Backstage was all kisses and smiles. How different it felt. Just days ago I’d been as wretched as can be. Now I was dizzy with happiness.
As the next act got started, I finally collared Ned.
‘I owe you a million thank-yous,’ I beamed.
He didn’t smile back. ‘The show must go on, Louie, even if some people aren’t up to it.’
He looked at my hand, still clamped around Gabriel’s, then turned on his heel and walked off. It left me feeling rather sore. There was no pleasing Ned Bailey these days.
Turning to Gabriel, I asked, ‘What happened out there?’
He looked deathly white. This wasn’t a case of eating bad cockles from the seafront. Something was very wrong.
‘It’s a long story, I’m afraid.’ He untangled his fingers from mine.
‘Are you going to tell me about it?’
He frowned. ‘Mr Wellbeloved has caught up with me.’
‘Caught up? What, to ask after your health?’
‘Hardly!’ Gabriel spluttered. ‘What I mean is, he’s here in Littleton to claim me back.’
This didn’t make sense.
‘For what?’ No offence to Gabriel, but in this state he wasn’t much use on the tightrope.
‘To perform.’ He saw the look on my face. ‘Oh, don’t worry, he’ll make me do it, no matter what.’
‘That ain’t right, not if you don’t want to. You must tell him, Gabriel. It ain’t fair!’
Gabriel shrugged. He looked hopeless. It made me want to help him, but I didn’t know how.
‘So how did he find you?’ Now I was frowning too. ‘You said he’d let you go. And we gave you a new name just to be sure.’
‘He followed me. Followed us. Said he questioned people who might’ve seen me, that sort of thing.’
My head started spinning.
Questions, eh? And to follow a travelling circus, you’d need . . .
I went awful cold.
. . . a carriage.
Oh heck. Could Ned’s fancy gent and Mr Wellbeloved be the same person? Oh hecking HECK!
Which brought me back to Ned. I felt suddenly sick. This was his doing, wasn’t it? What was he thinking? He should’ve kept his gob shut that day in the village. And he NEVER should’ve told Mr Chipchase. Even if it had helped me, which I very much doubted, it certainly hadn’t helped Gabriel. But then perhaps that was his plan.
I’d plenty to say to Ned Bailey, and none of it would be polite. Gabriel, meantime, was edging towards the exit.
‘I’m sorry Louie, but I really must . . .’
He stopped dead. The other performers parted like a sea. What colour he had left now drained from Gabriel’s face. Mr Chipchase came towards us. At his side was the tall-hatted man. I put on my best smile, but Mr Chipchase elbowed past me and went straight to Gabriel.
‘Look who’s come all this way to watch you tonight,’ Mr Chipchase said with a strained smile.
I waited for him to praise me. He didn’t.
‘Gabriel’s performances have been exceptional,’ he said to the tall-hatted man.
Really? I pulled a face. Did Mr Chipchase think this man was blind? But when I stepped forward, so he couldn’t keep ignoring me, he blocked my way. I grew more frustrated.
‘I can only apologise. I’d no idea he’d run away from you, Mr Wellbeloved,’ said Mr Chipchase.
It was true then. This man in the too-tall hat was Mr Wellbeloved. THE Mr Wellbeloved.
I ducked under Mr Chipchase’s arm for a better look. So this was Ned’s gent who’d asked questions. He was also the man I’d run away from in Sharpfield. Come to think of it, perhaps Gabriel had too; he’d certainly scarpered from the show pretty quick. He really was Mr Wellbeloved, whose name hung over our circus like smoke.
Yet why pretend that Gabriel had been such a success? Why all the big talk for him, who’d spent the show shivering on his platform, and none for me?
‘Apology accepted,’ Mr Wellbeloved said, touching the brim of his hat.
I trembled in excitement and a little bit of fear. For in the world of the circus, Mr Wellbeloved was royalty. Love him or loathe him, he had money and power, which oozed out of him like sweat.
To think how I’d given him lip when he’d blocked my view of Blondin! And how rudely I’d run off down an alley when he’d shown his concern. God knows what might’ve happened if I’d gone with him that night. I might even be his showstopper now. I must have sunk into a daydream of giddy thoughts, for it was then that Mr Wellbeloved’s attention fell on me.
‘And the girl?’ he said, pointing at me with his cane. ‘Her performance was most intriguing.’
It was a joy to hear praise at last.
Dodging around Mr Chipchase, I gave a little bow, and dearly hoped my talents had wiped clean any memory of Sharpfield. If Mr Wellbeloved did recognise me, he didn’t show it. His face was a mask. It was Mr Chipchase who seemed agitated.
‘It was her first performance,’ he said. ‘Beginner’s luck probably. Anyway, back to Gabriel . . .’
I cut in. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Wellbeloved. I’m glad you liked the show.’
He nodded. The corners of his mouth twitched. Then his attention moved to Gabriel.
‘Good evening, Master Swift,’ he said.
‘Good evening,’ said Gabriel.
It all seemed very polite. We might’ve been taking tea together, though I still felt confused.
‘Now listen,’ Mr Chipchase said. ‘Mr Wellbeloved has an offer to make. A very attractive offer, as it stands.’
Aha, the money part, I thought. Ned had mentioned a reward. Yet why was Mr Chipchase calling it an ‘offer’? It was still money for ‘claiming’ Gabriel Swift, who clearly didn’t want to go anywhere.
‘I came here tonight for Mr Swift,’ Mr Wellbeloved explained, ‘who, despite what he might have told you, is still under my employ.’
Gabriel flinched and took a step backwards.
‘Instead, I am greeted by this surprising performance. It has great potential, and I’m very interested in taking it to a bigger venue.’
My ears perked up.
‘But to be clear,’ he continued, ‘the offer is for one special performer.’
One of us? Which one? I was more confused than ever. Mr Chipchase took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. I glanced at Gabriel. He was still eyeing the door, his only way out.
‘That offer is to come to America, where truly great things will await you.’ Mr Wellbeloved looked directly at me. ‘In return, I will expect you to be ready for the challenge.’
America!
‘Oh lordy,’ I said. ‘That . . . would be . . . quite something!’
America! It was a faraway dream of a place. Blondin had gone there a nobody and come back a truly famous name. I couldn’t imagine anything finer. Yet I seemed to be the only person thinking it. Mr Chipchase kept wiping his face and Gabriel looked horribly grey.
For a beat, my eyes met Mr Wellbeloved’s. He gave a tiny nod of the head. I hardly dared breathe.
Would he choose me?
Gabriel Swift had the reputation, the looks, the experience. Yet he lacked the sensation part, the whiff of death. And tonight he’d gone to pieces. I didn’t suppose for one moment he’d want to go to America now. It pained me to see him so troubled. But if Mr Wellbeloved did choose me, it would let Gabriel off the hook. He’d never have to walk a tightrope again.
Simple.
‘Louie has little experience,’ said Mr Chipchase, bringing me round with a jolt. ‘And she is still very young for such a challenge.’
Mr Wellbeloved narrowed his eyes. ‘Louie, eh? Short for . . . ?’
‘Louisa, sir,’ I said, before Mr Chipchase could answer.
‘I see.’
Mr Wellbeloved pinched the bridge of his nose, like a person with a headache, and gave a great sigh.
‘Are you sick, sir?’ I said, going to help him.
Mr Chipchase’s arm shot out and yanked me back, nearly knocking me off my feet.
‘Quite well,’ said Mr Wellbeloved. ‘I’d advise you both to get a good night’s rest. One of you will be leaving with me on the first train for Liverpool tomorrow. I shall make my decision in the morning.’
And with a touch of his hat brim, he was gone.
*
Gabriel slunk off without a word. I did the same, having nothing left to say to Mr Chipchase, who’d been so set on putting me down. I ducked out the back door – and straight into a woman.
‘Goodness, they don’t teach you manners here, do they?’ she cried.
In her buttoned-up black coat she was clearly a do-gooder. Before I had a chance to reply, the canvas flapped open and light spilled over us.
‘What ho? No problems here are there?’ Mr Chipchase said. He seemed jumpy as anything. Then he saw the do-gooder and sighed. ‘Oh, it’s only your kind again. Here, take this,’ he said, giving her a handful of coins.
The woman stared at them. I did too, for just days ago he’d claimed we were desperately poor.
‘I won’t be bribed,’ said the woman.
‘For your charity’, he said. ‘Please, take it. With my blessing.’
Blessing? Since when had he wished do-gooders well?
After plenty of fuss, the woman took the money. ‘It doesn’t mean I won’t report you. That boy on the tightrope was terrified,’ she said, then fixed on me, taking in my short skirts and loose hair. ‘And you, young lady, look quite improper. You should be at school.’
I toed the grass uneasily, yet Mr Chipchase seemed remarkably unconcerned. ‘It’ll blow over once Gabriel’s in America,’ he said, after the woman had gone. ‘There are worse things to concern ourselves with than do-gooders.’
‘Mr Wellbeloved ain’t decided yet,’ I reminded him. ‘He might choose me.’
‘Forget it. You’ll be staying here. You work for Chipchase’s.’
I folded my arms. ‘As a showstopper though, right?’
He didn’t answer me for a long time, and I was sure he’d forgotten I was here.
‘Well?’ I said.
He rubbed his face and sighed. ‘I don’t know, Louie.’
I kicked at the ground. If he thought I’d go back to being invisible again, he was wrong.
‘But Mr Wellbeloved saw my talents. He noticed me. He had a glint in his eye just from looking at me,’ I said.
‘Did he now?’
‘He did. And that’s a good thing, ain’t it?’
By the look on Mr Chipchase’s face it clearly wasn’t. ‘How can I put it?’ he said, stroking his whiskers. ‘Mr Wellbeloved is a gentleman of the shade.’
I scowled. ‘Meaning?’
‘He’s not just rich and successful. He has a dark side too, though you obviously hadn’t noticed.’
The way he’d looked at Blondin’s daughter flashed into my mind. I pushed the memory aside.
‘I knew it would cause trouble, letting you have your way,’ said Mr Chipchase. ‘We should’ve stuck to the dog tricks. It would’ve saved us a lot of bother.’
I stared at him, open-mouthed. Had he gone completely insane? ‘The crowd LOVED me, sir. Didn’t you see it?’ I clasped my hands to my chest. ‘Didn’t you feel it?’
He gave another great sigh. ‘You’re a beginner at this game, Louie. Your time will come.’
‘I’ve been practising for years!’ I cried. ‘And I’m tired of being held back all the time!’
‘I mean it for the best.’
‘But you put me in a clown suit and make me hide my hair. And then you push me to one side when Mr Wellbeloved turns up. It’s like you’re ashamed of me!’ I blinked back angry tears. ‘It ain’t fair!’
Mr Chipchase’s face went very red. I knew I’d gone too far. But whatever he thought, I had caught Mr Wellbeloved’s eye. It didn’t matter to him which one of us went to America; he’d get his cut either way.
Yet as I made to go, Mr Chipchase patted my shoulder quite gently. ‘You did well tonight, Louie,’ he said. ‘Your mother would be proud.’
‘Shame she couldn’t make it,’ I said sarcastically. ‘What kept her?’
He looked at me gravely. ‘I’ve often wondered that myself.’