He sat down on one of the plush seats and indicated that Barkbelly should do the same. Now, sitting opposite the great man, Barkbelly realized that this was the first time he had really looked at his face. Until this moment, he had just had a head full of impressions. Carmenero the ringmaster, with his showman's flair and booming voice. Carmenero the leader, rolling up his sleeves and sweating with the men as they raised the Stardust Palace. Carmenero the charmer, flirting with the circus girls as they blushed with pleasure. Carmenero the carer, giving quiet reassurance to anyone who needed it. Carmenero the boss, roaring his disapproval at anyone who offered less than his or her best, in or out of the ring. Carmenero the loner, walking through the misty morning fields with his dog. Carmenero, the beating heart of the circus, loved by the circus folk and adored by audiences.
Carmenero was truly revered. The circus girls talked about him as if he were a god. So Barkbelly was surprised to discover that the circus owner wasn't blessed with the looks of one. He was handsome, yes, but not perfect. And he wasn't as tall or as brawny as some of the other men in the circus. But he had something else. And it was this something else that made Barkbelly decide that if he could choose to look like anyone else in the world, he would choose to look like Carmenero. Quite simply, Carmenero was such a good man, it showed in his face. Carmenero was handsome on the inside.
“You're probably wondering why I've called you here today,” Carmenero began.
Barkbelly just nodded. His mouth felt too dry for words.
“Tell me, Barkbelly, are you happy here?”
Barkbelly nodded again, but more vigorously this time.
Carmenero smiled. “That's good,” he said, “because I'd like to offer you a job.”
“Oh!” cried Barkbelly, and he slumped with relief. “Thank you, Mister Carmenero,” he said. “I've been so worried, I can't begin to tell you. I won't let you down, sir. I'm ever so strong and I'm really good with animals. I don't mind mucking out or what have you.”
“Excellent, because we need an assistant skunk keeper.”
Thick silence flooded the wagon. Barkbelly could hear nothing except his own heart thumping in dismay. Carmenero watched him with curious eyes.
“Thank you, Mister Carmenero,” repeated Barkbelly in a tiny voice. “I won't let you down, sir.” He stood up and headed for the door, but Carmenero was there before him, blocking the way.
“You really do want to stay here, don't you?” he asked. Barkbelly looked straight into the circus owner's eyes, and Carmenero thought he had never seen such bleak despair on a face as he saw then on Barkbelly's. “That's good,” he continued, “because I have great plans for you. And they don't involve skunks.” Carmenero grinned impishly and grabbed Barkbelly warmly by the shoulders. “Sit down!” he said. “We still need to talk.”
Barkbelly sat down again. His head was spinning.
“Now,” said Carmenero as he gathered his thoughts, “you are far too special to work backstage. That would be a complete waste of your talent. You are unique. When you first saw the show at Pumbleditch—do you remember Meteor Man?”
Barkbelly thought. “Was he the human cannonball?”
“He was! But he's not with us anymore, so that's the job I'm offering you. I want you to be the Cannonball Kid! We need a new act. Something to bring the crowds in. I'll start a big publicity campaign. Lots of posters, that sort of thing. Your face will be everywhere! You'll be a star! You'll need a little time to work up the act, of course, and we'll have to strengthen the net. We can't have you ripping through it every night. Think of the splinters! You'd kill half the front row!” He beamed re- assuringly. “Peaches will have to make you a costume, but I think we could have you in the show in, say, two weeks' time. What do you think?”
Barkbelly sat very still. He thought. “If you don't mind, Mister Carmenero,” he said carefully, “I would rather work backstage.”
Carmenero breathed in. Those five little words told him more about Barkbelly than others would learn in hours of conversation. Barkbelly was in hiding. And he wasn't the only one; Carmenero could think of half a dozen others who had sat in his wagon and said the same words. They were in the circus right now, mending canvas and sweeping up sawdust. None of them performed. Sometimes, in certain towns, they wouldn't deal directly with the public at all. They would slip into the shadows until the circus moved on.
If Barkbelly had been just another runaway, Carmenero would happily have agreed to backstage work. There was always plenty to do. But Barkbelly was different. He was special, and the circus did need a new act. He thought hard, while Barkbelly shifted uncomfortably in his seat and stared at the grassy carpet.
“You could wear a mask.”
Barkbelly looked up. “A mask?”
“A mask! Not just across your eyes—a fully fitted hood that completely covers your head. With holes for your eyes. No one would ever see you.”
Barkbelly considered the idea. It seemed to make sense. And he would be a performer. A performer! Just like Candy. He would be out there under the lights, with the band playing and the people loving him. It would be a dream come true.
“What do you say?” said Carmenero with the easy charm that made everyone love him. “Will you do it?”
Barkbelly grinned. “Yes,” he said. “I will.”
Chapter 29
arkbelly's costume was fantastic. Everyone said so. Peaches was delighted with the response. From the moment she drew the design, she knew it was special. When she cut out the white leather, gangs of children gathered round the open door of her wagon to watch. When she sewed on the rhinestones, Candy and Gossamer drooled with envy. When she hung up the finished suit, Barkbelly gazed at it with tears in his eyes.
And now, with Barkbelly wearing it for the first time, everyone was telling her it was the best work she had ever done. She was thrilled. That was something she had secretly believed all along.
Carmenero was especially pleased. He turned Barkbelly this way and that, noting every detail.
“This is glorious,” he said. “Just glorious.”
Barkbelly beamed at him, and Carmenero could see the joy in his eyes. But that was about all he could see. Barkbelly was covered from head to toe. A tight leather hood masked his face. A jumpsuit covered his body. Matching gloves concealed his hands. Smart leather boots covered his feet. Peaches had followed Carmenero's instructions perfectly.
Two weeks had passed since Barkbelly's meeting with Carmenero. In that time he had been rehearsing his new act, but he was far from confident. He had been so busy. Some days they had been traveling, and when they reached a new town, there was rigging to be done. He had chores, whether they were on the road or not. He couldn't practice in the Stardust Palace when there was a show in progress. He couldn't practice when the animals were in the ring—the noise of the cannon terrified them. So he had made just two test flights.
But he had spent time with Gossamer. She was teaching him how to present himself to the audience. Showmanship, she called it. She drew a line in the sawdust with a stick and told him to imagine it was the curtains at the back of the ring. Then she made him walk over it again and again and again while she made improvements.
“Stand up straight!” she scolded. “Head back! Eyes forward. No, you're slouching! Again!”
Barkbelly tried again.
“That's better!” she praised. “But don't forget to smile.”
Barkbelly stopped dead. “Don't forget to smile? I'll be wearing a mask. The audience won't know whether I'm smiling or not, you pudding.”
“You will know,” snapped Gossamer, putting her hands on her hips. “And they will feel. So don't argue with me. Just do it.”
Barkbelly walked over the line again. This time he smiled, and he was amazed at the difference it made. Suddenly he felt confident. Truly in control.
“It works!” he cried. “It really works.”
“Of course it does, brittlebrain! I do know what I'm talking about, you know. I'm a professional!” She th
rew him her best smile and somersaulted across the ring in a breathtaking series of flips and tumbles. “And remember,” she said, returning to him, “you're not a clown. You're a daredevil act. You must be regal. Like a king. Like Carmenero. Showmanship, Bark, showmanship. Like this.”
She disappeared behind the velvet stage curtains as a girl. But she reemerged as an empress. With her hand held high in the air, she acknowledged the cheers from the audience on her left…on her right…to the front… and as she did, Carmenero slipped through the curtains behind her. He winked at Barkbelly, put a finger to his lips and watched Gossamer's performance.
“That is how it should be done,” said Gossamer. “You must be commanding.”
“Like Carmenero,” said Barkbelly.
Gossamer nodded. “Like Carmenero. Proud but not haughty. Strong but not intimidating. And it helps if you're handsome. That's why you will be wearing a bag over your head.”
“You think Carmenero is handsome?”
“Of course he's handsome. He's … heartbreakingly handsome. He's …” Her voice trailed off and she gazed up toward the trapeze, as if she would find the words there. “He's …perfect,” she said, looking at Barkbelly again. “Just the most… gorgeous man ever.” She smiled like a pansy and bit her bottom lip.
“I'm sure he's pleased to hear it,” said Barkbelly, and he nodded in the direction of the curtains.
Gossamer turned and saw and gasped and turned back and covered her mouth and flushed, all in the space of a second. Barkbelly was impressed.
“You skunk butt!” she hissed, and ran out of the tent. Carmenero strolled over, smiling. He sat down beside Barkbelly.
“Are you ready for tonight?” he asked.
Barkbelly nodded.
“You'll be fine. Especially with all the help you've had from my, er… admirer.” He grinned. “If there's anything you're worried about—anything at all—you come to me. You know where I am.”
He put his arm round Barkbelly's shoulders and hugged him close. Just for a second or so. Then he stood up and strolled away.
Barkbelly watched him go. He was in a daze. It had all happened so suddenly. So unexpectedly. It was just a hug, for goodness' sake. But for that moment, while it had lasted, he had felt safe. Suddenly tears were welling in his eyes.
Carmenero reached the entrance and lifted the tent flap. Sunlight poured in and he vanished into it. The flap fell back. He was gone.
Chapter 30
he circus was camped in the small market town of Withybank. It was one of those places where nothing much ever happened. If a runaway bull charged down the main street or someone grew an especially large squash, the townsfolk would talk about it for months afterward. So the arrival of the circus caused a sensation. People were quivering with anticipation. At the market stalls traders were so befuddled that they weighed out carrots instead of parsnips and the customers didn't care. They were too busy talking to their neighbors about Carmenero's new attraction. Shiny posters were pinned up everywhere:
THE CANNONBALL KID!
COME AND BE AMAZED!
They were impossible to ignore; Carmenero had made sure of that. They had caused chaos in the box office. The demand for tickets was overwhelming. The opening night was fully sold out, and Carmenero was considering an additional night's stay. Barkbelly was a success before he even entered the ring.
Now he stood backstage, waiting for his big moment, while the other performers bustled around him. Gossamer and her sisters were at the dressing tables, fastening on their head- dresses and cloaks, brushing sawdust off their tights, fiddling with ribbons while the elephant keeper shuffled by them with a bucket of muck.
Barkbelly heard the roar of the crowd: Anvil Allsop was bending an iron bar with his teeth. Slippers was over by the tent flap. Peaches was sewing a huge button back onto his coat, and when the clown saw Barkbelly watching, he pointed at the button. Then he started to mime: Panic! Despair! Relief! Barkbelly giggled and forgot the tension in his stomach for a good ten seconds.
Suddenly the crowd was clapping and cheering…the band was bouncing on its platform… the girls were pulling the curtains back… Anvil Allsop was running out of thering… Gossamer and her sisters were skipping in. And Barkbelly realized he was next.
Slippers joined Barkbelly by the curtains.
“Not long now,” he whispered. It was his job to entertain the crowd while the circus gang dragged the cannon into the ring.
Barkbelly smiled grimly. The crowd was gasping as Gossamer and her sisters flew like falcons. He could hear the girls' calls and the slap of hands as their father caught them in midair. Then there was a huge burst of applause and the curtains were swept aside and Slippers went out as the girls came in.
“Walk tall!” whispered Gossamer as she ran past. “I'll be watching!”
Barkbelly could hear the muffled roar of the cannon wheels as the great piece of iron was moved into the center of the ring. Next, a metallic clang as the ladder was attached. His mouth felt dry. His stomach was a knot of nerves. He pulled the leather hood over his head. With it on, he could hear his own breathing, quick and shallow.
Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Barkbelly couldn't see whose it was—the hood blocked out his side vision. The hand gave a reassuring squeeze and then it was gone.
Carmenero swept through the curtains into the ring. Barkbelly heard the band clatter into silence as he raised his hands.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. You have seen the posters. You have heard the rumors. And tonight, people of Withybank, you will witness the birth of a brilliant new star. He's bold. He's daring. He's the one and only… Cannonball Kid!”
Barkbelly strode through the curtains like a king. He waved to the crowd. He bowed. He strutted. He smiled inside his hood. Then, as he heard the band begin the launch music, he climbed up the silver ladder and, with a final wave, slid down the barrel of the cannon. There he lay in the dark while one of the circus hands lit the fuse. Carmenero led the count- down: “Ten—nine—eight—seven—” Barkbelly closed his eyes and—thuud!—the world exploded around him as an invisible fist thumped him skyward.
He opened his eyes and saw he was flying higher, higher, higher toward the roof. The rainbow lanterns were flashing by. The darkness was beckoning—reaching out—grabbing him with black fingers. But Barkbelly arced into a daredevil descent. He dived down like a hunting hawk. Then he relaxed his muscles, closed his eyes and let the net embrace him.
The people of Withybank leapt from their seats. They stamped their feet and threw their hats in the air. The noise was deafening, even through the thick hood. As Barkbelly tumbled expertly from the net, Carmenero seized hold of his wrist and lifted his arm triumphantly high.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” bellowed Carmenero. “I give you the Cannonball Kid!” Then he stepped back into the shadows.
Gossamer watched proudly from the rear of the tent. She could feel what nobody could see. Inside his hood, Barkbelly was beaming.
Chapter 31
fter his great debut, Barkbelly's life settled into the daily routine of a performer: chores in the morning, a nap in the afternoon and a show in the evening. Then, when the crowds had wandered happily homeward, he would sit beside the campfires and listen to stories under the stars.
There were several good storytellers. Anvil Allsop was the most entertaining. He could talk for hours, throwing words into the air like magicians' doves. Tall tales, true tales, jokes, riddles—he knew them all, and he always drew the largest crowd. Rubek told the most exotic tales. He had traveled all over the world and seen extraordinary things. To listen to Rubek was to enter strange and fabulous lands. Surprisingly, Slippers was the scariest storyteller. He told the goriest ghost tales imaginable. On dark nights Barkbelly would listen for hours while fear crawled up his back like a beetle.
But of all the storytellers, Barkbelly still loved Jewel best. She told every kind of story: folk tales, fairy tales, circus tales…. And whatever the tal
e, whatever its age, Jewel could breathe new life into it. Sometimes she didn't tell stories at all—she just talked about the people she had known in her long, long life.
Barkbelly especially loved to hear about Jewel's family. She could trace her family line back through generation after generation. Dozens of aerial artists, knife throwers, jugglers and acrobats passed before his eyes as she described them. Sometimes her descriptions were so vivid that Barkbelly believed she had actually brought her ancestors back to life. He could see them standing in the shadows behind her, listening to their own lives, nodding and smiling.
It was late autumn. There was a chill in the air and the stars were hanging as low as lanterns. Barkbelly was sitting with Jewel outside her wagon. A fire was blazing before them, and Jewel was knitting a bonnet for her new grandchild and telling a tale about her great-great-grandfather Falcon Lavelle. When she had finished, Barkbelly sighed and said, “It must be nice to have a family.”
“Oh, yes, it is,” said Jewel. Suddenly she stopped knitting. “You have a family!” she exclaimed. “I remember you telling me about them when we were back in your village. And there was that lovely girl too.”
“Freckle Flannagan.”
“That's right. So what do you mean?”
“I don't have a real family,” said Barkbelly. “I'm adopted. I don't have brothers or sisters, or aunties and uncles. I don't have grandparents. There's only me. I'm just thinking it must be nice to have a whole lot of you. All the same, like a gang. But I'm one on my own.”
“Yes, but you did have a mother and a father at one time,” said Jewel.
Barkbelly looked at her in amazement. “Did I?” he asked.
“Of course you did! Where do you think you came from? You weren't made in one of those new factories, you know! Oh, bless the badgers, Barkbelly! You do have some funny ideas!”
“But if I had a mother and a father at one time, where are they now?”
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