Show Stealer

by Hayley Barker

  She peers at him. “Very well. What is it?”

  “The opening ceremony is due to begin in just a couple of minutes. As you know, your son has already been assigned a role. Perhaps if this girl’s termination was to occur live, in front of an audience, it would have a greater impact on him. He’d witness her death for himself, perhaps be involved with it in some way, and the public would see her finally being punished for her actions. It would be a victory for both of us. Your son, the audience, the whole world will realize once and for all that the Cirque, the government, the Pures, will never be vanquished!”

  She muses for a second.

  “Do you know, Ringmaster, I think you may have a point. It would do him good to see it with his own eyes, plus, it would be wonderful entertainment too. My family have a box to ourselves, you say?”

  Silvio nods vigorously.

  “Very well. Stick her in a costume and get her out there. Let’s watch our little Greek god try and rescue her, shall we? Let’s watch his face when he realizes he can’t.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen Silvio look so jubilant. “Oh, you won’t regret this, madam! I have the perfect role in mind for her! Forget about her little acrobatic display from earlier: this will be all anyone’s talking about!” He looks at his watch. “Oh my! There’s no time to spare! If you will excuse me, madam, I will make the necessary arrangements.”

  “Yes, yes, run along, little man. Just give me one guarantee – whatever happens out there, whatever you’ve got planned, the girl doesn’t make it off that stage alive.”

  He smiles. “Rest assured, madam, the only person who could possibly desire her death more than you, is me. I give you my word, she’ll die tonight.”

  BEN

  After what seems like for ever, the doors are thrown open and a guard enters.

  “Time to get ready,” he says. “The show’s about to start.”

  He manoeuvres me down the corridor and pushes me into the dressing room.

  Every single performer is in there: Emmanuel, Leah, all of them, and they’re all in costume. The men and boys are all wearing rough hessian tunics and brown sandals. They look like they’re about to perform as shepherds in a school nativity play; they’re even carrying crooks and wearing long fabric headdresses.

  All the girls and women except Leah are wearing loose white dresses. They all have a band of white flowers on their head and their hair is flowing in waves. Leah’s dressed in white too, but her gown is tight-fitting, and shimmers and glows with soft light. Her hair has been pulled back off her head into a tight bun and there are illuminated wings fluttering, somehow, on her back.

  The door opens again, and Ezekiel’s thrown in like a bag of rubbish.

  I run to pick him up. He’s stopped bleeding. The cut looks nasty but shallow.

  He throws his arms around me.

  “You saved me!” he says. “You and Hoshi saved me!”

  I look over his head at all the others.

  “He saved himself,” I say. “He was brave and brilliant. Is everyone else OK?”

  “We’re all here,” Emmanuel says. “Every last one of us. We’ve all been out there – I think pretty much all of us have got injuries, but nothing to stop them using any of us in the opening show.”

  Minnie, the make-up artist, steps forward with my costume.

  “You might as well wear it,” she says. “They’ll make you go out there whatever happens.”

  I know she’s right and I don’t want to put her at risk, so I pull the stupid thing on over my clothes.

  The eyes of the whole room are staring at me.

  “Why are they dressing you as a goat?” asks Ezekiel, incredulously.

  “I have absolutely no idea!” I answer.

  He’s grinning from ear to ear and the light’s already back in his eyes again.

  “I look really stupid, don’t I?” I say.

  After a second, he nods shyly and starts to laugh.

  I look down at my funny little goat legs and join in with him, and then so do the others.

  For a few seconds, we’re all laughing together until there’s a buzz as the door lock is released and Silvio appears.

  He’s still wearing his white robe, and his feet are bare.

  He points at Leah.

  “You!” he commands. “Get your costume off!” She stands up. “Now!” he says, sharply. “Time’s running out!”

  She takes off the dress while we all look away, trying to allow her some dignity. After a moment, she steps forward, back in her normal clothes, and holds the gown out to Silvio.

  He seizes it from her and hands it to a guard, waiting behind him. “You know what to do,” he says.

  He turns back to Leah.

  “A last-minute change of plan – someone else needs this costume. You will be delighted to know you’ve had a reprieve, for tonight at least! You can join your comrades as a supporting cast member in what will surely be the deadliest show of all time! I’ve got far bigger fish to fry than you tonight!”

  My heart begins to pound. It’s for Hoshi; it must be.

  He looks at me and smirks, as if he’s enormously pleased about something. “Come,” he beckons. “Come hither.” I don’t know what part it is he’s playing, but he’s certainly getting into it. Even his language has changed. I swear he actually thinks he’s Jesus or something.

  “Who do you mean?” I ask. “Me?”

  His arms sweep across the room inclusively.

  “Why, I mean all of you, of course!” He throws his arms out wide. “It’s showtime!”

  HOSHIKO

  Alone in the room, I wait, my heart beating hard against the walls of my chest.

  They’re putting us both onstage; that’s what Silvio said. I don’t want Ben to have to watch me die.

  The door handle turns and a man comes in, a Pure, about fifty years old, I reckon. I know straight away who it is, even though I’ve never seen him before. It’s Ben’s father. He’s got the same blond hair, the same eyes.

  “Thank you,” he whispers to a guard behind him. “I’ll only be five minutes.”

  He shuts the door.

  “I haven’t got long,” he says, hurriedly. “They don’t know I’m here. I just want to ask… Do you love him? Do you love my son?”

  “Yes,” I say. “More than anything.”

  He clutches at the wall.

  “He’s good,” I tell him. “And brave, and kind. You should be proud of him. You should love him too. Not for who you want him to be, but for who he is.”

  He looks at me. His eyes are watery and he’s shaking.

  “I am proud,” he says. “And I do love him. I wish I’d got to tell him that. I tried to stop her. I tried, but she won’t listen!”

  “Well, make her listen then!” I say.

  His face crumples. “She’s never listened to me. She doesn’t listen to anyone! She does what she wants, she always has!”

  Ben’s never said that much about his dad; just that he wasn’t around that much when he was a kid. I always had the impression, from what he did say, that he was a bit of a yes-man, that he just let Ben’s mother make all the decisions and went along with them. Judging from what he’s saying now, I was spot on.

  Funny, I thought I’d hate him if I ever met him, but when I look at this broken man opposite me, snivelling and wringing his hands, I don’t feel hate at all. He’s far too weak and pathetic to hate.

  Maybe it’s not all his fault. He’s lived with a bully for years. Maybe she made him like that. There’s got to be some backbone somewhere in there. He’s Ben’s father, after all, and God knows Ben didn’t inherit anything from his mother’s half of the gene pool.

  He says he loves Ben. If the last year has taught me anything, it’s that love can be strong. Love can be much, much stronger than hate.

  Very cautiously, I put my hand on his. He doesn’t flinch or shake it away; he stares down at it, and then he looks at me, and his face is full of regret and heartbr
eak.

  “Stand up to her,” I urge him. “Stand up for what’s right. Stand up for Ben. It’s not too late,” I say. “It’s never too late.”

  He makes a funny sound, like he’s choking.

  “I have to speak to her!” he cries, and then he pulls his hand away and runs off through the door.

  Seconds later, it opens again and a guard comes in carrying a costume. A white sequined dress, full of light and sparkle, with wings on the back.

  “Put this on,” she commands.

  I scramble into the dress while she waits, impatiently. She clicks her fingers and, from behind her, Minnie appears.

  After so long, it’s so good to see her. I want to hug her. She looks at me, her face full of emotion, and I can tell she feels the same.

  “Hurry up!” snaps the guard. “The show’s due to start!”

  Minnie scrubs my face quickly with a flannel, then pulls a brush through my hair and twists it into a bun behind my head. She puts some mascara on me, and dabs shimmering silver on my cheeks and lips.

  “Quick!” snarls the guard, and she pulls me out along the corridor and through a little wooden door, pushing me up a tiny narrow staircase. At the top, she forces me roughly down into a chair. Wrenching my hands back, she clips iron cuffs on to them, doing the same with my feet. Before she leaves, she pulls a tight iron brace down over my body, clicking it down into latches at the bottom of the chair.

  I hear her feet echoing as they dash back down the stairs, and the sound as she locks the door at the bottom.

  I look around. I’m in a tiny, circular room.

  There’s light creeping in from under the cracks in the door and the sound of people, lots of people, not far away.

  I must be above the stage in the theatre.

  There’s music and cheering, and the noise of the crowd gets even louder. They’re chanting something. “The Cat! The Cat! The Cat!”

  The show’s begun.

  BEN

  Prodding me with his cane, Silvio ushers me to the left wing of the stage and dashes hurriedly off.

  The band are playing: beautiful, elegant music soars through the forest.

  The lights are so dazzling that I can’t see the audience, but I can hear them all right. They’re very loud, very excited.

  The music stops, and a hushed silence gradually settles over the whole place.

  Above, the ceiling looks just like the sky. There’s a cloud hovering up there with sunlit gilt edges. As I look at it, a group of children materializes right in the middle of it, cherub-like in white gowns, wings and halos, as if they’re descending from heaven. Their voices fill the arena.

  Behold! Behold!

  He has risen! He has risen!

  Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

  Slowly, slowly, Silvio emerges from the cloud, stopping right in the centre of them, about eight metres above the woodland stage.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Cirque!” he cries. The crowd are roaring and clapping.

  “Yes!” He sweeps his arms wide. “Yes, it really is me, your very own world-famous ringmaster! I have risen again! Lo! I am resurrected and the darkness has vanished! I am Pure now: the Purest of Pure!”

  There’s some booing. Sabatini doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by it though. He holds his hands together beatifically and smiles serenely, waiting calmly for silence. Finally, he speaks again.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I am not the only familiar face you will see tonight! For your delight and delectation, we have staged a romantic reunion!”

  “I would like, if I may, to tell you a story. Are you all nestled comfortably down in our woodland glade? Then I’ll begin…

  “Let yourself be transported back to simpler times, the times of the ancient Greeks. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Arcadia, a rustic paradise where nymphs and dryads frolicked at ease among the trees.”

  The sound of pan flutes and wind chimes fills the air and, one by one, every other performer is pushed from the opposite wing, out on to the stage. They stand there uncertainly, looking at each other. That’s what their costumes are supposed to be, then: nymphs and dryads, whatever they are.

  “Holding dominion over this rural Eden, ruling with grace and gravitas, was Pan. Pan: grandson of Zeus. Pan: half man, half goat. Pan: god of the shepherds, god of fertility, god of all that is wild!”

  The guard shoves me on to the stage, towards a circle, embedded in the grass. As soon as I’m standing on it, it starts to protrude from the ground, rising upwards so that I’m elevated above the main stage too, not as high as Silvio and the angels, just about two metres or so. I stare around me. What do I do now?

  The audience are all whooping and chanting. My eyes have adjusted now. They’re all standing up, clamouring to see. Above them, level with Silvio, there’s a wooden platform, suspended between the branches of two trees, with wooden eaves like a tree house. I guess it must be the VIP box because looking down from it, eyes on the stage, eyes on me, are my mother, father and brother. My mother looks stony-faced. My father looks stricken. My brother looks delighted.

  “For many years, Pan ruled his kingdom in peace and prosperity!” Silvio chimes. “But a change was coming to Arcadia…”

  The lights darken and, above our heads, storm clouds gather in the sky.

  “Where’s the Cat?” someone shouts out from the back, and then the crowd join in, clapping and chanting and drumming their feet on the floor as they chant.

  “The Cat! The Cat! The Cat!”

  Silvio waits patiently for silence, smiling tranquilly.

  “All in good time, my dears, all in good time. Now, as I was saying, a change was coming to Arcadia. One morning, as Pan wandered in his forest, he gazed into a lake, and there he beheld the most beautiful maiden he had ever seen! Just one look at her reflection was enough for him to fall desperately in love!”

  The lights dim and there’s a dramatic fanfare. A spotlight appears on the rocky cliff above the waterfall and its walls slowly part to reveal a cave.

  Inside, looking down at me, bound in chains, is Hoshi.

  HOSHIKO

  I was expecting to be looking out on to a circus tent but, instead, a forest glade stretches out below me, sunlit and tree-lined. It’s packed with people though, clamouring to witness the show, pushing and shoving to get the best view. It’s still the Cirque then, whatever they’ve done.

  There’s a platform opposite me, strung up between two trees. It must be the royal box, because there, just as she said she’d be, is Vivian Baines, looking up at me with a victorious smile on her face. Ben’s weaselly-looking brother is next to her and my heart sinks when I see his father, sitting on the end.

  What was the point in him coming to see me? I look away.

  He was my last hope.

  Below me, there’s a stage, lined with blossoming trees. And there, standing in the centre, looking up at me, is Ben, my lovely, lovely Ben, dressed as a goat.

  Any other time it might be funny, but not now. Now the fear I feel is reflected in his eyes.

  Silvio dangles from the ceiling, pretending to be an angel, I think. I can’t help but give a little snort to myself at the irony of it all. He’s narrating some sort of story.

  “Pan simply could not live without the love of the beautiful creature who had so entranced him. In vain, he searched, but he could find no trace of her. As his hunt continued, he began to go mad with longing. His kingdom was neglected, and decay and rot crept into Arcadia.”

  The music changes from the soothing sounds of flutes to harsh and jarring piano and bass.

  Below, the green leaves of the trees turn yellow, then orange, then brown, and the blossom begins to fall like snow. The flowers wilt and the lush green grass turns brown and dry.

  “Finally, after many months, high above a cascading waterfall, Pan glimpsed the maiden he had longed for with all his heart.”

  The area all around me lights up and the audience burst into applause.

  “When Pan
saw that the beautiful nymph was a prisoner, he was determined to reach his heart’s desire and rescue her, despite the many fearful obstacles placed in his path…”

  Silvio clicks his fingers and a trapdoor slowly opens on the floor of the grassy stage.

  Rising up from the depths, a huge cage. Inside, snarling, snapping and growling, a pack of angry wolves.

  BEN

  Glass walls descend across the front of the stage, ensuring the safety of the Pure audience as the cage full of wolves rises up, resting between the gushing waterfall which separates Hoshi and me.

  The wolves’ frantic cries drown out the water, the music, Silvio’s voice, everything.

  Emmanuel and the others huddle together in the far corner of the forest stage.

  Silvio reaches into the folds of his gown and pulls something out. He clips it on below his chin: a microphone.

  “Pan was desperate to free his love from the chains which bound her so cruelly. But little did he know that he had been enchanted! The beautiful nymph who had stolen his senses from him was nothing but an illusion, a wicked spell cast to entice him! She was really an evil gorgon monster, jealous of Pan, intent on destroying all Arcadia. Even if he managed to survive the deadly traps she had laid, he would die anyway! For her name was … Medusa! Just one look into her eyes would turn him to stone!”

  HOSHIKO

  The audience gasp and boo as my costume changes from white to green, and the twinkling lights of my wings flash bright red.

  “Have you heard of Medusa, ladies and gentlemen?”

  I have no idea what he’s going on about, but the audience seem to: they’re all shouting out, hysterically, the same thing.

  “Snakes! Snakes! Snakes!”

  “Yes, that’s right! You do know your Greek mythology! Medusa, the evil gorgon monster, had hair made of venomous snakes!”

  There’s a click above me, and a hatch in the roof slides open.

  I try to jerk away but it’s no use, I can’t move.

  I close my eyes as whatever it is that’s dangling above me descends. As it settles on my head, all I feel is warmth and a kind of vibrating tremor all around me.