‘Now sit on her neck, right behind her ears,’ instructed Rosina. ‘You can hold onto the leather strap there.’
Claire clumsily clambered into place behind Empress’s ears. She clung on tightly to the leather harness strapped across the elephant’s head. She felt very insecure being up so high. Now she definitely knew that she wasn’t dressed for a ballet concert.
‘Are you all right, Claire?’ asked Rosina.
Claire nodded, her jaw set. There was no way that she would admit to Rosina that she felt nervous. ‘Of course. I’m fine.’
Rosina pulled a face and lifted her hand upwards, forming a graceful curve with her arm. ‘You look like a sack of potatoes,’ she teased. ‘Sit tall, wave your left arm like this, and remember to smile. Give these townies something dazzling to behold.’
Obediently, Claire pulled her back straight, lifted her arm and forced her face into a smile.
Rosina grimaced. ‘Oh, well. That’s a bit better, I suppose.’ She turned and went back to mount her own elephant. Frank, one of the menagerie workers, walked beside the elephants.
Eventually everyone was in place. Alf cracked his whip to signal the start of the parade.
‘Tail up,’ called Rosina. Empress curled her trunk forward and took hold of Elsie’s tail. ‘Walk on.’
Elsie and Empress, one after the other, lurched forward as the procession set off. Claire brought her waving arm down to cling onto the harness, terrified she would slip off. After a hundred metres, she began to get used to the lumbering, rocking motion.
‘Wave,’ Rosina reminded her over her shoulder.
There was so much to see that Claire soon forgot her awkwardness as the procession trundled into town. Claire watched Rosina. She remembered her grandmother’s advice about stage presence. Pretend to be a circus performer, Claire thought to herself. Sit tall. Head high. Smile wide and point toes.
Alf Sterling rode with his wife, Malia, in a golden carriage pulled by a team of six miniature ponies. The band, which included Jem, rode on top of a bright yellow van, playing loud, jaunty music. The lions paced in their golden cage, while the bears, dogs, horses and elephants walked in the procession, led by grooms and menagerie workers.
The acrobats turned cartwheels and somersaults, and walked on their hands. A juggler tossed flaming torches in the air and caught them behind his back. A clown with a red, curly wig walked on tall stilts, his striped blue-and-white trousers hiding the length of his legs. Manfred the Magnificent strode along in his shiny black top hat, the scarlet-lined cape billowing behind.
‘The circus is coming. The circus is coming.’ The refrain was shouted by dozens of children. They poured out of the school buildings and lined the playground fence, hanging over into the street, scared to miss a moment of the excitement. They shouted and cheered in an excited babble. ‘There are the lions. Here come the monkeys. The bear is wearing boots.’
‘Look at the girls up on the elephants!’ shrieked a little girl to her friend. ‘They look like fairy princesses.’
Claire smiled and waved at the girls. ‘She waved to me,’ cried the child. ‘Oh, I do hope Pa says we can go.’
Housewives huddled on the pavement, staring. It was such a contrast. All the circus folk were dressed in a rainbow of bright colours – gold and scarlet, purple and silver, blue and yellow. Their clothes sparkled with sequins, spangles and paste jewels. On the side of the road, the townies wore shabby suits of grey and black and brown. Many of the faces looked worn and thin, but they were transformed with excitement at the novelty of the circus.
Claire suddenly noticed a young man, about sixteen years old, standing under a tree with his hands in his pockets. He looked different to the other men – smarter, better dressed, more confident. He wore a charcoal-grey jacket, lighter trousers, a white shirt and red tie with a dark fedora and brown suede shoes. A silk kerchief, matching his tie, peeked from his pocket. He leant against a tree and watched all the performers and animals with detached amusement.
Behind him, parked near the tree, was a shiny black Bentley limousine. It was long and slung low, its polished chrome fittings gleaming. The chauffeur, in his peaked cap and pristine grey uniform, waited patiently.
Suddenly the young man stood up and straightened his tie. Claire realised that he had seen Rosina perched upon her elephant. A look of admiration crossed his face.
As the procession continued down the main street, the young man began to walk along beside Elsie, watching Rosina smile and wave. He wasn’t the only townie following the procession. Kids of all ages ran along, calling out and laughing. The procession continued for about half an hour until it wound its way into a large, vacant block.
Some of the trucks and lorries carrying the heavy circus gear were already parked in the lot. Several roustabouts had driven them there while the procession was being prepared.
The dusty block was the size of a couple of large football fields and looked like it had just been mown. It was next door to a large, unoccupied department store at the end of a strip of shops. The store’s floor-to-ceiling glass display windows were boarded up, and there was a timber hoarding nailed over the door, with bright circus posters pasted all over it.
Flash Frank, a menagerie worker, guided the elephants to their pickets at the side of the block, next to the wall.
‘Down,’ Rosina ordered.
The two elephants lay down on their sides so that Rosina and Claire could dismount. Empress flapped her ears and harrumphed.
Claire felt a little disappointed that her elephant ride was over. She patted Empress on her shoulder before sliding to the ground. Empress snaked her trunk over Claire’s shoulder and gently blew in her face. Claire squealed in surprise.
‘She likes you,’ said Rosina. ‘Elephants are very affectionate to people they like.’
Claire rubbed the end of Empress’s trunk. ‘She’s beautiful.’
Elsie harrumphed gently in Claire’s face.
‘Just be careful though, Claire,’ warned Rosina. ‘Don’t come near the elephants by yourself. As affectionate and gentle as they seem, they can be dangerous. One of the elephant trainers we knew was crushed by his elephant, and the poor creature seemed to be the most placid in the world.’
Claire stepped back. ‘That’s awful. Aren’t you frightened of them?’
‘No,’ scoffed Rosina. ‘We just have a healthy respect for each other. Come on, we’d better get changed before Alf starts roaring – there is a lot to do to get set up.’
6
Pandemonium
The girls were just heading back towards the caravan when Claire noticed the dapper young man again. He was hovering in the background, watching them. All around, roustabouts were carrying heavy poles and laying out the canvas. Alf was riding on horseback around the lot, shouting out directions where tents and vehicles were to go.
‘Rosina, do you know that young man over there?’ Claire asked. ‘He keeps staring at you.’
Rosina glanced over at the young man and tossed her head. The ostrich plumage danced. ‘No idea,’ she replied.
Seeing that he had been noticed, the young man started forward and came over, tipping his hat.
‘Good afternoon, ladies,’ he said. His pronunciation was quite different to the working-class accent of the circus people, revealing an upper-class education. ‘My name is Kit Hunter, and I just wanted to say how much I am looking forward to seeing your performances tonight.’
Claire took a sharp breath. ‘Kit? Kit Hunter?’ Was this debonair young gentleman actually her dead grandfather? Claire felt like she might faint.
Kit looked puzzled. ‘Are you all right? You look rather pale.’
‘I’m . . . I’m . . .’ stuttered Claire.
‘You had better sit down,’ suggested Rosina, steering Claire over towards a pile of benches that had just been unloaded from a lorry. Clai
re sat down gratefully.
‘Claire was bowled over by one of the elephants yesterday and knocked her head,’ Rosina explained. ‘She was a bit woozy yesterday, but I thought she was better today or I would never have let her ride up on Empress.’
Kit gestured towards the camp. ‘Can I fetch something for her?’ he offered. ‘Perhaps a glass of water or a wet cloth?’
‘Please, don’t go to any trouble,’ begged Claire. ‘I’m fine now. I just felt a little faint.’
Rosina jumped up, looking distracted. She glanced over towards the hive of activity. ‘Perhaps you could sit with her for a moment?’ she asked Kit. ‘I need to get changed and tend to the horses. The boss will bite my head off if he sees me here doing nothing.’
Kit stood up and swept into a bow, holding his hat below his waist. His eyes sparkled.
‘Of course,’ said Kit. ‘It would be my pleasure, Miss . . .?’
Rosina examined Kit in his perfectly pressed suit of finest cloth. She tilted her head in a regal bow of her own, feathers bobbing. The jewelled clasp glinted in the sunlight.
‘Princess Rosina of Romani,’ joked Rosina as she walked off. ‘But you can call me Rosina.’
Claire didn’t know what to say. Questions crowded her mind. Is Kit really my grandfather? Where does he live? What is he doing here on a circus lot?
Claire watched as a group of men unrolled the thick grey canvas tents out onto the grass where Alf directed. There, they laced the panels of canvas together. Heavy wooden poles were hauled up in the air. It took twelve men to carry just one of the centre tentpoles – and even more to haul it upright.
‘Heave-ho!’ came the shouts of the overseer. ‘Up she goes. Easy does it. Slowly. Slowly. Now stop.’
Teams of men used sledgehammers to pound the stout tent pegs into the ground, one by one, in a well-rehearsed rhythm. The men worked with their shirts off, wearing sweaty singlets, their braces hanging down around their knees.
The elephants were now harnessed to ropes that were being used to help haul up the poles and rigging of the various tents. In no time at all, the vacant town lot was being transformed into a busy camp.
Local boys, six to fourteen years old, were being paid with free passes to work on the lot – chopping wood, carrying buckets of water to animals and combing the ground for broken glass. The boys wore the ubiquitous flat caps of the working class, with fraying shirts and grubby shorts with braces. Most of them had filthy bare feet.
‘Are you feeling better now?’ asked Kit.
Claire snapped back to the present and searched his face. ‘Yes – thank you,’ she said. ‘I should go and help Rosina.’
‘Let me escort you back then, to make sure you’re all right.’
Claire and Kit strolled across the lot towards the caravans. Claire could see Rosina, now dressed in jodhpurs and knee-high boots, heading towards the horses, carrying a bucket.
The three young Sterling children, still dressed in their clown suits, were playing chasing, dodging back and forth down the narrow spaces between the caravans. To the left, Flash Frank was escorting Elsie towards the Big Top.
A young roustabout was reversing the truck that held the lions’ cage into position. The canvas sides of the truck had been rolled up for the parade to reveal the animals inside. The driver misjudged and backed into a lorry. The lion roared with furious indignation. Claire yelped.
The driver rolled the truck forward again, but the welding on the rear of the cage had snapped, crumpling the bars. In a moment, the lion slipped through the narrow gap and leapt lightly to the ground. He looked around, shaking his great tawny head. He stared at Claire and Kit with large golden eyes, white whiskers twitching.
One minute the lion was standing still, the next he was bounding straight towards them. Claire screamed. Kit grabbed her by the arm and held her close. We’re going to die, thought Claire. That lion is going to tear us to pieces.
‘Don’t run,’ Kit urged. ‘Hold my hand and stay perfectly still. He won’t attack us if we stay still.’
The lion charged closer and closer. Claire stood frozen to the spot, her mouth dry and her heart thumping wildly. What if Kit’s wrong? How can a city boy know anything about foiling a lion attack?
Panicking, Claire was about to turn tail and flee, but at the last moment the lion veered around them. Claire could feel the rush of wind as he loped past.
Jem dashed towards the cage to stop the lionesses and cubs from escaping too. Rosina hurried towards Claire and Kit, fear etched on her face.
The lion raced towards the elephant. Elsie trumpeted in panic, pulling free of her harness and charging for the gate. Flash Frank ran after the elephant, bellowing her name. Everywhere was chaos. People were yelling and shouting. Lula jumped off Rosina’s shoulders and clambered for safety, chittering on top of a neighbouring truck.
A nearby roustabout turned and fled. The lion swerved after him and pounced. The roustabout was knocked to the ground with the lion crouched on his back. The lion snarled – a low, chilling rumble. Rosina was there in an instant, standing tall and still, hands on her hips.
‘Sultan, back,’ Rosina ordered calmly. The lion twisted around, revealing ferocious yellow fangs. His tail lashed back and forth. ‘Back,’ she repeated, raising her arms above her head. Lula jabbered angrily from her high perch.
Slowly, carefully, the magnificent lion stepped off the winded roustabout, moving backwards with a deep, muffled protest.
‘Good boy, Sultan,’ Rosina said calmly. ‘Now sit.’
Claire nearly laughed at the ludicrous suggestion, as though the lion were some tame poodle instead of a wild beast. Sultan lashed his tail and sank back on his haunches, watching Rosina.
Rosina stepped slowly and surely towards him. She lay her hand on his mane. ‘Good boy. Lovely boy. Now come, Sultan.’ She walked back towards the cage, the great lion walking steadily beside her.
Claire watched, hardly daring to breathe. By this stage, Alf the ringmaster had arrived from the far end of the lot. He stood by the lion cage with a large ring of keys in his hand.
‘Good job, Rosina,’ Alf said as he carefully unlocked the door to the lion cage and pulled down a ramp. Inside the cage, the three lionesses paced back and forth in front of their cubs, upset by the disturbance.
‘Back, girls,’ ordered Alf. ‘Sit.’
The animals obeyed sullenly.
‘Sultan, hup.’ Alf tapped the floor of the raised cage with his crop. The lion crouched on all fours then leapt up into the cage, ignoring the ramp.
Alf climbed into the cage with his lions. ‘Good boy,’ he cried, rubbing the lion’s big, furry face. He ran his hands over the rest of Sultan to make sure he wasn’t hurt. The lion rubbed against Alf’s legs like an overgrown house cat. Roy, the menagerie worker, set to work fixing the damaged cage.
With Sultan back in his cage, people now crowded around the truck. Kit and Claire followed to watch, standing beside Rosina. Claire could feel her legs trembling. Her hand was sore from clutching Kit’s arm. Back inside the cage, Sultan seemed smaller and less fearsome. He blinked at Claire slowly.
Rosina turned to Kit. ‘That was well done,’ she said. ‘How did you know not to run? Most townies would’ve turned and fled, just like that roustabout. He was lucky he wasn’t mauled.’
Kit smiled at Rosina and Claire. ‘My father went on safari in Africa once. He told me that he was faced by a lion who mock charged him. His guide had told him that the only hope in such a situation was to stand still and face the lion down – to run for it was certain death.’
Rosina pursed her lips and nodded. ‘Good advice. Thanks for saving Claire.’
‘It was nothing,’ said Kit. ‘But what you did was astounding. You showed incredible bravery to go up to that lion and get it off that boy.’
‘You might have been killed,’ Claire added.
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Rosina laughed. ‘Not killed. I’ve known Sultan since he was a tiny cub. I fed him from a bottle and played with him all the time. He’s just big and doesn’t know his own strength. I wouldn’t trust him with strangers when he’s frightened, but he loves me.’
Claire looked at her in disbelief. ‘You are amazing.’
‘She certainly is,’ agreed Kit with a grin.
At that moment Jem ran over, Jaspar loping beside him. ‘Don’t relax yet,’ he admonished. ‘A roustabout’s work is never done!’ He grinned. ‘Alf said I have to go and help Frank find Elsie. Want to come along?’
‘The horses?’ objected Rosina, glancing over towards the temporary yard where the twelve liberty horses were grazing. ‘I haven’t plaited up their manes and tails yet.’
‘All the ring stock has had water,’ Jem assured her. ‘But Elsie is running loose in the town, frightened, and probably damaging things.’
Rosina nodded. She looked at Claire and raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you want to come too?’
Claire couldn’t decide if it was more nerve-racking to chase a rampaging elephant through town or stay here on her own with strange circus folk and terrifying animals.
‘I’ll come,’ she decided.
Kit fell in beside them as they hurried out of the lot and back down the main street.
‘Cripes,’ said Jem, pointing to a fence that had been knocked over. ‘I think we’re on the right track.’
The trail of destruction included three fences, a crushed chicken coop and a clothes line trampled into the mud. But the culprit was nowhere to be seen.
‘I think she’s up ahead,’ Rosina called, pointing to a crowd of people, milling in the road outside a strip of shops. A loud crash sounded. Claire could hear raised voices.
The four ran towards the commotion. Lula held on tightly to Rosina’s shoulder.
The throng were gathered around the greengrocer’s shop. Out the front were stands that had once held pears, apples, tomatoes, lettuces and green beans. The stands were now smashed, their contents strewn over the ground. Frank was surrounded by angry townspeople who were shouting accusingly. Frank was yelling back at the crowd, calling them terrible names.
The Sequin Star Page 6