A Place Called Home

by Dilly Court

  Then, just as it was growing dark, Lucy saw the glow of naphtha flares against the indigo sky. ‘Is that the circus?’ she asked excitedly.

  ‘What else would it be?’

  She subsided into silence, craning her neck to catch sight of the first signs of habitation since they left the town. The fiery glow grew brighter and more intense as they drew closer, and silhouetted against the night sky she could see the dome of the big top. It was surrounded by booths, caravans and much smaller tents. The savoury smells of cooking over camp fires mingled with the fragrance of wood smoke, and suddenly the air was filled with sound. The carter drew his horse to a halt and climbed down to the ground, tossing the reins to a small child who had allowed his curiosity to get the better of him and had come out to investigate. A young woman appeared suddenly, gesticulating and shouting at the small boy, but her angry expression melted into a smile of welcome when she saw the carter. She looped her arm around his shoulders and led him away, leaving Lucy to alight unaided.

  Clutching her small valise in her hand, she hitched up her skirts and clambered from the seat with as much dignity as she could muster. She turned to speak to the boy, and found herself surrounded by small people, the tallest of them no higher than her hip. They had emerged from the deep shadows, and in the flickering firelight it was almost impossible to tell whether they were welcoming her or whether they were a threat. Lucy looked round, searching for a friendly face. ‘Froniga,’ she cried in desperation when no one spoke. ‘I’ve come to see Froniga.’

  A ripple of conversation, no louder than the murmur of the wind in the trees, was cut short by the sudden appearance of a tall man dressed in a scarlet coat. He carried a horsewhip in his hand, but despite his outlandish appearance he was smiling. ‘You must be Lucy Pocket, the equestrienne we’ve heard so much about.’

  Lucy stared at him aghast. ‘I – I think there’s been a mistake, sir.’

  ‘You are modesty personified, Miss Pocket.’ One of the dwarfs stepped forward. ‘Obadiah Starr.’ He bowed from the waist. ‘Welcome to Charter’s circus.’

  ‘That’s my line, Obadiah.’ The man in scarlet held out his hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Pocket. I am Montague Charter, owner and ringmaster of this grand circus.’

  ‘Don’t let your pa hear you say that, Monty.’ Obadiah grabbed the whip from him and cracked it above his head, receiving a round of applause from his troupe.

  Monty snatched it back. ‘Only I am allowed to do that, as you well know, Obadiah.’ He proffered his arm to Lucy, who was dumbstruck by the sudden turn of events. She thought she must be dreaming, but pinching the back of her hand hurt, confirming the fact that she was wide awake. There must be a logical explanation, but for the moment it eluded her. She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm and he led her through the gap between the caravans, accompanied by a burst of applause from the tiny onlookers. He came to a halt outside one of the tents. ‘Froniga, where are you? Hasn’t your crystal ball informed you of your friend’s arrival?’

  Lucy stifled a sigh of relief. Obviously there was a misunderstanding, but Froniga would soon set this man straight. The tent flap parted and Froniga emerged, blinking sleepily. ‘Lucy? You’ve come.’ She smiled and enveloped her in a warm embrace. ‘Come inside and rest. You must be tired after your journey.’ She turned to Monty. ‘I’ll look after her. She can share my accommodation until we’ve sorted something out for her.’

  ‘You must join us for supper. Father will want to meet our new star.’ Monty clicked his heels together and raised his hand in a mock salute. ‘Half an hour, Froniga. Don’t be late.’ He walked off with a swagger in his step.

  Froniga slipped her arm around Lucy’s waist. ‘That young man is too big for his boots.’ She lifted the flap and ushered Lucy into the tent. ‘This is my home while we’re camped here.’

  It was warm inside and the smell of crushed grass and damp canvas almost overpowered the scent of patchouli favoured by Froniga. Brightly coloured cushions were strewn on a palliasse and clothes spilled out of an open suitcase, covering what remained of the floor space. ‘What’s going on?’ Lucy demanded. ‘You couldn’t have known for certain that I’d come in response to the poster you sent me.’

  ‘I’ve got second sight, haven’t I? Anyway, I knew you’d do anything to find your grandmother.’

  ‘Even so, I don’t understand why you told these people that I was looking for a job with the circus. Such a thing never crossed my mind.’

  ‘You need somewhere to stay, and this seemed the ideal solution. I didn’t think you’d have enough money to pay for lodgings in the town.’

  ‘I wasn’t planning on a long stay.’ Lucy stared at her, frowning. ‘Where is she, Froniga?’

  ‘I do know where she is, but it’s not straightforward, and it’s going to take time.’ She slumped down on the cushions, sitting cross-legged. ‘If you’re here with me I can help you, but it’s best to keep it to ourselves. That’s why I told Monty that you were an excellent horsewoman.’

  ‘But I’m no equestrienne.’

  ‘You can ride, can’t you?’

  ‘Of course, but I only rode in London and that was mostly in the park. I’ve never done tricks on horseback. I wouldn’t know how.’

  ‘Calm yourself, my dear. You’ll only have to sit on the animal and go round the ring a few times, looking pretty. No one will expect you to ride bareback.’

  ‘This is madness, Froniga.’ Lucy moved a few garments and sat down beside her. ‘Grandfather took me to Astley’s Amphitheatre when I was a child and I saw the horsemen perform. I can’t do anything like that. You must tell them it was a mistake.’

  ‘So you don’t care about Eva now?’

  ‘Of course I do. It’s not fair to say that.’

  Froniga leaned closer. ‘The circus will be here for several weeks, giving you a chance to do what is best for her.’

  ‘What do you mean? Why are you being so mysterious? Where is she?’

  Froniga reached for a bottle of wine that had been cooling in a bucket of water, and poured a small amount into a chipped enamel mug, passing it to Lucy. ‘Have a drink, my duck. What I have to say might come as a bit of a shock.’

  ‘Tell me what you know.’

  ‘Eva Pocket is doing time in Chelmsford prison.’

  Lucy stared at her in disbelief. ‘No. That can’t be true.’

  Froniga nodded vigorously. ‘I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this.’

  ‘But how do you know?’

  ‘I heard the gossip when I was working the London markets, but I didn’t want to tell you until I was certain. When I heard that Charter’s circus had set up here I thought I could do us both a favour by coming to Essex. I dunno why, but I was touched by your story, Lucy, my duck. I suppose it’s because I got no family of my own and you was struggling so hard to keep yours together.’ Froniga took another mouthful of wine, wiping her lips on the back of her hand.

  Stunned, Lucy shook her head. ‘It must be a terrible mistake.’

  ‘She was done for theft. The police must have had a tip-off and they found stolen property when they searched her lodgings.’

  ‘She must have been desperate.’

  ‘If anyone was to blame it was Abe. I knew the old bugger and he was the lowest of the low. There wasn’t anything that he wouldn’t stoop to, but those I spoke to said she wouldn’t hear a word against him. Anyway, he must have gone too far in the end, and as far as I can gather she walked out on him, but he wouldn’t leave her alone. I reckon he planted the stuff on her.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me all this when I saw you at the Waterman’s Arms?’

  ‘What was the point, my duck? I could have been wrong, and I had to find out if it was true.’

  The wine had gone straight to Lucy’s head and the awful news had hit her like a physical blow. She rubbed her hand across her eyes. ‘I knew he was her friend, but that’s all.’

  ‘They were lover
s off and on for years. Eva must have known deep down that Abe was bad through and through, but I suppose she couldn’t resist the danger and excitement of being involved with a man like him.’

  ‘I knew he’d been murdered.’ Lucy stared at her wide-eyed. ‘You don’t think . . .’

  ‘Don’t worry, my duck. It wasn’t Eva who did for him, although she had reason enough.’ Froniga laid her hand on Lucy’s shoulder. ‘He got what was coming to him, but it happened after your grandma was put away, so she’s above suspicion for that at least.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘Word of mouth. Eva was well known amongst the market traders where I used to do my stint. They’re a tight-knit community and they look out for one another.’

  Lucy took another sip of the cold wine. It was sour and not to her taste, but it quietened the ball of tension knotting her belly. ‘If Granny was in trouble why didn’t she come to me?’

  Froniga gave her a pitying look. ‘She wouldn’t want to ruin your chances. She wanted you to have a wonderful life.’

  ‘If only I’d known about this sooner I might have been able to help. I must see her, Froniga. I’ll do anything I can to get her released from prison.’

  ‘First things first, Lucy. It will take money to hire a mouthpiece, and unless you’ve come with a pocketful of the reddies you won’t get very far.’ Froniga poured herself a drink and downed it in one. ‘That’s why I lied about you being an equestrienne. Monty has his faults but he’s not mean. He pays well, but he expects value for money.’

  ‘He’ll soon find out I’m a fraud.’

  ‘I’d lay bets you can sit a horse with the best of ’em.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘You just have to convince the boss that you know what you’re doing, and we have a few weeks before the grand parade in Chelmsford, so you’ll have time to rehearse.’ Froniga scrambled to her feet. ‘Let’s have another drink, and then we’ll go and face Monty’s father. He’s the head of the circus, no matter what his son thinks. That young man needs taking down a peg or two.’

  Lucy held out her mug. ‘I’ll do anything I can to help Granny.’

  ‘Drink up. It’ll give you courage. And just remember, these circus people keep to themselves. They don’t normally welcome strangers into their midst, but you’ll be all right. Just flutter your eyelashes at young Monty, and as long as you don’t fall off the horse on the first day you’ll be fine.’ She raised her cup. ‘We’ll drink to getting Eva out of jail.’

  Bertram Charter was sitting on the grass outside his caravan in a high-backed and ornately carved chair that resembled a throne. White-haired, with a drooping moustache and a neatly trimmed beard, Bertram was a man in his eighties, although his upright stance, tanned skin and clear eyes made him seem years younger. He looked Lucy up and down. ‘So this is our new act, Monty. She looks the part, but can she ride?’

  ‘We’ll find that out tomorrow, Father.’ Monty pulled up a chair for Froniga and another one for Lucy. ‘Take a seat, ladies.’ He clapped his hands and a young woman emerged from the caravan. ‘We’ll eat now, Stella.’

  She shot a sideways glance in Lucy’s direction, retreated into the van and reappeared seconds later with a pile of dishes and a ladle. Walking slowly down the steps she made her way to the camp fire and removed the large, soot-blackened saucepan from the embers, placing it on a flat stone. She served the men first and came to Lucy last, handing her a bowl of steaming rabbit stew. ‘I hope it chokes you,’ she said in a low voice.

  At first Lucy thought she must have misheard, but the spiteful downturn of Stella’s pretty mouth and the angry flash of her violet blue eyes was enough to convince Lucy that she had made an enemy. ‘Thank you,’ she said politely. ‘It smells delicious.’

  ‘Watch out it ain’t poisoned,’ Stella whispered, tossing her head. Her lustrous dark hair framed the perfect oval of her face and her large eyes were fringed with impossibly long lashes. Lucy cast an anxious glance in Froniga’s direction, but she was tucking into her meal with evident enjoyment, as were Monty and his father.

  ‘Stella is a wonderful cook,’ Bertram said proudly. ‘She took pity on us when my dear wife died and she prepares our meals. I’ve never tasted the equal to her rabbit stew. Sit down and eat with us, poppet.’

  Lucy almost choked on a mouthful of the delicious, herb-scented stew. The term of endearment, more usually applied to a child, seemed grossly inappropriate. Stella was undoubtedly a beauty, but there was nothing childlike in her attitude: she was very much a woman, and one who was best avoided, Lucy thought, eyeing her warily.

  Stella dropped the ladle into the pot, turning to Bertram with an angelic smile. ‘Thank you, boss, but I’ve already eaten. I promised Dario that I’d rehearse our act this evening.’

  Bertram threw back his head and laughed. ‘So that’s what he calls it, does he? I was young once and hot blooded.’

  Stella sashayed over to him and kissed him on the cheek. ‘You’re a bad man.’ She twirled away, swishing her skirts as she walked past Monty. ‘It’s just a rehearsal.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Monty said, pinching her cheek. ‘Enjoy yourself.’

  Stella strolled past Lucy. The smile painted on her lips did not reach her eyes. ‘He’s mine,’ she whispered. ‘Accidents happen, so be warned.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘DON’T TAKE ANY notice of that girl,’ Froniga said airily as they made their way back to her tent. ‘Stella’s parents were killed in an accident when the high wire snapped. Bertram took her in and brought her up as his own. It’s obvious that he’s spoiled her, and she plays up to him. That young woman gets away with murder.’ Opening the flap she went inside and sorted out a blanket and a couple of cushions for Lucy. ‘Try to get some sleep, you’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’ Froniga sank down on her bed with a sigh. ‘I’m not as young as I was. One day I’ll have a feather bed all to myself.’

  ‘Goodnight, and thank you for everything, Froniga.’ Despite her attempts to make herself comfortable, the ground was hard and Lucy could feel the damp rising through the hard-packed earth. She tried to forget Stella but her harsh words kept repeating themselves in her mind.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Froniga demanded. ‘You’re tossing and turning as if you’ve got bellyache. Are you worrying about tomorrow?’

  ‘I am, but it’s not that. I can’t think why Stella would take such a dislike to me when we’ve only just met. What did I do wrong?’

  ‘You’re young and you’re much prettier than she is.’

  ‘That’s nonsense. She’s beautiful and I’m just ordinary.’

  ‘You might think so, but others see you differently.’ Froniga stretched out on her bed of cushions. ‘Stella Smith has her eye on Monty and she sees you as a threat.’

  ‘That’s nonsense, Froniga. I’ve only just met him and he’s not the sort of man to make my heart beat any faster.’

  ‘But he likes you, Lucy. I don’t need my crystal ball to tell me that.’ Froniga raised herself, resting on her elbow.

  Lucy turned her head away to hide her blushes. ‘He hardly spoke to me.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter, my duck. He looked and he liked what he saw. You wouldn’t have been invited to the high table if he hadn’t taken to you, and Stella knows that. She’s a minx, that one. Keep away from her and you’ll be fine.’

  ‘I just want to see Granny and tell her that I’ll do everything I can to secure her release.’

  ‘Convince Monty that you’re good enough to join the show and then we can plan our visit to the jail.’

  ‘The sooner the better,’ Lucy said sleepily. ‘I can’t wait to see her again.’

  She slept badly, plagued by disturbing dreams, and awakened with a start, blinking in the sunlight as someone opened the tent flap. ‘Froniga,’ she murmured, shielding her eyes with her hand, but it was Stella who tossed a bundle of clothes into the tent.

  ‘That’s your costume. Put it on and come to
the big top. Monty’s there now and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.’

  Froniga snapped into a sitting position. ‘What’s going on?’ she demanded sleepily. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Time you were up, old woman.’ Stella walked off, leaving the tent flap to fall back into place, where it hung moving idly in the gentle breeze.

  Froniga reached for a small leather case and opened it to reveal a brass carriage clock. ‘It’s only seven o’clock,’ she said crossly. ‘I’m going back to sleep.’

  ‘No, please stay awake.’ Lucy scrambled to her feet, holding up a ridiculous pink velvet riding habit trimmed with gold frogging. ‘Does she expect me to wear this?’

  ‘It’s the sort of thing they wear in the circus ring. You’d better try it on for size.’ Froniga reached for her tobacco pouch and clay pipe, watching Lucy as she struggled into the costume.

  ‘I’ll need some help with the lacing,’ Lucy gasped. ‘I doubt if I’ll be able to breathe in this, let alone sit on a horse.’

  Froniga put her pipe aside and stood up. ‘I’m a fortune teller not a lady’s maid, but I’ll have a go.’ She seized the strings of Lucy’s corset and tugged hard.

  Feeling more than a little ridiculous, and very glad that Bertie and the others were not here to see her in such a rig-out, Lucy made her way to the big top. She had to dodge a man who was juggling with flaming torches, and when she took what she thought was a short cut between two large caravans she ran into a troupe of tumblers. The human pyramid collapsed, but the performers sprang lightly to the ground, the smallest of them ending up with a series of somersaults. Lucy stopped to apologise and found herself clapping their expertise. ‘I was heading for the big top,’ she said lamely.

  A child appeared from a nearby tent and took her by the hand. ‘I’ll show you the way.’ It was only when she spoke that Lucy realised her guide was a grown woman.

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘I’m Lucy.’

  The young woman looked up at her with an impish smile. ‘I know who you are. News travels fast round here. I’m Jenny.’