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Ellie returned to the office to empty her thoughts onto the page. She powered up her computer and fetched herself some tea. Then she slumped in her chair and blocked out the ring of the telephones, the shuffle of papers, and the chatter of the news environment. It took a minute to realise her phone oscillated on her desk.
“Ellie? It’s Doris Kaun from the circus residences. There was a break in last night in the big top. Some of the men took a beating. I thought you should know. It paints a picture of some of the abuse this community deals with.”
This entailed precisely the sort of information that would win her brownie points with Marina, but as Ellie listened hard to Doris’s tale, she found her natural sympathies lay with the refugees. But how could she disregard the research Marina had provided her with that seemed to correlate a spike in crime with the arrival of the refugees? What was more, Marina’s warning couldn’t have been starker. Could there be any way for her to ignore Marina’s explicit instructions and protect her own skin?
When her conversation with Doris ended, Ellie hung up without offering the assurances the warden would have liked about the article she planned to write. So much had unfolded in the past few days that her mind had become saturated with unfiltered information. After a few moments, she started to write without knowing where her words would take her, as if the meditative quality of touching the smooth keys and hearing the accompanying rat-tat would propel her towards a decision and help her carve out the direction of her argument. Her fingers splayed across her keyboard, and she paused only to blow her fringe out of her eyes.
Marina would have her assignment before long.
That evening, Ellie shunned after work drinks and packed her journal and laptop into her bag, intending to finish her article from the comfort of her sofa at home. Her feet carried her in the direction of the circus before she knew it. She arrived a few minutes before showtime, and Doris slipped into the seat next to her.
“The crew managed to repair the damage?” said Ellie.
“The show must go on,” said Doris. “The tent was the least of their worries.”
“How’s Yusuf?”
“It wasn’t just him who got hurt.”
Ellie flushed, embarrassed at how easily the older woman sensed her softening towards Yusuf. “Of course.”
“The men are bruised and the animals are jumpy. It took hours to coax them back and one of the horses strayed as far as the train–”
The light dimmed and Emir strode into the ring in his top hat, his moustache groomed to perfection. He stood in the spotlight, warming up the crowd, flicking his hat into the air. It whizzed up like a rocket and he caught it with a flourish, but lacked his usual sense of joy.
Ellie found herself searching for Yusuf amongst the performers, her heartbeat elevated.
Enough tickets had been sold for the stands to be two-thirds full and the stars in the lining of the tent twinkled so fiercely that Ellie shielded her eyes. Still—although the band’s infectious beat took hold, performers twirled and leapt and flew through the air, and the animals did as commanded—somehow the show didn’t quite transport her to another fantastical world, as if the performers were somewhere else entirely, on an astral plane with Simeon, or willing the show to be over.
An invisible thread linked her to Yusuf. Her eyes followed him, taking in how he interacted with the other performers, checking to see if he walked differently following his altercation with the thugs. She thought he perhaps favoured his right leg, but that couldn’t be, because when he performed he made no mistakes.
Tonight, a mist of rain fell in the tent as he performed. His costume glistened, moulded to every part of him. He sprang from the trapeze, corkscrewed through the air, his body a whirl, though he seemed to require more effort than usual. He hesitated at the top of the bar, and winced when he landed.
She couldn’t look away from him, whether he stood in the ring or outside of it. As if her body had been filled with electrical impulses that buzzed when he neared and made him stand out amongst the colourful costumes and the diverse acts that vied for her attention. The sheer physicality of her reaction paired with her curiosity about him was not lost on her. She’d enjoyed past flirtations with men, but had never been enthralled by one.
Ellie excused herself from Doris after the show had ended in an explosion of colour and song, and hung back to speak to Yusuf once the crowd drifted away. As she approached, she found him checking a tear at the far side of the tent.
“Hi,” she said, tucking a lock of damp hair behind her ear. “It never stops for you, does it?”
He turned and his nostrils flared. “You? Stop hanging around like a bad smell.”
“Oh.” She wanted to fall into the ground. She should have stayed away. Why would he be so angry when she had helped the boy? “I didn’t mean to step on any toes.”
His grey eyes glowered. “We’ve had enough trouble around here. Things are complicated enough without journalists involved. And I know the calibre of your newspaper.”
Ellie raised her chin, piqued by the question mark he’d raised about her integrity. Why was she here, spending all her time on this story, when she could be at a bar with Tom, or reading a book, or doing anything but standing here talking to a man with a planet-sized chip on his shoulder? Yusuf must know she’d never use her words to cause harm. “I don’t know what anyone’s said to you, but I only write what’s fair.”
“You expect me to trust you?” Up close, beads of rainwater and sweat pooled on his skin.
“Why wouldn’t you?” She fixed her eyes on his face, on the hazel flecks dancing in their depths, and the crescent shadows beneath.
“People say things all the time. It doesn’t mean they’re true. The minister said this would be a glittering new start, but he was wrong.” He gestured to the tent. His voice caught, and he pressed on through the weakness. “It all turns to dust.”
“The crime the circus attracts must take its toll. It can’t be easy, but there are people who want to help you.” She took in a deep breath. “You were happy enough to accept my help with Simeon.”
“I had no choice.” He met her eyes and didn’t flinch. “Now leave us alone. We don’t need your attention, or your charity. We definitely don’t need your meddling.”
He disappeared into the black velvet tunnel exiting the tent. It swallowed him whole, leaving Ellie behind, reminding her of how much rode on her article for them all.
“This?” Marina threw the article at her in disgust.
At the top of the page, the draft headline stood out:
A CIRCUS FOR US ALL
By Ellie Richter
“This is what you’ve come up with? What is this? A bloody arts review? A piece of multicultural bullshit? What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m sorry. It’s just–” said Ellie.
Marina scooped up the article and her eyes resumed darting across the page. “Where’s the eye witness account of the stabbing? The universe presents you with an opportunity and you forget to include it?”
“I didn’t think it was appropriate or fair to the victims,” said Ellie.
Marina screwed up the page. “There was one victim and one perpetrator, Ellie. You wouldn’t have named them, but you could have written a lead article. Instead, you balls it up again. I warned you–”
Ellie held up her hands. “Wait a minute, just wait, Marina. I wrote two articles, but that’s the one I want you to use.”
Marina simmered with annoyance. She threw down her pen. “You did what?”
“I wrote two articles. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t listen to your instructions, or I didn’t want to put in the hard miles. I’m willing to graft. It’s just, the story you wanted–which is right here in this file–didn’t sit right with me.” Ellie handed over the second draft.
Marina huffed, and glanced over the second sheet.
Heat curled down Ellie’s spine as she waited. The tension in Marina’s office had leapt up the scale within seconds of Ellie entering. She must have done enough to show her commitment to the job. But she refused to abandon her principles. How was it that despite her best intentions, Ellie always managed to fall foul of authority? She’d been up until the early hours tweaking the first article. It was good. She knew it. The second one she’d written as an afterthought, feeling like a puppet to Marina’s puppet master, although she hoped with a fervour that Marina would see the journalistic integrity in the first account.
Marina flung the copy aside. “You’ve spent about three minutes on this Ellie. There’s no meat in it. And the first one...” She grimaced. “It’s simply not what I asked for. How are your instincts so wrong? You’ve severed your chances at BAZ. Your word craft is impressive for someone just starting out, but you have a problem with authority. I can’t work with someone like you.” Marina’s hand movements grew more and more erratic.
Ellie’s adrenalin spiked. Marina questioning her character stung. How had she managed to mess up again? Surely, she’d not entirely missed the mark? She stood her ground, despite wilting inside.
“I stand by the first article. Maybe read it again? See what you think.”
“Are you incapable of listening? It’s a no, Ellie. I’m not running it.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t include the stabbing. I can write that in if you like. I just thought readers wouldn’t have stomached that over breakfast.”
“Our readers love gore and tragedy. It brings them back for more. You know what your problem is? You want to crack the mould open every time you write.”
Dread gnawed at Ellie. The situation had spiralled out of control. “I think you’re wrong. Readers are more intelligent than you give them credit for.”
“Enough, Ellie. I’ve no time for this. Even with all your issues with authority, I thought you could be my protégé. I was mistaken,” said Marina. The passion bled out of her voice, leaving her cold and haughty.
“Marina–”
“I don’t want any excuses. I hope you have something to fall back on, because you’re out on your ear. Good luck finding something else. Jobs like these are few and far between. You blew it.”
Ellie took a deep breath. She couldn’t understand why Marina was being even more rigid than usual. Yes, she’d messed up in the past, but she’d tried really hard to find the heart of this story. Why couldn’t Marina see that? “Marina, please. If I just explain why I wrote what I did, the stories I found, the humans underneath...”
“I asked for a crime story!” Marina banged her fists on her desk and stood, glowering across the short distance between them.
Ellie’s mouth twisted into a grimace. With all Marina’s faults, she usually listened with a more open ear, even if eventually she decided to follow her own instincts. Today, her prickles had become claws. But what choice did Ellie have? The crime story brimmed with dishonesty and lacked understanding of the wider issues. “You know, if you got to know them, came with me to the circus maybe, you’d see–”
“I’m answerable to the board, Ellie. How do you think this all works? I’ve been in newspapers all my life, and I have never, never, seen someone squander this much talent. Do the hard miles, then maybe one day you can call the shots. The only reason I’m taking any time to explain anything to you is because you’re just starting out. Now, for the love of God, just get out of my office, pack your things and don’t come back.”
“Marina...”
She pressed the intercom. “Tom, get in here.”
Ever the eavesdropper, Tom fell through the door.
“Ellie’s failed her probation. Escort her out of the building, please. Everything stays...her laptop, her mobile. She’s no longer welcome here.”
Ellie went, quiet and ashamed, while her colleagues looked on. Tom waited, sympathetic, while she put her things in a tote bag. Beyond her coffee cup and a favourite pen, there wasn’t much else.
“I can’t find my journal,” said Ellie.
“Go, please, before Marina yells. I’ll send it on,” said Tom.
She nodded, and he cupped her by the elbow.
Ellie burned with humiliation and remorse while they waited by the lift. Perhaps she shouldn’t have pushed so hard to have her way. She’d blown it, but something else was at play. Why would a story that would usually be buried on page ten or eleven of the newspaper have gained such importance for Marina? And why had her approach been so rigid? Yes, Ellie had been warned to better heed instructions, but she could have sworn that Marina’s bark was worse than her bite. Either her impression of Marina had been mistaken or something lay hidden beneath the surface.
Ellie could have walked away, but her nature wouldn’t allow it; every instinct told her to stay with this story. She dug her heels in and resolved to find out the truth.
