Down the Road to Gundagai

by Jackie French

  Blue didn’t want to see either the bear or a bearded lady. I’m a freak too, now, she thought. A shadow of something large moved, over behind the Big Top. The elephant. Blue looked around. The circus people all seemed occupied. She shuffled away from the crowd, towards the shadow.

  Then, suddenly, there was the elephant, in a small courtyard made by three circling caravans, two rounded and with peeling paint, the third of carved wood, just like a gipsy caravan in books. A big truck and one side of the Big Top, broken by the performers’ entrance, completed the enclosure.

  The elephant looked larger closer up. It peered out from behind a pile of hay topped with a big shabby teddy bear. All at once its trunk came up, as though it were smelling her.

  Blue hesitated, then made her way past the nearest caravan into the courtyard. A voice inside snapped, ‘I don’t care what Madame says! I want to grow my hair long!’

  A woman’s voice muttered something placatory.

  The elephant dropped its trunk, curling it around a biscuit of hay. It lifted it into its mouth, and chewed. Blue edged closer, next to the straw. The elephant swallowed its hay. Slowly, very slowly, the big animal stepped forwards. The massive trunk rose again. Suddenly its pink tip stroked the fabric of Blue’s sleeve.

  Blue held herself as still as she could. Elephants could be dangerous, couldn’t they? They could charge you, or gore you with their tusks. But this elephant didn’t have tusks. It didn’t even have a chain on its leg to stop it wandering into the crowd.

  She should walk away now, in case it got angry because she didn’t have a carrot to give it. If she had to run, she’d fall.

  But the elephant didn’t feel dangerous. The tip of its trunk gave her hand a final nudge. It felt moist and warm and friendly. The elephant stepped back. The trunk curled around another mouthful of hay.

  Blue stared at it. ‘Were you shaking hands with me? You were, weren’t you?’

  The elephant gave a long low snort. It sounded amused.

  She’d shaken hands with an elephant!

  ‘What are you doing?’

  A girl a year or two older than Blue scowled from the doorway of the caravan. She was beautiful, her dark eyes large, her smooth skin deeply tanned, her black hair as short as a boy’s. A long silk shawl hung from her shoulders to her knees, showing white silk stockings and small gold slippers. Only her fingernails were ugly, short and cracked as though from hard work. ‘No one’s allowed back here.’

  ‘I … I’m sorry.’ Blue turned. She shuffled as fast as she could towards the sideshow tents and the crowd.

  Was the girl still staring at her? No one else was going into the Big Top yet. She hesitated, then handed the hunchbacked dwarf at the Freak Show a sixpence.

  ‘See the grizzly bear,’ he told her, his face peering at her from between his shoulders. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘Me dad found it as a cub. It was brought up like one of the family. Blokes from the zoo have offered us a thousand pounds for that bear. But we wouldn’t part with it. Not old Bruin.’

  ‘You told the girls earlier your grandpa caught it.’

  The dwarf looked at her for two long seconds, then grinned. ‘Well, it’s like this. It went savage when it grew older, see? Toothache, that’s what it was. That’s when it terrified the village and Grandpa caught it.’

  ‘I see,’ said Blue. The hunchback had obviously decided she’d like a story about a loved little bear cub, while the girls before preferred to scream at the thought of a savage bear. She lifted the tent flap and went inside.

  It was hot, crammed with objects and filled with shadows. The only light came from a high kerosene lantern attached to the tent’s central pole. A young man and woman peered into a cracked glass cabinet. Blue wondered what story the dwarf had told them.

  And there was the grizzly bear. It reared above her, its claws out, its jaws open, just as the dwarf had promised. It was also extremely dead and had been for at least half a century, if the worn patches on its coat were any guide. She peered up into its jaws. Those teeth were fake too: carved ivory, she thought. The poor dead mouth wouldn’t have been able to shut if it had really contained teeth like that.

  She looked more closely. Two lines around the bear’s suspiciously long midriff looked as if they had been sewn together; two bears, or at least one and a half bears, had been made into one.

  The young couple stood next to her now. ‘Look at it!’ whispered the young woman.

  The young man put his arm around her. ‘Bet I could fight off a bear that big.’

  ‘It looks awfully savage.’ The girl sounded awed. She glanced around, then tentatively reached up to touch the bear’s giant teeth. She gave a squeal. ‘They’re sharp! What do bears eat, Stan?’

  Stan thought for a moment. ‘People. But you’re safe with me.’

  Blue looked at the bear again. It looks lonely, she thought. Bears should be in forests or caves, with other bears.

  She limped over to the glass case with its two-headed calf. It was definitely a calf, and definitely had two heads, but she suspected a taxidermist had been at work there too.

  She glanced up at the bearded lady. She was definitely alive, sitting on a chair on a small platform. She was a little taller than Blue and looked vaguely oriental, her long thin beard twisted into a dozen plaits, her arms covered in dark red and blue tattoos. The rest of the bearded lady was clothed in what Aunt Lilac would probably describe as an immodest silver lamé dress, tight across a broad bosom you could rest a cup on, with a wasp waist and plump hips, the silk-stockinged legs under the short skirt ending in feet enclosed in high-heeled silver sandals.

  The bearded lady winked at the young man. ‘Like a tug, ducky?’ She put out her chin. ‘It’s good luck to tug a lady’s beard.’

  The young man flushed, and shook his head. He and his girlfriend left the tent.

  ‘How about you, princess?’ The bearded lady grinned at Blue. ‘Like to tug my beard?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ said Blue politely. The stuffy tent was making her feel sick again.

  ‘Offer’s open any time, princess.’

  Blue shook her head. She shuffled towards the exit, then stopped. The big bear looked so forlorn, standing there, spending its life in a small hot tent like she spent her life now in a small hot bedroom. She lifted her hand to pat it farewell.

  Her bracelet! Blue stared at her wrist in horror, then at the ground. It must have dropped off! She tried to think. It had been on her wrist when she paid for her ticket. She must have dropped it somewhere here at the circus. But where?

  She retraced her steps in the tent, searching the shadows desperately.

  It wasn’t there.

  ‘You all right, princess?’ The bearded lady stepped down from her platform.

  ‘I’ve dropped my bracelet.’

  The bearded lady looked at her oddly. ‘In here?’

  ‘I don’t know!’

  ‘Don’t think you were wearing it when you came in here.’ The bearded lady sounded genuinely concerned. ‘Better ask Ginger. He’s the one outside. Don’t worry, princess. I’m sure it’ll turn up.’

  Blue nodded dumbly. She pushed aside the tent flap. ‘Excuse me?’

  The dwarf looked down at her from his ticket-selling perch.

  ‘I … I’m sorry … I’ve lost my bracelet. My mum and dad gave it to me. They … They’re … It’s not really precious, but it is to me. If anyone finds it, I can give them a reward.’ She thought of the money the man at the gate owed her. ‘Nine pounds.’

  The dwarf considered her. ‘Go see Madame Zlosky. She’ll know where it is.’

  ‘The fortune-teller? But fortune-telling is …’ She stopped. She’d been going to say nonsense. But if she offended the circus people, they mightn’t give her the bracelet back, if by any chance one of them found it. Probably someone in the crowd has already picked it up, she thought desperately. In times like these lots of people would be glad of the few pounds they could get for it.


  She tried to smile at the dwarf. ‘Thank you. If you do find it, could you send it back to me? I live in the big house down the road.’

  ‘Madame will find it for you.’ The dwarf sounded confident.

  Blue bit her lip. ‘Thank you,’ she said again. She shuffled back along the route she’d taken towards the elephant, hoping to see the bracelet’s gleam in the fading light. But there was no sign of it. Even the elephant was gone, somewhere beyond the caravans. She could hear the shuffle of its feet, the murmur of voices and the rustle of cloth.

  The bracelet wasn’t in the hay either. The teddy bear stared at her, forever watching and uncommunicative.

  Could the elephant have eaten her bracelet? She felt a chill of fear. Humans could choke on a fish bone. The elephant might choke on her bracelet. But it sounded as though the elephant was still all right.

  She shuffled back into the crowd and stared at the fortune-teller’s tent. It was ridiculous to think the fortune-teller could help. The bracelet must be in someone’s pocket, or on another girl’s wrist.

  But it was the only thing she could think of doing.

  The queue had vanished. Only one girl stood waiting by the fringed silk shawl that covered the tent’s entrance. She wore a cheap copy in green cotton of the dresses in the women’s magazines. It seemed to have been made from another dress, the old seams faintly showing across the hem. Her shoes were too big for her, as though they’d been borrowed from her mother for the occasion. ‘You going in?’

  Blue nodded.

  ‘Such things!’ whispered the girl. She had gaps in her front teeth, where a couple had already been pulled. ‘Madame Zlosky told Mavis that a man with four fingers would come courting her!’

  Blue tried to look properly amazed. ‘Really?’

  ‘You don’t understand.’ The girl lowered her voice even more. ‘Mavis is walking out with Billy Griggs, and he’s only got four fingers. Oh, Mrs Rundle,’ this to a middle-aged woman coming out of the tent. ‘What did she say?’

  Mrs Rundle’s eyes shone under her tattered hat. ‘She were wonderful. Said Andy’s dog wouldn’t win at the trials, but no use telling him not to try, none of my boys ever listens to their ma. And then she said …’ The woman hesitated. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you …’

  ‘Go on,’ prompted the girl.

  The woman’s voice was a whisper in the noise of the crowd. ‘She said that our Ellen’s already expecting. A grandchild! Just think o’ that! The first of many, the fortune-teller said, and there’ll be one special, she promised me that, who’ll appreciate its gran more than anything in the world.’

  ‘Oh!’ The girl bit her lip at the wonder of it as she slipped under the shawl and into the tent. Blue felt dizzy and sick again. How long would she have to stand here?

  How could she have been so careless with her bracelet? She hadn’t even let them take it off at the hospital. Mum had touched that bracelet, and Dad too. She had to find it.

  Another wave of dizziness washed across her. She wished there was a chair, or even something to lean on.

  At last the silk shawl was pushed aside. The girl came out, her face flushed. ‘His name is John!’ she whispered. ‘Might be his first name or his middle name.’

  ‘The fortune-teller said you’d marry a man named John?’

  The girl nodded. ‘Maybe it’s his dad’s name or one of his brothers’ or friends’. But I’ll know he’s Mr Right when he says the name John.’

  Hadn’t Dad said that John was the most common name in Australia? That had been when they were deciding what to call the new baby. William for a boy (Mum grew sweet williams in their garden), Primrose if the baby had been a girl.

  ‘Come in.’ The voice sounded old, foreign and impatient.

  Blue stepped into the darkness. No light here, except a fat candle on the table, a frame around it draped with shawls so there was glow more than illumination. The seated figure was draped too, a shawl over her hair, another around her shoulders, despite the heat. The fabric glistened in the candlelight.

  ‘Zit down. Cross my palm wit ze silver. Zat means give me sixpence.’ The lips were rouged. The eyes were large and almost blue-white. They also looked slightly to one side.

  Madame Zlosky was blind.

  Blue sat awkwardly, her legs stretched in front of her. The woman in front of her sat still, as though she listened, then put out her hand. Blue slipped sixpence into it, then felt her own hand clutched. The old fingers were thin and hard, the nails sharp.

  ‘You are looking for somezing. I see a shine. Not jewels. Silver. A necklace … no, littler, ze bracelet. You search for ze bracelet …’

  The dwarf must have already told Madame Zlosky about the bracelet while Blue looked for it by the Big Top. Or else he’d sent a messenger.

  ‘Yes,’ said Blue wearily, wondering how long the farce would continue.

  ‘You love zis bracelet very much.’

  Blue nodded, then realised the old woman couldn’t see her. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Worry no more. Look under ze seat after the first act tonight. It will be there.’

  Someone has already found it, thought Blue, giddy with relief. If the old woman wanted to make a mystery of it, she’d go along with it — as long as her bracelet really did reappear.

  ‘Shall Madame tell you more?’

  Blue felt better sitting down, in the small darkness of the tent. ‘How much do I get for sixpence?’

  ‘I vill give you ze world for sixpence! You are named for ze flower. You live in ze big house.’ They weren’t questions, but statements.

  ‘Yes,’ said Blue. The man on the front gate must have told Madame Zlosky that too. When a girl shuffles in she’ll be from the big house.

  ‘You have had much, and have lost much.’

  Blue said nothing. It was a safe guess about anyone in the Depression. Even the rich had lost much in the past few years, though few had lost as much as she had. ‘What else can you tell me?’

  The blind woman considered. ‘You are at ze fork in ze road of life. You may go one way, or another.’

  ‘That’s true for everyone.’

  ‘But everyone is not called after ze flower, or lives in ze big house. You also think I am a fraud.’ Most of the accent vanished.

  ‘Like the world’s biggest grizzly bear?’

  The painted lips smiled. ‘It is the biggest bear. Now.’

  ‘Your accent is a fake too.’

  ‘No. My accent is real. It is the way my mother spoke.’ A shrug in the dimness. ‘I can use one accent, or another. Both are mine. Speaking two languages is not a fake. So why is speaking with two accents a fraud?’

  ‘Are you a fraud?’ Suddenly it felt good to ask questions. She’d had six months of not asking questions: What is it like to drown? Do ships sink fast? Will my scars look like this all my life? And now, how long will my life be?

  ‘You want the truth?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The blind woman nodded. ‘I think you are a girl who can hear the truth. Most want lies, sweet lies they can believe in, at least for a while. So. I am a fraud, and I am a true fortune-teller.’

  ‘You can’t be both.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You’re cheating people out of sixpence.’

  Madame Zlosky smiled. It was a genuine smile, showing teeth far too white to be real. ‘You heard the customers come from my tent. Do you think they got their sixpence worth?’

  Blue was suddenly reminded of Mr Sanders, her violin teacher, demanding she play for him to see how much her previous teacher had taught her. This tent was as far from the scent of polished wood and Persian carpet of home as it could be, but the sense of being tested was the same.

  This woman wanted an answer to her question. A good one.

  Blue considered. The woman and the girl had looked happy. No, not just happy, enthralled. Blue shook her head reluctantly, then remembered the old woman was blind. ‘They had their money’s worth. But you didn’t really tell their fortun
es.’

  ‘Believe me, I did. They will probably even come true.’

  ‘Only probably?’

  ‘There are many futures.’ Somehow the cliché sounded like the truth too. ‘There are the futures we can make, and the ones we can expect. Then there are the ones that jump on us like a thief in the night, taking all our happiness. There are also …’ the old voice spoke softly now, as though remembering something too far away ‘… the futures that creep up on us, bringing more joy than we could dream.’

  ‘Which sort of futures do you tell?’

  ‘The futures we can make, of course. Tell a bitter woman that she will find happiness, and she will start to look for it. Tell her a grandchild will love her, and she will treat each grandchild with love — in case it is that one who is to be the most adoring — and make the fortune come true. Tell a lad that if he saves his pay he will have a home and family, and he may stop drinking his wages, or spending his shillings showing off to girls he does not care about at the circus. Those who come to a fortune-teller want to be told they have a future, especially now. I do not give them lies. I give them truth.’ She shrugged. ‘Or what they can make become true.’

  ‘But you are telling me what’s true,’ said Blue slowly.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you are the girl from the big house whose dress rustles when she walks. So I will tell you another truth. Soon — tonight, tomorrow — you must choose between life and death.’

  ‘Whose life and death?’ Blue heard her voice shake.

  Madame Zlosky shrugged. ‘Yours, of course. And that, I think, is enough for sixpence. Go.’

  Blue struggled to her feet. The blind woman’s head was tilted as though she were listening to hear her walk out.

  Blue shuffled her way out of the tent past a young man and woman holding hands. Easy to predict for them, she thought. Marriage and a happy life, if they had hope and luck and worked hard. You just had to look at their faces, the way their fingers entwined, to see what they wanted to hear.