The park I’d seen from my window was a pleasure garden. An hour later, the three of us were walking through it. Though it was still early the place was busy. Mr Wellbeloved marched us past rose bushes and sprawling green lawns where people strolled with their parasols or sat drinking tea. Tomorrow we’d be risking our lives for these strangers. That was circus for you; thrills and spills all the way.
What I hadn’t reckoned on were the dogs. They were everywhere in the park: small ones on laps, big ones chasing sticks, even a terrier doing tricks with his ball. They all looked at their owners in that special way. It brought a lump to my throat; what I’d give to have Pip here with me now.
We took a cinder path through some trees. The river’s roar grew louder till it was almost deafening. Finally, Mr Wellbeloved stopped.
‘This is the point where you will cross the river,’ he yelled.
All I could see were workmen rigging up guy ropes and banging nails into a wooden platform. Once they’d moved aside, I saw properly. The gorge fell away just feet from where we stood. Spray from the river hung in the trees. The ground beneath us seemed to hum.
Just a few hundred feet further upstream were the Falls themselves. This close they took my breath away. They were, quite simply, walls of water. Churning, frothing, never-ending water. It was mesmerising.
And terrifying.
The rope was barely an inch wide. It stretched high above the ravine. On the other side, a thousand feet away, was Canada. And many, many feet below were rocks and raging water.
It was totally, completely crazy. Especially with two people, one of whom was petrified and likely not to make even the first step. Gabriel seemed to think so too. His face was frozen with fear.
A great wave of panic hit me. I felt suddenly, horribly sick.
Breathe, Louie. Be brave.
I moved away from Mr Wellbeloved and Gabriel. I needed to gather myself. Saying the words helped. Mam’s taffeta heart was safe inside my shift again; I touched it now. And as I did something strong rose up in me, beating back the fear. It wasn’t crazy. Not if you trusted the tightrope. And I did, more than life itself. If only Gabriel could feel the same.
Once I’d rejoined the others, we walked back through the gardens. This time we took a different path, passing stalls selling coffee and roasted nuts. Mr Wellbeloved ushered us into a small striped tent, where tunics and tights awaited us. We were instructed to get changed and be ready for practice in five minutes.
My fingers shook so hard it was near impossible to get dressed at all. It took us both far longer than five minutes. Mr Wellbeloved was clearly irritated when we finally emerged.
‘Sit!’ he snapped, pointing to a bench nearby.
We sat. He stood before us, hands clasped behind his back.
‘What’s left of today is for practising,’ he said. ‘I want the same routine you did at Chipchase’s.’
Gabriel’s shoulders dropped in relief.
‘The one you should’ve done,’ he said. ‘Not the cobbled together effort you eventually pulled off.’
I winced. ‘In the circumstances, sir, I reckon we did pretty well.’
‘You did, Louie,’ Gabriel said bleakly. ‘I was useless.’
‘It wasn’t perfect, I agree,’ Mr Wellbeloved said. ‘Tomorrow’s show will be. Or else.’
Or else, what? I wanted to say. But he talked on, of timings and costumes, of posters and inviting the press. As we got up to leave I spoke quietly to Gabriel.
‘Think only about the rope. Fill your head with it.’
He frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It takes the fear away. You’ll see.’
He nodded, though he didn’t look convinced. His eyes had glazed over and he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. I wondered if he’d even heard me.
*
Yet Gabriel did notice the crowd. A hundred or so people had gathered to watch us practise on a rope set up in the park by Mr Wellbeloved’s men. It was deliberately viewable from the main street, Portage Road; a little taster of things to come.
Gabriel straightened his shoulders and nodded to me. ‘All set?’
‘Certainly am.’
The fear was a distant thing. All I felt was a tingling in the soles of my feet. As we climbed our rope ladders Mr Wellbeloved warmed up the crowd. He wasn’t quite Mighty Ned, but it still had the right effect.
‘Watch and be amazed! Because tomorrow you’ll see something even more extraordinary, performed by these two artists over Horseshoe Falls!’
A cheer went up.
The stench of death, I thought, putting on my best smile. Gabriel smiled too. The girls in the crowd all sighed at once.
‘Are you ready?’ I called down.
‘Yes indeedy!’ someone cried back.
‘Then we’d be delighted to entertain you,’ said Gabriel, bowing from the waist.
The girls giggled. I glanced at him myself: goodness, how he’d livened up!
It was infectious. The tingling in my feet grew until the magic took hold. I’d not felt this way since leaving England, and now that I did I was sure I could do anything. Flicking back my hair, I flexed my feet and rolled my shoulders. On the other side of the rope, Gabriel gave a little nod. I nodded back.
All set.
We did our routine from start to finish. All that mattered was the rope, reading its every twitch, every tremble as it lived beneath my feet. Gabriel played his part beautifully. This time we stepped around each other, and though the rope swayed we kept steady. He wrote me a letter, and I read it out loud, which made the girls sigh even more. There were walks to and fro, and we kept in the part where I lay down to sleep. It worked an absolute treat.
By the time we’d finished Gabriel was all lit up. And so was I.
‘Crikey, Louie, that was . . . just . . .’ he searched for the word.
‘Magical?’
‘Exactly!’ He grinned. ‘I did as you said, blocked out all the fear, and just focused on the rope.’
‘It works, doesn’t it? You can’t think of the rope and be scared. It’s impossible.’
‘Then I’m cured! You’re a miracle worker!’
‘Glad to be of service!’ I laughed, awful pleased. It wasn’t the way I’d hoped to help Gabriel, but if he felt happier then so did I.
Once the crowd had moved off, we sat on the rope, dangling our legs. We chatted about our routine and how well it went and which were our favourite parts. As we did so, my hopes began to rise. Perhaps Gabriel really could master his fear. Tomorrow, we’d perform our story above the Niagara Falls and it would be marvellous. Better even than Blondin.
Then Mr Wellbeloved came over. He stood directly beneath us, so I was looking down onto his hat.
‘And the double somersault at the end, Louisa?’ he said. ‘Had you forgotten?’
My face fell. He wasn’t expecting me to do that over the Falls, was he?
‘Ah . . . you see . . . sir, well that was just a filler,’ I stuttered. ‘It ain’t part of the normal routine.’
‘It stays.’
But it had been a one-off. A spur of the moment grand finale to make up for Gabriel not taking part. I couldn’t do it again.
‘Sir, it ain’t really . . .’
He glared up at me. Though he stood some ten feet below us, it still felt too close.
‘Louisa,’ he said. ‘Do you want to go home a sensation?’
‘Why yes, sir . . .’
His hand shot up and grabbed my ankle, yanking it once like a bell rope. ‘Do you want to go home at all?’
‘’Course I do!’
‘Good. Because you wouldn’t want me to keep you here in America, would you?’
I stared at him in horror. ‘You can’t do that!’
‘Can’t I?’
He saw the fear in my face and let go of me, laughing.
‘Think about it, Louisa,’ he said.
I wished he’d stop saying that. I’d done little else recently other than ponder his strange ways. Now it was beginning to make me panic.
I’d only got to America because Mr Wellbeloved had paid my passage. I didn’t have a penny of my own to get home again, and I couldn’t stow away. Not after Niagara, which would make me a recognisable face. Without a ticket, I was stuck.
*
Once the crowd had gone, Mr Wellbeloved summoned us a ride home. I pretended to have another headache.
‘I’d like to walk,’ I said.
Mr Wellbeloved jabbed at the ground with his cane.
‘Go with her, boy. Make sure she doesn’t get lost,’ he said and took out his pocket watch. ‘I’ll expect you back by five.’
We watched as the carriage lurched away from us. Only when it was out of sight did Gabriel speak. ‘He’s suspicious,’ he said as we set off up the hill. ‘He thinks we might run away.’
‘You are joking?’
‘No. He knows we’re not happy. He’ll be keeping a close eye on us from now on.’
He was right. I wasn’t happy. And if anyone was asking, there was a long list of reasons why.
I’d been star-struck, hadn’t I? Back in England, I’d got on that train like a giddy halfwit. The reality wasn’t all fancy frocks and hot chocolate at breakfast. There was another side to Mr Wellbeloved, and I didn’t like it much. Better that I’d listened more to Mr Chipchase and to Jasper. Never mind even trying to find my mam. Yet what churned me up most was this threat of not going home. He’d found my weak spot all right. Except caring for something wasn’t a weakness, not in my book. And I wasn’t a quitter either.