Now I’d got my view back, I wasn’t budging for anyone. The finale was starting.
A blue painted wheelbarrow emerged from behind the curtains on the platform. Blondin had done it before, of course. I’d seen the headlines: ‘HERO OF NIAGARA PUSHES LIVE LION IN WHEELBARROW.’ It was madness. I only hoped Gabriel was still watching.
Up on his platform, Blondin waved with one hand. He then took the barrow’s handles. Pushing it forwards, the little front wheel trundled along the rope. Then Blondin was on the rope too, stepping lightly, neatly as ever. I gripped the balcony rail, heart in mouth. The whole theatre fell silent.
Any second the lion would appear . . .
Blondin and his wheelbarrow were now halfway across the rope. But still no lion had shown itself. I began to wonder if it had fallen asleep, or if it had died of fright, poor brute. For I confess, I did feel a little sorry for it.
Blondin leaned forward. He seemed to be speaking to something inside the wheelbarrow. He looked vexed. He’d even let go of one handle and was pointing his finger in a telling-off way. As if by magic, a child’s head peeped out. I blinked. Stared again. Definitely a child.
The whole theatre drew breath together. It wasn’t a happy sound.
Gripping the sides of the barrow, the child moved into a crouching position. She stood with agonising slowness. Or almost stood, for she wouldn’t let go of the sides. She was a dear little thing; I’d have guessed about six years old. A crown of flowers sat lopsided in her hair. And her face was white with fear.
A lion I could just about stomach. But even for me, raised in the circus, this was too much.
‘Great heavens! Poor mite!’ said a woman next to me. ‘I’ve not got the nerves to watch this.’
I had to agree.
Slowly, the wheelbarrow trundled forwards. Blondin spoke to the child again. This time she let go with one hand and waved to the crowd. Few people waved back. Bending stiffly, she scooped something up from the bottom of the barrow. She stood with a fistful of rose petals, which fell through her fingers like snow.
The petals were a pretty distraction at first, and the girl herself almost smiled. Then she wobbled. Her arms flailed. As she sat down with a bump, the barrow lurched sideways. The entire theatre groaned. I was sure the whole lot would go crashing to the ground. Then miraculously the barrow righted itself and the crowd went ‘aaah’ in relief. Even Blondin managed a shaky grin. I felt sick. The only sign of the girl now was a tiny hand, still gripping onto the side. It was pitiful.
‘She’s his own daughter, apparently,’ said the same woman. ‘What kind of parent would do that to their own flesh and blood?’
I shook my head. I didn’t know. Or maybe I did, for an ache had started under my ribs. I glanced about for Gabriel, but still couldn’t see him. The crowd was growing more unsettled. There were tuttings and murmurings. Some people began to leave.
Then behind me a man started cursing. ‘That blasted devil! How dare he? How DARE he?’
I turned. The gent in the too-tall top hat stood just a few feet away. He was waving his fist and staring upwards.
‘Has he no shame?’ he went on. ‘Has he not a single, solitary idea of his own?’
The rant seemed directed at Blondin. Or rather the empty tightrope above our heads, for Blondin had made a sharp exit himself.
This man was mad, I decided, as people scurried past us. There was space around him now, and for the first time I got a good look at him. His clothes were dark like a towner’s, and yet he wasn’t a towner, not quite. His cravat was too bright, his shirt cuffs a bit too fancy. And his side whiskers weren’t the normal mutton-chop kind but groomed into sharp points along his jawbone.
He caught me staring. His fist fell to his side. ‘Good evening,’ he said, touching his hat. ‘Did you like the show?’
His eyes were a strange, silver shade. They made me rather flustered. ‘Yes . . . I mean . . . no.’
‘An interesting answer,’ he said.
He had an air about him. Like a man who knew his business, I thought with a shiver, whatever business that might be. The crowd jostled us apart and I lost sight of him. I was glad of it too.
*
Back outside, the street was busy with carriages and people saying their farewells. There was still no Gabriel. I asked a few punters if they’d seen a blond-haired lad in a dark suit. But it wasn’t much help. A crowd this size held many such boys and not one of them was Gabriel. Then, all too quickly, the last of the carriages left and the street fell quiet. It started to rain. A sinking feeling took hold of me. I needed a plan. Just don’t think of home, I told myself.
First thing to find was a doorway to sleep in. I set off in the direction the carriages had gone. It brought me into the town square. Tall buildings loomed dark on all sides, throwing their shadows across the cobbles. It was as quiet as the dead here. Not the sort of place I fancied spending the night. I hurried on.
Out of nowhere came a rumbling sound. It got louder. Closer. There were hoofbeats too. Turning, I saw the lamps of an approaching carriage. The horses drew alongside me and a window slid down.
‘Have you no home to go to, young lady?’
Without even looking, I knew who it was. The gent’s voice was like his clothes; almost a rich towner’s, but not quite. My heart thudded against my ribs. ‘I’m on my way,’ I lied.
‘Then can I offer you a lift?’
I had wits enough not to get into a stranger’s carriage.
‘My mam’s expecting me,’ I said, ‘and she’ll wallop me one if I’m late.’
‘Really?’ said the top-hatted man, like this was a private joke. ‘How fortunate you are to have such a caring mother.’
I shot him a glance. His face with its sharp side whiskers seemed to hover beside me. The uneasiness spread to my stomach.
Soon as a side alley appeared I ducked down it. I heard the carriage stop, the man call out. I broke into a run. The alley led into a narrow court so dark I couldn’t see where I was treading, though the stench was terrible enough. I stood flat against a wall, hardly daring to breathe. The man didn’t follow me. Eventually, the carriage moved on. I waited a bit longer to be safe, then went back out to the street.
The rain was falling steadily now. My head ached and the sinking feeling came back stronger. Don’t think of home, I reminded myself. Think of anything but home.
There were no doorways to sleep in, just walls and gates bolted shut. I kept walking. Walking. And don’t think of top-hatted men. It wasn’t much of a choice, being heartbroken or scared silly. My thoughts turned to Blondin. Only that wasn’t much comfort either. I felt totally bewildered, as if someone had told me the sky was actually green. Blondin was my hero. Had always been my hero. All these years, I’d followed his every step.
Now all I saw was his daughter’s fingers gripping that wheelbarrow. She’d been terrified. It just wasn’t right. Parents were meant to protect their children. That was how it worked. Or was supposed to work. It hadn’t been like that for me.
One thing I did know; my dream to walk the high wire was fast becoming a nightmare. Even Blondin, it turned out, wasn’t so ‘great’ after all. Maybe it was time to wake up. But to what? Walking the high wire was all I had. Abandon the dream and I was a nobody. A nobody whose own mother didn’t even want her.
By now I felt too exhausted even for tears. My frock was soaked through and my hair stuck like rat’s tails to my face. All I wanted was to lie down and sleep. Up ahead was a shop selling eyeglasses. A covered doorway fronted the street; I made for it like it was the Ritz itself. The door had a big advert on it: ‘SEE EVERYTHING!’ it said above a picture of a dog wearing glasses. The dog was white like Pip, and it made me get a lump in my throat. I’d seen too much tonight. I didn’t want to see any more.
*
I must’ve dozed off in the doorway. Next thing, I heard footsteps. I sat bolt upright. It was that man in the top hat, I knew it. Heart pounding, I shrank back into the doorway and got ready to bite, kick, whatever it might take.
A pair of enormous feet stopped right in front of me. I’d have known them anywhere. I almost laughed with relief. ‘What you doing here, Ned?’
‘Gabriel reckoned I’d find you in town. Said he’d seen you at Blondin’s show.’ He peered into the gloomy doorway. ‘Why you sleeping here?’
So Gabriel hadn’t run off. He’d gone home, and I’d never see him again. I tried hard to think of something else.
‘What d’you want, Ned?’ I said.
He laughed. ‘Ain’t you going to invite me in?’
‘Not funny.’
‘Come on, then.’ Taking my arm he tried to pull me upright.
‘I ain’t going anywhere.’
He must’ve caught sight of my face in the gaslight, for this time his laugh sounded strained. ‘Come on, Louie. Don’t muck about.’
As he tugged at me again my nerves snapped. ‘For pity’s sake, don’t you get it? I ain’t mucking about. I ain’t going back to Chipchase’s!’
And I started to cry in big messy sobs. Ned ducked into the doorway and crouched beside me. I wiped my face and got to my feet.
‘There’s no place for me at the circus anymore. You saw me tonight. I was useless. I’m ruining it for everybody.’
‘You’re doing better than some.’
He meant Gabriel, of course. ‘Save your bad mouthing, Ned. You’re just making trouble. And why on earth did you tell Mr Chipchase about that man asking questions?’
‘How did you know about that?’ he said, looking shifty.
‘I heard you, you great clot.’
‘Well, Mr Chipchase was mighty interested.’
‘But it’s just stupid gossip!’
‘You don’t know that,’ said Ned, so smug I wanted to scream.
I tried to push past him but he blocked the doorway.
‘Get out of my way.’
He didn’t move.
‘I’m warning you, Ned Bailey, I’ll thump you if I have to.’
He sighed wearily. ‘Mr Chipchase sent me to find you. He wants to speak to you.’
‘Don’t talk daft.’
‘It’s true.’
‘And what does he want me for?’ I snorted. ‘To be Kitty’s living target again?’
‘He’s actually been worried about you,’ said Ned. ‘Word is he didn’t even touch his supper.’
‘Shock! Horror!’ I said, for Mr Chipchase had the appetite of a giant. He was forever popping buttons off his waistcoats that muggins here had to sew back on.
‘Well, I’m not going back there. I’m decided,’ I said.
Ned folded his arms. ‘Is that so?’
Minutes later, I was eating my words.