by Janet Gover
The last words carried such heartbreak that Alice was shocked. She’d heard that tone before. In her own voice, when she was about Jenny’s age and another circus was leaving Nyringa.
‘You always knew they were going to leave.’ She tried to sound comforting. ‘And you’ve only known the boy for a few weeks.’
‘Finn. His name is Finn, Aunt Alice, and I love him.’ Jenny sniffed, then turned and walked away.
Alice watched her run towards the path that led to the creek and she saw herself doing the same thing, a lifetime ago. Nothing had helped her then, and she guessed there was nothing she could do now to help Jenny.
She continued walking. There were times she struggled to remember the names of some of the more distant relatives, and her late husband’s face was starting to fade, but she still remembered Wayne. His face was clearer in her mind than in that photograph in her dresser drawer. She could still hear his voice. And she could still see the girl on the prancing white horse who had taken him away from her. A girl who would now be an old woman, just as she was.
By the time she had let herself in the door and was patting Duchess, Alice had made up her mind. She would go to see this circus. Her family would still have their Christmas Day, she’d see to that. But if her favourite niece needed her to go to a circus, then she would.
‘But I won’t enjoy it,’ she told the purring kitten. ‘Not one bit.’
Jenny’s phone beeped once.
Wanna hang out?
Can’t. Stuck at home.
Kate would forgive her, and right now she had about a zillion feathers and sequins to deal with. What a surprise this was going to be. She almost shivered with excitement. The costume was starting to come together. Sewing wasn’t her thing and her fingers felt like pincushions, but it would be worth it in the end. When the costume was done, it was going to be awesome. At least she hoped it would. She’d found everything she needed online then simply told her mother it was for a school project. She felt a bit bad about lying, but it wasn’t a bad lie. Not really. Her mum would never understand what she was really doing. Her mum was even more boring than most mothers. Of course, Jenny loved her, but they were such different people. And what Jenny was planning was so far out of her mother’s experience or comfort zone it would just freak her out.
No, she was better off not knowing.
The phone beeped again.
Seen F?
No. Tomorrow.
Jenny sighed, wishing for the thousandth time that Finn had a mobile. Meeting up would be so much easier. And they could talk at night, after everyone had gone to bed. If the circus really was leaving, she wanted as much time with Finn as she possibly could. He’d promised her he’d get a mobile once they were on the road, so they could stay in touch. She knew he would, but just the thought of him being so far away was horrible.
Trying to avoid thinking about that, she held up her work. It was starting to look so pretty. Whenever the pink and silver fabric moved, the light caught the sequins and they flashed like diamonds. Okay, not like diamonds, but they were really pretty when they sparkled. The outfit was very daring. She’d started with a lace-trimmed leotard and sewn on extra sequins. Then she’d made a short—a very short—skirt, sort of like a tutu, but softer. It was also bedazzled. She had pink tights ready. Her shoes had posed the greatest problem. She couldn’t just have ballet shoes, she needed something with a bit more protection. Then she’d found sparkly silver trainers online. And they were on special. Her mother wouldn’t approve of the outfit and Aunt Alice would have a fit. Of course, they would both see her, except it would be too late for them to do anything about it. And by the time the night was over, the costume would probably be the last thing they would be yelling at her about.
Jenny was threading another needle when she heard the roar of a motorcycle engine. She dashed to the window. Finn was outside, riding ever so slowly in the direction of their favourite spot by the creek. She turned and rifled through her cupboard, looking for a prettier top than the one she was wearing. She found one that showed her tattoo if she undid the top buttons. The image was already fading, but she still loved it. Maybe she should buy some henna pens online, then she could keep refreshing it, to remind her of Finn even after he was gone.
‘I’m just going out for a little while,’ she called towards the kitchen where her mother was starting dinner. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Okay. Say hello to Kate for me.’
Jenny didn’t reply, so she didn’t have to actually lie about where she was going.
Finn was waiting for her when she got to the creek. Without hesitation, she walked into his arms and he kissed her. It took a long time and she was almost dizzy when at last they parted. Finn pulled her onto the fallen log beside him, and held her hands.
‘The circus leaves on Boxing Day.’
‘But—’
‘That’s the way it is. We’re doing the show on Christmas Eve—we’ll do a slow breakdown and pack up on Christmas Day and then be gone on Boxing Day. There’s a New Year booking we have to get to.’
Jenny gripped Finn’s hands even more tightly, feeling as if the world was drowning and he was her life saver.
‘I hate that I have to go.’
‘I do too. I wish you could stay.’
‘I’m a circus performer. I can’t stay.’
She knew that, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. She couldn’t stand it any more and pulled her hands from his grasp, then turned away so he couldn’t see that she was almost crying. He turned her to face him and she saw her feelings reflected in his eyes. There was nothing more to say. She ran her fingers down his bare arm, following the line of his tattoo. Freedom. She understood that he was born to be free. So was she, but she’d been born in the wrong place for that.
They kissed again. If they only had three more days, Jenny was determined to spend every moment she could with Finn. And she would finish her costume. And then they could have one shining moment together, a moment she would hold in her heart forever.
CHAPTER
24
Simon looked through the window of his bedroom and saw the brightly striped shape. The tent was up. Evening was falling and the day’s work was nearly done. A couple of men were just finishing a section of the raised seating. They were taking their time. When the show was on the road, the tent would be put up and taken down as quickly as possible, but this was their chance to check everything, every nut and bolt, every rope and wire and piece of metal. They would take as long as they had to this time.
A few minutes later, the big top was deserted, lit only by the security lights around its base. In the distance, the lights in the compound were blazing brightly. The team would be gathered around the tables, eating, drinking and laughing; sharing the camaraderie that was so much a part of their world. He would be welcome among them, of course. He always was. But their world wasn’t his world any more. Much as they had enjoyed this rest, they were excited to get back on the road. That was the life they had all chosen. The life they loved. If they stayed too long in one place, they got itchy feet. Simon understood that and he understood something else. He wasn’t going with them this time.
It wasn’t that he had to stay behind with Lucienne. His decision to not go on the road again really had nothing to do with caring for his grandmother. He just didn’t know if he would ever perform again. If he even could perform again. His leg had mended well, but it wasn’t only his leg that had been broken that day.
He slid open the bottom drawer of the built-in wardrobe that filled one side of the room. The top layer was red and black and dramatic. The clothes had lain there unworn for months. They were the clothes of an artiste. They weren’t what he’d been wearing the day of the accident; those had been thrown away because they were stained with his blood. But even without the blood, he just couldn’t bear to look at them. He laid the costume gently to one side and pulled out the practical black shorts and vest underneath. Rehearsal clothes. Perhaps it was t
ime to find out if he would ever need his costumes again. Simon changed quickly and slipped out of the house, careful to avoid being seen by Lucienne.
He ducked through the open flap of the big top and stood in the semi-darkness. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he carefully considered the strong metal frame that formed the skeleton of the big top. That frame was everything. It supported not just the tent, but all the tools of the aerialists. The upper section of the big top was in darkness. Simon didn’t need light to know what was up there. He knew every inch of that space intimately; he’d spent a large part of his life there.
He walked to one of the four centre poles. Two broad hanging straps had been threaded through the frame to prevent them tangling. He took the straps and, with a practised flip of his wrist, freed them. The end of each strap had been strongly bound into a loop just big enough for a man’s hand. He slipped his hand into the loops, fighting the feeling of being trapped as they tightened over his wrist. He lifted his face to look at where the straps slowly vanished into the darkness above, took a deep breath and twisted his arms through the straps. Then he lifted his feet off the ground and raised his legs at right angles to the floor. Muscles unused in a long time growled in protest. He slowly lowered his legs again and let go of the straps. This wasn’t going to be easy. Running each day was very different from rehearsing. Different muscles were called into play, not to mention a very different mind set. He took a few minutes to warm up, bending and stretching, inviting muscles to remember what he had been trying hard to forget. The warm-up also gave him time to gather himself for the test ahead.
When his body was ready, he reached for the straps again. He was at ground level, he told himself. Even if he fell here, he wouldn’t be hurt. There was no-one with him. No-one to see him fail. No-one to be hurt by his failure. If he was going to do this, it had to be now.
This time, he took a few running steps and kicked his legs high, swinging them above his body. As the straps began to twist, he arched his body, pulling it vertically, his legs stretching above his head and along the straps. One leg answered the demands of his mind and muscles. The other did not, remaining slightly bent. He grunted, perspiration forming on his face as he tried to bring the injured leg into line. It wouldn’t move.
He eased off the tension and lowered himself to the ground.
He told himself that the leg would get stronger with time; he would be able to straighten it and complete that exercise. But that was not the question he was asking himself.
He looked up. A metal ladder led to a platform where the trapeze hung in the darkness. That was where he had to go. He secured the straps against the pillar. Safety first and always. Then he walked to the ladder. He gripped the rung in front of his face. Were his hands shaking? If they were, he wasn’t going to admit it. All he was doing was climbing a ladder. Any fool could climb a ladder. Hell, Lucienne could climb a ladder and she was his grandmother. He could do this. He had to be able to do this.
He placed a foot on the lowest rung. He stepped up to the next, and then to the next.
Then he stopped.
At the campsite, someone had turned on music. Simon recognised the song. Michelle had loved it. They had been planning some choreography so she could incorporate it in the act. That was before she fell. Before he let her fall.
His hands were shaking now. He’d never be able to grip the rung. He’d never complete that climb. It was beyond him.
He tried to climb down, but his bad leg gave way and he fell. He grasped at the ladder but his palms were wet and slippery. He instinctively curved his body into a ball to ease the landing, knowing as he did that, from this height, he would barely be bruised. But the feeling of falling brought memories that could tear him apart. He could hear Michelle’s terrified voice. Hold me … please hold me. He heard again the horrified gasps of the audience and the sound of his leg breaking as he hit the side of the safety net and bounced off it onto the ground. The net had saved his life. But the arc of the swing had been too great for Michelle, whose falling body had missed the net by just a few centimetres.
Simon hit the ground, rolled and just lay there, trying to erase the images and the sounds from his mind. Trying to calm his heart and stop his hands from shaking.
After a few minutes, he sat up and rubbed his hand over his face. At least he knew now. He could let the troupe move on without him. He would have to find something to do with the rest of his life. It seemed a long and lonely prospect.
As he got to his feet, he heard the sound of a motorbike engine and saw a light moving past the wall of the tent. Finn had ridden into town again. It was a dangerous thing for the boy to do, especially as he didn’t own the bike. Simon hadn’t tried to stop him again. It wouldn’t have worked anyway. Finn was in love—or at least something very like it. Nothing would stop him making the most of his time with Jenny before he moved on. The boy was young, his whole life in front of him. Life was an adventure to be savoured. How Simon envied him. He hoped Finn would never have to learn the lessons he had learned.
Simon turned away from the trapeze and left the big top without looking back.
CHAPTER
25
The grey mare stretched one leg forward and lowered her head to her knee. Her beautifully combed snow white mane fell over her face, almost hiding the deep brown eyes and the gleaming silver on her headstall. She shifted her weight again, lowering her shoulder so Lucienne could easily swing her leg into place. Then, with the utmost care, Coco rose to her feet, her mistress safely on her back.
‘Bien.’ Lucienne stroked the mare’s neck. ‘We do not forget, my hummingbird.’
The mare tossed her head as if in agreement. Lucienne closed her legs on the horse’s side. Her muscles were not as strong as they once had been, but her connection with Coco was absolute. The mare walked a few paces and smoothly transitioned into a canter, so slow and controlled it felt like riding a rocking horse. Simon had insisted Coco be properly fitted with a girth and neck strap. Lucienne had agreed, understanding his need to protect her. But she had no need of the safety measures. Sitting on Coco’s back was as natural to her as walking, and she could still do both, despite her age.
Coco performed like the experienced hand she was, cantering around the ring, turning with just the lightest touch of Lucienne’s hand on her neck. Where once Lucienne would have stood on Coco’s back, leaped and tumbled and danced, she now remained seated, just spreading her arms wide to accept the applause that she knew would come on the night.
The circuits completed, horse and rider returned to the centre of the ring. Once more Coco lowered herself in a bow, and Lucienne slid to the ground. Side by side now, they circled the ring one more time at a walk. As they did, prompted by signals from her mistress, Coco performed manoeuvres that would set the crowd gasping: she leaped into the air, pivoted on an imaginary penny, and danced on the spot, lifting her legs high in slow-motion elegance that was wonderful to behold.
The performance lasted just a few minutes, but when it was over, the big top echoed with applause, despite the fact that there were only a few roustabouts present. Lucienne smiled broadly as she and Coco left the ring.
‘So, ma belle Coco, we are maybe not so old after all.’
The mare nodded and Lucienne laughed. Together they walked back to the stables. Lucienne removed Coco’s harness and began brushing her. It was an act so familiar and soothing, she was startled when she heard footsteps.
Jenny appeared at the stall door. ‘I’m sorry, Madame, I didn’t mean to disturb you.’
‘That’s quite all right, my dear.’ Lucienne didn’t ask how the girl had made her way to Three Rings. Distance was no barrier to young love’s desire.
‘I missed your rehearsal. But I heard people saying how good you were …’ The girl hesitated.
‘Despite my age.’ Lucienne said the words for her. ‘That is fine. I have no illusions. Coco and I are no longer young—this will be our last performance.’
; ‘No!’
‘Yes. But this is fine. It is how it should be. The old make way for the young.’
Jenny leaned on the stall door, her chin in her hands. ‘Do you have any regrets?’
Lucienne’s hand stilled. Regrets? An image of her granddaughter’s smile filled her mind. If Michelle and Simon had not joined le cirque, Michelle might be married somewhere. Perhaps with children. Lucienne might have been a great-grandmother. That would have been nice.
‘No, my dear. I have no regrets. We all must make choices in our lives. I do not believe in regrets. I believe only in life.’
The girl nodded. ‘What was it like? Living on the road? Living in a caravan and travelling all the time? You didn’t have a home.’
‘But you are wrong, my dear. Go to the doorway and look out. Tell me what you see there.’
Jenny did as she was told. ‘I see the camp. All the caravans and the big tent. And people moving around.’
‘What you see is my home. And my family. I have never regretted my life with them.’
Jenny stayed looking out the door. Searching for Finn, no doubt. Lucienne wasn’t sure where the boy was, but she did know that Ron Whelan and Simon were sitting at a desk working on the upcoming tour schedule. If the girl was careful she would avoid being seen by Finn’s father.
Lucienne patted Coco one last time and left the stall to join Jenny in the doorway.
‘We all must choose, chérie. This life is not for everyone. Only you can know where your heart truly lies.’ She patted the girl on the arm.
Once back inside the house, Lucienne went to her bedroom and opened the wardrobe door. Several glittering costumes hung there, each enclosed in protective plastic. She had put them all away after Michelle’s accident, when her heart no longer called her to the circus ring. Now she would return one last time. And she would dazzle, because to do otherwise would be to betray the life she had chosen, and did not regret, even now.