by Helen Phifer
Summer 1950
The huge red and white striped tent had been erected on the field. Almost every person had helped to pull the guide ropes to lift it up and get it into place. It was something that needed as many of the labourers and performers as possible. Fresh sawdust had been scattered on top of the grass inside the tent, giving it a softer floor. Gordy loved this part: when the centre ring was empty and the circus hadn’t been tainted by thousands of men, women and children, all eagerly waiting to pay their money and file through the gap in the tent to take their seats.
Tomorrow, when it opened, the smell of popcorn and candyfloss would fill the air, mingling with the fresh sawdust and toffee apples. There was no better scent. The loud humming of the generators in the background was like music to his ears, blocking out the memories that were trying to fill his mind. It kept wandering back to his miserable childhood. The times he’d listened as his parents had argued, his mother’s shrill voice carrying up the stairs until a loud thud would silence her.
More often than not his father – who liked to drink – would then come up and start on him, beating him for no reason. Gordy would go to school and make up the most intricate lies about the bruises. He hated his parents, but he hadn’t wanted to go into a children’s home. He became so good at telling lies that he almost believed them himself.
Then there were the incidents with Andrew and Mrs Goldsmith. Gordy didn’t feel remorse for what he’d done to them. They had laughed at him and deserved what they got. It was life. Nobody had cared that his own father had punched and kicked him until he was black and blue, had they? He liked the feeling of being in control, of being able to inflict pain on others. This was what his father had taught him.
The circus was here for four nights and Gordy had an idea. Yesterday, as they’d arrived, there had been a group of kids waiting and watching their every move. They were almost as fascinated with the circus as Gordy himself was. One of the boys had looked a little bit slower than the rest of them; he’d stared at the lions, monkeys and elephants with a look of wonder etched onto his face. His jaw slack, his lips slightly parted as a line of spittle ran from them. One of the younger boys had elbowed him in the side and he’d closed his mouth, lifting a grubby sleeve to wipe his lips. Gordy had purposely gone over to talk to them, asking them if they liked the circus. All four of them had nodded in unison.
‘Well, how would you like free tickets to come see it every night?’
‘Really, mister? That would be ace. How would we get free tickets?’
‘It’s a big job setting this lot up; there’s lots of work to be done. We could do with a hand setting up the chairs and putting fresh sawdust down each morning in the big top. I could square it with the ringmaster and see if he’s willing to let you pitch in and help in return for some tickets.’
All four of them had shouted, ‘Yes, please!’ at the same time.
‘I’m Gordy – well, that’s my real name. When I’m working I’m Tufty the clown. You see that poster over there? The clown in the black and white? That’s me.’
‘Really, you’re a proper clown? That’s brilliant.’
Gordy smiled. ‘I think so too. Wait there and I’ll go speak to my boss, see if we can’t give you lads some work to do. Of course you’ll have to square it with your parents. They might not want you here every day.’
The boy who looked a little slower and older than the others laughed. ‘My ma won’t care. She’s always telling me I should be in a freak show.’
The other boys laughed too. One of them said, ‘Yes, she is. You could be a clown as well. We could call you Coco instead of Colin.’
The boy who’d elbowed him began to laugh so hard that tears rolled down his cheeks. ‘Coco is a much better name than Colin. Shit on a stick is a better name than Colin.’
Colin scowled at them and his bottom lip began to tremble.
Gordy patted his arm. ‘Well, I think Colin is a grand name, so why don’t you go and see if you can all come back this afternoon and help out? Just come find me. I won’t be far.’
The boys turned and ran off, leaving Colin lumbering behind. Gordy felt a spark of excitement; he had big plans for Colin. Since he’d killed his parents there was this feeling inside him that he wanted to do it again. No, not wanted – that wasn’t strong enough. He knew he had to do it again. Only he didn’t want to go after an adult. It would be easier to kill a kid. They were always wandering off and getting lost. He could make it look like an accident. Only he would know the truth. Colin was a lot bigger than he’d anticipated, but it looked as if no one really cared about the lad so he would do nicely as a starter. Then if it all went to plan, he could carry on and no one would be any the wiser.
Gordy wandered off to help wherever he was needed. Betty and the two other trapeze artists were practising their twists and turns on a makeshift rope swing. He stopped to watch. She had done exactly what she said she would for the next show. Carried on as if she hadn’t almost broken her neck. He had been fascinated; the strength she showed was admirable. In fact, the more he got to know the other performers, the more he liked them.
He was still wary of the lions. Marcus the lion tamer seemed to have them wrapped around his little finger. A loud roar made Gordy jump and he turned to see Marcus on the floor with Leo, the huge lion, standing above him. Gordy’s heart began to race and he thought he was about to watch Marcus get eaten alive. What happened next made him laugh so much a tear rolled down his cheek. The huge lion flopped down onto the floor of the cage next to Marcus and lay his head on his chest. He nudged Marcus until he gave in and began to rub his belly. Betty, who had paused mid somersault, giggled. She shouted, ‘Marcus, that cat is more in charge of you than your wife. I bet you don’t rub her belly like that.’
‘Sweetheart, if I had a wife I most certainly would. Why don’t you come over here and I’ll rub yours?’
There was a loud eruption of laughter, which echoed around the field, and Gordy once more found himself glad that he’d finally had the courage to walk away from his old life so he could enjoy his new one.
Betty tutted and turned back to her rope swing. She looked at him. ‘So, Tufty, how are you liking the circus?’
He fell forwards and tumbled to the ground, doing a forwards roll. As he stood up he pulled a bunch of flowers from his sleeve, handing them to her.
She giggled. ‘That much, eh? Good, I’m glad you like it. I couldn’t imagine living any other way. I’ve been part of circus life since I could crawl and I’ve been doing aerial stunts since I was five.’
He took a bow and nodded. ‘I can’t imagine anything else either – and that’s amazing. You were born with circus blood in your veins. I feel as if I’ve finally found a place I belong, a place to call home.’
A loud voice shouted, ‘Tufty, can you give us a hand?’ He turned to see a group of men all unloading the wooden benches to go into the tent. He walked in their direction. For the next couple of hours he wouldn’t have time to think about anything as they set up the seating for the audience.
Sweating and tired, he lifted the last bench into place, then straightened his back. It was lunchtime and he was going to take a well-earned break to eat a corned beef sandwich and drink a bottle of ginger ale. No sooner had he reached the shady spot he’d had his eye on all morning and sat down than he heard someone calling him. He stood up from the shade of the huge oak tree he’d taken shelter under from the burning sun and smiled to himself to see Colin walking towards him. Gordy waved at him and the big lad smiled. He was on his own.
‘Hello, Colin, where’s your friends?’
‘Still talking to their mas. They don’t seem to be having any of it and won’t let them come to help you.’
‘I see, I suppose I can understand that. What are you doing back? What about your ma?’
‘She ain’t bothered; said if I could get myself a job for four days it would be a bloody miracle. Glad to get me out of her hair.’
‘Well, I’m sure I can find
you a job.’
Gordy patted the grass beside him. ‘Are you hungry?’
Colin nodded his head. ‘Always hungry.’
He passed him half of his sandwich. ‘Go on, take it. Big lad like you must have a big appetite.’
He took it from him, eating it in two bites.
Gordy laughed. ‘I like you, Colin; I really do.’
They sat in silence for the next thirty minutes while Gordy rested his eyes. He wasn’t asleep but he wasn’t fully awake either. When he decided it was time to get back to work he took Colin with him to the trailer where he kept all his stuff. He pointed to his clown suit.
‘What do you think about my costume, Colin? Do you like it? I made it myself.’
The seventeen-year-old boy reached out a hand, letting his fingers brush the soft, silky material. ‘Nice. It’s soft and smooth. I like it, Gordy.’
As he said his name, Gordy smiled at the image of Colin that had filled his mind – a very different picture to the one standing in front of him. He wondered if the boy would cry when he stuck his sharp knife into him and decided that, yes, he probably would, a lot. Then there was the fact that Colin didn’t look like a normal, spotty, weedy teenager. He was tall and stocky; he was probably strong as well. He would have to be quick when he did it because if Colin decided to put up a fight, Gordy didn’t know if he would be the one to come out of it alive.
Chapter Five
Annie strapped Alfie into his car seat, put his changing bag on the seat next to him and then got into the driver’s side. She loved this car more than words could say. She’d never thought another car would replace her beloved red convertible mini, but after writing it off in an accident that had left her in a coma for a couple of days last year she’d had no other choice.
Will spoilt her; there was no doubt about it and it was nice that he did. It was reassuring knowing that he had more than enough money in the bank to cover the household bills and take them on holidays without having to scrimp and scrape like she’d had to when she was married to Mike.
She could live with the occasional treat from Will because she made sure she never asked for anything, preferring to earn her own money to buy what she needed. She didn’t care if she wore Primark sunglasses or Dior; as long as they did the job it didn’t matter, although the one thing she wouldn’t compromise on was her perfume. It always had been and always would be Chanel.
Turning to check Alfie was okay before leaving, she smiled at him when he stretched his chubby hand out towards her. She blew him a kiss then turned back and drove away from her house. Since her niece, Matilda, had gone missing, she hadn’t really had any visitors from the other side, which had been nice. Having a baby had taken up so much of her time, though, that she’d hardly even noticed.
As much as she wanted to help them, it still scared her every single time one put in an appearance. She’d spent the first thirty-one years of her life oblivious to the fact that the spirit world existed. Then, after that fateful night when her now-dead husband had tried to kill her, she’d woken up in the hospital with a huge wound on the back of her head and a new-found skill as a psychic.
As she took the narrow twisting road towards the car ferry to Bowness, she wondered how Will was getting on and if his hangover had kicked in yet. Adele had seemed nice and, if she was happily married with kids, surely she wouldn’t be interested in Will. Still, Annie couldn’t help worrying. The seeds of self-doubt that Mike had planted inside her during their marriage had left her with very little confidence in herself.
She knew she was being stupid; yes, Will had had quite a reputation for womanising before they got together, but he’d changed. They’d been through so much and, now they had Alfie, he wouldn’t do anything stupid to risk jeopardising their marriage. She needed to stop worrying so much.
The ferry was quiet and before long she was loaded on to it and paying her money. As they reached the other side she drove off, relieved to be back on dry land. No matter how many times she used, it the thought of its sinking always lingered in her mind. Even though it was only early, Bowness was starting to get busy. The obligatory coach full of Japanese tourists had debarked at the pier for the Lake cruises.
Annie smiled to herself. Passing the coffee shop where Gustav – her favourite barista – worked, she wondered if she should park up and pay him a visit; but a car pulled into the last parking space and she decided that maybe she would stop on her way home instead.
Driving up the steep hill, she passed the police station – her police station – which was now up for sale. All the staff now started and finished at Kendal, which was a pain in the arse. Jake had moaned about it for months, blaming her for making him transfer here from Barrow. The church came into view and Annie let out a small whoop of delight to see a parking space right in front of it. High five to Jesus or God.
She pulled in, then got out, taking Alfie, who was now fast asleep, from his seat. She decided to carry him to the rectory because she couldn’t be bothered getting his pram out. She walked through the gorgeous garden, which was John’s pride and joy, to the front door and knocked on it as loud as she could. It was a big house and – once a copper always a copper – she hated wasting time knocking on doors while at work so would always hammer on them. Disappointed that there was no sound of footsteps on the parquet flooring inside, she felt her shoulders deflate. She should have phoned to see if he was in. Shit. As she turned to walk back to her car, a voice shouted across the small wall that bordered the church and the rectory.
‘Is that Annie Graham I see before me in the flesh? What a sight for my failing old eyes. It’s been far too long.’
With much more spring in his step than Annie had, he briskly walked across to the wall and jumped over it. Father John was in his late sixties, but he was fitter than most men half his age. He pulled her to him, careful not to squash Alfie, and hugged her as best he could. He placed a kiss on her cheek. She grinned.
‘You look younger every time I see you, John. Have you got a fountain of youth tucked away inside the baptism font?’
‘Ah, I wish. I would be a much richer man than I am now. A humble servant of God relies on his faith and a little help from cheap moisturising cream.’
Annie laughed.
‘So what you brings you here, or am I lucky enough to be having a social visit?’
He raised one eyebrow and she felt bad. She’d dragged him into too much stuff the last couple of years and not once had he berated her for it.
‘I’m looking for cake, if I’m being honest with you, and of course I wanted a hug from my very favourite priest in the world.’
__________________________
John didn’t miss the fact that her eyes were searching out the corner of the churchyard behind him where they had buried the bones of one Betsy Baker; but he didn’t want to push her. She would open up and tell him what was bothering her in her own time.
‘Well, if that’s the case, come inside my house. I have a huge Victoria sponge cake that I’ve done my best to eat all on my own, but am failing miserably. Not to mention fresh coffee. Admit it, Annie Graham, you only came for the coffee.’
She pulled a face and he laughed.
‘Sorry, I can’t help it. You’re so adorable to tease and there aren’t many women around here that I get the chance to be myself with, if you know what I mean. The ladies of the flower arranging club are still as bad as ever. It gets a bit embarrassing listening to them fighting over me like I’m a piece of meat.’
‘You’re so awful. Sometimes I find it hard to believe you’re actually a priest. I often wonder if you just blagged your way into the priesthood.’
He clasped his hand to his heart, feigning a heart attack and pretended to stumble back. ‘Why don’t you just take my Bible, beat me around the head with it and be done with it?’
She laughed and his eyes lit up. There was nothing better than hearing this lovely, brave, amazing woman chuckle like a schoolgirl. His job was done; he co
uld quit the fooling around now.
‘Come on, don’t you go telling that to the Bishop. I’ll buy your silence with a big slice of cream cake and a cappuccino.’
__________________________
He led the way up the steps and she followed him. Alfie was still asleep and getting heavier by the minute. John opened the door and she walked inside. He pointed to the lounge.
‘Why don’t you go and lay your young man on the sofa and I’ll bring a tray through for us? We can be civilised for a change instead of slumming it at the kitchen table.’
‘Thank you, he’s getting so heavy you wouldn’t believe it.’
John disappeared into the kitchen and she flopped down onto the big, squashy sofa. Moving the cushions she formed a bed for Alfie and laid him down. John came in with a tray with two huge wedges of cake and she looked at him.
‘Did I ever tell you how much I love you?’
He chuckled. ‘Ah, you’re far too easily bought, and yes, I think you did mention that the last time I fed you.’
‘Good, because you need to know this stuff.’
John passed a plate to her and let her tuck into her cake. He asked her about Will and how the funeral had gone. She relayed Will’s antics to him and smiled to see him shaking his head with a grin on his face.
‘I kind of understand, though. He’s had to carry that guilt with him since the night it happened. As have you; you both have.’
‘I know. That’s why I couldn’t be too mad with him.’
‘Good, I’m glad you weren’t. Now then, enough of the small talk. I couldn’t help but notice you peering into a certain corner of the churchyard when we were talking outside. God forbid, but tell me is there something wrong at the cottage?’
‘Sorry, John, I didn’t come to upset you, but I did want to see you about something.’
‘I know you did. You’re very busy, what with your little prince there, but if something’s wrong I want to know so I can help you. I value your friendship far too much to turn my back on you when the going gets tough, so don’t worry about me.’