by E. L. Norry
My bladder prickled; they sounded closer now. If I ran, they might give chase, and then there was no telling what they’d do if they caught me. How many were there? Should I turn and face them? I was going to be sick.
“We should bash his head open to find out!”
I halted. I’d stopped so suddenly I feared they would crash into the back of me, and although I was no rider or acrobat, I wasn’t a coward either.
Furious, I turned round to see who dared speak such dark, horrifying words.
Five boys. Five! Bigger and older than me. Two of them had whiskers, and all wore tight little sneers.
I stood no chance!
Four of them took up a fighting stance, and the other boy, the stockiest, hunkered down and then charged with both arms out, shoving me in the middle of my chest.
I rocketed backwards but didn’t fall over.
“Looks like he’s been eating mud!”
“Ha! Push ’im harder! Go on. You can get him down if you try hard enough.”
They circled round and pushed me back and forth amongst them, like I was a ragdoll. Something wet and foul struck my cheek – spittle.
I couldn’t escape now. I had no idea what to do. I closed my eyes and murmured a silent prayer.
THWACK!
A punch, especially one you don’t see coming, is a mighty surprise.
CRACK!
My nose! I dropped to my knees. Instinct kicked in and I shielded my face with my arms, covering my head as best I could, but they were grabbed and pinned behind my back. My cheek was struck.
In my mind, I blocked my ears to the taunts. I prayed this would all be over soon. I squeezed my eyes tight, trying to conjure up Mother’s voice and remember comforting words she’d say late at night, if George and I had had a bad day. ‘You’re my boys. My boys. You pay those wicked words no mind. The two of you are perfect. There is nothing wrong with you. Kindness is not a colour and nor is humility, or grace. You hush now and do not think any more about it!’
If I said and did nothing, perhaps they’d move on to some other awful sport. But it took them a while before they tired of terrorising me.
I was kicked in the ribs. My fingers were grabbed and stamped on. I tried to curl further and further into myself and then the world went black.
“You all right there?” A voice: young and sweet.
I tried opening my eyes, but it was a monumental effort. I licked my lips, only to find them puffy and sticky: blood. My head pounded like the mallets hammering the stakes into the circus ground.
She cleared her throat. “Can you sit up?”
I managed to open one eye to see a small, skinny girl kneeling over me. White-faced and freckled, with sticky-up black hair, and a white pinafore covered in so much mud you couldn’t be sure it had ever been white. She wore four or five ragged coats layered on top of one another. One was missing buttons, and the one I glimpsed underneath had huge tears.
We were next to a riverbank. She gripped my elbow and helped me into a sitting position. “Them lads! What pigs!”
She spat into the mud. “I threw an old shoe I found at one’s head and screamed ‘Murder!’ so loud they took off in a fright. Serves them right.” She grinned, revealing a large gap between her top teeth and a chipped, jagged bottom row. “Wish I’d had a rock to bash them with. They fair beat you to mush.”
“Th-thank you,” I stuttered, not sure if I’d spoken aloud. My head hurt, my ribs ached and I urgently needed the privy.
“What are these?” She brandished scraps of the handbills I’d been giving out; they’d been torn to shreds. “Is this what they was after?”
“I-I’m with the circus. I was telling people about our next show and they just—” I couldn’t bring myself to speak of any more. The thought that I could be so hated, hated enough to be beaten by strangers, simply on account of the colour of my skin, or for being from the circus, or both, made me sick to my stomach. Sick and sad and as helpless and hopeless as I’d ever known.
Wasn’t life difficult enough? I remembered Mother’s warm arms and squeezed my eyes closed against hot tears. I threw an arm across my face so that this girl wouldn’t see.
“Hey, now!” she said, sounding firm and fierce. “You’re all right now. Come on. Don’t take on so! You ain’t got nothin’ broken; I don’t think anyways. They weren’t upon you but a second.” She rubbed her grubby palm in the grass before holding it out, nails filthy and raggedy. “Alma.”
I sniffed. “Ted.”
“Can I call you Teddy?”
“No!”
“Circus, eh? That sounds magical. Is it?” Her eyes shone like little chips of amber.
I sighed. “I’m new. Not sure I’ve seen much magic so far,” I griped. “Why are you out here? Where are your folks?”
She started picking mud and dried grass off her pinafore. “I runned away.”
“From who?”
“Not who. Where. The workhouse, and I can’t go back. Now I’m collecting stuff and selling it, if I’m lucky. I got me fingers in a few pies.”
“What do you collect?”
“Stuff that I find down here by the river. There’s all sorts of treasures thrown away that gets washed up. Coal, iron, copper. I get a good price for it.”
“Oi! Ted!”
I turned to see Larkin running full pelt towards us. He arrived panting and swearing. “Been looking all over for you! Cripes. Look at the state of you! Whatever has happened?”
We explained. Larkin didn’t interrupt, but his face grew serious and his eyes narrow and cold. “Those blockheads!” He uttered more profanities, which shocked me so much I almost put my hands over Alma’s ears.
At last he said, “Polly’s at the wagon. It’ll be dark soon. We’d better get going.”
“Larkin, this is my friend, Alma.”
“Hullo, Alma.” Larkin looked her up and down properly now; he sniffed and wrinkled his nose. “Come on Ted, let us get moving.”
“I’m comin’ and all,” Alma said, shoving handfuls of junk into her pockets and wiping her nose with her coat sleeve.
“Says who?” Larkin said.
“Says me. I saved your friend and I wanna see him in the circus.”
Larkin rolled his eyes. Alma may have been tiny, but we both knew this was a Miss to be reckoned with.
“Fine,” we both said together.
From behind, Larkin put his arms round my waist and hauled me to my feet in one swift, strong movement. He and Alma, on either side of me, dragged me limping, along the path, mud collecting up under my boots. I could barely see out of one eye; it was swelling shut. My upper lip was wet and warm, and every time my tongue touched it, I felt the slickness of blood. Trying to draw breath felt like my insides were creaking apart.
I must have been sniffling or crying because Larkin sounded gentle, and murmured, over and over, “Don’t fret. We’re nearly there, at the wagon. We’ll clean you up. It will be all right. You just need to … rest.” His voice cracked a little as he whispered, “You’re going to be all right.”
The three of us dragged each other along, shambling but undefeated, and the abbey, magnificent and eternal, rose up in front of us out of the dusk, stretching right up into the sky.
13.
Upon entering the circus tent, Pablo boomed, “What has happened?” and Larkin, in low tones, explained. The words came as if from far away. I was dimly aware of Alma’s hand on my arm and of water and cloths being requested. I was helped to sit down, but had no idea of much else.
Pablo’s breathing sounded quick and angry as he fired questions. “Who?” and “Where?” and “Why?” and Larkin replied, “Ted says they called us slaves and savages. That we deserve nothing better than to live tied up and in cages.”
Pablo strode over to where I was propped against a bench. He stared into my one open eye and tenderly touched his fingertips to it. “Let me help you clean up.”
His voice was like a caress. He eased me sideways on t
o a pile of straw. He dipped a cloth into a bowl of water and squeezed it out, his voice subdued as he spoke.
“People are attracted to, and fearful of, that which they do not have occasion to witness every day. Do you understand, Ted?”
He stroked the cloth over my forehead and dabbed gently under my eye, which was almost swollen shut.
As he did this, I stopped thinking about Mother. All thoughts about her ceased as it occurred to me that Pablo was being as gentle as Mother would have been, if she were here. He was taking tender care of me as best he could.
“For better or for worse, you, your brothers, Master Larkin and I are simply curiosities to those who have not travelled far, or read many books, because of how we look, of course. The colour of our skin. But with our behaviours we can demonstrate how we are as noble and talented as the very best of gentlemen. The word ‘savage’ does not apply to us!” and here he roared like a great lion, and my heart bloomed hearing his words, for they weren’t spoken in anger or fear, only with a wild pride.
“I performed in front of Queen Victoria herself, once. The best performance in the land. For nearly forty years no one dared suggest I was worth any less than they…” His shoulders slumped a little and he sounded dejected as he added, “A man of colour, they called me in the papers. A coloured gentleman.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?” I whispered, remembering the insults the boys had thrown like stones. “That the colour of our skin is the first thing people see? If they’re so blind, how will they ever see anything else?”
“It isn’t right, the way they sometimes talk about us, that is true. But, behave like a gentleman and you’ll be regarded as one, first and foremost. Circus life knows no colour.” He beamed. “Only talent, grit and respect. The horses are also considered wild, but once we agreed to respect one another, they let me command them. That’s why I was once the world’s best rider. You and George and Lionel have natural ability because my blood is your blood, and that which runs through us cannot be caged or tamed! We are not designed to sit around reading books; we should be on display, showing people what we can do. That we are champions!”
Surrounded by piles of straw, I lay bleeding and sore on a mattress, and I longed for Mother and blankets, but deep inside, Pablo’s words ignited a spark in my soul.
I vowed to make my father proud of me, for something. Somehow. I just didn’t know for what yet.
“And who’s this?” Pablo asked, nodding towards Alma, who was stood by the entrance, toying with the tent flap.
“I’m Alma!”
“Well, come here, girl. Let me look at you. Were you hurt in the skirmish?”
“Oh no, sir, they woulda been lucky to get a hold of me. It was me who chased them away, on account of screaming my head off.”
“That’s quick thinking. Would you and your family come to the circus this evening, as our guests?”
“I ain’t got no family, sir. I’m on me own.”
“No family? We all have family, somewhere. Where do you put your head down?”
She sucked at the fingers on her left hand. “I sleeps where I can. It ain’t so bad and it’s gettin’ warmer now. As fer family, well, I runned away from a nasty workhouse. All me family got dead. From the cholera. I’m of a mind to stay here, if you’ll have me. I just need a dry place to sleep.”
Pablo frowned, but kindly. “We have no space, but I can offer you a warm meal before taking you back to town. Polly will take care of you until the show and fetch you bread and dripping. We’ll leave Ted here to rest before he joins you in the audience.”
The next time I opened my eyes, Larkin was pacing, sneaking worried glances at me. He frowned, looked like he was about to say something, but changed his mind. “You want anything? Tea maybe?”
All I wanted was answers. Answers as to why this could happen, why people thought they could behave in such a manner. I couldn’t look at his face as I asked, “You don’t mind then? Being different and standing out?”
He shrugged one-shouldered, offhand. “Why should I?” His tone said otherwise, but perhaps I was mistaken. Maybe he really didn’t mind.
“I’ve just been beaten up because of what I look like! Because of who I am on the outside. But what does the colour of my skin reveal about me? Nothing!”
Larkin spat into the sawdust. “Being different is good for business. No one wants to pay to see people they see every day on the street.”
He was unquestionably made from stronger stuff than I. For all the hardship he’d encountered – prison, parents dead and years being sent up chimneys – he might as well have been five years older than me, not just a year. Who knows what else he’d seen, or how it had affected him?
Larkin flicked his hand dismissively. “You really think ‘William Darby’ would get as much attention as ‘Pablo Fanque’? Course not!”
“You don’t care if people call you lion boy, or ‘tinker’?”
“No. I can think of worse.”
“Like … ape noises?”
“Look, if people call us names, it means we got their attention, don’t it? If we look exotic, and different, what do you think they’ll tell their friends, eh? They’ll spread the word that we’re something to see. People want to see … wonders, Ted. To be close to the strange – whether it fascinates or scares them. Whether they like me or loathe me, if they’re here, then they ain’t ignoring me, are they? It’s all the same to us in terms of the money it brings in. Shillings means we get to eat for another day.”
My split lip trembled as I remembered how cruel the boys had sounded. “I don’t like it.”
“The gap between what you don’t like and what you can get used to … that’s a very big one indeed.”
I wiped my hand across my face. My voice was small. “I never want anything like that to happen again.”
“Better learn to fight then.”
“I don’t agree with fighting,” I croaked, clearing my throat.
“Ever see the boxer Jem Mace?”
“No.”
“What those lads done to you today, next time they come callin’, you’d best be ready, or you’ll end up dead in a ditch. You need to learn how to defend yourself. I’ll teach you. Stick your hands up.”
“Now? I can hardly move!”
Larkin laughed before moving alongside me. He took my hands and curled them into fists. “We’ll have you on your feet before long. In with the other training, I’ll show you how to throw a few punches. You won’t be riding no horses for a while now anyway, eh?”
He was right. For the first time in a while, I felt a smile start inside me.
14.
After a short rest, I was able to move about a little, though everything ached. My eye was still swollen, and I could only take shallow breaths because my ribs were tender and sore.
In the big tent, by the stables, I found Alma staring up at the horses in wonder.
“The circus will start soon enough,” I said.
“Ain’t they splendid beasts?” she cried.
I took a breath, carefully. I must be used to the smell of manure now, because I mainly smelt sweet hay.
“They are. I’m only now getting to know them. Pablo’s told me lots, but I can’t remember all their names, though that one there is Napoleon, and the other Bonaparte.”
“What’s the difference between a horse ’n a pony?” she asked.
I held my hands wide apart and snickered. “About this much!”
She tutted. “I’m not joking! Have you learnt nothing?”
“I have!”
“Such as?”
“Those three?” I pointed over to a group of horses huddled together. “They’re draught horses. They pull our wagons from place to place, but they don’t perform. The horses we ride are called resin backs because people put powdered resin on their backs to keep from slipping off – makes for a better grip.”
“See? So you have learnt things! And how long does it take to train them?”
“The people?”
“No, the horses!”
I thought back to what Pablo and Larkin had told me. “Nine months, Pablo says. Under strict conditions mind you, with experts looking after them.”
“What happens if a horse refuses to budge? They’re wild, ain’t they? I can’t imagine they’d listen to what you say, so what do you do then?”
I didn’t have any idea but imagined Pablo’s voice in my head clear as a bell.
“You have to know your horse. Every horse can become nervous around strange noises, or odd sights. Maybe he’s spotted a shaft of sunlight, or a coat slung over the ring fence, but you give a soothing word and shut the sunbeam out, or remove the coat, and then the horse will be ready to work again.”
“How do you get their stuff on them?”
“The best way is not to appear too bothered. Let him see the bridle and sniff at it, so he can tell there’s nothing to worry about. Then he’ll let you put it over his head. He needs to become used to an audience though; be familiar with hearing laughter and applause and the band.”
“Hark at you, Mr Circus Expert!” Alma tapped me good-humouredly on the arm, smiling.
I stepped back. Was she mocking me? But no, seeing her wide smile, I felt warm inside. She was right. I did know something. I’d told someone else about the circus. Me, Ted Fanque!
Pablo stood at the entrance to the stables, watching us. “You like what you see, miss?”
She turned to him. “Oh yes! They’re wonderful, ain’t they? Ted’s been tellin’ me all about them. I never seen any so close before!”
“Pablo …” I ventured. “Alma’s got nowhere to go.”
“Someone will be missing her.”
She swung her foot back and forth, kicking into the dirt. “No, they won’t.” She began sucking her fingers again.
“We can’t take in children off the street. I’m sorry, but we aren’t a charity.”
“Mister, what if I help? I can … look after the animals and feed them. I sew good, too. Please. I don’t eat much. You won’t hear a peep; I’ll stay out of the way. I never been somewhere like this, it’s wonnerful.”
“You imagine a circus to be a place of spangles and tinsel and lace; of blaring bands and funny clowns; of beautiful equestriennes and sleek, graceful ponies, of swirling, shimmering beauty? That’s only what we want you to see!”