‘Never in any circus would anything so … what is the word? So disrespect. Never would so disrespect be from one circus man to another.’
Perhaps, I thought to myself, that began to explain what I was doing here. Perhaps it was unthinkable for Mrs Cooke herself to discover Ana’s guilt officially, one circus woman to another, even if she suspected it. If so, matters might be different now: a missing prop was a prank but a prop slashed with enough venom to cut a thick rope halfway through was something else again and would surely outweigh all thought of polite convention.
‘You must tell Topsy,’ said Zoya, as though reading my thoughts. ‘Warn her someone is make danger for her?’ I hesitated. Was it dangerous, exactly? Topsy could hardly have used the prop; the cut was almost at the swing end, after all, and she would have seen it. It was threatening, certainly. Thoroughly nasty. But there was no real danger.
‘I shall ask Mrs Cooke what she thinks best,’ I said. ‘In the meantime …’ I bent and looked out of the window. Mrs Wolf was at the fire, upending washed pots on the tin roof to dry. Two of the grooms were walking four black horses towards the pool. ‘Can I leave it here with you?’ I said. ‘It had better stay out of sight until I have a plan. Even if the damage is hidden.’
I left her busily turning summer clothes out of a deep drawer under the box-bed to put the swing at the very bottom and hurried back to the tent, keen to watch Topsy and Ana together, to see if there were signs of a deep enough hatred to explain what I had just seen.
Anastasia had arrived and was sitting astride a large and rather broad-backed dark grey pony, who stood in the middle of the ring blinking his long lashes. I glanced up and got a wave from Topsy who was perched where I had seen her last, high on the beam. In ringside seats were all of the clowns, Bill Wolf and Ma, who beckoned to me.
‘Now,’ said Pa Cooke, slapping his whip against his thigh to unravel it. ‘I know you have your own ideas about things, Ana, but if you’ll think about it for just a minute, you’ll see that I, with sixty years of circus behind me and ten generations of circus in my blood, know a thing or two and this little act we’re working up here is going to be a beauty. Elegant, breathtaking beauty. There won’t be a sound to be heard and there won’t be a dry eye in the tent. We kill the flares, we powder out Harlequin’s star and socks.’ He nodded to Ana’s pony. ‘We’ll have Topsy on a black rope and the two of you girls … phosphorescent! You’ll be like a couple of fireflies, like fairy queens. I can see you now.’
‘But what do we do, Pa?’ Topsy shouted down. Pa, however, had not finished setting the scene.
‘Music will be clarinet and brushed snare,’ he said. ‘All the babbies will be off to sleep, it’ll be that soothing and peaceful. And the act will be called Reflection by Moonlight. You’ll be the talking point of the whole show and do you know the best of it?’ He paused dramatically. ‘It’s all the kind of lines you’ve been doing since you were knee-high. Well—’ He broke off and spoke the next part in his normal voice. ‘I mean you, Tops, but Ana will be able to do them just as well.’
He certainly knew this bit of his business, I thought. The picture he painted was irresistible.
‘Moreover,’ he went on, ‘I am fairly sure that no such act has ever been seen before. Charlie? Bill? Am I right there?’
‘I never seen it, Tam,’ said Bill Wolf’s rumbling voice, quick to praise the boss man. Charlie Cooke nodded rather reluctantly. Indeed, his whole demeanour was that of a sceptic, come in hopes to see the venture fail. He crossed his arms and put his tongue in his cheek. Tiny had his eyes fastened on Ana, Andrew gazed up at Topsy and Ma sat forward with such an expression of rapt attention directed at her husband that I had to bite my cheeks not to giggle.
‘Now, to start
Perhaps, I thought to myself, that began to explain what I was doing here. Perhaps it was unthinkable for Mrs Cooke herself to discover Ana’s guilt officially, one circus woman to another, even if she suspected it. If so, matters might be different now: a missing prop was a prank but a prop slashed with enough venom to cut a thick rope halfway through was something else again and would surely outweigh all thought of polite convention.
‘You must tell Topsy,’ said Zoya, as though reading my thoughts. ‘Warn her someone is make danger for her?’ I hesitated. Was it dangerous, exactly? Topsy could hardly have used the prop; the cut was almost at the swing end, after all, and she would have seen it. It was threatening, certainly. Thoroughly nasty. But there was no real danger.
‘I shall ask Mrs Cooke what she thinks best,’ I said. ‘In the meantime …’ I bent and looked out of the window. Mrs Wolf was at the fire, upending washed pots on the tin roof to dry. Two of the grooms were walking four black horses towards the pool. ‘Can I leave it here with you?’ I said. ‘It had better stay out of sight until I have a plan. Even if the damage is hidden.’
I left her busily turning summer clothes out of a deep drawer under the box-bed to put the swing at the very bottom and hurried back to the tent, keen to watch Topsy and Ana together, to see if there were signs of a deep enough hatred to explain what I had just seen.
Anastasia had arrived and was sitting astride a large and rather broad-backed dark grey pony, who stood in the middle of the ring blinking his long lashes. I glanced up and got a wave from Topsy who was perched where I had seen her last, high on the beam. In ringside seats were all of the clowns, Bill Wolf and Ma, who beckoned to me.
‘Now,’ said Pa Cooke, slapping his whip against his thigh to unravel it. ‘I know you have your own ideas about things, Ana, but if you’ll think about it for just a minute, you’ll see that I, with sixty years of circus behind me and ten generations of circus in my blood, know a thing or two and this little act we’re working up here is going to be a beauty. Elegant, breathtaking beauty. There won’t be a sound to be heard and there won’t be a dry eye in the tent. We kill the flares, we powder out Harlequin’s star and socks.’ He nodded to Ana’s pony. ‘We’ll have Topsy on a black rope and the two of you girls … phosphorescent! You’ll be like a couple of fireflies, like fairy queens. I can see you now.’
‘But what do we do, Pa?’ Topsy shouted down. Pa, however, had not finished setting the scene.
‘Music will be clarinet and brushed snare,’ he said. ‘All the babbies will be off to sleep, it’ll be that soothing and peaceful. And the act will be called Reflection by Moonlight. You’ll be the talking point of the whole show and do you know the best of it?’ He paused dramatically. ‘It’s all the kind of lines you’ve been doing since you were knee-high. Well—’ He broke off and spoke the next part in his normal voice. ‘I mean you, Tops, but Ana will be able to do them just as well.’
He certainly knew this bit of his business, I thought. The picture he painted was irresistible.
‘Moreover,’ he went on, ‘I am fairly sure that no such act has ever been seen before. Charlie? Bill? Am I right there?’
‘I never seen it, Tam,’ said Bill Wolf’s rumbling voice, quick to praise the boss man. Charlie Cooke nodded rather reluctantly. Indeed, his whole demeanour was that of a sceptic, come in hopes to see the venture fail. He crossed his arms and put his tongue in his cheek. Tiny had his eyes fastened on Ana, Andrew gazed up at Topsy and Ma sat forward with such an expression of rapt attention directed at her husband that I had to bite my cheeks not to giggle.
‘Now, to start
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