Show Stopper

by Hayley Barker

  In every single photo, he’s in full ringmaster get-up. This is his home, but there’s no evidence of a real person existing underneath at all: no personal touches, no little trinkets or ornaments. What did I expect, pictures of his family? Hardly likely, given what they say.

  There’s the sound of footsteps on the stairs outside, the door lock turns; it’s him.

  He looks at me for a few seconds with that penetrating stare. “How about we cut out all the crap and you tell me where he is?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean, Silvio, sorry. Where who is?”

  He holds up Ben’s poster. “Young Benedict Baines here. Quite the handsome young man, isn’t he?”

  “He’s a Pure. I hate Pures. Why would I conceal one?”

  “Oh, so he’s concealed, is he?”

  “I don’t know, I thought that’s what you were suggesting.”

  “I will ask you one more time… Where is he?”

  There’s a pause. I look at him and repeat, slowly.

  “I don’t know.”

  He stares at me again for a few seconds. His eyes are steely and then, he loses his cool; that slick façade seems to be slipping more and more often lately. He slams his hand down on the table.

  “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “My neck’s on the line for this. They’re asking me all sorts of questions. Why don’t I know what’s happening in my own Cirque? Why can’t I keep a tighter track of security? Why are my Dregs out of control? And Baines, the boy’s mother, breathing down my neck – Where the hell is my son? Why haven’t you found him yet? And why, why, why, why is that bloody tightrope walker still alive?”

  He’s shaking. His voice drops and he snarls at me. “I will not lose my standing here because of you. Where is he?”

  I look at him. Doesn’t he realize what he means to Vivian Baines? What he means to all of them?

  “Silvio, you’re the same as me, don’t you see that? You mean nothing to her, to any of them. You’re just another dirty Dreg to them, just the same as the rest of us.”

  “No! I’m nothing like you! Nothing! I’m a Pure! I’ve always been a Pure, I just need them to see that!”

  He’s actually insane.

  I try a different tack, a gentler one. Maybe I can reason with him, make him see what he’s become.

  “Your mother gave up everything to be with your father. Do you think she’d want to see you like this?”

  I’ve made a mistake; his eyes bulge with fury, his face whitens with shock. He puts his hands round my neck, squeezes my throat so that I can’t breathe. He’s going to choke me to death, right here, right now.

  “How dare you? How dare you mention my mother? How dare you presume to tell me how to feel? I’ll tell you something, shall I? My mother was weak. A weak, careless fool. She sacrificed my destiny, sacrificed everything I should have been, everything I could have been, because she couldn’t control her urges! My mother was nothing more than a whore!”

  There’s no breath left in my body. I can feel my head swimming, see everything fading away around me.

  He lets go suddenly, and I gasp for air.

  He stands back, watching me with his arms crossed. “Is that enough to change your mind, or shall I keep going?”

  My throat is burning, and when I speak, the words come out in a hoarse croak.

  “OK, Silvio, you’re right. I do know where he is.”

  He nods, eagerly.

  “That’s my girl. Come on now, tell Silvio and the whole thing can go away. You won’t hear another word about it.”

  He’s practically purring.

  “Do you promise? You promise you won’t be angry any more?”

  “Of course not.” He strokes my hair, benevolently. “I’ll be so proud of you. I’ll protect you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  “I didn’t know what to do it about it; I was afraid. It’s a relief to finally confess everything,” I tell him. “I know you only ever want what’s best for the Cirque.”

  “That’s right,” he smiles. “I’m glad someone finally appreciates how hard my job is. I have to think of the bigger picture sometimes.”

  “He’s…” I keep looking right into those evil little eyes and I smile at him serenely. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think I will tell you, after all.”

  I know it’s reckless but he’s going to torture me whatever I do and I can’t help myself; seeing him so desperate makes me feel powerful. For the first time ever, I hold the trump card.

  With an exasperated cry, he leaps up, twists my arm behind my back and pushes his ugly, ratty face into mine. I keep smiling.

  “The thing is, I don’t mean to disappoint you and all that, but it doesn’t really matter what you do to me; I’ll never tell you where he is. We’re going to destroy your silly little circus. We’re going to bring you down.”

  It feels like we stay there like that for ages, freeze-framed. Finally, he breaks my gaze, releases his hold – a minor victory.

  “Do you know, I rather feel you’re telling the truth? Looks like I’ll have to rethink my strategy a bit, up the game. You’ve made your choice, Hoshiko. What happens now is all down to you. I’d like you to remind yourself of that later; all down to you.” He leaves the room, slamming the door and locking it behind him.

  I’m pretty sure I know where he’s gone. Doing the dirty work isn’t really his style, not often, anyway. He’ll get his heavies in for that.

  They’ll probably start with my feet; they’re so badly wounded already that the job’s half done for them. Maybe not – when they catch Dreg thieves, they chop off their fingers. Concealing a fugitive has to be a worse crime than that.

  I think of Ben again and run my throbbing hand over my nose, eyes, mouth. I touch my arms, my skin. I’ve never really thought about it before, but now it feels alive, responsive, in a way it never has before. It’s tingly, still, everywhere he touched it. He said it was soft, said it was perfect. Maybe it won’t be for much longer. Maybe it will be burnt, all over. Or cut into. Mutilated.

  What if he doesn’t feel the same about me after that? What if he never looks at me like that again? Never touches me again like I’m something precious, something beautiful.

  I don’t know what they’ll do to me. I don’t know how intact I’ll be at the end, but I do know that what I said is true.

  I’ll never give him up. I’d rather die.

  Three days ago, I hadn’t even met him, but I’d already die a hundred deaths for him.

  BEN

  It feels as if this is the millionth time now that I’ve lain helplessly in this room, wondering what the hell to do next. This time, it feels even worse than the others. This time, I know it’s because of me that they’ve dragged her out of here. They’re not going to ask her politely where I am; not going to just take her word for it when she denies knowing anything. The stakes are too high. They’re going to torture her, because of me.

  If they so much as harm a hair on her head, I swear I’ll kill them all. I’ll find a gun and I’ll shoot them dead. There’s no point in hiding out here now; the only thing left to do is hand myself in. There’ll be no point in interrogating Hoshi if they’ve found me.

  I get out of the box, running as quickly as I can down the corridor. I’ll turn myself in to the first person I see.

  In front of me, the door at the end of the building opens, and a policeman frames the doorway. I walk slowly towards him with my hands up, so that he can get a good look at my face.

  “I’m Ben Baines. I’m the one you’re looking for.”

  HOSHIKO

  I pace the floor, waiting.

  It’s an awful feeling, knowing Silvio’s going to come back for me. Or someone is. Come back to do what?

  I turn the tap in the kitchen and water gushes out. Gratefully, I gulp some down.

  I look in the fridge. There’s nothing in there but a piece of dry cheese. I sniff it and then picture Silvio gnawi
ng on it; holding it in his little paws, scraping it with his pointy little teeth. I put it back. I’m hungry, but I can’t bring myself to eat that.

  I try the handles on the other doors. They’re all locked. I feel an inexplicable sense of disappointment. Why am I so curious? What does it matter to me where the great Silvio Sabatini sleeps? I’d love to peer inside his wardrobe though, rifle through his personal effects.

  I search through all the cupboards and find a black marker pen in a drawer in the kitchen. With the pepper pot, I smash the frame on every picture and draw devil horns and a tail on to all the grinning Silvios.

  I wish they would come and get it over with; do whatever it is they’re going to do.

  This waiting, it’s torture too; it’s torture waiting for the torture to begin.

  Gradually the sky outside lightens and a pink smudge starts to blear the far horizon.

  What’s Ben going to do now? He doesn’t know anyone else here, just me and Amina. I hope he makes it out, that they look after him when I’m gone.

  Will his mother forgive him? Will they let him back into the family home? He poses a threat now, surely, to all the values she holds dear. She’s not a normal mother; there’s no softness in her – what if she has him killed? She’d do that, wouldn’t she, rather than accept what he’s done? Maybe she’ll just disown him instead – but that would be even worse for someone like him.

  How would he cope if he was thrown into the Dreg world? He’s not been born to it; he’s not like me.

  People like me, we don’t get happy endings. We live terrible lives for a few years, if we’re lucky, and then we die terrible deaths, alone. I’ve known this all my life, so why am I so frightened now?

  Because he came into this circus and brought me hope, that’s why. I dared to dream, for the first time ever. He’s made me feel things I have no right to feel. I should never have allowed myself to think, even for a minute, that we might have a future together – as if we live in some kind of fairy story, instead of right here in Hell.

  I’ve existed for a while, and now I’m going to die. What’s the point of it all been?

  The worst thing of all is that sometimes, when I’ve been up there, under the lights, my body responding to the vibrating twang beneath me, the crowd calling my name, I’ve felt almost happy. I’ve liked their attention, liked the feeling of knowing how good I am. More fool me, then. I’m just their plaything. Just a cheap, replaceable puppet on a wire.

  BEN

  The police officer stares at me, open mouthed, for a few seconds and then whispers, “Be quiet. For God’s sake, keep your voice down!”

  “Why? I’m handing myself to you on a plate. You can call off the search. None of the performers know I’m here, I swear. I’ve been hiding out on my own.”

  He turns back round to the open door he’s just entered through, shutting and locking it, before turning back to me. I don’t like the way he does it: as if he’s up to no good.

  “Ben, Benedict, whatever you call yourself, you certainly know how to cause a stir. I hope you appreciate what everyone’s gone through for you and your little tightrope walker.”

  He lowers his voice right down, so that I have to strain to hear him. “Listen carefully; I don’t know how long we’ve got. It’s OK; I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Jack: I’m a friend.”

  I look at him, what does he mean? Does he think I’m some poor innocent boy who’s been kidnapped by the Dregs?

  “Amina contacted me. We’re getting you and the girl out.”

  I don’t believe it. Everyone knows the police hate Dregs. It’s a prerequisite for joining up – pretty much the only prerequisite. That, and a love of violence, of course.

  “They’re swarming over this Cirque looking for you,” he carries on. “We have to get you out, now. Amina said something about an equipment box?”

  I nod, dumbly; this wasn’t what I was expecting.

  “You need to get back in it.”

  “I can’t,” I tell him. “I’m giving myself up.”

  Now it’s his turn to look confused.

  “They’ve got Hoshiko!” I cry.

  “Look, you playing the martyr isn’t going to help her. They know you’ve been with her – you didn’t do a very good job of hiding your trail.”

  He’s far too calm about all this. Why can’t he see how urgent the situation is?

  “They’re probably torturing her right now! Why are you wasting time on me? She’s the one in danger!”

  “I know that, but I’m not one of the bloody Cirque magicians, am I? Let’s get you out and to safety, and then we can work out if there’s anything we can do about your girlfriend.”

  “You mean there might not be?”

  He looks at me, and shakes his head slowly. “Honestly, mate, you need to prepare yourself for the fact that we probably won’t get her out of here. She’s locked up; if I just walk up and try to move her, they’ll smell a rat.”

  “But we can’t leave her!”

  “OK, you’re worried about her, I get that. But you won’t help anyone in this state. Calm down, get in that box, let me get you out of here to somewhere safer and then we’ll see what we can come up with.”

  He looks towards the door, nervously. “Any minute now we’re going to be joined by my less sympathetic colleagues, and you certainly won’t see her again if you’re both under lock and key.”

  Is he genuine? He has a friendly face; his mouth turns naturally upward, so it looks like he’s smiling all the time and his twinkly green eyes look kind. If he wanted to harm me, he could have done that already. There must be a reason why he hasn’t called anyone else.

  The sense of what he’s saying registers. If I’m going to get her out, I need to trust him. What choice do I have?

  “I’ve got to be calm, I’ve got to be calm, I’ve got to be calm.” Reciting it under my breath like that helps to keep the panic fluttering in my chest contained.

  “I’ve got to be calm, I’ve got to be calm, I’ve got to be calm.” I keep repeating it in my head as we hurry back to the san and I climb back into the box, as he lowers the lid and darkness descends, and as I feel the box move, wheeled down the corridor to God knows where.

  HOSHIKO

  It’s ages before Silvio returns and, straight away, it’s obvious something’s changed. He’s not tense any more; he’s back in control.

  He smiles at me, leaning in really close so that it’s hard not to flinch. Then he treads, very carefully and deliberately, on my burnt feet. The pressure of his weight sears through to the bone, but I’ll never let him see my pain. I stare back into his face, unblinking.

  “Hoshiko.” He’s shaking his head at me, fondly. “I know you. I know how you work, know how stubborn you are. We’d be here all day if I let this go on.” He grinds his feet down. “Never mind, I think I have a quicker way. Come with me.”

  He grabs me by the arm, pulling me out of the trailer and across the courtyard. The fact that I’m injured is hardly relevant, given the circumstances. He drags me across the Cirque, into the arena. A hushed silence fills the vast room. What’s he got planned?

  He sits down in one of the seats, leaning back, arms crossed.

  “I know you, Hoshiko. I told you. Doesn’t matter what I do to you, you won’t talk. Now, have a good look around. See anything to make you change your mind?”

  The gleeful, excited look in his eyes makes my blood run cold.

  I look around the arena, look in the stalls and on the stage. I look at him again, and his eyes flick upwards. I raise my lids, slowly, and look up at the wire, at my wire.

  There, high above our heads, the silhouette of a body hangs. Suspended, swaying gently like a huge pendulum – a grotesque parody of how it once swung on the trapeze during the shows.

  Silvio clicks a button on a remote he pulls from his pocket. The screens light up, confirming what I already know.

  It’s Amina.

  I don’t really know what happens
next. Everything around me disappears and it’s just me, looking through a dark tunnel. At the end of that tunnel is Amina, dangling there, swinging backwards and forward.

  Dead. Dead because of me.

  I think I might be crying, might be screaming, but I’m not sure. I’ve split into a thousand pieces: there are fragments of me everywhere.

  Silvio must realize that there’s no point trying to get anything coherent out of me right now because he hauls me back down the corridor, towards the cells.

  He stops, suddenly, and pivots back round in the other direction.

  “On second thoughts, let’s put you in here instead. There’s some real food for thought here, literally in some cases. Once you’ve stopped being so weak and hysterical, you can have a good look round and see where you’re going to end up.” He laughs, and pushes his face close to mine, so that all I can see are his dark eyes, glinting. His breath is rancid.

  “We don’t like to waste anything here at the Cirque: have a good look round the Recycling Room, Hoshiko. I shall enjoy thinking of you in here!”

  He pushes me into the room and I hear the sound of the door being locked from other outside.

  I don’t register anything about where I am, or take in anything about my surroundings, not for ages. It’s a long, long time until I calm down. Until the strange wailing sound, which I guess must be coming from me, stops.

  Exhaustion finally wins and there’s just the shell of me, rocking backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, like the swinging body on the wire.

  BEN

  I’ve never felt so useless in all my life.

  All those times I watched my mother going off to work in her big car. I used to feel proud of how important she was.

  Dreg Control Minister. I never even though about what it meant that much. When I was younger, it was enough that all my friends’ parents thought she was so great, that we got to go to all the top football games, got the best tables in all the most expensive restaurants. As I got older though, I didn’t want to know. That’s the truth.