Room 119

by T F Lince

  Sarah and Jodie were about three rows back from the circle.

  “Why didn’t you join in shouting for Bobo, Jodie?”

  The stare Sarah got back would have melted ice.

  “Really, Mum?” Jodie said, and they both laughed.

  Jodie was the first to notice. “Mum, there’s Dad.”

  “Where, Jodie, where?” Her mum was looking all around the crowd. Jodie pointed at the ring.

  “There, Mum, he’s in the car. He’s Bobo.”

  Sarah followed the direction of Jodie’s pointing finger and finally saw him. She shouted, “Dean!” but her voice was drowned out by the crowd.

  “Mum, he looks so stupid.”

  Sarah started laughing.

  “I think that’s the whole point, Jodie.”

  Chapter 33 – That’s Not Clowning, That’s Performing

  Dean pressed button two and the car bonnet blew off. Again Dean stood up, but this time on purpose. It worked last time, he thought.

  Benjie ran over to the car and asked for a lift. Dean pointed to the standing plate at the back of the car and Benjie hopped on. After another couple of pedals, Dean pressed button three and the boot blew off, launching Benjie off the back of the car as planned.

  Dean pedalled on towards the boat. When he got there, he pressed button four. What was left of the car exploded, leaving Dean in the chassis, soot all over his face and hair. The door of the car was still in his hand, so he opened it and stood up, dropping it onto the floor.

  “Ben…jeeee!” he shouted, looking back to see Benjie under the car boot in the middle of the circus ring. Dean took off his little bowler hat and replaced it with a big white one from a prop box behind the boat. It had a red cross on the front and a blue flashing light on the top, and the music changed to an ambulance siren. Dean grabbed a first aid handcart and ran off to save his mate, Benjie.

  He removed the car boot and examined Benjie with an enormous stethoscope. The drum beat in the background indicated his heart was fine. Dean then took a large thermometer out of the cart. He was not sure which end of Benjie to place it in, so he asked the crowd for help, pointing to Benjie’s big bum which was sticking in the air.

  When he said, “Bum,” there was a big cheer. “Or face?” There was silence. “Bum?” A massive cheer.

  Dean took a big swing as he went to put the thermometer in Benjie’s bum. Benjie jumped up as the thermometer hit him, and Dean dropped it. Benjie swung a punch at Dean’s head. As he did so, Dean bent down to pick up the thermometer and he missed. Benjie then went to kick Dean’s bum just as Dean stood back up, and again he missed. It was slapstick of the highest order.

  Benjie and Dean eventually made their way over to paint the boat, putting on some big white overalls. The music changed to the Vision On gallery theme. Benjie had a big yellow pot, Dean had a big red one, and they both had an enormous paintbrushes. Things were going well.

  Dean started painting the bottom of the boat and Benjie climbed up the ladder, painting it higher up. Benjie bounced the ladder every time he needed to move it along the boat, which got a big round of applause. The crowd was eating out of their hands right now. Dean then clumsily knocked the ladder over with his big brush, leaving Benjie dangling from the boat holding his paint pot.

  “Bobo, ladder!”

  Dean picked up the ladder and saved Benjie. While the crowd applauded, he put his brush under his arm and took a bow, knocking the ladder over again and leaving Benjie dangling. Dean looked like he had been Bobo for years.

  They were nearing their big finale, and Dean started to look out for Sarah and Jodie in the crowd.

  “Three rows back under area D,” Benjie said under his breath. “OK, Dean, let’s finish this off with a bang.”

  Benjie gave Dean a wink. There was a drumroll, and the crowd took a huge collective intake of breath. The spotlight was illuminating a large red and yellow cannon at the far end of the circle, opposite the newly painted boat. It had a human-sized barrel.

  Dean in the character of Bobo looked at the cannon. “No, no, no, Benjie, not after the last time.”

  “It’s fixed, Bobo, I fixed it myself…”

  “Not after last time, Benjie, no, no, no!”

  Dean tried to run away; Benjie pulled him back by his braces.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, do you want to see Bobo fly?”

  Of course they did. There was a huge cheer and clapping.

  “I don’t want to fly again, Benjie, after last time.” Dean’s bottom lip started to quiver.

  “I promise it’s fixed, Bobo.”

  Benjie passed Dean a crash helmet. “You might need this, Bobo, after last time, remember?”

  Dean strapped on his helmet. It had BANG written on the top.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, do you want to see Bobo fly?”

  “Yes,” echoed around the arena. His legs quivering, Dean climbed the stepladder slowly, each step accompanied by a beat from a snare drum. If the ringmaster had been milking it earlier, Dean was pasteurising it and turning it into cheese. Occasionally he took half a step downwards, to loud boos until he replaced his foot on the rung above.

  Dean got into the cannon feet first, his head protruding and his BANG helmet in full view.

  “OK, Bobo, you’re in,” said Benjie.

  “Yes, I’m in, Benjie.” Dean gave a thumbs up. Benjie looked at the crowd.

  “Do you think we are aiming high enough?”

  “Lower, lower, Benjie,” Dean shouted, trying to get out of the cannon. Benjie kicked away the stepladder to stop him.

  “Should we go higher, boys and girls?”

  There was a deafening cheer of “Higher” from the frantic crowd.

  “OK, let’s go higher, Bobo.”

  Benjie turned the big wheel on the side of the cannon, accompanied by a cranky ratchet sound, raising the cannon by about 45 degrees. He then looked at the crowd on all sides of the circle.

  “OK, boys and girls, should we go higher?”

  “Higher! Higher!”

  “OK, Bobo, let’s go higher.”

  Dean, still looking out of his cannon, shouted, “Lower, lower, lower!”

  “So Bobo wants to go lower, boys and girls.” He pointed to Dean in the cannon. “And Benjie,” he pointed to himself, “wants Bobo to go higher. But it’s not up to me.” Benjie pointed to the crowd. “It’s only fair, Bobo, if these lovely boys and girls get to choose. Do you think that’s fair, Bobo?”

  Dean nodded.

  “OK, the boys and girls can choose.” Benjie added, “Lower, lower, lower,” but got no takers from the crowd. “OK, boys and girls, this is your time to shine. If you want Bobo to go higher, scream and make some noise.”

  If the Big Top had not been chained down, the roof would have blown off. Bobo’s fate was sealed right there and then.

  Benjie wound the wheel one turn and moved the angle even higher. He looked at the crowd and pointed upward, asking them if he should turn the wheel again. He got a cheer, so raised the cannon to the limit.

  Benjie came to the front of the cannon and looked up at Dean. “Are you OK up there, Bobo?” Dean gave him the thumbs up. “OK, boys and girls, Bobo is going to fly through the air at over a million miles an hour, land on our new boat and raise the Benjie and Bobo flag. Well, we hope so anyway. Wave at Bobo as you might never see him again.”

  Dean waved at the crowd before lowering himself deeper into the cannon. While Benjie was buying some time playing up to the audience, Dean had to sneak out of the cannon, put in a clown dummy, then run under the seating area to a secret entrance on the far side of the boat. As Dean was making his way under the crowd, he could see Benjie through a gap in the seating. Benjie was in his element; he had been born to do this, and if nothing else, Dean had made an old clown very happy today. For that he was proud.

  He continued on to the boat and lay there, blacking up his face for explosive effect, and waited.

  Benjie lit an
oversized match on an oversized matchbox and made his way to the cannon. He lit the fuse, which fizzed and spluttered slowly towards the back of the cannon. He then started the countdown with the crowd.

  “Ten…nine…eight…seven…” the crowd all joined in, “…six…five…four…” anticipation oozed from all around the Big Top, “…three…two…one…”

  BANG! The cannon exploded and its wheels fell off. At the same time, a clown-like figure was powering through the air, not quite at a million miles an hour, but flying nevertheless. The dummy did its job perfectly and landed next to Dean in the bottom of the boat. That was Dean’s prompt. He took a flag in his mouth and shimmied up the mast. First one, then two, then the whole of the crowd spotted that Bobo had survived.

  “Bobo! Bobo!” they chanted as Benjie started a rhythmic clapping. “Bobo! Bobo!”

  Dean climbed higher and higher, then took the flag out of his mouth and attached it to the mast. He pulled the tether on the flag, which was a pair of enormous clown’s bloomers with Benjie on one leg and Bobo on the other.

  Dean jumped off the mast onto a crash mat hidden in the bottom of the boat. The crowd were on their feet, cheering and clapping, some of them still chanting the name of their new hero: “Bobo, Bobo!”

  Dean got out of the back of the boat and ran to Benjie and gave him a big hug. Benjie, forever the performer, made him line up and do the proper bows to all sides of the circus ring. The cheering had not yet abated; the spectators were still on their feet.

  Then Benjie and Dean shouted, “Water fight!” and ran to the ambulance cart for two buckets of water each. Benjie threw his at Dean, soaking him again. Dean returned the compliment. The crowd was in stitches.

  “Does anybody else want a water fight?” Benjie asked the audience. They grabbed another bucket each and walked in opposite directions, accompanied by the ‘you’re getting crept up on’ music of pantomimes, pretending to throw the water into the audience. They circled the first few rows, and the spectators cowered backwards.

  Three quarters of the way round, Dean spotted Sarah and Jodie. He shouted, “Benjie, are you ready? One…two…three…” In perfect synchronisation, they threw their buckets’ contents into the crowd. Expecting to get drenched, everyone sank their heads into their shoulders as they were showered in silver and blue tinsel.

  Dean looked at Sarah and Jodie, who were laughing. “I love you both. I’ll see you soon, I promise.” He gave them both a wave and blew them two kisses.

  The ringmaster announced, “OK, ladies and gentlemen, give it up one more time for Bobo…” Dean took a bow “…and Benjie.” Benjie took a bow. Then they both bowed together, hand in hand as they received a standing ovation from all sides of the circus ring. They ran off through the entrance to the ring before heading back to the dressing room. As they entered, Benjie gave Dean a big pat on the back.

  “Dean, that was not clowning, that was performing. I’m very proud of you.”

  Dean had his hands on his knees, exhausted.

  “Benjie, I have not had that much fun since…”

  It dawned on Dean that it was so long ago he couldn’t remember.

  Chapter 34 – Breakfast at Epiphany’s

  The people were long gone from the Big Top. Benjie and Dean, still in their clown attire less their wet jackets, were sharing a drink from Benjie’s hip flask.

  “That was one hell of a performance,” said Benjie. “Even my Bobo would have been impressed. Your timing was fabulous.”

  They were sitting on the front row of the Big Top. The place looked different with no crowd; the paint and colours had lost their gloss. There were no lights to make them dance. Everything was still and calm; the benches were all vacant, apart for the one they were occupying.

  “Not many get to see this, Dean.”

  Dean looked at his surroundings. “What, an empty circus?”

  Benjie hit Dean on the arm with his hip flask.

  “No, you idiot, to see themselves crawling out of a hole and heading back to the real world. Very few make it. I think he’s going to let you back, you know.”

  Dean stared at him. “Really?” After seeing Sarah and Jodie tonight, he wanted nothing more than to hold them both right now.

  “He was watching, you know. At the back. Didn’t you see him? He was there at the end.”

  “Where? Err, no, I never saw him. Why? ”

  “He wants to make sure that if he gives you a second chance, you mean it. It won’t have gone unnoticed what you did for me, and more importantly, how much it meant to you to see Sarah and Jodie.”

  Dean gestured, asking to have another sip from the clown’s hip flask. Benjie obliged.

  “Hope you’re right, Benjie.”

  “He’s firm, but fair, Dean, but he has to be sure. You’re very close, though, I can feel it. Whatever happens, you have passed all the tests given to you so far. Courage in the fairground the first visit; compassion with your mum and dad; determination on the train station; trust with Jodie in your chess game; and today you proved you can still have fun.” Benjie took the flask from Dean and had a swig before handing it back. “I will never forget tonight, Dean. You made an old clown very happy before he goes.”

  Dean looked at him.

  “Before he goes where?”

  Before Benjie could answer, Death’s silver cane caught what little light there was and cast a reflection in their direction. Death, Mr Thompson under his arm, was at the far end of the circus tent and starting to make his way across the ring. Benjie took back his hipflask and hid it in one of his overly large clown’s pockets.

  “I shouldn’t really be drinking on duty.”

  Jodie again had a sleep in; it seemed the norm nowadays. It was Saturday morning, or what was left of the morning, and she was recalling bits and pieces about last night. Not only the conversation with her mum and how Sarah now believed her about the clown, but also her visit to the circus to see her dad. She decided she wouldn’t push the subject unless her mother brought it up.

  She put on some jeans and a tee shirt and headed downstairs for breakfast. Her mother had not been up long, either; last night had taken it out of her emotionally and physically.

  “Hi, Jodie, did you sleep well?” she asked.

  Jodie more or less managed to answer through a muffled yawn. “Yes, Mum.” The yawn continued. “Did you?”

  Sarah was at the toaster, trying not to look at the bread as the toaster always seemed to take longer to toast it if she watched it.

  “I didn’t sleep great, Jodie, to be fair.”

  Pop! The toast announced it was ready.

  “Strawberry jam or marmalade, JoJo?” Sarah asked.

  “Is it that silver marmalade or the orange one?”

  Sarah had started opening the jar before she’d answered.

  “The silver one. I know you don’t like the orange one.” She buttered the toast, smothered an ample amount of Silver Shred marmalade over Jodie’s and passed it over to her. Jodie poured fresh orange juice into a glass from the jug in the middle of the table.

  “Mum?”

  “Yes, Jodie.”

  “You know I used to say I didn’t like clowns?”

  “Yes.” Sarah cuddled her oversized coffee mug and took a welcoming sip, her eyes wide open and peering over the rim.

  “Well, I had a dream last night, and before you stop me, you were even in it, Mum.”

  “Go on.”

  “We were in a circus. Benjie and Bobo the clowns came on. They were so funny.”

  Jodie looked at her mother for a reaction before carrying on. Sarah’s eyes started to well up.

  “What happened next, Jodie?”

  “Well, Benjie was my clown – the one who has been coming to see me about chess and to help my dad – and Bobo was Dad. He was laughing and joking, and he even got fired out of a big cannon into a boat they were painting.” Jodie had a smile on her face as her mind relived the performance. “And do you know what the best bit was, Mum
?”

  Her mother put her coffee down, her eyes full of tears.

  “Was it when he threw the bucket of glitter over us at the end, Jodie?” Sarah grabbed her handbag from the kitchen worktop and fumbled around for her keys.

  “Did you dream it too, Mum?”

  Keys located, her mother answered, “Yes, every bit, JoJo. I thought it was my dream until you started describing it. I think your dad might be coming back to us.”

  “He said he would – did you hear him? He said he’s coming back.”

  Sarah gave her daughter the biggest of hugs then went into organisation mode. “Right, I think we need to get to the hospital. JoJo, you’ve got five minutes to get ready. Off you go.”

  Sarah grabbed a tissue and wiped the tears from her face, then walked into the downstairs bathroom and looked in the mirror. How could she have had the exact same dream as her daughter? It did not make sense, but not everything had to make sense. As a doctor, Sarah knew that Dean had died and for no medical reason had come back to life. That didn’t make sense, nor did Jodie’s dreams and the chess game. Maybe it was about time to roll with it rather than picking the bones out of the logic.

  Still looking in the mirror, she took a deep breath and said, “You’re nearly back, Dean, don’t let us down now. Keep believing.” If something magical was going on, then it couldn’t hurt to say out loud that they were rooting for him, and it felt like he was close after their shared dream last night.

  Jodie shouted, “Ready, Mum.”

  Sarah had one last look in the mirror as if it was a conduit to Dean’s consciousness. “Come on, Dean, she needs you. Christ, I need you.” When Dean didn’t appear in the mirror and answer her, she took a deep breath and headed off to the car with Jodie.

  Mr Thompson was more relieved than anything. He was standing more upright and walking more strongly than before, and he did not look scared anymore. He looked like all the suffering and pain he had endured had been taken away. The resigned look on his face was there voluntarily, like he’d had a shot of reality and was happy with his lot.