The Sequin Star

by Belinda Murrell

  Two men came from inside, carrying a bed. They piled it on top of the other furniture.

  ‘What’s happening?’ asked Claire. ‘Are they moving out? And why are the policemen carrying the furniture?’

  ‘It’s an eviction,’ said Rosina. ‘The family obviously hasn’t been able to pay their rent, so the bailiffs are moving them out. The police are there to make sure they go without any trouble.’

  ‘The poor things,’ said Claire. ‘Where will they go?’

  ‘Who knows?’ said Jem. ‘Perhaps to relatives . . . or a susso camp. In one town we visited, a family had been camping on the footpath outside their old house for weeks as a protest, with just a tarpaulin thrown over their furniture. Eventually they were persuaded to move when the rain nearly washed them away.’

  ‘What’s a susso camp?’ asked Claire. Jem and Rosina exchanged exasperated glances.

  ‘Jeepers,’ said Jem. ‘Sometimes I wonder what rock you’ve been living under for the last few years.’

  ‘A susso camp is like a shanty town, where lots of unemployed families live in little huts made of cardboard, sacks and scrap corrugated iron,’ Rosina explained. ‘Everyone who lives there is on the susso – you know, the government sustenance payment.’

  Claire was still confused but was reluctant to show her ignorance.

  ‘My mum lives in a susso camp with all my brothers and sisters,’ added Jem. ‘Surely you’ve heard the kids’ rhyme:

  “We’re on the susso now,We can’t afford a cow,We live in a tent, We pay no rent, We’re on the susso now.” ’

  Claire shook her head. Rosina and Jem laughed.

  ‘You’re a mutton head,’ said Jem. ‘I think my six-year-old sister has more sense.’

  ‘It’s the depression,’ said Rosina. ‘So many men have lost their jobs, and there simply isn’t any work to be found. The dole gives families some basic food, but no money for rent. Thousands of people have been evicted.’

  They strolled past the family and their pathetic pile of possessions. The four woebegone children, with their patched and ragged clothes, watched Claire, Rosina and Jem. The mother wiped her eyes on her apron, which was made from a sugar bag.

  Jem glared at the bailiffs. ‘Don’t you feel ashamed of yourselves, throwing a family out on the streets with nowhere to live?’

  ‘Just doin’ me job, mate,’ said one.

  The youngest girl buried her face in her mother’s skirts and sobbed. Rosina smiled at the miserable children and gestured to the two dogs on her lead.

  ‘Twinkles, Sally – hup,’ ordered Rosina.

  The dogs jumped up on their hind legs obediently and began to strut along, their forepaws tucked up. Lula, in her red jacket, scrambled up on Sally’s back, clinging onto her collar.

  ‘Dance,’ added Rosina.

  The dogs pranced around in tight pirouettes, as though to music. Lula waved her arm in the air like a rodeo rider.

  ‘Look, Ma,’ said the oldest girl with wide eyes. ‘It’s a monkey! And dancing dogs!’

  Her brother grinned. ‘What else can they do?’ The youngest took her head out of her mother’s skirts and watched.

  ‘Flip-flaps,’ suggested Jem. He unclipped the leads from his three dogs then sprang into a series of somersaults across the street. The three dogs followed, springing from back paws to front paws to back paws in spinning circles. Lula sprang down and followed their lead.

  ‘Ma, they’re the kids from the circus,’ said the eldest, jiggling up and down with excitement. ‘Remember? We saw the parade? They’re the girls who were riding the elephants.’

  A smile lit up the worn face of the mother. The bailiffs were now carrying out a large armchair. They propped it down on the pavement to watch the dogs’ antics.

  ‘Hup,’ said Claire to the dogs she was leading.

  The white poodle barked at her. The tan-and-white terrier sniffed the ground and wagged his tail. The children laughed.

  ‘She’s an apprentice dog trainer,’ explained Jem, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘She’s not very good yet. Hup, girls.’

  Immediately, Claire’s two dogs jumped up on their hind legs and strutted along, looking very proud of themselves. Claire grinned and shrugged.

  Everyone was so focused on the dogs’ tricks that at first they didn’t notice what was happening.

  A commotion sounded from further up the street. Claire glanced in its direction, startled. A large crowd of rowdy people was approaching. The men carried crowbars and pick handles. They saw the policemen on the pavement and began to run towards them. The policemen unbuckled their truncheons and pulled their revolvers.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Jem. ‘Looks like trouble. We’d better scram.’ He whistled to his three dogs and clipped the leads back onto their collars.

  Rosina spun around and started walking in the opposite direction, her dogs following closely.

  ‘The kids,’ said Claire, gesturing to the family by the furniture. ‘They shouldn’t be here.’

  The mother looked terrified. She scooped the youngest up in her arms. Hugging the children to her, she hurried towards the three friends.

  ‘Can we help?’ asked Rosina. ‘We need to get out of here fast.’

  The woman nodded. Rosina picked up the next youngest child. Claire took the hand of the eldest girl and hurried back the way they had come.

  Jaspar barked loudly at the coming threat, his hackles raised.

  ‘It’s okay, boy,’ Jem soothed. ‘We’ll be all right.’

  Jem glanced back. The menacing crowd had surrounded the house, and the men were flinging rocks at the policemen. The children’s father was taking refuge behind his furniture. Two men in the mob looked familiar.

  ‘Hey, that’s Flash Frank and Roy,’ cried Jem. ‘What are they doing in the middle of an eviction riot?’

  ‘No time to worry about that,’ said Rosina. ‘Let’s go.’

  The group hurried back towards the main road, escorting the family to a friend’s house nearby. As the three friends walked away, the mother stood on the front veranda, her children clustered around her. She looked cowed and beaten. Claire felt so sad for them.

  That evening after the show, Claire sat with Rosina and Jem beside the campfire. They were sipping on hot cups of tea, sweet with condensed milk.

  Frank and Roy wandered past on their way from the cookhouse. Roy had a nasty bruise on his forehead, while Frank had a black eye.

  ‘Are you all right, Frank?’ asked Rosina. ‘That eye looks nasty.’

  Frank grinned. ‘Oh, it’s nothing really. Roy and I just got into a bit of a spat with some townies earlier.’

  ‘I know,’ said Jem. ‘We saw you both at the eviction in town today.’ Roy looked guilty, but Frank just nodded.

  ‘We heard about it at the pub yesterday,’ Frank said. ‘Sounded like they could use some help. A family with young tackers getting chucked out of their home – it’s just not right. Some of the blokes thought we should go and protest.’

  ‘What happened?’ asked Jem. ‘Looks like you got roughed up a bit.’

  ‘The coppers attacked us with blasted batons,’ explained Roy. ‘We fought ’em off, but then the police pulled their revolvers and threatened to shoot. We scarpered out of there.’

  ‘What about the family?’ asked Rosina. ‘Did the protest work? Did they get their house back?’

  ‘Nah,’ said Frank. ‘We just wanted to show them that they can’t trample all over battlers without a fight.’

  ‘Do you know what will happen to the family now?’ asked Claire.

  ‘They’re staying with rellies for a few days,’ said Roy. ‘But they’ll probably end up at one of the susso camps. There’s nowhere else for them to go.’

  ‘The old man got the sack a couple of years ago,’ added Frank. ‘He was a digger. He fought for this country an
d now he’s chucked out in the streets like a mongrel. It’s a bleedin’ disgrace.’

  Jem and Rosina exchanged glances. Jaspar growled softly, uncomfortable with the tension in the air.

  ‘It’s tough,’ agreed Rosina, ‘but people will pull together and help them. The family will be all right.’

  ‘Not if those snooty New Guard nobs have their way,’ retorted Frank. ‘I reckon they’d sooner shoot the workers than help them.’

  Frank and Roy stumbled off towards their own campfire.

  ‘What was that all about?’ asked Claire. ‘Frank seemed pretty heated.’

  Jem nodded. ‘He’s had a tough life. He gets narky sometimes.’

  ‘He was a digger who fought in the Great War,’ explained Rosina. ‘He came back and settled with his family on a block of land provided by the government. When the depression hit, he lost everything.’

  ‘Frank’s family lives in Newcastle,’ Jem added. ‘He joined the circus a couple of years ago and worked just for food and a spot in the camp. Whenever there’s any spare money, he sends it to his wife and kids.’

  ‘Sometimes he just gets really angry about life,’ said Rosina. ‘I wish he wouldn’t. It doesn’t change things.’

  Jem picked up his violin, which was lying in its case behind him. ‘What does change things is some good music,’ he suggested. ‘And I know just the lad for the job.’

  Jem struck up a melodious tune, his bow flying over the strings. Claire smiled and settled back in her chair, her feet on the ring of stones around the fire. A number of the other circus performers came closer to listen. Jaspar lay by the fire, his head to one side, and whined.

  Lula jumped down and began to sway and jiggle to the music. Rosina began to sing in a voice that was strong and clear. It was an old folk song about love and loss and hope.

  The singing, the music, the fire and the company all filled Claire’s heart. It made her feel something bigger than just herself. It made her feel strong.

  The next day Claire felt like she was settling into a familiar routine, helping Rosina with the animals. Alf told her that Brownie needed a hand in the cookhouse, where he set her to work peeling a mountain of potatoes and chopping vegetables. As the cook, Brownie had to prepare four meals a day for all the performers and roustabouts on the lot – breakfast, lunch, an early tea and a late supper after the show. It was relentless work.

  Late in the morning Claire escaped and went to find Rosina, who was practising in the narrow grassy area between the two rows of caravans. Malia was teaching Peggy, Stella and Leo gymnastics on a wide tumble mat. They waved to Claire as they practised their splits and stretches. They seemed to spend several hours a day learning their circus tricks.

  Rosina had two sacks that were stuffed with chaff, lying on the ground, and was somersaulting back and forth from one sack to another. She landed perfectly each time, right in the middle of the sack.

  ‘That looks great, but what are you doing, Rosina?’ asked Claire.

  ‘I’m just warming up,’ replied Rosina. ‘I’ve asked Alf if I can do my new act in the ring tonight, so he wants to see me rehearse first.’

  Rosina landed lightly on the grass next to Claire.

  ‘Jumping from sack to sack?’ asked Claire. Compared to dancing on horseback, it didn’t seem very exciting.

  ‘Come and see for yourself,’ invited Rosina with a grin.

  Claire followed her into the horse tent where Pluto and Florian were tethered. The two stallions had long, flowing manes and tails that rippled in the light. Up close the horses seemed enormous, one black and one pure white. They whickered in welcome, and Rosina stroked them both on their noses.

  ‘Who are my beautiful boys then?’ she murmured, running her hand over their harnesses to check the tightness. ‘Pluto? Florian? Are we ready to show Alf what good boys you are? Walk on.’

  Rosina led them both down the passage to the ring. Claire followed. It was the first time she had been in the tents, behind the scenes. Jem was already in the ring, fiddling with a long rope that hung down from the rigging and doubled back, attached to a belt. Rosina strapped the belt around her waist.

  Jem tested it by hauling on the rope, lifting Rosina clear of the sawdust. She swung around in the air, as though she was flying. Jem lifted her up and down, which made Rosina giggle helplessly.

  ‘This is the lunge, which we use when practising a new act,’ explained Rosina. ‘We don’t use it for performances. It just means that if I fall Jem can catch me until we get the act perfect.’

  Alf strode into the centre of the ring, carrying his long-handled whip. Jem lowered Rosina to the ground again.

  ‘Claire, you’d better hop it out there,’ whispered Jem. Claire obeyed, jumping over the ring barricade and sitting on the front bench. She leant forward, taking in everything.

  ‘Are we ready to go?’ barked Alf, checking his pocket watch.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied Rosina. She leapt up onto Florian’s back. Jem took up the slack on the safety rope.

  Alf cracked his whip and the two horses began to canter around the ring, side by side, with just a small gap between them. Rosina jumped to her feet, arms outstretched as she stood on Florian’s rump.

  Jem walked around, carefully watching Rosina and keeping the rope slightly slack.

  Rosina began her routine, very much like the one Claire had seen the night before – jumping up, doing the splits, spinning in the air and landing safely on the stallion’s rump. However, this time there were two horses cantering along. Claire thought back to the two bags of chaff she had seen Rosina practising on. She felt a flutter of nerves in the pit of her stomach.

  Rosina steadied herself and jumped, tucking her knees to her chest and somersaulting high in the air. She landed safely on Pluto’s back. Rosina continued her routine as the horses circled, somersaulting from one horse to another. After a complete circuit, Rosina somersaulted off Florian’s back and onto the ground, where she turned three cartwheels and stopped right in the centre of the ring. Her back straightened, her arms shot up in the air, and she pointed one toe forward. Then she sank into a deep curtsy, the two horses bowing on either side of her, while Claire applauded.

  ‘Bravo!’ cried Alf. ‘Well done. I think we can introduce it into the first act, after the bears.’

  Rosina smiled with satisfaction. She patted each of the horses in turn and slipped them each a piece of carrot from her pocket. ‘Good boys.’

  ‘I’ve been working on an act too,’ Jem began. ‘I can show you my chair balancing –’

  ‘Not now. Not now,’ Alf interrupted. ‘I have to check on the lions. Sultan needs a bath before tonight’s performance, so I need you to heat the water and fill the bathtub.’

  Alf strode off, nodding his head at Claire as he passed.

  Jem dropped his eyes and fiddled with the rope. He scuffed his boot in the sawdust.

  Rosina undid the safety belt and handed it to him. ‘Never mind, Jem. You’ll get your chance soon enough.’

  9

  Rosina’s Flip-flaps

  That night Claire was asked to help in the prop tent, where the performers entered and exited the ring. She helped with quick costume changes, finding and putting away props, and moving animals to and from the ring entrance.

  While each act was on, Claire could peep between the curtains to watch the show. She could see Kit sitting in the front row, avidly watching every performance, clapping and laughing as though he was watching for the first time. The audience sat enraptured, children and adults alike, their faces alive with joy.

  Behind her, performers waited for their acts, limbering and stretching, or touching up their make-up. Rosina stepped into a box of pale-yellow resin powder and crunched it on the base of her ballet slippers to make them sticky. She then rubbed a handful of it over each of the horse’s backs.

  ‘It m
akes them less slippery,’ explained Rosina. ‘That’s why we call the horses for bareback riding “rosinbacks”.’

  After the bears, with their tumbling, teasing antics, it was time for Rosina’s new act. The band began to play a lively melody. Rosina straightened her scarlet tutu, leapt up on Pluto’s back and pasted a broad smile on her face.

  ‘Curtains,’ she commanded.

  Claire jumped to obey. The spotlight glared. Rosina clicked her tongue, and Pluto and Florian sprang from a dead stop to a full canter into the ring. Alf stood resplendent in the centre, his moustache ends stiff and his whip cracking.

  Claire watched Rosina perform the routine that she had practised in the ring that afternoon. She somersaulted back and forth, landing perfectly each time, as the horses cantered around the ring. Then, as the horses neared the end of their circuit, Claire saw Rosina somersault, land on Florian’s back and wobble. Her smile slipped for just a moment, then she vaulted off the horse’s back and onto the sawdust, landing awkwardly.

  Because Rosina was so close, Claire saw a grimace of pain before Rosina flipped into her cartwheels, adding an extra two to get her into the centre.

  Her back straightened, her arms shot up in the air and she pointed one toe daintily forward. She waited until the two horses joined her, then sank into a deep curtsy, with Pluto and Florian bowing on either side of her. She rubbed their noses and fed them their carrots.

  The audience’s applause was deafening. While Pluto was sunk down on one foreleg in a bow, Rosina sat sideways on his back. He rose up and the two horses trotted out.

  Claire opened the prop tent curtains for Rosina, who slipped from Pluto’s back once she was inside. She crumpled on the ground and rolled in agony, tears streaming down her face.

  ‘Rosina. Rosina, are you all right?’ begged Claire. ‘What’s wrong?’ There was no reply, except for a soft whimpering.

  Jem ducked in from the band pit. He called to one of the clowns. ‘Get these horses out of here.’ The clown obediently led Pluto and Florian away to the horse tent.