The audience, all ten of them, stopped rustling their toffee papers. Kitty Quickblade’s act was about to start. She was done up to the nines in a silver tunic tied with ribbon, which I’d sewn in place backstage. As for my fine costume, it was still the dung-green clown suit. And as usual my hair was plaited tightly and tucked under my hat.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Mighty Ned boomed. ‘We bring you a chilling spectacle . . . A routine where one mistake could mean instant DEATH!’
The crowd gasped.
Ned was laying it on specially thick tonight. Perhaps he’d been told to; perhaps he was still in a sulk with me. Either way, my knees shook hard. If things went wrong tonight, I’d be for it. I’d wave goodbye to any dreams of being the showstopper. Or any notions of staying here at all.
As Kitty bowed to the crowds, I did the same, flashing my best smile till I almost began to enjoy myself.
‘Get in place, weasel!’ Kitty hissed when she saw what I was doing. ‘And stop showing off!’
Reluctantly, I went over to the corkboard. It was round, the size of a table top. All I had to do was stand against it. Yet as Kitty faced me, my whole body started trembling. Her eyes were slits as she shifted the blade between her fingers. A cold sweat crept down my back. I tried to make myself still as a dead thing, all the while my brain screaming ‘Run for your life!’ Next time I’d ask for a blindfold.
Kitty raised her arm. Flicked her wrist just a fraction. The knife spun through the air. It whizzed past my left ear and went thwunk into the board behind me. I breathed again, though I’d barely drawn air when a second knife went whoosh past my right side. A ringing filled my ears. The blade, still quivering, tickled my cheek. Now I couldn’t move my head.
Zip. Another knife skimmed my left elbow. Then the same on my right side. I twitched in alarm. Kitty took aim, tipped her hand. A glint of steel, then thwack thud as the final knives hit the board either side of my legs. The spectators clapped half-heartedly.
Kitty turned to the crowd. Mighty Ned started speaking. I supposed this was my cue to move but I couldn’t. The knives snagged my sleeves and trouser legs, leaving me pinned like a butterfly in a glass case. I tried wriggling my arms, then . . .
Thwack thud.
My heart stopped. Directly above my head a new knife stuck out of the board. I glared at Kitty, who gave me a nasty little wink. This time the audience clapped with gusto. Kitty bowed to the crowd. Then she turned and tried to tell me something with her eyes.
‘What?’ I mouthed.
She nodded furiously. A snigger went through the audience. She ‘shooed’ with her hands at the board behind me. Then I realised: she wanted her knives back.
My entire outline was marked out by daggers. A couple of sharp yanks freed my arms. Reaching up, I grabbed the other knives. Most came out easy enough, though my trouser leg tore. But the finaI blade had caught in my hair. Across the ring, Kitty eyed me coldly. People began talking and shifting in their seats. Try as I might, the knife wouldn’t budge.
Screwing up my eyes, I jerked forwards. The pain was fierce, the ripping sound even worse. Then I was free. A great hunk of hair hung from the knife. The crowd cheered and clapped like mad things. It beat the sound of being scalped alive any day of the week.
Clearly Kitty didn’t think so. Crossing the ring, she looked ready to thrash me. ‘Get that last knife out! Quickly!’
She tried distracting the crowd but by now they were cheering for a different kind of act.
‘Swap over, why don’t you?’ A man shouted out. ‘Let the red-haired lassie do the throwing, and the dark one take the brunt.’
‘Too right!’ yelled someone else. ‘Poor girl. It ain’t fair she gets to risk life and limb. I’d rather it was t’other way round.’
More laughing and jeering. I didn’t dare look at Kitty. And that stupid knife of hers still wouldn’t come free. Bracing myself, I heaved and heaved. But the damned thing stayed bedded up to its hilt.
Her face appeared right next to mine. ‘You’re useless, weasel.’
I despised her more than ever. Gripping the knife one last time, I imagined it was her neck. At last, with a kissing sound, it slid free.
Kitty wrenched it from my hand. As she did so her eyes went wide in surprise. The crowd gave an enormous jeer, as she spun round, arms flailing. A small white dog was swinging from her tunic.
‘Get him off me!’ she screamed.
Where Pip had come from, I didn’t know. He certainly wasn’t part of the act.
Now he wriggled and thrashed like a fish on a hook. He wouldn’t let go. I knew I should stop him, but I couldn’t quite move.
‘Get him off me!’ Twisting round, Kitty tried to grab Pip. I got to him first. His little body was all tight and bristling. I wasn’t sure I could hold him.
Then Mighty Ned’s voice filled the tent. ‘John Robinson, please come to the exit.’
It was the name no artist wanted to hear. It meant the act had gone so far wrong it had to be halted. The band struck up a tune, the lights brightened. Kitty stormed out of the ring, her tunic in tatters. Pip and me followed at a distance. The very thing I’d feared had happened; now I felt sick with dread.
Backstage, Ned gripped my shoulders and peered into my face. ‘What’s got into you, Louie?’
‘I . . . I . . . I don’t know.’ I was too embarrassed to meet his eye.
‘Well, you’ve run out of chances,’ he said, as if this was news to me.
The clowns and Rosa looked on awkwardly. There was no sign of Gabriel, which was a small relief. But still I wanted to curl up and hide. For my shame was their shame; one bad performance affected us all.
‘You were stealing the show with all that smiling and bowing,’ Ned said.
I shrugged. I’d enjoyed the crowd, they'd enjoyed me. Yet that was now a crime too, apparently.
‘And getting Pip to attack Kitty? That’s a low blow, Louie.’
‘I didn’t make him do it!’
Ned gave me an ‘I don’t believe you’ look. Tears sprang in my eyes. Why the heck was Ned siding with Kitty all of a sudden? I buried my face in Pip’s fur. There didn’t seem much left to say.
‘I’m going to put some proper clothes on,’ I said.
Once I’d changed out of the clown suit I thought I’d feel better. But even in my own frock with my hair loose again I still felt awful. Ned was right. And so was Kitty. I’d done myself no favours tonight.
Just as I was about to slope off, the backstage curtains flew open. Mr Chipchase came marching towards me.
‘What the devil!’ he bellowed. ‘Do you mean to ruin this circus, once and for all?’
Kitty was right behind him.
I shuddered. Mr Chipchase had given me another chance and I’d thrown it away. There was nothing I could say. I turned and made for the side of the tent. Pip raced ahead of me.
‘COME HERE THIS INSTANT!’ Mr Chipchase yelled.
I didn’t look back. Ducking under the canvas, I ran out into the night.
Halfway across the showground I slowed to a jog, unsure what I was doing or where I was going. I couldn’t go home. It’d be the first place they’d look for me. And Jasper had to be spared.
Pulling Pip to me, I hid behind the nearest tent. My heartbeat began to slow.
Then came footsteps.
Shadows fell across the grass. I held my breath and put a hand over Pip’s muzzle to stop him barking. Two figures approached. One was tallish, wearing a ringmaster’s hat. The other was squat like a toad.
‘I’ve let this go on too long,’ Mr Chipchase said.
‘But Louie’s marvellous,’ said Ned. ‘If you saw her, you might change your mind.’
‘That girl’s had every sort of chance!’
‘Not this chance, sir. And what with Gabriel Swift not being quite so special with his tricks . . .’ Ned stopped, letting it hang in the air.
Mr Chipchase didn’t reply. But I groaned silently, begging Ned to shut up.
‘See, sir,’ said Ned, ‘I’ve a notion someone is after Gabriel, someone who wants to find him quite badly. This man has a carriage, and money by the look of him. It won’t be long before he tracks us down.’
I cussed under my breath. Trust Ned to stick his nose in. All this talk about a man in a carriage was just gossip. It had a touch of sour grapes about it too. It wasn’t fair to take things out on Gabriel. Ned was just stirring up trouble.
‘Is that so?’ said Mr Chipchase.
‘If Gabriel goes, you’ll need a showstopper again, won’t you, sir?’
‘Yes,’ said Mr Chipchase. ‘And it won’t be Louie, mark my words.’
The shadows moved on.
It was too much to take in. I took a belly-deep gulp of air and, bit by bit, my mind cleared. So it was final. No showstopper chances for me. Ever. Sorry though I was for Gabriel, I felt sorrier for myself. My own mother hadn’t wanted me. And now the circus didn’t want me either.
It was time to leave.
My first thought was Jasper. He’d insist on coming with me, which was the very worst idea. He could hardly stand upright, let alone do a day’s work out in the big wide world. Staying here, he had a home at least. It was all anyone could hope for right now.
I decided to go quickly. Tonight, and not tell anyone. It was best that way. There’d be no goodbyes, no lingering glances. I’d not even take Pip. He’d be better off here with food and a warm bed, and Jasper, who’d need the company.
Dear Pip.
Oh heck. My chin trembled. Could I do it? Could I leave all this behind?
I looked down at my dog. ‘Go home, little man.’
He cocked his head at me but didn’t shift from my side.
‘Go home, Pip! Find Jasper!’ I pointed in the direction of our wagon.
He licked his lips but still wouldn’t budge.
‘Just go, you rotten dog! Go!’ I cried.
Pip’s ears went down. He looked up at me with huge wet eyes, then slid off into the darkness. I started to sob uncontrollably. My mam, I’d bet, was made of tougher stuff. She’d left me without a backwards glance.