‘I’m not making it up,’ Claire insisted. ‘I really don’t know how I got here. I think I’m lost back in time . . .’
Rosina frowned. ‘Lost back in time?’ Her voice rose in frustration. ‘What do you mean? That doesn’t make any sense.’
Lula jumped up and down on the table, chittering at Claire as though she was giving her a good scolding. Claire winced. Rosina paused for a moment and sighed.
‘I don’t know what’s happening,’ Claire wailed. ‘I don’t know how I got here. I just want to go home. I just want my mum and dad.’
There was a moment’s silence. Rosina’s face softened. ‘Well, I can’t turn you out in the field. I was talking to Jem and we thought perhaps you could stay with us until we get to Sydney. Then maybe you could find your memory . . . and your parents.’
Claire’s eyes filled with tears again. She felt like she was drowning in a stormy sea of confusion, and someone had just thrown her a lifeline.
Claire blinked. ‘Thank you. I’m not sure what else to do.’
Rosina smiled at her. ‘Tonight we are performing. Tomorrow we pack up and move east. We’ll be in Sydney by the afternoon.’
Rosina snipped the cotton thread with her scissors and examined her handiwork. She began to mend another small hole.
‘I’ll ask the boss if you can work with us,’ Rosina promised. ‘We can’t pay you, but you could work for board and keep!’
Claire’s spirits lifted. Living in a circus for a while sounded like it could be exciting, at least until she managed to get home.
‘Thank you, Rosina,’ said Claire. ‘I really appreciate your help.’
Lula jumped over onto Claire’s bed and scrambled onto her lap. Claire stroked the fur on her back. It felt comforting. Rosina stood up and went to the costume rack, selecting a number of items. She hung them over her shoulder.
‘Better stay low for a while,’ advised Rosina. ‘The boss, Alf, doesn’t like townies wandering around the camp, especially before a show. I’ll come and check on you again before we start. Right now it’s time for me to get the horses ready.’
After a while, Claire became restless locked up in the caravan. She peered through the dirty window.
Circus folk wandered around the camp, preparing for the show. She could hear the plaintive music of someone playing the violin drifting through the camp. On the grass between the caravans a number of acrobats were rehearsing. They turned somersaults, backflips and cartwheels. A young contortionist was manipulating her body into the most bizarre positions, almost tying herself in knots.
Malia was teaching her eldest daughter, Peggy, to walk on a tightrope just a couple of feet above the ground. Stella and Leo practised forward rolls on a tumbling mat. A terrier strutted along on its hind feet with a flag tucked under its front paw. A juggler tossed silver daggers, which flashed and sparkled as they spun end over end through the air.
A low rap on the caravan door gave Claire a start. Rosina entered, but she had changed. She now wore a short scarlet tutu spangled with large crystal diamantes, pink tights and satin ballet shoes. Her dark hair was pulled back and fell just below her shoulders in carefully coiffed waves.
Her face was made up with pale powder, rouge and red lipstick. Her eyes were smudged with smoky grey eye shadow and outlined with thick black eyeliner and heavy mascara. She looked very glamorous compared to the girl in jodhpurs from the afternoon.
Lula, wearing an identical outfit to her mistress, was once again on her shoulder. The monkey blew Claire a kiss.
‘You two look gorgeous,’ Claire enthused. ‘Is it nearly time for the show?’
Rosina smiled. ‘Thank you. It starts in a few minutes. You must be feeling a little better?’
Claire nodded. ‘I’ve been watching everyone outside. It all looks very exciting.’
‘The show runs from seven until nine o’clock,’ said Rosina. ‘Jem and I will come and bring you some supper afterwards. But stay in the caravan until we get back. I don’t want Alf to see you wandering around until I’ve had a chance to talk to him, if Malia hasn’t said something already.’
For the next two hours, Claire waited in the caravan. There was nothing she could do except feel alone and bereft. From the Big Top she could hear the lively band music and the cheers and applause of the audience. She kept thinking over and over about her impossible situation. What if the circus owner refuses to let me travel back to Sydney? How will I get home? Even if I get back to Sydney, how will I get back to my own time?
Finally, she could hear that the show was ending by the loud cheers, then the clamour of the crowd spilling out into the night.
A few minutes later, Rosina tapped on the door. She came in, now wearing dark-brown make-up and an American Indian costume with fringing and feathers. She patted her mouth as she made a low Indian war cry: ‘Woo-woo-woo-woo.’
She pulled off her feathered headdress and smiled. ‘Hau! Sorry, you must be bored to tears. But the good news is that I spoke to the owner after the show. I explained the situation and Alf said you can travel with us to Sydney if you work. He has booked us a two-week stint on the North Shore.’
Claire felt an overwhelming sense of relief. If she could stay for the meantime she might be able to figure out a solution to her problems.
‘Oh, thank you,’ said Claire. ‘But what work can I do?’
Rosina smiled and shrugged her shoulders. ‘There’s always lots to do in a circus. You can help me feed and groom the horses and elephants, and help the cook prepare meals.’
Claire felt a flutter of nerves. She wondered what grooming the elephants might entail. ‘Thanks, Rosina. That’s great.’
‘It will be rather lovely because in Sydney we get to stay in the same spot for two whole weeks,’ added Rosina. ‘It will be a relaxing holiday. Usually we move on to a new town every day or two, travelling about a hundred miles a day. The pull-down and haul-out of the big top is a huge amount of work every day – as you’ll see tomorrow.’
It all sounded so strange; Claire was lost for words. Her face must have betrayed her bewilderment because Rosina smiled at her.
‘Cheer up. Jem’s just gone to fetch us some food,’ Rosina explained. ‘Why don’t you sit out by the fire while I get changed. I’ll only be a jiffy.’
Claire pulled on her brown ankle boots and descended the steps of the little caravan. It was dark and the air was chilly. Groups of circus folk sat around various small campfires, chatting and relaxing. A shadow approached her out of the darkness. It was Jem with his dog, Jaspar, following close behind.
‘You’re up. How’re you feeling?’ asked Jem. ‘Want some grub?’ The aroma of rich meat and vegetables wafted from a pot he was carrying. In his other hand he held a plate of bread.
Claire realised she was starving. ‘Better and yes, please.’
Near Rosina’s caravan a small fire burned in a circle of stones. Jaspar flopped down with his paws nearly in the flames. He carefully watched as his master set down the food pot. He wagged his tail hopefully.
‘Roll up to the Grand Dining Hall of Sterling Brothers Circus,’ invited Jem. ‘Pull up a perch.’ He gestured to several wooden crates and chairs positioned around the fire. Claire sat down and looked around.
A man strode past wearing a black top hat and tailcoat with a long, scarlet-lined cape over the top. His dark hair was slicked back with oil, away from his heavy eyebrows, and he had a fine waxed moustache. He pulled his white gloves off as he walked past.
With a sweep of his hand the gloves transformed into a bunch of hot-pink paper flowers. Another sweep of his hand and the flowers disappeared, leaving him once again holding nothing but white gloves. He winked at Claire then strode off, his cape swirling.
Jem rolled his eyes. ‘That’s Manfred the Magnificent,’ he explained. ‘Our master illusionist who thinks he’s the cat’s meow. He’s rat
her fond of making rabbits disappear and sawing pretty girls in half, so watch out.’
Claire laughed. ‘He does look rather magnificent. How on earth did he turn the gloves into flowers?’
Jem tapped the side of his nose. ‘A magician never reveals his secrets.’
Rosina bounded down the caravan steps. She had washed off the make-up and changed out of her American Indian costume into everyday clothes.
Rosina sat down on a chair by the fire. Lula climbed into a small child’s chair by Rosina’s feet.
‘What delights has the cookhouse provided tonight?’ Rosina asked Jem. She handed Claire an enamel plate and a spoon.
‘Mutton and bunny stew, with potatoes and carrots,’ said Jem as he ladled some onto his plate. Claire thought he was joking.
‘Mmmm,’ Rosina replied, taking the ladle from Jem. ‘Meat tonight. That’s a good sign.’
‘Last night was indeterminate gravy with bread crusts,’ explained Jem, handing Claire the plate of bread. ‘Lucky Jaspar and I caught those rabbits this morning. I have a handy way with a shovel, which is just as well or we’d hardly ever eat meat.’
Rosina ladled out a plate of stew. Claire looked at Jem in confusion. ‘A shovel?’
‘We find a burrow and dig,’ explained Jem. ‘We usually dig up a few fat, little rabbits. When we get to Sydney I have a lovely pile of rabbit skins to sell. Frank says we can get two shillings a pelt in the city. They make swanky felt hats for the gentlemen.’
Claire peered into the pot when it was handed to her. Suddenly she didn’t feel quite so hungry anymore. She picked out some vegetables and tried to avoid the meat.
‘She’s a bit fussy,’ commented Jem, noting Claire’s reticence. ‘Perhaps we should be calling you Princess Claire. Although two princesses in one circus camp might be a bit much.’ He grinned at Rosina with a mock bow.
‘I’m . . . I’m just not that hungry,’ Claire tried to explain. She nibbled at the hunk of buttered bread.
‘More for us then,’ said Rosina. ‘Although tomorrow we might be back to gravy for tea. There wasn’t a huge crowd tonight, so I hope we made enough money to cover tomorrow’s petrol.’
The two circus performers began to eat with gusto. Jaspar watched them both hungrily. Claire ate a little.
‘Jaspar will happily eat that if you don’t want it,’ suggested Jem. ‘He deserves a good feed, having helped provide it, don’t you, boy?’
Jaspar’s tail thumped on the ground at the mention of his name. He watched Claire with hopeful eyes, rocking from paw to paw in anticipation.
Claire smiled at Jaspar and put her plate on the ground. ‘Come on, boy. One of us might as well enjoy it.’ Jaspar wolfed down the stew in seconds.
‘So what did you do in the circus ring tonight?’ asked Claire.
‘I did nothing in the ring,’ explained Jem, pulling a tragic face. ‘I sold tickets, played the violin in the band, and sold ice-cream and popcorn during intermission. I am merely a trainee acrobat and juggler.’
‘And a good one,’ Rosina assured him.
‘It is Princess Rosina who is the star of the show,’ added Jem. ‘She is our circus equestrienne extraordinaire – dancing on horseback, riding rearing elephants and masquerading as a wild Indian maid called Red Winona.’
Claire smiled. ‘It sounds wonderful.’
‘Of course Rosina was magnificent, except for that wobble on the second circuit,’ teased Jem. ‘It was the violin playing that was the highlight of the program.’
Rosina pushed Jem on the shoulder. ‘Ha! I did not wobble,’ Rosina retorted. ‘And the violin sounded like drowning cats.’
Claire laughed at their teasing. ‘I would love to see you both.’
‘Perhaps tomorrow night,’ suggested Rosina. ‘There might be a spare spot.’
‘Can you really dance on horseback?’ asked Claire. ‘How did you learn to do that?’
Rosina’s face lit up. ‘I started when I was nine, so I can dance as easily on horseback as you could dance on a tabletop.’
‘You started when you were nine?’ asked Claire. ‘Wasn’t that dangerous?’
‘Nine was a little late,’ Rosina confessed. ‘A real circus girl would have started performing in the ring by four or five.’
Claire stared at Rosina in surprise. ‘What do you mean a “real” circus girl?’
Rosina pushed her hair off her forehead. ‘Most circus performers are born in the circus,’ explained Rosina. ‘They are usually at least third or fourth generation circus people, like the Sterlings. Alf’s grandfather ran a small dog-and-pony show that entertained the diggers on the goldfields, while Malia’s parents were funambulists in Europe.’
‘Funambu-whats?’ asked Claire, screwing up her nose.
‘Funambulists – high-wire walkers. Malia’s mum used to dance on the tightrope, high above the ground, carrying a parasol. Malia was a high-wire performer until she had her third child. Malia’s three kids are already performing in the ring every night. So you see, compared to circus families, Jem and I are lowly outsiders.’
‘You started earlier than me,’ Jem retorted. ‘I didn’t join the circus until I was thirteen, so I’ll be lucky if I ever make it to be an acrobat.’
‘Your act is coming along well,’ said Rosina. ‘I bet Alf will have you in the ring before the winter break.’
‘What’s your act?’ asked Claire.
‘Would you like to see?’ Jem’s face lit up with enthusiasm. ‘I can juggle, ride a unicycle, do some clown stunts and balance on a chair. None of them terribly well, though.’
Rosina rolled her eyes and smacked him on the shoulder.
‘Balance on a chair?’ asked Claire. ‘I think even I could do that.’
‘Give me your chair, Rosina,’ demanded Jem. ‘We’ll see about that.’ Rosina stood up and swapped seats with Jem.
‘Don’t break it,’ she admonished.
Carefully, Jem placed the chair so that it was stable, slightly away from the fire. He leapt up onto the seat, holding his arms out to the side.
‘He’s good, isn’t he?’ joked Rosina. Claire laughed. Jem ignored her.
He put his hands on the seat of the chair and swung his legs into the air so he was doing a handstand, then he opened his legs out to each side into the splits. Claire could see the muscles in his arms straining as he corrected his balance with tiny movements.
Claire clapped. He leant his weight slowly to one side so that the chair rocked back on its two back legs. He now had one hand on the seat and the other on the back of the chair. The chair wobbled for a moment and then stabilised on its two legs. Claire held her breath. She felt that if she breathed she might unbalance him.
Jem raised his legs straight then shifted again so that he was balancing, upside down, on top of the chair, which was now standing on just one of the chair legs. Jem held the position for a moment before swinging his legs over and down, landing back on his own two feet beside the chair. He bowed to Claire and Rosina, and handed the chair back to Rosina.
‘Wow.’ Claire clapped. ‘That’s amazing. How did you learn to do that?’
‘Why, thank you.’ Jem grinned at her. ‘Archie, one of the acrobats, taught me. I’ve been practising every day for the last year. I’m learning to tightrope walk, too. I have some ideas for a tightrope act that I think would be brilliant.’
‘So you’ve been with the circus since you were thirteen?’ asked Claire. ‘Why did you join?’
Jem frowned and sat down on his crate. Jaspar put his big head on Jem’s lap so he could be stroked. Jem massaged the big dog with his thumbs.
‘I ran away from home,’ he explained with a nonchalant shrug. ‘I was the eldest of seven children. My dad lost his job, then the money ran out. We were evicted from our home and camped out in a park for a while. Then we built a little shack on some
vacant land with some other homeless families. I left school and ran odd jobs for the carpenter. But then the work with him dried up as well.’
Jem moved his crate closer to the fire. He poked the coals with a stick.
‘One day the Sterling Circus came to town,’ Jem continued. ‘One of the roustabouts offered me a free ticket if I’d do some odd jobs – chopping wood, carrying water, feeding animals. At midday they gave me a meal. It was the best food I’d had in weeks.’
Claire suddenly felt guilty at turning her nose up at the stew. She nodded.
‘In the afternoon there were a couple of benches that needed mending. I’d learned some basic carpentry skills, so I fixed them. That night I was given another meal, a few coppers and a ticket to the show. It was magical. I felt like I’d escaped from my grey, dreary life into another world. A colourful world. A world of possibility.’ He pulled a comic face at Rosina.
‘The next day I came back and worked again, and the next and the next. When it was time for the circus to move on, I talked my way into a job, and I’ve been here ever since. I think they only gave me a job so I could keep Princess Rosina in line.’
‘As if they would. I had to teach him how to clean out an elephant yard,’ Rosina added. ‘Now that is a horrible job! And how to tell the difference between a monkey and a lion cub.’
Claire couldn’t imagine running away from home at thirteen. She thought of her parents and an overwhelming longing to see them washed over her. She missed them dreadfully. Claire mentally shook herself. Thinking of her mum and dad only made it worse.
‘What about your parents?’ asked Claire. ‘Weren’t they worried about you?’
‘My dad nicked off soon after we were evicted,’ Jem confessed. ‘He went on the wallaby track, looking for work. We never heard from him again. Mum wanted to keep us in school, but there was no money for food or medicine. The little ones kept getting sick, living on little more than bread and dripping. At least this way I can send her money.’
The Sequin Star Page 4