Ten
My barrister, Melanie, has all the news clippings collected in a folder. She said it was in case we want to sue anyone later.
The headlines have made me cringe. The one from The Herald: ‘Trapeze Artist Charged in Bizarre Murder Mystery’. Lead stories from The Daily Sun: ‘Circus Murder Case: Strongman Witness Called’ and ‘Trapeze Trial: Teen’s Assault Cited by Defence’.
There’ve been forum posts and blog columns and opinion pieces from the syndicated press. Some of the articles have been positive, like the one in The Clarion, entitled ‘Circus Case Justice: Charge Reduced to Manslaughter’. Their most recent headline article was ‘Carnival Court: Who’s the Real Victim?’ and it went into great detail about the statistics on how the judicial system treats sexual assault survivors.
Other articles, like the one from the Weekly Review, have questioned whether I’m of sound mind, and talked about the ‘sordid nature of circus life’ and generally made show performers seem like unsavoury vagrants. That one really pissed me off. And I noticed that someone had cut it out and stuck it up in the mess, for people to use as a dartboard.
For the media, it’s just a story: Circus Star Facing Murder Rap!–News at eleven.
For me, the last few months have seemed very real.
I’ve been managing okay since the night of the trapeze accident, when I was put under arrest and charged. But this morning, as I got dressed in a skirt suit and not into my training gear, it hit me. The bailout from Terry, the twice-weekly sign-ins at the police station, the legal-aid briefings and counselling sessions…It might all come to nothing. Mel has been fantastic, and everyone in troupe has been supportive, but today might end with me in a grey jumpsuit, sleeping in a cell.
‘Okay, Sorsha, are you ready?’ Mel stands in front of me in her barrister costume, looking grand. Her expression is so encouraging I almost feel hopeful. ‘They’re calling us back in for the verdict.’
My hands and knees are shaking, but I manage to stand and smooth down the front of the skirt. I had to borrow shoes from Ren and a white blouse from Dee, but Eugenia made the skirt and the jacket. I’m trying to keep the skirt suit nice, because Eugenia said that after this is done, we should put it aside for anybody else who might need a court appearance in future.
We both laughed sadly when she said that. I’m not laughing now, though. I’m too terrified.
Today’s the day I find out my future.
Colm returns from a coffee run just as Mel and I are turning towards the doors of the court room. He thrusts the cardboard tray at Ren and rushes up. ‘It’s okay, babe, I’m here.’
He hugs me, but I can’t stay in the shelter of his body now. I cling onto his hand as I step back and try to conjure a smile. ‘I’m okay. You look great in a suit, did I tell you that? You should wear suits all the time. Every day.’
His answering smile is tight, and doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘Are you kidding? Once this is over, I’m giving this back to Seb and I’m gonna swear off suits for the rest of my life.’ He brushes a stray curl off my face, tucking me close. ‘Breathe, Sorsh. Keep walking, it’s all right.’
It’s good to have a reminder about breathing, because I’m finding it difficult, now. If this verdict goes badly, then everything will go badly. Like dominoes, the whole lot of us will fall–Colm, for helping me flee the scene; Morry and Desmond, for encouraging and arranging my flight in the first place. Suspicion has even fallen on Terry, for harbouring me.
If Colm goes to jail because of me, I don’t know if I’ll be able to live with myself.
I totter through the court room doors, feeling sick. I can’t take anti-anxiety medication to deal with it, though, because my reaction that first time was so awful. I try to remember some of the techniques my counsellor, Bec, has been teaching me to help deal with anxiety. But my head is completely empty, and my memory is just gone.
Then Mel is there, her arm around my shoulders. ‘Sorsha, it’s going to be okay. Whatever happens, we’ll work it out. Even if things go against us, there’s an appeal process. Just stay calm, now.’
‘Okay.’ I bob my head, clasp my cold fingers together. Somehow, we make it to the defence counsel’s table without me falling over.
Colm kisses my forehead before returning to his seat in the gallery–audience seating is called the gallery in a court room, too, just like in a circus tent. He settles in beside Ren and Gabriella and Dee, who all give me smiles and little waves. The colours of their outfits make them the only bright spots in the room. I’m too scared to wave back, so I just nod.
I see Ren put her hand on Colm’s shoulder, as he heaves in a giant breath and closes his eyes at the floor.
I’ve only just managed to seat myself when the court official says, ‘All rise,’ and we have to stand up again, as the judge sweeps into the room. Judge Niccols takes her place at the bench. She’s tiny–she’s the smallest woman I’ve ever seen, apart from myself–but she has a stern presence that reminds me of a school teacher or a librarian.
She adjusts her glasses as she arranges her papers on the bench in front of her. ‘Thank you, I’d like to get through this quickly, as we have other matters before the court this afternoon. The verdict and my sentencing in this case is fairly straightforward.’
She nods at the official, who turns to me. ‘Would the defendant please rise.’
I’m already standing up, so that’s easy. Staying on my feet isn’t so easy. I press my palms into the table surface. My knees are shaking and the room is swimming in my vision. I focus on the judge, which seems to help.
Judge Niccols looks at me and nods. ‘Saoirse Colleen O’Malley, you have been charged with manslaughter, and fleeing the scene of a crime, in the matter of the death of Gavin Albert Greeves. After extended consideration of the statements and evidence presented to this court, the jury has found this to be a case of complete self-defence. I am now empowered to dismiss all charges against you, and declare this matter–’
But I actually don’t hear any more of her statement, because air has rushed out of my lungs so fast I have to lean over. My head is full of noise, not to mention that my cheer squad in the back rows have leapt to their feet and starting hollering and clapping.
Mel has grabbed my waist. ‘It’s okay, Sorsha! Oh, sweetie, stand up now, that’s it. We need to hear final words.’
She helps me to stay straight as Judge Niccols reads the rest of the formal statement, but I can’t help it–I’m crying. Tears are tracking down my face, hot and salty, and I don’t pay a lot of attention to what’s going on in front of me until the judge’s gavel bangs down.
Then I turn, and Colm is there, his face washed out and red-eyed. He picks me up and cradles me, swings me around. I curl my arm around his neck, as Gabriella throws confetti and Ren shrieks.
I kiss him, right there in the courtroom, and that’s the photo they use on the front page of The Clarion the next day, with the headline ‘Love Wins in Circus Couple’s Defence Trial’.
‘I finally got some milk,’ Eugenia says, pouring the hot water. ‘If I wasn’t the laziest person alive, I would’ve just picked some up from the mess months ago. But there you have it. And now I can give you milky tea, which is how you actually like it.’
I grin as she hands over my mug. ‘Who told you?’
‘Gabriella. That woman is a mine of information.’
‘She’s a relentless interferer, is what she is. I told her not to tell you, it’s never bothered me–’
‘Oh, relax.’ Eugenia pushes some darning off her chair near the overlocker and sits down. ‘You’re too polite to tell me yourself, so somebody had to do it.’
We just sit quietly, sipping, for a few minutes. We don’t even have to smile at each other: the atmosphere in the Airstream is one of peaceful contentment. I never feel as if I have to put on a show for Eugenia. We passed that stage long ago.
‘So are you going to tell me?’ I blow on my tea and pretend to crane my neck to see out the van window. ‘Or am I just going to sit here with you until whatever-it-is happens, and Colm calls me from outside?’
‘I think we’re going to wait,’ Eugenia declares primly. ‘And no, I’m not going to tell you. It’s supposed to be a surprise.’
I roll my eyes and make a theatrical sigh, but I’m smiling. ‘Fine, then. But if you’re going to make me wait, we’ll need to converse. What’s going on with the acrobats? Lee’s scurrying around every morning, picking up the slack for Annie, and nobody seems to know what’s–’
‘Annie’s pregnant.’ Eugenia settles her mug and picks up her darning. She sees my face. ‘And it’s on the down-low, so no sharing.’
‘Ohmigod, but that’s wonderful–’
‘Well, yes, it’s wonderful for Lee and Annie, but it’s not wonderful for Terry, who’s now stressing about finding a replacement for the adagio spot. He thought he’d have more time, but Annie’s morning sickness has made it pretty much impossible for her to perform, so the schedule will have to change.’
‘Well, yes. I can see that would be tricky. But Annie! And Lee!’
‘Shh,’ Eugenia says. ‘Not a word. Or rather, you didn’t hear it from me.’
‘Sure, but oh, goodness. That’s the best news I’ve heard since…’
‘Since your trial verdict?’ Eugenia smiles. ‘I know. But how are you going? Are you recovered yet?’
My smile dampens to a more appropriate wattage. ‘I’m going good. I don’t know about ‘recovered’–I’m still in shock, I think, from the result. I know it’s been a week, but that final day in the court room nearly broke me. I really thought I was going to jail.’
‘But your counsellor has been helpful?’
‘Bec is fantastic,’ I admit. ‘She’s brought me a long way. She helped me get through the court case, and the media stuff…’
‘Terry is still incredibly grateful for the media stuff, as you might imagine. It took attention off the reports about the trapeze accident.’
I shrug. ‘Well, yeah, I suppose he’s grateful for that.’
‘He’s grateful you made it through, Sorsha,’ Eugenia says. ‘You shouldn’t doubt that. Terry can be mercenary, but he’s not heartless.’ She continues plying her needle. ‘Anyway, I wasn’t really asking about the aftermath of the case. I was hoping that Bec had gotten you past any residual guilt you might’ve been feeling.’
I examine my tea. ‘Yes, and no. It’s hard, y’know? It should be straightforward, but it’s not. So much of it is mixed up with the…with what happened…’ I let out an exhale. ‘Sorry. I still have trouble saying it. Bec told me I’ll get used to it if I say it more.’
‘With the attempted rape,’ Eugenia prompts calmly.
‘Yes.’ I swallow hard. ‘With the attempted rape. Anyway, we’re still working it out.’
‘I’m sure it will work itself out, given time.’ She examines her stitches as she asks the next question. ‘And how are things working out between you and Morrighan?’
‘She called me a few days ago.’
‘And things were cordial?’
‘We still…clash on a few points. But that’s Morry. She clashes with almost everyone on various points. There’s no hard feelings. She and Desmond have arranged for my bus ticket to go up and see Ceilidh and Alby and baby Amery. I guess Morry and I will have more time to figure things out when I see her in person.’
‘I think she finds it hard to read you over the phone,’ Eugenia points out. ‘That’s just a hangover from her craft–she needs to see people, watch their tells. It gives her a better understanding of how to communicate. She loves you, though. You should remember that.’
‘I always knew she loved me,’ I say on a sigh. ‘Everything she’s ever done for me has been out of love.’
It’s true. Morry had no idea what she set in motion when she told me to run. I’m coming to a peace about that, too.
‘Speaking of love…’ Eugenia stands up and quickly checks out the van window. ‘Oh. No, not yet. I suppose we have to keep conversing.’
She sits back down again, and I want to smack her. ‘Ohmigod, you can’t even give me a clue? Not the tiniest hint?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. That would spoil it.’ She puts aside the darning and re-threads her needle. ‘Now, tell me about Fleur.’
I shrug. ‘What’s to tell? She’s going okay. I’ve hardly heard a peep out of her for months.’
‘You’re not participating in the rest of the crew’s response, then?’
‘No,’ I say firmly, ‘and I’ve been trying to get the word around that nobody else should be doing it, either. But they won’t listen.’
Eugenia leans forward. ‘Do you remember when I said that Morry was old-school? That was fair enough. I don’t know any old show people who wouldn’t have done what Morry did with you, in the same circumstances. A lot of that attitude towards the law has fallen by the wayside in troupe, but what Fleur did…Calling the police, to tip them off?’
‘She felt threatened,’ I object.
Eugenia purses her lips above her sewing. ‘Nobody has much sympathy for Fleur’s nose being out-of-joint because you joined the trapeze team. What she did was vindictive. That’s not just an old-school attitude. That’s general community. Nobody likes a snitch.’
‘Eugenia, don’t. It’s been months, and now the court case is over. Let Fleur be.’
‘I haven’t been participating. I wouldn’t do that to Terry. But Fleur knows how I feel.’
‘And I think she’s been ostracised enough,’ I insist. ‘Please–would you help me tell people to lay off her? I think it’s really starting to get her down.’
Eugenia sits back and considers me. ‘All right. I’ll pass the word around. I hope she’s learnt her lesson.’
‘I’m sure she has.’ Just as I say that, there’s a knock on the door. I bolt to my feet, careful of my tea. ‘Is this it? This is it, isn’t it?’
Eugenia just grins and turns in her chair. ‘Come!’
The Airstream’s door pushes open and Colm is right there, making the whole van look small just by standing on the step. He’s wearing boots and jeans, and a pale green T-shirt that makes his eyes look dreamy. I want to kiss him, but that’s my reaction every time I see him, so I’ve had to learn to control myself in company.
His smile, when it breaks free of his put-on, serious expression, is a mile wide. ‘Hullo, ladies. Where’s my cuppa?’
‘You don’t get a cuppa, not while you’re holding my surprise hostage.’ I’ve jumped forward to try to see around him. ‘What is it? Can I see it? Coooollm…’
‘Mate, your face.’ He grins and pushes me back with only one hand. ‘Thanks for the delay, Eugenia, but I think I’m gonna take Little Miss Impatient out now and show her what’s going on.’
Eugenia waves regally. ‘By all means, take her. She’s too much of a handful for me.’
I turn back to Eugenia quickly. ‘Oh, wait–are you coming tonight? Please say yes!’
I’m helping Dita put on a party in the mess tonight, to celebrate Ren and Dita’s birthdays. It’s also to celebrate Ren’s second term grades–which were outstanding, of course–and Dita’s return to her spot on the strength line-up, now her ribs are fully healed. Colm was quite happy to relinquish his fill-in role. He said it’ll give him more time to work on the solo lifting spot he’s prepping.
‘It’s just cake and a few beers with the crew,’ I say. ‘Very low-key. But we’d all love you to be there.’
‘Well, I have a lot of mending to do…’ Eugenia pretends to consider, but her mouth is quirked in a smile. ‘Yes, of course I’ll be there.’
‘Excellent!’ I clap my hands before turning back to Colm. ‘Now, come on, you’re killing me with this surprise. Is it a puppy? Is it a pony?’
He goes to a lot of effort to look serious again. ‘No. Sorry to disappoint, but you’ve gotta ask Gabi about the ponies. She’ll sort you out.’
‘Oh, geez, okay then. So what is it?’ I bat my eyelashes up at him. ‘Is it a unicorn?’
He laughs. ‘No, it’s not a bloody unicorn, where do you get this stuff…Okay, now hold still, I want to do this the proper way.’
He pulls a red bandana out of his back jeans pocket, spins me round in the doorway. While I hold my breath, he ties the bandana across my eyes. If this were anyone else, I’d be uneasy, but it’s not anyone–it’s Colm. What we have is built entirely on trust. That’s all anyone can ever ask for, really, and more than I’d ever hoped to find.
‘Okay, now hold my hand and step down.’ He steadies me with a touch on my waist. I feel his warm breath near my ear, and his voice has a smile in it. ‘Don’t worry, darlin’, I got you.’
He leads me down the Airstream’s stairs, across the paddock to…someplace. Sun warms my shoulders and face. Wherever we are, it’s quiet. Insects tick in the grass under my feet.
I touch the fabric over the bridge of my nose. The small chinks of light the bandanna is letting in are tantalising. ‘What is it? Are we there yet? Can I look now?’
‘Are you ready?’ Colm’s words are a soft growl in my ear.
It makes me shiver. ‘I’m ready. Show me.’
He tugs gently at the knot behind my head, and the fabric falls away. I blink. Standing there in the paddock right in front of me is…
I gasp.
‘Holy shit.’ My words croak out. ‘It’s a van.’
‘Yes,’ Colm says, sounding pleased with himself. ‘It is, indeed, a van.’
It looks like a cross between a gypsy caravan and an Airstream. The walls are wooden, but the tall roof is curved, and made of shiny tin. It has small, in-set windows. The whole thing is firmly balanced on four wheels. A little door in front opens onto a small porch, with a side rail, and steps going down to the grass.
‘Ohmigod.’ I look from the van to Colm and back again. ‘Ohmigod, what…how…?’
Colm’s smile is warm around the edges. ‘Well, you’ve been saying for ages that we should find someplace for ourselves, so we’re not both stuck in the dorms.’
I’m still in shock. ‘Well, yeah, I know that’s what I said. Because we never have any place to go and…y’know.’
‘I know,’ Colm says fervently. He’s not the only one who’s been feeling the strain. There are definitely limits to how much privacy is available in the laundry room. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Do I like it? Ohmigod, Colm, I love it!’ I look back at the van. It’s tiny and perfect and holy crap, I’m going to cry. ‘But…where did you get this?’ I look at his bashful expression. ‘Did you make this?’
Colm ducks his head. ‘Gibson showed me this old frame they had at the mech yard, so I figured…’ He shrugs. ‘I’ve been fixing it up over the last few months, while you were in sessions with Bec and legal-aid.’
‘You were fixing this up while I was in sessions?’ I stare at him.
‘Yeah.’
‘Before I went to trial?’
He meets my eyes. ‘Yes.’
And now I am crying, because that means he…It means…
‘Oh, hey now.’ Colm’s arms curl around me. ‘Aw, c’mon, babe. I didn’t mean to make you upset…’
‘Not! Not upset!’
I say this while I’m crying, so it might not seem convincing. But he made this for us before the outcome of the trial. Before the verdict that set us free. And that means he felt like we had a future, even before we could count on it.
‘Come on, Sorsh,’ he says, ushering me forward. ‘Come and see inside, that’ll cheer you up.’
I hiccup and smile and wipe my eyes on my sleeve. Then I go up the steps first, because there’s only space for one at a time. But Colm is right at my back, his big hand on my waist. My fingers tremble as I turn the doorknob, open the wooden door, and walk in.
The inside of the van is dim, and smells faintly of fresh paint. The space is small but high-ceilinged, so Colm can move around comfortably. There’s a little kitchenette on the right, and on the left, a booth-style eating area. At the rear is a sliding wooden partition; through the gap in the partition, I see a double bed, already made up with linen and pillows.
There’s even a tiny red geranium in a pot on the kitchen bench.
I turn in Colm’s arms and tuck my face into his chest. ‘I’m going to start crying again if you don’t say something. Please say something.’
He clutches me tight and his voice is raspy. ‘I made this for us, Sorsha. And I’m real glad you like it.’
‘I love you.’
‘And now I wanna go try out the bed.’
That makes me laugh. It’s a sodden laugh, but it’s real. Every laugh counts, I’ve come to realise. Every laugh, every smile, every kiss…
‘Come on, then.’ I pull back, grinning. I wipe my face again, and tug on his arm. ‘Let’s try out the bed.’
We walk to the back and I slide the partition fully across. The bed takes up the entire rear end of the van. Cupboards are fitted higher up, and little nightstand shelves are drilled into the walls on either side of the bed.
Colm and I look at each other, then we simultaneously turn and flomp onto the bed on our backs. The mattress bounces, and we both laugh.
‘I think the bed works.’ I can see the roof of the van now–a rack high above our heads creates more storage space.
‘You sure?’ Colm rolls over and puts his arm across my waist. He buries his face in my neck and nuzzles. I can feel him smiling as he lips my earlobe. ‘I think, for manufacturing standards purposes, we should test it out more thoroughly.’
I grin. ‘Oh, you do, do you? That sounds like–’
But I forget the rest of what I was going to say because Colm kisses me. His lips are soft and insistent, and his arm on me is heavy, his hand squeezing my hip in a gentle, compelling rhythm. I twine my arms around his neck and open my mouth, and our kisses get deeper and longer. Warmth flows through my limbs like melted butter.
Our hands slide as we kiss. I sneak my fingers up under Colm’s T-shirt and find hard muscle and silky skin. He slips his hand under my tank and palms across my stomach. He groans and I shudder.
‘What about the party?’ he murmurs. He nibbles my bare shoulder.
I will never get tired of kissing this boy. I will never get tired of loving this boy. I thought my future was buried under pain and fear, but together, we’ve made things different.
My smile is big enough to fill the room.
‘Let’s just stay here for a while, in this beautiful van,’ I suggest, ‘and see what happens next.’
