Ted, you still don’t want to be here, do you? You’ve no intention of trying to learn!”
“That’s not true!” I retorted.
“Course it is!” Larkin turned a somersault. “Aha! Now everything makes sense … Why you’re always so keen to clean or help Polly cook. Anything rather than get on them horses.”
“I have been practising! I stretch all the time, just like you told me to.”
“Says you.”
“Yes, says I!”
Larkin had it wrong. I did want to be a part of the circus. I wanted to make Pablo proud. I wanted to earn my keep, send home money to Mother so she didn’t have to take in mending, and help contribute to George’s medicine; I just didn’t know how to do it, that was all, and it seemed time was running out.
20.
I was pleased, and slightly relieved, when Pablo returned to the grounds later, trotting slowly on a stumbling, exhausted-looking Bessie.
“She’s fair worn out,” he said, dismounting. “Here, Larkin! Help me take her to the stables and get her some water. We both need a feed.”
“Did you not stop at an inn?” Larkin asked, coming over and nuzzling into Bessie’s mane.
I held back till Pablo noticed me.
“No inn, not tonight,” he said. “Don’t worry, Ted. I’ll find little Alma in a while and give her the news.”
“What news might that be?” I asked.
He frowned, shaking his head. “No immediate solution presents itself. Alma’s mother has many mouths to feed; it isn’t the proper time to leave the workhouse. However, I took them out for a hearty supper and promised that in a week or so, I would return and see what could be done.”
Larkin narrowed his eyes at Pablo. “You can afford to be so generous?”
“Watch your tongue!” Pablo snapped, whirling round. “How I conduct my affairs is not your concern.”
Larkin grumbled under his breath. “It is when we ain’t been paid for weeks.” He pressed his lips tightly together.
“Yet do you want for anything?” Pablo demanded. He took off his hat and wiped at his forehead with a handkerchief.
Larkin scuffed his boot back and forth, kicking up mud. “If you don’t want me here anymore, just say it.” With a jerk of his thumb, he indicated me behind him. “You brought him in to replace me, right?”
“Don’t be a fool.” Pablo began to smile and then stopped himself. “There’s room for us all!”
“Tosh! Ted thought I was the one who stole your money! Why should I stay somewhere I ain’t wanted?”
Pablo held Bessie by the lead rein, taking her toward the bi
g tent and the stables. “Come, Larkin. No one thinks that. I’ve plans. Didn’t you say you had new tricks? Don’t be offended, I’ve enough worries without needing to replace my best rider.”
Larkin’s face relaxed and a smile emerged. “Your best?”
“Of course.”
Larkin thought for a moment. “I don’t mind waiting for our wages, you know I don’t, but the others—”
“I know, I know,” Pablo bit his lip. He pulled sharply at the cuffs on his overcoat. “I appreciate your loyalty, my boy.” He lowered his voice, and moved closer to Larkin, although I could still hear. “I am trying to fix it. I just need a little … more time.”
Later, after Alma and I had finished a game of marbles and fed the ponies, we wandered over to the big top. Both of us were surprised to see Larkin halfway up the ladder leading to the wooden platform where the high-wire performers usually stood.
“What are you doing up there?” Alma called out.
He paused with his back to us, before turning around and yelling down, “Pablo ain’t let me get up here, but I can do it. He knows I can. Galloping horses is a rush, but up here is something else, being so high, seeing all them people so small. No one can touch you. I got to make Pablo realize he ain’t seen the best of me yet. I got more to give.”
Alma stood underneath the rope. “You’ll be givin’ him funeral costs if you ain’t careful.”
I craned my neck; he was about halfway up, a good giraffe height, at least. “Alma’s talking sense. What if you have an accident?”
“What if?” Larkin jeered. “What if you wake up dead tomorrow, hm?”
“Then you’d scarcely be waking up, would you?” I snapped. “Larkin! Pablo already said you were the best.”
He stopped climbing and came down. Once he was on solid ground I tried to smooth things over. “No matter how many years I train, I could never do what you do.”
“Yeah.” He smiled, sheepishly. “I’ve seen you around the horses – not exactly a natural.”
Alma stepped up. “Not everyone is made to ride horses.” She practically bared her teeth at Larkin.
Larkin mused, “The thing is … people are used to horses. Our show needs something new – different. I seen this act in Brown’s paper, about this fella who made a big splash by sticking rubber pads to his feet and walking along a plank.”
“What’s so new about that?” Alma scoffed.
“The plank was stuck to the ceiling,” Larkin replied. “And he was hung upside down!”
I thought back to Brown’s papers scattered round the sleeping tent. “I saw that too. The man died.”
Larkin waved his hands as if I was a killjoy. “Pfft.”
“He died, Larkin.”
“He only died ’cos the plaster gave way.”
“Exactly, so it’s not a safe trick, is it?”
“Since when is the circus safe? Everything has risk, or should do! Why do you think people come?”
Alma hollered, “Stop it!” She sniffed, gulping back tears. “I thought this was a family … I thought you two was friends.”
Larkin griped, “Sometimes we’re friends, and sometimes we’re not.”
“You squabble just like me and my sisters!” Alma said. “Use your noggin, Larkin. You can’t do that plank trick because there’s nothing to hold you up.”
“I know. I’m thinking of that trick for when we’re back in buildings, during winter. For now, I got something else. I been practising.”
He dashed behind the curtain separating the ring from the acts about to come on. Then, two-handed, he rolled out a massive wooden ball along the ground. It was half the size of him, at least.
“This is a walking globe,” he said, sounding proud. “Me and Polly spotted it a few weeks ago, down in some ditch. And we hid it back here.”
This ball really didn’t look very special. “What does it do?” I asked.
Larkin rolled it into the centre of the ring and then stood up, puffing hard. “It don’t do anything. You walk on it.”
I smirked. “Is that all?”
“When was the last time you tried balancing and moving at the same time on something completely round?”
Alma came over and smoothed her hands over the wood. “Show us then.”
“I will.” With a hand on Alma’s shoulder, Larkin climbed on to the ball. He steadied himself and Alma and I stepped back to watch.
He propelled the ball forward, moving very fast with his arms out. His feet flapped over each other, taking tiny steps, until they were practically a blur. By sharply twisting the top of his body, he moved the ball around, changing direction. It was quite something.
“I want to juggle knives at the same time, but can’t manage that yet.”
He suddenly wobbled and thrust his arms out for balance, but his feet were out of rhythm. I was too far back to be able to reach him before he pinwheeled backwards and thudded to the ground. Thank goodness the ground was so packed with sawdust.
“You all right?” Alma shouted. We rushed over to him. He rolled around in anguish, clutching his ankle.
“Now you’ve gone and done it!” I scolded.
Alma knelt over him and gently prodded his legs. “Where does it hurt?” She pressed his thigh and he shook his head. His eyes were closed and his lips pressed together. When she pushed against his shin and calf, he winced, but only a little. Her fingers moved over to lightly grip his ankle and he howled, slapping her hand away.
“No bone has pierced the skin,” she said, clearly relieved. “That’s good. Perhaps … a sprain?”
I turned away, queasy, but Alma clenched her jaw and pushed her sleeves up. Larkin’s ankle was twisted. The skin around it had puffed up and turned purple, almost in front of our very eyes.
“You need to help,” she said to me, firmly. “The foot must be moved back to its normal position, as much as it can be. Least till a doctor can be called. Ted, see if there’s any starch, or glue bandages.”
“Glue what? How do you know this?” I asked, amazed.
“My sister did similar once – jumping across the workhouse beds. She spent a night with nothing but bread and water for that. In the mornin’ her ankle was the size of a ball! But I fixed up hers and I can fix up Larkin now, too.”
“I can’t perform like … how will I be …?” Larkin’s eyes fluttered closed. He’d gone a grey, ashy colour.
“The bruised parts should be in a pail of water, and pressed gently with someone’s hand or a soft cloth for ten minutes or longer when it’s this bad. Ted, go and fetch help!”
She turned back towards Larkin, who was whimpering. “Larkin, hush now! Ted, go!”
21.
Pablo had ridden for a doctor, who came to set Larkin’s ankle. He praised Alma for her quick thinking and told Larkin he needed to elevate his leg and be off it for at least a week. There was nothing further to be done; it would only heal if pressure was kept off it.
Polly and Alma had created an area in the sleeping tent and fixed it so that when the opening flap was pinned back Larkin had a clear view across the field, between the wagons, and could see everything, so that he wouldn’t miss too much.
Pablo had asked me to keep an eye out. ‘That boy doesn’t hold with idleness,’ he told me.
I poked my head inside the tent after the afternoon performance, not sure how I’d be received. He’d been in and out of sleep for much of the day so far.
I sat on the chest beside his makeshift bed. “Do you have something to read?”
“I can’t read.” Larkin shrugged. “Used to be able to. Before chimneys, before they – my folks – got sick, I went to a dame school. It was all right, too. But after I was on my own … well, feeding myself became more important than learnin’ my letters.”
“I could teach you, if you like. I taught George a little, before…” I trailed off and wondered if George had gotten any further with learning his words. I hoped he hadn’t given up.
“What do I need to r
ead for anyways?” Larkin mumbled.
“You might get bored, and you’ve got to rest, the doctor said, so what else have you to do?”
“Thought I’d spend most of it laughing at you.”
I batted him lightly on the arm. “Haha, you ought to be a clown.”
He grinned. “Yeah, I been thinking that myself. All right, what’s there to read?”
I rummaged in my cloth sack – I had just the thing.
“This.” I pulled my Varney the Vampire pamphlet out. Larkin’s eyes widened in delight – or fright – as he took it from me, staring at the cover. The picture was quite shocking: a half-skeletal figure ready to pounce on a sleeping woman.
“How graves give up their dead…” I whispered, spookily. Larkin nearly leapt up, though of course he couldn’t.
He opened the pamphlet and stared at the pictures, mouth half open. “Go on then – show me. Read!”
Later, I passed the Bellini brothers, practising like always, and waved at Clara, Alma and Polly, all sat on the steps of Pablo’s wagon, costumes and spangles spread over their laps, getting ready for the evening performance.
I wandered down the field, not thinking of anything much, when I noticed the rope tied between two trees. It wasn’t too high off the ground, probably about knee height. Larkin often strung up a low tightrope wherever we pitched up. I’d seen him walk across it, fall off, get back on.
I’ve no idea why I did what I did next. I don’t know if I was curious or just bored, but suddenly it seemed important that I try and stand on that rope.
I eased my boots off. The field was empty, quiet. I fetched two crates so that I’d be able to reach the rope.
I wriggled my toes, feeling the cool grass. Wrapping an arm around the tree trunk and – put your right foot up on to the rope, your body should be over the rope and then you push off with your left foot and get on – I pulled myself on to the rope.
I stood, stiffly, trying to remember what I’d heard Larkin and Pablo say when they discussed ropewalking techniques.
Point my toes, don’t lean forward, and keep straight. Find somewhere in the distance to focus on; something to stare at will help.
