The Sequin Star

by Belinda Murrell

  With acrobatic grace, Rosina jumped up and swung over the top of the fence, disappearing back over into the circus lot. Elsie trumpeted a welcome.

  ‘Go, Claire,’ Kit hissed.

  Claire clambered over the ledge and tried to climb down the rope just as Rosina had. Instead, she slid down the rope like a fireman down a pole. The rough hemp tore at her skin, searing her palms. She cried out as she fell and hit the ground with a bone-shuddering thump. All the breath was knocked from her chest and she lay on the ground helpless, curled into a ball.

  Kit followed down the rope, nearly landing on top of her. ‘Claire, are you all right?’ he asked. ‘Can you stand?’

  Claire blinked back tears of pain and fear. She nodded. Kit helped her struggle to her feet. Jem slipped down the rope and landed like a cat beside them.

  A torchlight shone from the storeroom window above. Manfred had broken in. Kit hoisted Claire up to help her climb over the fence. She clung to the top of the fence feeling awkward and clumsy. She could see the big dark shadow of Elsie with Rosina beside her. Elsie stretched out her trunk to help lift Claire down.

  ‘Hurry, Claire,’ Rosina shouted. ‘He has the gun.’

  Claire glanced up, crouched on the very top of the fence, one leg hanging on either side of the palings. The torch shone down, illuminating her, and she froze, her heart beating wildly.

  She could see that Manfred had the revolver pointed straight at her. He pulled the trigger.

  ‘Jump, Claire!’ Kit yelled.

  Claire threw herself from the top of the fence and landed with a thump, winded and aching all over. Jaspar whined and licked her on the face. Rosina helped her scramble to her feet.

  ‘The gun didn’t fire?’ Claire asked as the boys joined them in the circus lot.

  ‘Of course not, you mutton-head,’ Jem said. ‘You don’t think I would have left a loaded gun behind?’

  He pulled his hand from his pocket and revealed a palm full of bullets and a shiny key.

  They looked back up. Manfred was leaning out of the window, pointing the gun down at them, his mouth hanging open in astonishment.

  Rosina turned to Elsie and murmured in her big flapping ear. Elsie’s trunk snaked up through the darkness. She grasped the surprised man around his body and dragged him through the window, curled in her strong trunk. Manfred struggled, kicking and screaming, dropping his gun and his hat. He thumped Elsie on the trunk with all his might.

  Elsie hurled him away. Manfred fell, landing on the soft, moist manure heap. Jaspar ran at him, growling, and everyone followed.

  In Jem’s torchlight Manfred didn’t look so magnificent now, sprawled among the sawdust, straw and elephant dung. His carefully slicked back hair was now dishevelled and standing on end. His dapper suit was covered in filth, and his pencil-thin moustache was smeared on one side with a thick dollop of green manure.

  Manfred rolled to get to his feet.

  ‘Oh, no you don’t, Mr Magician,’ Kit ordered, pushing him back down onto the compost pile with the rake from the nearby wheelbarrow. Kit held it to Manfred’s chest, pinning him in the muck.

  ‘Let me up,’ Manfred demanded. ‘Jem, Rosina – you know me. Tell him there’s been a misunderstanding. I just happened to be passing and heard a noise. The door was open and I thought I’d look inside in case there were burglars.’

  Claire felt a flash of fury at Manfred’s unlikely protestations. ‘Of course you were. Your magic must be super powerful as the door was dead-bolted just a few minutes ago. I’m sorry I misunderstood when you tried to shoot me.’

  Rosina shook her head, glaring at the magician in disgust. ‘Why? Why would you kidnap Kit and rob his house? Why would you try to shoot an innocent girl?’

  ‘No. No – I had nothing to do with it,’ Manfred blustered.

  ‘Keep him here,’ Rosina instructed, turning away. Manfred was surrounded by Kit with the rake, Jem with his throwing knife, Jaspar the dog, Elsie and her lethal trunk, and Claire holding the shovel like a baseball bat.

  ‘Don’t make a sound,’ Jem warned, his voice thick with loathing. ‘And don’t even think of moving.’

  Sensibly, Manfred the magician didn’t try to move.

  Rosina darted off through the shadows between the caravans, cages and vehicles. Fires were burning in the campfires around the lot. The smell of frying potatoes came from the cookhouse, reminding Claire that she hadn’t eaten for hours.

  Rosina was back in a few minutes, reversing in a bright-yellow van painted with huge red letters that read, ‘Sterling Brothers Circus’. This was the van that usually carried the band on the roof during the street parades. Rosina parked it up against the elephant enclosure and jumped out, the keys in her hand. She threw open the back door.

  ‘Manfred the Magnificent, your chariot awaits,’ Rosina said in a scathing voice.

  Kit prodded Manfred with the rake to encourage him to get up. Manfred looked at each teenager carefully, gauging their strength and resolve. Claire saw his eyes flick towards her, then past her and into the shadows. He thinks I’m the weakest one, thought Claire. He thinks he can escape past me. The thought made her angry.

  Claire tightened her grip on the shovel handle, adrenalin pumping through her veins. She stepped forward and drew herself tall, taking determined aim. ‘Don’t try to run for it. You wouldn’t get five metres before one of us brings you down. After what you did to Kit, we are all itching to have an excuse.’

  Manfred blanched. With a sharp nip on his leg from Jaspar, he scrambled into the back of the empty van. Rosina took the key and locked the door from the outside, then she climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

  ‘Jump in,’ Rosina ordered, and the four of them squeezed across the front seat, with Lula on Claire’s lap and Jaspar on the floor at Jem’s feet. Kit stared at Rosina with her hands on the steering wheel of the large vehicle.

  ‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ Kit began. ‘But can you actually drive this thing?’

  ‘You just watch me,’ Rosina replied with a grin, throwing the van into gear and driving it over the rough grass.

  ‘Of course you can,’ Kit agreed, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Is there anything you can’t do?’

  Rosina thought for a moment then shook her head. ‘I’d give most things a go.’

  ‘Knucklehead,’ teased Jem.

  A number of circus workers looked up as the van roared between the campfires. A couple leapt to their feet in surprise. Rosina waved at them through the windscreen.

  ‘Where are we going now?’ Claire asked.

  ‘We’re taking Kit home,’ Rosina replied.

  As the van lurched down the hump off the lot and onto the road, everyone on the front seat bounced into the air.

  ‘Poor old Manfred will be having a bumpy ride back there,’ Jem sympathised.

  ‘Good,’ said Claire. ‘I hope he gets rattled to pieces.’

  Once on the road, Rosina drove along calmly and carefully. It was past ten o’clock and the streets were dark and deserted.

  It was only a five-minute drive to Kit’s house at Kirribilli. A police car was still parked out the front and two police officers leapt out, revolvers drawn, as Rosina pulled the bright-yellow circus truck into the driveway. The policemen stared incredulously at the youthful girl driver, the monkey, the dog and the dirty, motley crew of teenagers who tumbled out.

  ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ said Kit with a smile. ‘I’m Kit Hunter. I think you will be pleased to know that we have the criminal you are looking for locked up in the back of this van. The other one is incarcerated in an office in the Hunter Emporium at St Leonards.’

  Rosina cocked her head to the side and tossed the set of van keys to one of the police officers. Jem held the office key out to the other on the palm of his grubby hand.

  Alerted by all the commotion, Mrs Bruc
e threw open the front door. When she saw Kit she shrieked and flung her arms around him. ‘Master Kit, you’re safe. We’ve been so worried about you. Where have you been?’

  Mr Hunter rushed from his office, looking drawn and haggard. He drew Kit into a long embrace.

  ‘Thank God you are all right,’ he whispered. ‘I thought I might never see you again. I just couldn’t bear it if I lost you too.’

  Kit hugged him back. ‘You won’t get rid of me that easily, Dad, although who knows what might have happened if it wasn’t for Rosina, Jem and Claire. They may well have saved my life.’

  Mr Hunter looked askance at the circus members standing in his grand hall: the two girls in dirty jodhpurs and bedraggled ponytails, streaks of muck on their faces; the little brown monkey, dressed in a tutu; the huge, golden dog, his long tongue hanging out. Lastly, he glanced at Jem with his unruly thatch of blond hair and freckled face, flushed with embarrassment.

  All of them could clearly remember the awful scene when they had last seen Mr Hunter, when he had called them vagabonds and gypsies and forbade them from ever seeing Kit again.

  Mr Hunter took a deep breath. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you all for everything you have done for my family.’

  Rosina flashed her brilliant smile. ‘It was a pleasure, sir. Any time young Kit needs rescuing, we’d be happy to help.’

  ‘I do not intend to need rescuing again anytime soon,’ Kit replied, with a broad grin at Rosina. ‘However, I do have some other ideas of how you could help me.’

  Rosina turned her face away. Claire felt a little uneasy. It was clear that Kit liked Rosina very much, but Kit was supposed to marry another girl, a vivacious young film star named Vivien Blake – her grandmother.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, sir,’ said one of the police officers, ‘but we really do need to ask you all some questions. And could we borrow your telephone to ring the police station?’

  A police car was organised to come and release Manfred from the back of the van and take the grimy, dejected and bruised magician into custody. Another was sent to the Hunter Emporium to apprehend Larry.

  After seeing the state of their clothes, Mrs Bruce ushered them all into the kitchen instead of the sitting room. She made some hot cocoa and a huge pile of chicken-and-mayonnaise sandwiches, which they ate while the policemen took statements.

  Mrs Bruce tended to various wounds with warm water, salve and gauze bandages. The palms of Claire’s hands were red-raw from rope burn, and she had several nasty scrapes from her fall. These injuries were added to the many bruises she had gained from her collision with the cyclist over a week ago. She felt like she had been pummelled and beaten all over. Fortunately, Kit was not badly hurt, just dehydrated and battered, with a swollen nose and various scrapes.

  It was noisy as the two policemen asked questions, with everyone talking over the top of each other. Detective Drummond soon arrived and asked many more questions, although he insisted on one person answering at a time. Mr Hunter listened attentively to all the details of the daring rescue. Claire, Rosina and Jem took it in turns to explain how they had found Kit, captured the abductors and escaped in a circus van driven by a fifteen-year-old girl.

  Detective Drummond turned to Rosina. ‘And as for you, young lady,’ he admonished, ‘I don’t want to hear that you’ve been driving a vehicle of any kind until you’re old enough to have an official driver’s licence.’

  Rosina looked contrite. ‘I’m so sorry, sir, but it was the only way I could think of to get Kit to safety and Manfred into custody.’

  ‘Well, just don’t do it again,’ he repeated. ‘Given the circumstances, I won’t charge you – but that won’t be the case next time.’

  Rosina winked at Claire with a mischievous smile. Claire felt fairly sure that Detective Drummond’s threat would not stop Rosina from driving circus trucks when she needed to.

  Detective Drummond turned to Kit and asked him some questions about the actual abduction.

  Kit ran his hand through his fringe of thick brown hair and, for the first time, told his part of the story.

  ‘At about eleven o’clock on Sunday morning, our chauffeur, Larry Jenkins, dropped me back to Beaumont after I’d gone to deliver some party leftovers to the family of a friend of mine,’ Kit began, glancing at Jem, who nodded. ‘There was no one here, so I walked down to the tram stop to visit some other friends.’

  ‘Which friends?’ asked Detective Drummond.

  Kit lifted his chin. ‘Rosina, Claire and Jem at the Sterling Brothers Circus at St Leonards.’

  Mr Hunter shifted in his chair but didn’t comment.

  ‘When I reached the tram stop,’ Kit continued, ‘I realised I had left my pocketbook behind, so I returned home. There was a blue van parked in our driveway. I let myself into the house and found Larry Jenkins and Manfred the Magician helping themselves to my father’s artworks.’

  ‘Then what happened?’ prompted Detective Drummond, writing notes.

  ‘Together, they attacked me, punching and wrestling me to the ground. My nose started to bleed. They trussed me up like a chicken, threw me in the back of the van and loaded it up with art and other valuables. It was all over in a matter of minutes.’

  ‘How dare he?’ Mr Hunter barked. ‘Just wait until I get my hands on that Jenkins. After everything I’ve done for him –’

  Detective Drummond cleared his throat. Mr Hunter sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

  ‘We drove off in the van about 11.30am,’ Kit said. ‘It was parked somewhere very quiet. All the time I was tied up and gagged, but I tried to kick the side of the van to get attention. Nothing came of it. Then, many hours later, in the middle of the night they came back and drove me to what I later discovered was the Hunter Emporium.’

  ‘Do you have any idea what time it was?’ asked Detective Drummond.

  Kit shook his head.

  ‘I heard a vehicle being driven onto the circus lot at about four in the morning,’ Claire offered.

  Detective Drummond made a note and gestured for Kit to continue.

  ‘When the van stopped, they carried me into the store, threatening me with death if I made a sound. They locked me inside an office. I knew where I was by the sound of Elsie trumpeting and Sultan roaring.’ Rosina stifled a giggle. ‘I stayed there until these three burst in just a short time ago and Claire cut me free.’

  ‘And do you have any idea how Jenkins and the magician knew each other?’ asked Detective Drummond.

  Kit glanced at his father, then at the policeman. ‘Larry has been driving me to the circus lot every day this week,’ he confessed. ‘A couple of times when I came back to the car I found Larry chatting to Manfred. It seems Larry had been boasting to Manfred about working for a very rich family, telling him about our house and art and cars, and telling him how hard done by he was.’

  Mr Hunter snorted. ‘Hard done by? What rubbish.’

  Kit looked embarrassed and Rosina reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

  ‘When they first caught me in the hall, they argued over what they should do with me,’ Kit continued. ‘It sounded like Manfred planned the robbery, borrowed the van from the circus and had contacts to sell the art.

  ‘It was Manfred’s idea to kidnap me when I discovered them. Larry was against it, but Manfred said I’d seen their faces and was worth far more than the paintings. Kidnapping me would give them extra time to sell the loot and make plans to disappear. He told Larry they’d never have to work again. He thought Dad would pay anything to get me back.’

  ‘And so I would,’ agreed Mr Hunter. Kit and his father exchanged smiles.

  ‘Who knows if he actually planned on releasing Kit after they received the ransom,’ mused Detective Drummond. ‘You’re very fortunate your friends found you first.’

  Claire felt a chill as she thought about what Manfred migh
t have been planning to do with Kit.

  ‘Manfred wouldn’t really have hurt Kit,’ objected Rosina. ‘I’ve known him since he joined our circus two years ago, and I would never have thought he would do anything so terrible.’

  Jem shrugged. ‘Frank told me that Manfred used to be with one of the big American train circuses during the twenties. He was hugely successful – travelled all over the world, wore diamond rings, drank French champagne and lived like a prince. When the stock market crashed, he lost all his money and ended up trying to scratch a living in what he felt was a second-rate, colonial dog-and-pony show.’

  Rosina flushed with annoyance. ‘A second-rate dog-and-pony show? How dare he?’ Sterling Brothers is . . .’

  Kit took her hand and kissed it. ‘Yes, we know – the most spectacular show in the world.’

  By the time the police had taken everyone’s statements it was after midnight. Mrs Bruce suggested that Rosina, Jem and Claire should stay the night so that they could have a hot bath, salves for their scrapes and a good night’s sleep.

  Rosina and Claire shared the same bedroom that they had used on the night of the ball. Mrs Bruce lent them a couple of old shirts to wear to bed. This time Claire was quick to bags first go in the bathroom. She soaked in the deep, hot water and felt her many aches and bruises fade away.

  Afterwards, Mrs Bruce smoothed more salve on her burnt palms and bandaged them. Claire was fast asleep before Rosina had finished her bath. She dreamt about elephants and monkeys and a chase in the dark. Then she was searching desperately for something in that darkness. However, no matter how hard or how long she looked, she never found what it was she was hunting for.

  19

  Command Performance

  Claire and Rosina slept in the following morning. It was the best rest that Claire had enjoyed since she last slept in her own bed. When they finally shuffled downstairs, Mrs Bruce cooked them a feast of bacon, eggs, sausages, mushrooms, toast, marmalade and tea. Jem declared it to be the finest breakfast he had eaten in years.