The Girl Who Walked on Air PDF

 For my parents, who gave me books, not ponies ‘Life is always a tightrope or a feather bed. Give me the tightrope.’ EDITH WHARTON  Table of Contents EpigraphVerse First Act Chapter 1 Chapter 2...

 For my parents, who gave me books, not ponies ‘Life is always a tightrope or a feather bed. Give me the tightrope.’ EDITH WHARTON  Table of Contents EpigraphVerse First Act Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Interval  Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Second Act Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Curtain Call Chapter 32 Acknowledgements An interview with Emma Carroll About The Author By the Same Author  Chapter 1 The bigger the danger, the bigger the crowd. One look at tonight’s punters said it all. With just minutes till show time, the big top was almost full and I was quite ready to burn with excitement. Every last ticket was sold. And still the queue snaked out of the field and down the lane until all you could see were people’s hats bobbing above the hedgerows. First thing this morning, the posters had gone up all over town. ‘MORE DARING THAN EVER!’ they’d said in blue and gold letters. ‘WATCH MONSIEUR MERCURY DEFY GRAVITY ON HIS TRAPEZE!’ To me, M. Mercury was good old Jasper, who I lived with in a tiny trailer, and who drank lapsang tea out of dainty cups and let me have first dibs on every piecrust. Which was more than could be said for my mam. When I was just a baby she left me at the circus, the way most people forget an umbrella. Inside the ticket booth where I worked there wasn’t space to swing a cat. I felt it specially tonight, jiggling from foot to foot, impatient to get finished so I’d be free to watch the show. My dog Pip sensed it too; sat beside me, he watched my every move. At last, the final punters filed past to claim their tickets. They were a noisy bunch, laughing and nattering, their breath like smoke in the evening air. They’d be quiet soon enough. Once they were inside the big top, they’d squeeze onto a bench and look upwards. And what they’d see would leave them speechless. A little shiver went down my neck. Imagine if I was about to perform. All those eyes gazing up at me. Just imagine it! I came back to earth with a bump. The circus owner, Mr Leo Chipchase, was in the doorway. He’d put on his best tartan waistcoat and was smiling, which made a change. ‘Think of all those backsides on seats, Louie,’ he said as he squeezed in beside me to count the takings. ‘The bigger the danger...’ ‘... the bigger the crowd,’ I finished for him. He did have a point. There were grander circuses than ours, with more animals, more curiosities, more sparkle. Backsides on seats mattered. So, what better way to draw the crowds than a thrilling new routine. And tonight that’s exactly what they’d get. Jasper would perform not a double but a TRIPLE somersault from his trapeze. No other circus boasted such a stunt. It was genius. But it was dangerous too. Now I’d reminded myself of this fact, it grew like a little worm inside my head. Tonight’s show had that whiff of death all right. How anyone could hang mid-air for so long I didn’t know. Jasper made it look easy. And I thought of Charles Blondin – the GREAT Blondin – who’d crossed Niagara Falls on a tightrope. One hundred thousand people had turned up to watch him. They placed bets that he’d fall and die. He didn’t, of course, but I still felt sick thinking about it. At last, the queue ended. ‘Can I go now?’ I asked, for my fidgeting had got worse. If I was quick, I’d get to wish Jasper luck. And be sure of a good viewing spot at the back of the big top. Mr Chipchase waved me away. ‘Go.’ I darted across the showground straight for the big top. Smells of horse sweat and gingerbread filled the air. There was music too, the organ and drums all fast and furious, signalling the show was about to start. It was the bit of circus life I loved best, that moment before the action, when the very air tingled. And tonight I felt it keenly. How I dreamed of being a showstopper like Jasper. Breathed it. Lived it. But on this subject Mr Chipchase was clear. ‘Not a chance, Louie,’ he always said. ‘You’re too young.’ Never mind that Mighty Ned the ringmaster was my age. Or Kitty Quickblade, who threw knives, was only a tiny bit older. But when I’d pointed this out Mr Chipchase went red enough to burst. So these days I watched from the sidelines. And I kept my dreams to myself. * I realised now that Pip wasn’t with me. Cupping my hands to my mouth, I yelled his name. He came hurtling towards me like he’d been fired from a cannon, a terrier-sized blur of white with one brown ear. ‘You little monkey!’ I said as he squirmed at my feet. ‘Now stay close.’ He had no sense of occasion, this dog of mine.  To reach the big top we had to pass Miss Lilly’s fortune-telling tent. She stood in her doorway. ‘’Tis a strange night,’ she said as I went by. ‘Evening to you too, Miss Lilly,’ I said. ‘Must dash. I can’t miss Jasper’s performance.’ ‘Very wise,’ she said. ‘A great change is on the way. The cards are predicting it.’ She often came out with this queer stuff. It was fine with her punters as they’d paid for a tarot reading, but I didn’t want to hear it. Not tonight. I rushed on. Behind the big top was a roped-off patch of grass. It was abustle with horses and jugglers and performers limbering up. In the centre of the space a bonfire blazed, making the dusk seem darker than before. It made me blink. And run smack bang into Kitty Quickblade. ‘Watch it, weasel!’ she cried. I hated her calling me that. What she meant was, ‘You’re not like us, you’re not proper circus,’ because I had pale skin and green eyes and hair the colour of cinnamon, which no one else here did. She tossed back her own dark curls, hands on hips. ‘What do you say?’ she said. Her tunic glittered in the firelight. It was all my handiwork, for when I wasn’t selling tickets I mended costumes. I’d sewn every last silver sequin of this one till my fingertips were raw. It looked magnificent. But I’d never got as much as a smile for my trouble. Or a decent wage. I gritted my teeth. ‘Sorry, Kitty. I didn’t mean to.’ Really I wanted to wallop her one. But Kitty was Mr Chipchase’s daughter, which meant I had to mind my manners. Since I’d grovelled enough, she let me past. I ducked inside the tent, Pip at my heels. The space backstage was the size of a small courtyard and brightly lit. Dusty velvet drapes separated us from the main ring. Yet the smell of sawdust was just as sharp, the ooohs and aaahs of the crowd as clear. We might’ve been out in the ring ourselves. It made the hairs lift on the back of my neck. In the middle of everyone was Ned the ringmaster. Done up in his top hat and scarlet tailcoat he looked awful smart. Especially since out of costume he was all elbows and giant feet. ‘Almost time, showpeople!’ he cried, then seeing me he dropped his voice, swaying like he might faint. ‘Wish me luck, Louie.’  ‘You great idiot.’ I shoved him hard, for we were like that, Ned and me, always mucking around. Lately I suspected he’d gone soft on me. I hoped he’d snap out of it soon. ‘My luck’s for Jasper, not you.’ Except I couldn’t see past Rosa the bareback rider, or Marco and Paolo the clowns. The place was filling up fast. There was no sign of Jasper. I started to panic. Time was running out. And I still hadn’t wished him good luck. In the ring the crowd had gone quiet. The drums rolled. Ned stepped through the curtains. ‘Ladies and gentlemen... girls and boys...’ he boomed. ‘Tonight we have a most marvellous show... a show where...’ A hand touched my shoulder. I spun round to see Jasper, looking every inch the showstopper. His dark hair was slicked back and his costume sparkled green and red. There was nothing of the whiff of death about him; he was all puffed up strong like a lion. ‘Everything all right, Louie?’ he said, bending down to stroke Pip, who wagged his tail. ‘Just excited for you.’ And I was too. My stomach fluttered madly. Jasper straightened up. ‘Here’s to good luck, then,’ he said, reaching for my hand. He kissed my palm three times, same as we did before every show. ‘I’ll keep them safe till afterwards,’ I said, closing my hand to a fist. Once the performance was over, I’d give him the three kisses back. It was our ritual; it brought us luck. Always. The curtains parted. ‘Tonight... defying gravity... I give you... Monsieur Mercury!’ Mighty Ned cried. The drums beat faster. Jasper went up on tiptoe then stepped forward. The curtains closed behind him. I waited for the lights to dip, then peered through a chink in the fabric. Marco let me stand in front of him. He said he’d see fine over the top of my head. Pip sat on my feet, his little body trembling. I hardly dared breathe. High up in the roof, Jasper flexed his arms. As he waved to the crowd, his tunic flickered in the lights. It made me think of dragonflies. Then he put rosin on his hands and gripped the trapeze. As the crowd went completely hushed, my own mouth turned powder-dry.  Jasper started easy. Slow and sure, he swung from one side of the tent to the other like a clock part. He tucked his knees over the bar, let his arms trail then folded himself over. The drumbeats slowed. It was almost restful. I breathed again. He went faster. The music kept pace. He swung this way. That way. Now he was a blur of colour. His legs were stretched out straight. Then he flipped upwards. He let go of the swing and somersaulted twice before grabbing the trapeze again. He did it once more. Then spun backwards. The crowd gasped. Though I’d seen his routine in practice, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Nothing else mattered. A spell had been cast over us all. Then Mighty Ned spoke. ‘And now ladies and gentlemen, for the triple somersault, the most daring trick of all...’ The drum roll seemed to go on and on. Jasper stretched his whole body, swung low and wide, gaining momentum. The magic of it held me fast. He reached high up into the roof. At the very top of the arc he let go. He spun once, twice, three times and seemed to hang in the air. Then he reached for the trapeze. And missed it. He fell to the ground like a shot bird.  Chapter 2 In an eye blink, it was over. Jasper lay still on the floor. Deep within the crowd the screaming started. The screams became shouts became groans of horror. Mr Chipchase rushed into the ring, with Kitty and Paolo in his wake. ‘Don’t look,’ said Marco, trying to shield me. But I had to see. The crowd was on its feet, surging for the exit. I tried to squirm free from Marco’s grasp. Pip started yapping at my ankles. ‘No Louie, stay back!’ Marco said. I clawed at his arm until he loosened his grip. In a flash, I ducked through the curtains. A huddle of figures stood in the middle of the ring. Just as I reached them, I stopped. Mr Chipchase looked over his shoulder. He saw me and stepped back to let me through. Yet my feet didn’t want to move. I took a deep breath. Shut my eyes for a second and told myself to be brave. My legs shook as I shuffled forwards. The group of people closed around me. It struck me as strange: here I was in the centre of the ring. Everyone was watching me. In a funny way, I was the star of the show. How I’d hoped for such a moment. How I’d dreamed of it. Yet never in the world like this. It was safer to gaze at Mr Chipchase’s waistcoat, with its thick golden watch chain and buttons straining. He had an arm around Kitty’s shoulders. For once they weren’t even bickering. ‘I don’t know what went wrong,’ Mr Chipchase said. I supposed he was speaking to me. Eventually, I looked down. There was no blood. Jasper lay on his side like he was sleeping. His eyes were shut, his hand tucked sweetly under his cheek. The only strange thing was the way his feet twisted outwards. I sank down beside him. A lock of stray hair had fallen across his forehead. I smoothed it tidy; he’d have wanted to look neat, even now. Then I took hold of his hand and, turning it over, gave back his kisses. One. Two. Three.  I waited for the pain to hit. No one spoke a word. We must have stayed like that quite some time, for when I looked up, all I saw was a wall of legs. They seemed to press in on me. I found it hard to breathe. The legs shifted. Hands pulled me to my feet. An arm went around me. It was Rosa the bareback rider, and suddenly I was glad to have someone holding me. ‘Should we get a doctor?’ I said. Everyone looked to Mr Chipchase. He’d let go of Kitty and was dabbing his face with a handkerchief. ‘Sadly, that won’t be necessary,’ he said. The group fell silent. Outside, a horse whinnied. A steady tap tap on the canvas told me it had started to rain. Suddenly Rosa stiffened. ‘I don’t believe it!’ She was pointing at Jasper. ‘He moved!’ she cried. ‘I swear to you, he’s just moved!’ I seized Jasper’s hand and leaned in close to his face. ‘Jasper? Can you hear me?’ Nothing. ‘It’s me, Louie.’ Not a flicker. I didn’t have the strength to get up. I held Jasper’s hand, imagining all the love draining out of me and flowing into him. It felt stronger than saying it out loud. I might have been there a minute, an hour, even a whole day. At some point, I felt a tickling against my palm. I thought it was my own fingers moving. Then I realised it wasn’t. Jasper opened his eyes. * Paolo was sent to get a doctor from town. The other men lifted Jasper onto a hurdle and carried him back to our wagon. He was properly awake now, and the tiniest movement made him cry out in pain. Once inside, we got Jasper into his bunk. It wasn’t easy since the bed was narrow, and to reach it the men had to turn sideways. There was much gasping and grunting, and even when Jasper was finally safe in his bed the weight of the blankets were too much for him to bear. The doctor came from town quick enough. His first order was for the crowd outside our wagon to leave. ‘Except those responsible for the care of this fellow,’ he said. That left just me and Mr Chipchase, who looked like he’d rather go too. I began to feel nervous myself. The doctor introduced himself as Dr Graves. It wasn’t a very cheering name for a person in his line of work, but everything else about him was purposeful and neat, right down to his well- trimmed whiskers. He ordered me to bring him water to wash his hands in, so I stoked the stove and put a pan on to heat. Then after removing his jacket and hat and cleaning his hands, he began his examination. ‘Easy, my good man,’ said Dr Graves. There were many sharp gasps; I winced at each one. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the doctor to reach his conclusions. ‘He has a bad fracture to his pelvis. There’s a break to his right thighbone too. How exactly did this happen?’ I shivered as Mr Chipchase explained. ‘He fell a good sixty feet.’ ‘And how did he land?’ asked Dr Graves. ‘On his right-hand side.’ ‘How long was he unconscious?’ ‘About fifteen minutes.’ ‘Hmm... did he know you when he came round?’ ‘He knew Louie here. Didn’t let go of her hand.’ They both looked my way. Then the doctor rummaged in his bag, pulling out a little brown glass bottle. He gave it to me. ‘Mix this with a cup of warm water. Let’s say thirty drops. It’ll take the edge off the pain.’ Then, to Mr Chipchase, ‘I’ll need your help to set the bone in his leg.’ There was a silence. ‘Come now,’ said Dr Graves. ‘It’s a two-man procedure. The sooner we get it done the better.’ Mixed with the drops, the water turned a reddish brown and smelled bitter. The doctor took it from me and propped up Jasper’s head so he could drink it. Some of it spilled from his mouth but mostly he swallowed it down, eyes tight shut. Soon he was drowsy. The doctor removed the blankets and Jasper’s costume without too much flinching. ‘Now, sir,’ said Dr Graves, turning to Mr Chipchase. ‘If you could just step over here...’ But Mr Chipchase had gone as pale as raw pastry. He backed towards the door. ‘I’ll find someone else for you,’ he said, and was gone.  The doctor cursed under his breath. He looked at me. ‘Will you do it? Before the laudanum wears off?’ I nodded. He bid me stand at Jasper’s shoulder. I glimpsed a twisted limb, bulging above the knee. The skin was shiny-tight. It hardly looked like a human leg at all. ‘Put both hands around his thigh, and grip it hard,’ said Dr Graves. ‘And when I count to three, pull backwards with all your strength.’ There wasn’t time to be squeamish. I gripped. Dr Graves took hold of the lower leg in the same way. Jasper groaned, twisting his face into the pillow. Dr Graves bit his lip. Little drops of sweat had formed on his brow. ‘One... two... three...’ I heaved with all my might. The doctor pulled in the opposite direction, turning the leg as he did so. Jasper screamed. There was a grinding noise. Beneath my hands I felt the bone shift. Something creaked. ‘Enough!’ cried Dr Graves. I glanced down. Jasper had passed out cold. Yet his leg was now a thing to behold, stretched out straight as a train track. ‘Good work,’ said the doctor, admiringly. My face, I supposed, looked astonished, for he then spoke sharply, ‘Quickly now, pass me those bandages.’ I did as I was told, though I couldn’t help grinning. It was rare that I got the chance to show I might be more than a ticket-selling, costume-mending nobody. Once Jasper was all bandaged up and sleeping soundly, the doctor made ready to leave. ‘You are his daughter, I assume?’ he said. It wasn’t a mistake easily made, not with my red hair, though I did have Jasper’s surname of Reynolds. And if anyone asked, I’d say, ‘I’m his niece from the country,’ which was what I did now. So far it’d kept me safe from the orphanage. The trailer door swung open. Mr Chipchase’s great bulk filled the doorway. ‘You’re too late,’ said the doctor. ‘The bone has already been set.’ ‘Managed by yourself, eh?’ said Mr Chipchase, who clearly hadn’t found anyone to help and looked relieved to be let off the hook. ‘I was most ably assisted by his niece here.’  I felt pleased as punch. Or at least I did until I saw the shock on Mr Chipchase’s face. ‘What, Louie?’ I scowled at him. The doctor hadn’t thought me too young to help him. There were things I was good at, and not just mending broken legs. If only Mr Chipchase would give me the chance. The doctor put on his hat. ‘We managed well. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients.’ ‘Wait!’ Mr Chipchase seized the doctor’s arm. ‘Can we move him tomorrow?’ ‘That wouldn’t be wise. He needs complete rest.’ ‘But we can’t stay put! We’re a travelling show!’ It was true. We never stayed longer than two nights anywhere. ‘Then you’ll need to make an exception,’ said Dr Graves, removing Mr Chipchase’s hand from his arm. ‘And if we do stay, will he be back in the ring soon?’ The doctor looked horrified. ‘I hardly think so!’ ‘But Jasper’s my star performer. He has to get well. The show won’t make money without him,’ said Mr Chipchase. ‘That man,’ Dr Graves said, nodding at Jasper, ‘is lucky to be alive. If he walks again – and I mean if – I predict he will have a profound limp.’ A limp wasn’t much, not really. Yet Mr Chipchase’s face said otherwise. This wasn’t good news, not to a circus. Jasper was our showstopper act. Mr Chipchase stroked his side whiskers: this wasn’t a good sign either. ‘What are you telling me, doctor?’ he said. The wagon seemed suddenly chill. ‘I’d start looking for another star performer, Mr Chipchase,’ he said. ‘Jasper Reynolds’s days as an acrobat are over.’ * Once the doctor was gone, Mr Chipchase cleared his throat. He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, making the plates rattle on the shelves. ‘What is it, sir?’ I said, for I reckoned this was about Jasper. He stroked his whiskers. ‘Louie, we took you in as a baby and now you’re a... well... quite a bit older.’  ‘Yes,’ I said, thinking he’d not win any prizes for observation. ‘Jasper was a good earner for this circus. And, as you know, we’re not a big venture. Not like...’ ‘Wellbeloved’s,’ I cut in. ‘Exactly.’ Wellbeloved’s was a big, flashy circus, and Mr Chipchase’s pet hate. He mentioned them when times were tough, and always in the same bitter tone. ‘So,’ he continued, ‘money will be tight. And if Jasper can’t work for us, then...’ He raised his palms. ‘What?’ ‘You’ll have to do more around here.’ ‘I’m game,’ I said. ‘You know I am.’ But Mr Chipchase frowned. ‘Taking you in hasn’t made life easy for us. Even to this day there are... issues.’ I didn’t quite follow. ‘Speak plainly please, sir.’ He rubbed a hand over his face. ‘All these years, I’ve expected someone... to claim you,’ he said slowly. ‘But they haven’t.’ I eyed him nervously: what someone? Though I knew from the tightness in my chest exactly who he meant. I hardly needed reminding of how forgetful my mam was when it came to me. Still, this new information hurt like a slap. ‘My mam won’t come back for me, sir,’ I said, eyes stinging. ‘Ain’t any point thinking she will.’ Mr Chipchase looked taken aback. ‘Louie, I don’t...’ ‘She was glad to get shot of me, sir, truly she was.’ He went tight-lipped. I hoped that meant we were finished, for I’d nothing more to say on the matter. ‘We’ll care for Jasper as best we can,’ he said. ‘But the doctor’s right... what this circus needs now is a new showstopper.’ ‘Yes sir.’ ‘And you, young lady will need to earn your keep. More than your keep from now on.’ ‘Yes sir,’ I said again, trying not to smile. For surely he’d just solved his own problem.  Chapter 3 That night I couldn’t sleep for trying. Then just before dawn my eyelids grew heavy. And – bam – Mr Chipchase’s words exploded in my brain. Fancy him expecting my mam to come back! Didn’t it prove what she thought of me, that she’d forgotten I existed? I lay stiff and cross under the blankets. Pip opened one sleepy eye at me then went back to snoring. By now I was fully awake. Jasper slept on in the opposite bunk. Quiet as I could, I lifted a corner of my mattress and pulled out my scrapbook. It was stuffed with newspaper clippings, all of which were on the same topic. I’d learned my letters from the headlines, though I still got stuck on certain words. Spreading the book across my knees, it fell open on my favourite page. The headline alone got my heart pounding: ‘BLONDIN ROPE DANCES ACROSS NIAGARA.’ Glued on the page was the grainy picture of a man on a high wire. The Great Blondin himself. He stood with his left leg tucked behind him, balance pole across his knees. Every time it struck me – how tiny he looked! A rocky gorge reared up behind him. On the river below boats passed by like dots. Yet it was impossible to look anywhere but at him. He gave off magic, a kind of hope. It was as if he was walking on air. This magic flickered inside me like flames. If Blondin believed the impossible, then so could I. And it wasn’t that impossible, not really. With a shiver, I thought of Miss Lilly, who last night said she foresaw a great change. Normal times I’d have shrugged it off, but things were changing, so fast it made my head spin. Chipchase wanted a new showstopper: I had a talent to offer. Put like that it sounded simple. All I had to do now was make him listen. * Sunrise was the best time for practising. Once I’d watered the horses and tipped their oats onto the grass, I fetched my rope. For months now I’d hidden it in the belly box of our wagon. Heaped in with the horses’ harnesses, Jasper hadn’t noticed it was there. This morning the horses looked dozy as they ate. Not me. I was wider than wide awake, the fluttering in my stomach quite strong. I’d dressed in one of Jasper’s old tunics. It beat tucking up my skirts like I usually did. But then today wasn’t usual. Not by far. Next job was to wake up Ned. And that was never ever easy. He lived with his mam, Rosa, the bareback rider. The remains of last night’s cooking fire still smouldered outside their wagon. Me and Ned had our own special knock, of a kind adults seemed unable to hear. I did it now, a tap-tap-tap with just my fingernail on the side of the trailer, right near where he slept. I waited. And waited a bit more. ‘Come on lazy bones,’ I muttered under my breath. An age seemed to pass. I knocked again. Even Pip started to look bored. Finally, the door opened. Ned appeared, still wrapped in a blanket. ‘What’s going on?’ he said blearily. Then his face fell. ‘It ain’t Jasper is it? Nothing’s wrong?’ ‘Jasper’s passable,’ I said. ‘Now listen. I need your help.’ ‘What’s that rope for? And what the heck are you wearing?’ I sighed impatiently. ‘All you have to do is watch.’ * Twenty minutes later I was ready. No one had ever watched me before, only Pip – and that didn’t quite count. Jittery though I was, I trusted Ned to be straight with me. He saw all the acts go in and out of the ring, so he’d know a star turn if he saw one. The rope was now tied between two stout trees, about ten feet off the ground. I’d climbed up there myself while Ned watched from the ground. He thought it was all one big prank. Right up until I kicked off my clogs, tied back my hair and asked him for a leg-up onto the rope. ‘You ain’t getting up on that?’ he said in amazement. ‘Of course I am, stupid. Now help me up.’ ‘You’re stark raving.’ ‘I will be in a minute if you don’t help me!’ ‘It isn’t safe, Louie. You can’t just get up on the rope and... well... do it. It’s a proper skill. It takes years of practice!’  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I know.’ I could’ve told him about my scrapbook. About Blondin, my hero. And that while he, Ned Bailey, had been snoring away in his cosy bed, I’d been practising every morning for as long as I could remember. But I wanted him to see it for himself. ‘Help me up,’ I said. ‘No.’ I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘If you don’t help, I’ll tell everyone you’re sweet on Kitty Chipchase.’ He glared at me. Then he put his hands around my waist. ‘Not like that,’ I said, wriggling out of his grasp. ‘Do it like I’m getting on a horse.’ So he cupped his hand for my foot and on the count of three he heaved me upwards. I moved onto the rope till I lay flat across it. Slowly, I eased myself into a crouching position. Now I was a lot taller than Ned. The thought made me giggle. Or maybe it was just my nerves. ‘I’ve got a bird’s-eye view of the top of your head,’ I said. ‘And I’ve got a gentleman’s-eye view of your ankles, pretty miss,’ said Ned, putting on his posh ringmaster’s voice. ‘Stop it,’ I said, giggling again. ‘Now step back and watch.’ ‘Shouldn’t I stay here? Just in case you fall?’ ‘You’re a pea-brain, Ned. ’Course I won’t fall.’ My mind went quiet. I stood up slowly, counted to five and focused straight ahead. The entire world had shrunk right down to this one length of rope. Nothing else existed. Under my feet the rope swayed slightly. It was part of me now. It had grown out of my heels and toes. We were the same thing, this rope and me. It made me feel wonderfully light. Arms out to the side, I took a step forward. Then another. Left foot, right foot, sliding forward along the rope. When I reached the other side I stopped. Turned right round to face the way I’d come. The only movement was in my ankles as they worked to keep me upright. I started walking again, this time making more of a show, flourishing my wrists, stopping to crouch down and stretch out each leg in turn. It felt good to be watched. It made me think harder about how I moved, what shapes and lines I made. When I reached the middle the rope began to sway. Not badly, but enough to make me steady myself. I didn’t have a balance pole; I made do with outstretched arms. Bending my knees a little helped too. Slowly, surely, I kept moving, the rope always a part of me. As it grew still again, I spun on one foot like a dancer. Below me, Ned breathed in sharp. Eventually, at the other side, I leaned on the tree trunk and grinned down at him. ‘What d’you reckon?’ His mouth hung open. ‘Do it again,’ he said. ‘Blimey, Louie! Do it again!’ Pip barked excitedly and ran round in circles. The flames were there again inside me. Now I’d started, I wanted more. More people, more cheers, more gasps of delight. Focus, Louie. A deep breath, a thought of Blondin above that great ravine and my mind cleared. I stepped out onto the rope, spread my arms and walked as if I was strolling in the park. Then I turned right round and did it all again. Finally Ned said, ‘You better come down.’ Back on the ground, I felt suddenly shy in my too-big tunic and Jasper’s old tights. Ned seemed unable to speak. ‘Sorry I got you out of bed,’ I said, once we’d untied the rope. Ned stayed silent, his hand dragging slowly down his face. ‘I’ve never seen the likes,’ he said eventually. ‘I bet even Wellbeloved’s ain’t got anyone like you.’ He sounded like Mr Chipchase. It made me grin. ‘Wellbeloved’s has got EVERYTHING. We ain’t in the same league,’ I said. ‘If you say so.’ ‘But am I any good?’ I said, impatient now. He took my hand, squashing it between both of his. ‘You’re better than good. You’re blooming brilliant!’ ‘Really?’ He nodded eagerly. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ ‘I had to be sure I could do it,’ I said. ‘And Jasper would have kittens if he knew what I’d been up to.’ ‘He’d have stopped you most probably,’ said Ned, for we both knew Jasper worried more than twenty mothers. I laughed. ‘He could’ve tried!’ ‘Where d’you get a talent like that from though, Louie?’  I stopped laughing. ‘It’s my talent,’ I said, taking my hand away from his. ‘It doesn’t come from anywhere else.’ ‘Maybe it’s in your blood.’ I’d much rather Ned kept telling me how good I was. I didn’t much fancy talking families. He leaned close to me, putting on a silly, storytelling voice. ‘Maybe your mother was a famous performer in a far-off land...’ ‘Stop it.’ He pulled a face. ‘I was only playing.’ ‘My mother abandoned me here, and that’s all I know – all I want to know,’ I reminded him. ‘Jasper’s my family. I don’t need anyone else.’ ‘I didn’t mean to...’ ‘And as far as I’m concerned, my mother ain’t anyone fancy, so there’s no point pretending she is. I don’t even know her name.’ We fell quiet. ‘Ta for watching me,’ I said eventually. ‘You’re the only person who has.’ He grinned. ‘Just wait, Louie. You’ll be filling that big top in no time.’ It was impossible to stay cross at Ned for long. ‘D’you think so?’ ‘Too right I do!’ And he shouted for all the world to hear, ‘Mr Chipchase! Call off the search! Your new showstopper is right here!’  Chapter 4 Whistling for Pip, I went to Mr Chipchase right away. There was the smallest chance he hadn’t heard Ned’s great gob, and I’d far rather tell him myself. Yet the second I saw him my heart sank. He was standing at the top of his wagon steps. Last time he’d said no to me he’d been wearing the same red-spotted waistcoat. This time he was busy saying no to someone else. A man and a woman stood below Mr Chipchase on the grass. In their stiff, dark clothes they looked like townsfolk. And they didn’t exactly seem happy. Bursting though I was, I knew better than to interrupt. As I stepped back their voices became raised. ‘A spectacle? It was horrific!’ the woman cried. ‘That poor man perished in front of five hundred people!’ ‘He didn’t die, you foolish woman!’ Mr Chipchase retorted. ‘Jasper Reynolds survived!’ The man wrote something down in a notebook. ‘That’ll make the evening papers if we’re quick,’ he said. So the man was a reporter. Mr Chipchase caught sight of me just then and his face went from red to pale. ‘Not now, Louie,’ he said through gritted teeth. The reporter and the woman turned round. Pip trotted over, bold as could be. He sniffed the woman’s skirts. She tried to push him away, all the while staring at me like I was some sort of freak. ‘A child performer,’ she said. ‘I should’ve known.’ As I went to claim Pip, she started with the questions. Proper daft ones they were. ‘Have you been whipped, poor soul? When did you last eat? Are you forced to work all hours?’ Tucking Pip under my arm, I scowled at her. She was a do-gooder, I could tell by her dull grey coat and the sharp look in her eye. Types like her made things tricky for girls like me. They kicked up a stink about young performers. Any second now she’d insist I needed rescuing and put in a proper school. Well, she could try. She held out a gloved hand to me. ‘I’m Mrs Dorothea Grimstone, secretary of the Society for Moral Obedience.’ I didn’t take her hand. Unsure what to say, I glanced at Mr Chipchase. His face had gone red again. ‘Never mind Louie. She sells tickets,’ he said, which made me scowl even more. The reporter eyed me up and down. ‘Really?’ ‘I hardly think so in that costume,’ said Mrs Grimstone. ‘And she has striking hair. How unusual.’ Mr Chipchase marched down the steps. He stood between me and Mrs Grimstone, shielding me from her gaze. ‘We have no child performers here. If you’re set on investigating then try Wellbeloved’s Circus,’ he said. ‘Now good day to you both.’ As soon as they’d left he turned to me. ‘What are you playing at, you foolish girl?’ ‘ I... I... was... um...’ I shifted Pip onto my hip. My moment of asking to be a showstopper had very definitely passed. ‘Do you realise the harm you could’ve caused?’ ‘But I...’ ‘The last thing we need is you all over the papers.’ I glared at him. ‘Me? They wanted to know about Jasper, not me!’ Sighing heavily, Mr Chipchase put a hand to his brow. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ He went quiet and I thought he’d finished. Not so. ‘Jasper’s accident has got people talking,’ he said. ‘With reporters and busybodies sniffing around, we need to watch our backs. There are people out there who hate the circus. An accident like this just gives them more to crow about.’ ‘I was only...’ ‘If that Mrs Grimstone thought for one second you really were performing here she’d try to close us down.’ ‘She wouldn’t!’  ‘Damn it, girl, of course she would! Times are changing. People want danger, but not if it puts a child at risk.’ ‘What about Wellbeloved’s? You said they use children.’ He flinched. ‘The less you know about that circus, the better.’ Yet he’d brought up Wellbeloved’s, not me. ‘So the sight of you appearing dressed up like some...’ he rubbed his forehead, ‘... some child trapeze artist, well, it hardly helped.’ ‘It ain’t dangerous if you train yourself properly.’ Mr Chipchase looked at me in disbelief. ‘Tell me you haven’t been training.’ ‘Might’ve been.’ ‘Oh great heavens alive,’ he groaned. ‘Training at what?’ ‘Um...’ My mouth went dry. ‘The tightrope.’ His face dropped a mile. ‘I’m very good at it,’ I said, all in a rush. ‘Ned’s seen me and he says I’m...’ ‘No,’ Mr Chipchase said firmly. ‘Not the tightrope. Absolutely not.’ ‘Just watch me and then decide.’ ‘No. That’s my final word.’ As he turned to walk away I grabbed his arm. ‘Please, Mr Chipchase, sir, it could be just what we need to get business going again.’ He shook his head. It made me think of Jasper’s leg: he’d not believed I’d helped mend that either. ‘I can do things,’ I said. ‘I’m not a dimwit.’ ‘Really?’ He shrugged me off. ‘I want you OUT of the papers, not IN them.’ I blinked back tears. It wasn’t fair. I’d never be a showstopper at this rate. ‘Just give me a chance,’ I begged. ‘Did you not hear what that woman said? And the reporter too? The pen is mightier than the sword, Louie. If we put you up on a high wire, they’d roast us alive!’ ‘But you said you’d find me another role.’ I started to get frantic. ‘And this is what I’m good at.’ ‘I said NO!’ ‘But I...’ ‘Enough! Now get out of my sight!’  * Back at our wagon Kitty Chipchase was waiting at the door. She was the last person I wanted to see. ‘What is it?’ I said, trying to hide the fact I’d been crying. She thrust her silver tunic at me. ‘It’s split at the shoulder. Sew it better this time, weasel.’ Putting Pip down on the grass, I took it from her. My tears sprung up afresh. Stupid me for thinking I might walk the tightrope like Blondin. This was all I was fit for, mending Kitty Chipchase’s poxy costumes. ‘Is that it, then?’ I said, for she hadn’t moved off. She put her hands on her hips. ‘Not quite. A word of warning to you.’ I tensed up. This wouldn’t be pleasant. It never was with Kitty. She seemed to begrudge me the very air, and I’d no idea why. ‘I saw you,’ Kitty said. ‘Just so you know.’ ‘Saw what?’ ‘I woke up early this morning. And guess what sight greeted me?’ I stared at my feet. ‘I saw you. On a tightrope. With Ned Bailey watching.’ My cheeks went whoosh with heat. ‘You were good. A bit too good. But don’t get above yourself, weasel. Papa’ll never make you a showstopper. You’ve had enough favours out of him already.’ I didn’t say a word. I went inside the wagon. Shutting the door behind me, I picked up my needle and thread and got to work like a good girl. But my mind was set. One day I’d walk that tightrope and the world would watch in wonder. I wouldn’t be put off, not by do-gooders, not by Kitty Chipchase. Not by anyone.  Chapter 5 Just as Mr Chipchase feared, the evening papers weren’t kind. ‘TRAPEZE ARTIST IN TERRIFYING PLUNGE,’ they said, and worse, ‘CHILD USED AS REPLACEMENT ACT,’ which wasn’t even true. It was a bitter blow, and hardly helped my case. Yet Mr Chipchase rose above it. He put on his tartan waistcoat and declared tonight’s performance would be a paper house show, which meant free tickets for all. Despite the headlines, few punters could resist. The big top was full in no time. And to my very great surprise, I was asked to perform. My excitement lasted all of ten seconds. ‘It’s a simple routine,’ Mr Chipchase said. ‘How hard can it be?’ Aghast, I’d tried to tell him. ‘Sir, please, Pip can’t do tricks. He ain’t that sort of dog.’ Which was putting it politely. Wild foxes were more obedient than my Pip. But Mr Chipchase’s mind was set. There’d be no high-wire walking, not even a trapeze, just safe, sweet things to win the punters over. And Pip and me doing tricks was part of the plan. Even Jasper saw the funny side, though it hurt his ribs to laugh. ‘You two, a buffer act? Crikey! Times are hard!’ He was closer to the truth than he knew. My costume didn’t help. I’d found myself a blue satin jacket and top hat, packed away in a trunk. It wasn’t perfect but with my hair brushed and gleaming, I looked quite the part. So did Pip in his matching bow tie. Yet Mr Chipchase was horrified. ‘Great god! You’ll be recognised!’ he cried. ‘I thought that was the idea.’ Weren’t we showing a child performer all safe and happy? Weren’t we trying to prove the do-gooders wrong? ‘Find yourself a clown suit,’ Mr Chipchase ordered. ‘And for goodness’ sake cover up your hair.’ So waiting backstage, I felt nervous AND ridiculous. The only clown suit I’d been able to find was the vilest shade of horse-dropping green, with arms and legs so long I had to roll them up. Mr Chipchase also insisted I plait my hair and hide it under a hat. The whole get-up made me hot and prickly. Not so Pip, who seemed quite at ease in his bow tie. In the final seconds, I went over our routine: dog walk, dead bodies, murder hunt, justice. Mr Chipchase was right: how hard could it be? If this went well tonight, it might lead to bigger things. Anything was better than selling tickets and sewing for Kitty Chipchase. Even Blondin must have started somewhere. Through a chink in the curtain, a blur of horse went past. Rosa was on her last lap of the ring. The crowd roared in delight, whooping and whistling and slapping their thighs. I tried not to think of last night, and the different sounds the crowd made then. The curtain flicked open. Rosa appeared, pink-cheeked as she clapped her horse Moonbeam on the neck. ‘Didn’t he do well?’ she grinned, sliding to the ground. I must have looked dazed because she nudged me. ‘On you go then.’ I glanced down at Pip. He fixed his eyes on me. One nod and he trotted into the ring like he was off on a morning stroll. I tucked our props under my arm and went after him. The lights in the ring were fierce. I’d seen them hundreds of times, but being underneath them made me blink. The smell hit me too: sawdust, damp grass, animal sweat. And the stench of five hundred bodies all cramped together on benches around the edge of the ring. Only the very front row was lit. We called this the pit; it was where the posh sorts sat, and tonight all the seats were taken. Ladies dressed in their finest silks sat with men in top hats. There were children too, eating toffee and swinging their legs. Mighty Ned cleared his throat. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen...’ I took my spot, ready as I’d ever be. Pip sat at my side. Putting down my props, I gave my head a quick scratch. This hat was awful itchy. The crowd was still buzzing from Rosa and Moonbeam’s equestrian skills. They hadn’t quite noticed us yet, so I did what I’d seen the other performers do; I waited for the punters to settle. That moment of shifting and rustling felt like forever. I kept still, my heart going boom boom inside me. But Pip was getting restless. He yawned, showing the speckled inside of his mouth. Then he put a paw over his eyes and lay down. People cottoned on. They started to laugh. Mighty Ned joined me in the middle of the ring, facing the audience with his arms spread wide, turning slowly so everyone saw his bright scarlet coat. The hubbub died away. ‘And... now...’ said Mighty Ned, pausing between words for that extra bit of drama, ‘ladies... and gentlemen... be amazed... be very amazed. For here we have a dog who can... really and truly... SOLVE CRIME!’ ‘Ha ha! Believe it when I see it!’ some charlie called out. ‘Now then... a little respect, please... because ladies and gentlemen... I give you... THE GREAT DOG DETECTIVE!’ A roll of drums, a smattering of applause, and the tent went silent. The limelights were on me. This was it! Smiling to the crowd, I flourished my arms. The knot in my belly loosened a little. First, we did a lap of the ring, while Mighty Ned took charge of the storytelling. ‘One fine day, a girl and her dog went for a jolly little walk.’ The crowd went ‘aaah’ at Pip, all jaunty at my side. ‘Everything was splendid until...’ A drum roll sounded, ‘... they took a shortcut through the woods. Soon they were lost.’ The audience ‘ooohed’ and ‘aaahed’ some more. ‘Watch yourself, girlie!’ someone cried. It was working: they seemed to like us. I allowed myself a little smile. We walked down the middle of the ring, Pip weaving in and out of my legs. A flick of my hand and Pip stopped. I gave him the eye and he spun round on the spot, once, twice and then stood still. The crowd clapped. Good boy. First trick done. I felt myself glow with pride. The lights darkened. Inching nearer the props, I reached out with my foot for the straw-stuffed sack that served as a body. I hesitated, thinking of Jasper. Last night he’d been lying here for real. It wouldn’t do to think of that now. With a quick kick, I positioned the sack where I wanted it, in a heap at the edge of the ring. ‘It was night-time,’ Mighty Ned went on, ‘so the girl and her dog decided to get some sleep.’  I lay down on my side. The audience chuckled. Opening one eye, I saw Pip standing over me, looking worried. ‘Lie down!’ I hissed. He wagged his tail. ‘Down!’ Someone in the front row rustled a toffee paper. Pip’s head swung round. I gritted my teeth. ‘Pip!’ He looked at me again, reading my face, and laid himself down like he was meant to. ‘But something woke the little dog. He spied a person hiding in the trees. The person ran away, but what he’d left behind... was... a... BODY!’ A click of my fingers and Pip sprang to his feet. He set off across the ring, barking and yapping till he found the ‘body’. He was meant to stand by it, paw raised, looking clever. Instead, he shook it like it was a giant rat. The crowd laughed. Grabbing hold of the other end, I hissed at him to drop it. But to him it was all a game and he dug his teeth in deeper. A ripping noise soon followed. I fell backwards with half the sack in my hands. The audience roared. I wanted to die on the spot. Quickly things went from bad to worse. Pip got bored and wandered off. The audience grew tired of us too. People turned in their seats to speak to friends in the crowd. Some started slow clapping and calling out names. I took my bows with a heavy heart. * Back at the wagon, Jasper was awake. ‘Well?’ he said, propping himself up on one elbow. ‘Don’t ask.’ I tugged off the wretched clown suit, flinging it onto my bunk. ‘It couldn’t have gone worse.’ ‘It was your first show. Tomorrow should be better.’ I snorted. ‘Tomorrow? This was my big chance to impress Mr Chipchase and I’ve ruined it.’ ‘There’ll be other chances, Louie.’ Jasper was trying to be kind, but it just made me crosser. ‘Not likely! That’s the end of it for me.’  I yanked on my nightgown and wrenched my hair from its stupid plaits. Then I sat by the stove, staring at the ashes. Slowly, I began to calm down. Maybe Jasper was right; tomorrow might be better. And if it wasn’t, then I’d have to convince Mr Chipchase of my real talent, if only he’d let me use it. Behind me, Jasper winced. I felt awful guilty then for tending my own silly thoughts. ‘Don’t fuss,’ he said as I went to help him sit up. ‘Huh! That’s rich coming from you.’ Once I’d got his pillows comfortable, I made us a pot of tea, and cut the rabbit pie Rosa had brought by. We ate far too much of it, or at least Pip and me did. And as I licked my fingers clean then settled down in my bunk, everything seemed a little bit better again. Then, out of the blue, Jasper said, ‘I’m sorry you’re having to look after me, Louie. It’s supposed to be the other way round.’ I rolled over to face him. He lay staring up at the roof. ‘We look after each other,’ I said. ‘You’re my family, Jasper, so that’s how it works.’ Except it didn’t, not with my real flesh and blood who’d abandoned me. I tried to push the thought from my mind. ‘What’s the matter, Louie?’ said Jasper. He looked directly at me now. I reached for his hand but couldn’t quite meet his eye. ‘I’m all right,’ I said. ‘Pip and me need more practice, that’s all.’ ‘This isn’t just about dog tricks, is it?’ My stomach turned queasy. Maybe it was the pie. Or maybe it was because I’d never told him about the tightrope. It was my secret. Though now Ned knew of it, and Mr Chipchase and his rotten daughter, it was hardly a secret at all. Yet if I told Jasper he’d only fret. Better to wait until he was well. ‘You say I’m your family,’ Jasper said, ‘yet we never talk about your real family, do we?’ I stiffened. ‘No.’ Pulling my fingers free, I got out of bed. ‘Perhaps it’s time we did,’ he said. This was far worse than talking tightropes. I started slamming plates onto shelves for a distraction. Pip slithered under my bed. Behind me, I sensed Jasper waiting for an answer. ‘Not tonight,’ I said.  Or any other night. I’d nothing to say about her, that woman who’d left her own child with strangers. She’d forgotten me. And I’d best forget her. ‘Perhaps tomorrow, then,’ said Jasper. ‘I don’t think so.’ ‘We could at least try...’ ‘Why?’ I picked up the teapot and banged it down again. ‘Mr Chipchase told me she was meant to come back for me. So where is she, eh?’ Jasper sighed. ‘I don’t know. But you mustn’t give up hope. She might still return.’ ‘Don’t make me laugh!’ By now I’d run out of things to slam, so I shook my blankets. Jasper reached out and took my arm, forcing me to stop and face him. ‘That’s enough, Louie.’ Letting go of me, he sank back on his pillows. I sat down. For a while neither of us spoke. Eventually I said, ‘Do you want some more tea?’ ‘No.’ ‘Your medicine?’ ‘Not yet.’ ‘What, then?’ ‘I want you to be happy. Good things will come along, you’ll see.’ I took his hand again. ‘But you’re my good thing, Jasper.’ It was enough. Almost. There was no point feeling sorry for myself. Things were changing around here; I mustn’t forget it. Jasper would get well again. And Mr Chipchase might finally listen and make me a showstopper. Yet what if Jasper was right and Mam did come back? I felt a sudden rush of panic. Some things were too much to hope for. Thinking this way was no use to anyone.  Chapter 6 Ten days later, Mr Chipchase sent Ned and me to the post office. He’d advertised for a showstopper in The Era magazine, and now he wanted the replies. Kitty hadn’t taken kindly to this news; her face was even more sour than usual, which was no mean feat. For once I knew exactly how she felt. Yet today I was fed up for a different reason: I was waiting for Ned. He’d been standing across the street, nattering to some gent in a carriage, for what felt like the last five years. ‘Oh come on, Ned!’ I yelled. ‘Any time before Christmas would be grand!’ One question had gnawed away at me for days now. And I couldn’t settle till I knew the answer. If some stranger was to get the very job I wanted, then I had to know who, even if it did hurt like hell. Ned ignored me. He kept talking and shrugging his shoulders as though he had all the time in the world. It occurred to me then that I didn’t have to wait. I could sign for the post myself! Far as I knew, there was no law against it. No one had died and made Ned king of letter collecting. I tied Pip’s lead to a lamp post so he wouldn’t wander off, then I went inside. There was a single counter with bars across it and a blue sign saying ‘Telegrams’ on the wall. Straightening my shawl, I went up to the counter. Behind it was a bald-headed man in shirtsleeves. He wore an eyeglass, so I wasn’t sure where he was looking. ‘Excuse me, sir,’ I said. ‘You’re from the circus,’ said the postmaster. So he was looking at me then, not the rack of writing paper to my left. ‘Yes, and I’ve come for our post, if you please.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ll have to sign for it. Write your own name, can you?’ ‘I ain’t no idiot, sir,’ I said, trying my best to stay polite. He grunted then slid a form and pen under the bars. I did a big squiggly signature and passed it back. The postmaster frowned at it, then turned to rummage among the shelves. I stood on tiptoe to watch.  How many replies did we have? Hundreds? Thousands? For who wouldn’t want to be the showstopper act at our circus? I jiggled from one foot to the other. This man was even slower than Ned. He was intent on checking every single piece of mail. ‘Hurry up,’ I muttered under my breath. The postmaster finally turned round. ‘Not much, I’m afraid,’ he said, passing me the letters. I stared at them in disbelief. There were three measly replies. THREE. ‘Well, ta anyway,’ I said and stuffed them in my pocket. Out in the street, Ned was still conversing with his gent. It didn’t help my mood. Nor did the sight of Pip, who’d wrapped his lead twice around the lamp post and looked about to choke on it. Quickly, I untied him and set off down the road. I’d had enough of waiting for Ned. No sooner had I started walking than the fancy gent’s carriage rumbled past. It sent up a great cloud of dust. Ned then appeared at my side. ‘Where you off to?’ he said. ‘Got fed up hanging about for you,’ I spluttered, waving away the dust. ‘Missed me, more like.’ ‘Hardly!’ Ned was a bit too smarmy these days. It was starting to get on my wick. He stopped dead. ‘Knickers! We forgot the post.’ ‘You might’ve. I didn’t,’ I said, waving the letters at him. He looked put out, which made me a tiny bit pleased. We turned into the main street. A coal cart was parked up on the corner, and a boy jumped down from it with a bag slung over his back. He seemed in a hurry and soon overtook us on the road. He kept looking back over his shoulder too. Eventually, he disappeared out of sight. ‘What did that gent in the carriage want?’ I asked Ned. ‘Just asking questions. He was looking for someone. All sounded a bit odd. Anyhow, what about those letters?’ I showed him the envelopes again but didn’t let him take them, not yet. ‘Blimey, there ain’t many of them,’ he said. By now, we’d left the village and were heading towards the river where the circus was pitched. Up ahead of us was the same boy who’d jumped off the coal cart, though my mind was still on the letters. I pulled Ned into a gateway. ‘Let’s have a quick look.’ ‘I dunno, Louie. They’re Mr Chipchase’s letters, not ours.’  ‘Thought you’d be up for it.’ ‘Just don’t blame me if he notices.’ Once I’d got a fingernail under the flap, the envelopes opened easy enough. My hands shook as I unfolded the first letter. It was a three-page missive in a tiny, spidery hand. I’d go cross-eyed trying to read it, plus I didn’t know half the words. Also enclosed was a proper studio portrait done on card, the carte de visite. Every star performer had one. ‘Oh my word!’ I gasped, showing Ned. ‘Look at that!’ The photograph was of an enormous woman in her undergarments. ‘Blimey! Is she real?’ The horror on his face made me giggle. ‘Dunno. What d’you think?’ He peered at the photograph then shook his head. ‘Nah! That’s a walrus in a corset, that is.’ We both fell about laughing. The next one wasn’t much better. There was no letter, just the carte de visite. This time the photograph showed a man hanging on to a trapeze. He had a huge white beard and legs like string. He’d easily be ninety years old if he was a day. ‘A trapeze artist? At his age?’ I snorted. ‘I reckon he’s already dead,’ Ned said. The final letter was from a man and his dancing bear. At least, I supposed the man had written the letter, though it could’ve been the bear since the writing was worse than a child’s. ‘Mr Chipchase doesn’t do exotics,’ said Ned, meaning the bear. ‘And can you imagine living with that brute?’ The bear didn’t look savage. He looked plain miserable. In my eyes it was the man with his big whip that was the brute. And by now I’d seen enough. I folded all the letters again. Sealing them the best I could, I gave them to Ned. ‘Mr Chipchase’ll be disappointed,’ I said. ‘Don’t look so glum. It might work out for you, this.’ ‘How, exactly?’ Ned raised one eyebrow, then the other. I didn’t laugh. But I did cotton on. The applicants were useless. Anyone could see that. It might just strengthen my case. ‘You’re a cunning creature, Ned Bailey.’ ‘Let me put in a word for you,’ said Ned. But I still didn’t think it would help. ‘It’s them do-gooders.’ I sighed. ‘What with them banging on about child performers and me looking a bit young. I’m scuppered before I even start.’  ‘Then I’ll tell Mr Chipchase I’ve seen you perform.’ I shook my head. Things weren’t that easy. The Great Dog Detective act had gone from bad to worse, so I was hardly flavour of the month. And since Jasper’s fall, every single show had lost money. ‘Do let me tell him,’ Ned pleaded. ‘I’ll say how brilliant you are, that you’ll be the best showstopper he’s ever seen.’ ‘If anyone’s doing it, I’d rather tell him myself,’ I said. Ned kept on. ‘He does listen to me... well, sometimes. So just leave it to me, Louie. I’ll sort it out for you. You’ll be charming the crowds in no t —...’ ‘Stop!’ I cried. It was too much. This was my business. My dream. I didn’t want it becoming something else. Ned looked at me like I’d slapped him. I suspected he fancied himself as my knight in shining amour. But I didn’t need one of those. ‘Buck up.’ I gave him a playful nudge. ‘Now, which of these three gets the job?’ Soon we were joking again about the walrus woman and the dead man swinging from the trapeze. As we turned into the showground, I stopped mid-laugh. Standing by the ticket booth was the same boy who’d walked past us on the road. ‘Who d’you reckon he is?’ I asked Ned. ‘Come for an early ticket, I expect.’ ‘I’d best find out.’ Ned went off to Mr Chipchase’s wagon, whistling and slapping the letters against his thigh. I prayed he’d keep his good words to himself. Then I turned my attention to the boy. He crouched down to greet Pip first, and did so like a person who truly loved dogs. This softened me a little. It also gave me a chance to size him up. I reckoned he was older than me, though only just, and tidily dressed in a collarless shirt, dark jacket and trousers. He had summer-blond hair and freckles across his nose. His chin was a bit too sharp and his eyes a bit too green, but all together it was a very nice face. ‘You wanting something?’ I smiled in what I hoped was a friendly way. The boy stood up and took off his cap. This made me smile more. People didn’t often take their caps off for ticket sellers like me. ‘The man in charge, if you please.’  He was a flattie, a not-from-the-circus person. Or at least he spoke like one, all posh and proper. He had manners too, and he looked at me when he talked. ‘Mr Chipchase is the gaffer here,’ I said. ‘Very well. Then that’s the fellow I wish to speak with.’ ‘Who shall I say’s asking?’ ‘Gabriel Swift.’ I giggled. ‘That’s a fancy name, that is!’ He stared at me like I wasn’t right in the head. I stopped giggling at once. ‘Wait there,’ I said. Pip sat down next to Gabriel Swift’s bag. ‘Not you, you great ninny,’ I said and dragged him away by his collar. First stop was our wagon to get rid of my pesky dog. Next stop, Mr Chipchase. I found him at his desk, looking sullen. Kitty was there too. They’d clearly just had a barney; half of it still hung in the air. ‘What’s she wanting?’ Kitty said as I came in. There were three scrunched-up envelopes on the floor. So Mr Chipchase hadn’t thought much of the replies to his advert either. Maybe Ned was right, that this would work out. I felt suddenly braver. Once Mr Chipchase had seen to this boy, I’d ask him outright. I’d make him listen. I’d show him what I could do. ‘What is it, Louie?’ Mr Chipchase said irritably. I’d almost forgotten why I was here. ‘Oh... yes. Some flattie person wishing to see you, sir.’ ‘Well, I don’t wish to see anyone,’ he said, and went back to his paperwork. ‘Says he’s called Gabriel Swift.’ Mr Chipchase went still. Then he sat forward in his seat. Kitty’s face fell. ‘But what about me, Papa?’ she wailed. ‘Can’t you consider me?’ He held up his hand to silence her, then turned to me. ‘Gabriel Swift, you say? The Gabriel Swift? Didn’t he have a brother?’ ‘Dunno, sir. How many Swifts are there?’ Mr Chipchase didn’t answer. He was already halfway out the door.  Chapter 7 I admit I was rather curious, and set off after Mr Chipchase. He was crossing the showground at quite a pace. ‘So who’s this Gabriel person, sir?’ I asked, once I’d caught up with him. ‘He’s from Wellbeloved’s, but don’t let that concern you,’ he said gruffly. ‘He’s one of their finest performers. I can’t imagine why he’s here.’ But I could. Or was beginning to. I’d got a cold sinking feeling inside. As he saw us approaching, Gabriel Swift greeted us with a smile. Mr Chipchase shook him by the hand. ‘And what brings you here, young man?’ He sounded almost wary. Gabriel smiled some more. ‘Mr Chipchase, sir, I’d be honoured if you’d consider me for your show.’ I groaned silently, my fears confirmed. So much for him being a flattie. Mr Chipchase looked intrigued. ‘Really?’ he said, stroking his side whiskers. ‘Hmmm, I see.’ He made a play of considering it, but I saw the glint in his eye. And with Kitty’s wail still ringing in my ears, I knew there was little chance now of Mr Chipchase choosing me; I was just another person in the showstopper queue. Yet why hadn’t this Gabriel Swift person answered the advert by post, like he was supposed to? What made him so special? It wasn’t hard to answer. He had such a graceful, upright bearing; Jasper had it too. Or had it once. Now all he had was a broken leg and a very uncertain future. Meanwhile, Mr Chipchase’s whole face had lit up; I knew he was thinking about money. ‘Very good, young man!’ he said, now rubbing his hands rather than his whiskers. ‘And Mr Wellbeloved knows you’ve left?’ ‘Oh yes. That’s been resolved.’ My heart sank another notch. ‘May I ask how?’  Gabriel ran a hand through his hair. ‘He’s doing more shows in America these days.’ ‘America, eh?’ Mr Chipchase seemed impressed. And so was I. America... America! Even the word made me shiver. ‘Very good,’ said Mr Chipchase, all smiles. Then his face fell. ‘Is there a problem, sir?’ Gabriel asked. Mr Chipchase shook himself as if waking from a doze. ‘What? Oh, no... Only,’ he paused, ‘Mr Wellbeloved doesn’t know you’ve come to us, does he?’ ‘Why no, sir.’ ‘Good. It would be better if he didn’t. In fact, we should give you a new stage name altogether.’ Now I knew about circus ways, that you didn’t poach another show’s star turns. And Mr Wellbeloved was a big name, capable of causing big trouble. ‘A new name, a new start,’ said Gabriel. ‘Splendid!’ Mr Chipchase clapped him on the shoulder. That was it then. The deal was almost done. What Chipchase’s Circus needed was someone with star quality, and here was just the person, offering himself on a plate. And he’d come to us – little old us – from a circus as grand as Wellbeloved’s. There was no point in me asking Mr Chipchase anything now. My chance of being a showstopper had gone. ‘Show us what you’ve got then, Master Swift!’ he said. I’d still no idea what Gabriel Swift’s talent was. Despite everything, I decided to stay and watch. Inside the big top, bright sunshine turned the canvas into a glowing dome of blues and golds. It looked magical. A tingle spread upwards from the soles of my feet and I began to feel a tiny bit excited. Finding myself a quiet seat in the corner, I waited for the action to start. Marco and Paolo were ordered to set up a rope. They hurried up and down ladders. Mr Chipchase shouted instructions till his face turned scarlet. There was no sign of Kitty; I supposed she was sulking somewhere else. Gabriel, however, watched everything. So did I. Very soon I realised what was happening. It couldn’t be. Could it?  There was no mistaking it. What I was looking up at – oh my heart – was a tightrope. And Gabriel was about to walk along it. Tears welled up in my eyes. Hot, angry tears they were too. For how dare this boy come from nowhere and steal my place? It was like pouring salt on a wound. Yet I couldn’t move from my seat. I kept staring upwards, transfixed by the rope, all the while thinking, he’d better be good. Because if he wasn’t it would make it ten times worse. Gabriel stood in the centre of the ring. From his bag, he took out what looked like lengths of a fishing rod. One by one, he connected them together until they made a curved pole that was easily fifteen feet long. Then he held the pole lightly in both hands and placed one foot in front of the other, walking like he was already on the tightrope. I slumped down in my seat and folded my arms. Huh! And he had fancy equipment too! Blondin used a pole in all his stunts. It helped with balance. But balance poles cost money. And ticket sellers like me didn’t earn thruppence, so I had to make do with spreading my arms wide and hoping to heaven I didn’t fall. Gabriel warmed up for another few minutes. And then, when he finally looked ready, he knelt on the ground and kissed it. I sat forward. A good luck ritual. It made me think of Jasper. And though I wanted to, it was one thing I couldn’t scorn Gabriel for. It showed he knew the risks. Moments later, Gabriel was at the top of the ladder. He knew we were all watching him. It fed him somehow, made him grow bigger, stronger. I understood that feeling. I’d felt it myself when Ned had watched me. And as he stepped out onto the wooden platform, the excitement made me shiver. I couldn’t help it. Everything went quiet. Gabriel’s power came from his feet, laid toe to heel on the rope. He barely lifted them at all. Instead, they seemed to slide like he was skating. His knees were slightly bent and he held his arms a little away from his body. He faced forwards, eyes not moving from a spot up ahead. The pole moved in slight dips and sways. Gold and blue sunlight flickered off him through the big top canvas. He looked as sure as a bird. He wasn’t a job stealer anymore; he was a creature of magic. When Gabriel reached the other side he stepped onto the platform and gave a bow. Then he walked backwards along the rope to the point where he’d started. I was transfixed. Any second now he’d spin round or do a stunt with props. Or even something madly daring. Something with the whiff of death. He didn’t get the chance. Mr Chipchase boomed ‘Bravo! Bravo!’ and I realised I’d forgotten to breathe properly. Gabriel sat on the tightrope, one leg tucked under him and the other dangling downwards. He might’ve been sat on a wall. ‘What tricks can you do, young man?’ Mr Chipchase said. It wasn’t enough just to rope walk anymore; not since Blondin with his cooking routines, his wild animals, his walking inside a sack. Once he’d even carried his manager across Niagara Falls. Though I didn’t think Gabriel would manage to carry Mr Chipchase – the rope would snap first. Gabriel’s leg stopped swinging. ‘Certainly I can do tricks,’ he said, though he didn’t exactly sound keen. It was on the tip of my tongue to cry, ‘Show us then!’ But it seemed Mr Chipchase wanted to draw things to a close. ‘Perfect. Let’s get you signed up,’ he said, dabbing his face with a handkerchief. ‘What’s good enough for Gideon Wellbeloved is good enough for us.’ In Gabriel’s shoes I’d have punched the air and whooped, but he simply shut his eyes and breathed deep. He looked sort of... relieved. ‘And you’re sure Mr Wellbeloved doesn’t know you’ve come to us?’ Mr Chipchase said again. Gabriel opened his eyes. ‘Absolutely, sir.’ ‘Marvellous. When can you start?’ As Gabriel climbed down the ladder, the spell broke completely. Proper pain spread through me. I watched as Mr Chipchase shook Gabriel’s hand. I didn’t notice Ned slip into the seat next to me. ‘Great on that tightrope, wasn’t he?’ he said, sounding a bit off. I glanced at him. He was chewing the inside of his cheek. ‘Gabriel was terrific,’ I said. ‘You don’t seem so sure.’ ‘You’re better.’ I smiled weakly. It was a kind thing to say but it wouldn’t help now. ‘I missed my chance,’ I said. ‘And so has Kitty. She won’t be happy either.’ Ned shrugged. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned away. ‘What’s up with you anyway?’ I asked.  ‘Nothing.’ ‘Don’t believe you.’ For he honestly looked like someone had stolen his last penny. Ned huffed about in his seat a bit more. He really wasn’t himself. More to the point, I still had half an eye on Gabriel and Mr Chipchase. And Ned sitting here grumping was blocking my view.  Chapter 8 So Chipchase’s Travelling Circus had a showstopper once more. It took some getting used to. Yet my dreams hadn’t changed because of Gabriel Swift, or ‘The Great Fun Ambler’ as he was now known. If anything it made things clearer. The next day wasn’t a moving on day, so there was time to practise. Pip and me got up at dawn. Once I’d seen to all the horses, I grabbed my rope and headed to the river. On the edge of our camp sat Gabriel’s small green tent. I tiptoed past, trying hard not to think of him asleep inside. It felt better to dislike him; that way things stayed simpler in my head. Down at the river’s edge a mist hung over the water. The stone bridge leading to the village curved prettily from bank to bank. It looked fairy-tale magical, a day for being brave and fighting off villains. Not that Gabriel was a villain exactly – more of a fly in my soup. And his lack of tricks on the tightrope had given me a plan. It took longer than usual to set up the rope. Finally, after a hot half-hour of climbing trees, I stood back to admire my handiwork. Pip gave a little high-pitched yelp. It was his way of saying he liked it too. The rope went from one bank to the other. It ran fifteen feet above the water, slightly higher on the left than the right. The distance looked about forty feet across. I’d never walked over a river before. It was a smart-looking trick indeed. Could I do it? The sun shone through the trees, making the river’s surface twinkle like hundreds of gold sovereigns. Could I really do it? There was only one way to find out. Spreading my shawl on the bank, I told Pip to lie down on it. He pretended not to hear, until I gave him a bread crust. ‘Good boy,’ I said, fussing his ears. ‘Now stay right there and watch.’ I climbed the tree once more. The bark scraped my hands and bare feet. For a moment, I couldn’t find the blasted rope. Then, there it was. I pulled myself into position, and inched along it. I kept one hand on the tree trunk until I found my balance. My heart steadied. I focused up ahead. Emptied my thoughts. Now it was just me and a long, thin stretch of rope. My feet tingled. I let go of the tree and walked forwards. A few steps out, I felt a breeze against my cheek. The rope began to sway. I bent my knees, moved my arms just a little, and kept looking forwards. Another few steps and the rope went quiet. The stillness of it made me brave. Halfway across I crouched down, dangling my leg just like Gabriel had done, and peered at the river below. After a bit, I got to my feet, but the balance wasn’t right. Gabriel had lifted one foot to steady himself; it was a tip I knew well. Doing it now, I grew still again all down my back and into my legs. When I was ready I took a step. And another. Before I knew it I’d reached the other side. Grinning like a lunatic I let out a great ‘WHOOP!’, which frightened a bird from the tree. Below on the bank, Pip blinked sleepily. ‘What d’you think of that, then?’ I said to him. He yawned. ‘Ta very much, Pip!’ It made me laugh, but only a bit. For it wasn’t enough, not anymore. I wanted cheering and clapping and faces grinning back at me. I wanted music and fireworks. I wanted sensational headlines of the kind Blondin got. The bigger the crowd, the better. Yet my only crowd so far had been Pip and Ned. And one of them was in a sulk with me. The other was half asleep. Crossing back over the river was easy enough. My feet had the measure of the rope now. That stillness stayed strong all down my back and I felt sure I wouldn’t wobble. Once I reached the middle, I walked backwards. I sat down and stood up again, and stretched out my arms and one leg like a ballerina. But when I got to the other side I didn’t want to stop. So I set off back across the rope. I went faster now, twirling my arms above my head, and turning once, twice, three times, before stepping onwards. I felt so sure, so calm. It was heaven. Suddenly, from the riverbank, Pip started barking. Sharp manic barks they were. I tried to shut it out but he kept going. Without thinking, I turned round, too fast, too off balance. My feet slipped.  I hit the water with a thwack. One moment I was completely under, the next I’d bobbed up again like a cork. My mouth filled with water. Spluttering and cussing, I swam for the bank. What a fool I’d been to practise here. Thank heck no one had seen me. I’d almost reached the bank when I stopped dead. At eye level I saw a pair of feet, done up in decent brown shoes. Uneasily, I looked upwards. ‘Hullo Louie,’ said a smart-sounding voice. Gabriel Swift stood on the bank. I sank back into the water. Drat! Drat! Drat! There was no point in hiding; so I stood up. Jasper’s old tunic stuck to me like skin. As I tugged at the fabric it made slurping noises like an animal farting. Not that Gabriel appeared to notice. ‘Sorry about my cap,’ he said. ‘Cap? What... cap?’ He held up a cloth object. ‘Your dog took against it.’ And he actually laughed. Well, it wasn’t funny to me. ‘Pip doesn’t like strangers,’ I said, which was obviously a lie since he was laying at Gabriel’s feet, paws in the air as Gabriel tickled his tummy. ‘Especially strangers who sneak about at the crack of dawn.’ Gabriel’s hand slowed. ‘It’s not a crime to get up early,’ he said. Grabbing at the grass, I heaved myself out of the river. Gabriel didn’t offer to help. Not that I’d have accepted it. I wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Up on the bank, I reached for my shawl. ‘Come on, you,’ I said to Pip. ‘We’re going home.’ He shut his eyes blissfully as Gabriel carried on stroking him. It was like I didn’t exist. ‘Get up, Pip! Come on!’ As I went to grab his collar Gabriel stopped me. ‘You’re a funambulist too,’ he said, as if he’d spoken of the weather. ‘And you’re the Great Fun Ambler,’ I shot back. ‘Yes, but why on earth did Mr Chipchase hire me when he’s already got you?’ I pulled my shawl tight around me. Was he joking? Something told me he wasn’t, that he wanted to talk. Suddenly, it seemed, so did I. ‘Those stupid do-gooders ruined my chances,’ I said. ‘So now Pip and me do a buffer act and we’re useless. At the rate we’re going I’ll soon have no job at all.’ ‘Have you told him you can walk the tightrope?’ ‘’Course I have! But he turned me down flat. Says no one wants to see children doing tricks anymore.’ ‘Poppycock! You’d be worth the risk.’ I glanced at him sideways. He sounded like he meant it, but I still wasn’t sure. ‘But you’ve come from Wellbeloved’s,’ I said. ‘They can afford to be risky.’ Gabriel’s face changed. ‘Wellbeloved’s? That doesn’t count for much.’ ‘It does to Mr Chipchase.’ It did to me too. Truth told, I was a bit dazzled by Wellbeloved’s. ‘Why?’ said Gabriel. ‘It’s nothing special, believe me. Half the time he forgets to even pay us. It’s just a bigger show, that’s all.’ ‘Try telling Mr Chipchase. He’s got this “thing” about Wellbeloved’s.’ Gabriel’s hand on Pip’s chest went still. ‘What sort of “thing”?’ I shrugged. ‘He sees them as competition, I s’pose.’ Though there were other big circuses out there and he never went on about them. Gabriel didn’t seem convinced either. He got to his feet. ‘Perhaps I should leave,’ he said. ‘I don’t want any trouble.’ ‘Bit late for that,’ I said, then felt I’d been a bit unkind. ‘But I’m sure you’ll bring in the crowds.’ Gabriel fiddled with his cap. ‘Yes. I hope so.’ Then he took a deep breath. ‘Well, whatever Mr Chipchase says, you are good.’ ‘How good?’ I said, for I was curious despite myself. ‘You’ve got a natural ability. Though for your next big performance, I’d leave the dog at home.’ I glared at him. ‘And what big performances would those be, now you’re here?’ ‘I wasn’t mocking you, Louie. I mean it. You do have a talent.’ I dug at the ground with my toe. ‘We could practise together if you like,’ he said. ‘What... you... and... me?’ ‘Why not? It’d help us both. Of course, if you’d rather not.’ I could think of a hundred reasons why not. Gabriel Swift had swanned into our circus and stolen my chance right from under my nose. And walking the rope with someone else was bound to be harder. Still, I felt strangely excited.  Gabriel knew the tightrope. Lived the tightrope. Just like Blondin. Only unlike Blondin, he wasn’t pictures stuck in a scrapbook. He was here in front of me, talking and breathing and wanting us to train together. ‘Ask me again when I’m dry,’ I said. Quick as I could I took down the rope. Gabriel helped me hide it in the bushes. Then I whistled for Pip. This time he came, all waggly tailed and happy. Together, we walked back towards the camp. Once we’d rounded the corner and Gabriel was out of sight, I did my own little dance for joy. Ned was sitting on his wagon steps as I went past. He was wrapped in a blanket, drinking coffee. ‘Should’ve woken me,’ he said, then looked at my wet clothes and grinned. ‘What have you been up to?’ So he wasn’t sulking anymore. I grinned back. ‘Brand new tricks.’ Ned glanced over my shoulder. His face hardened. ‘What’s the matter?’ I said. I turned to see Gabriel going to his tent. It did look a bit of a coincidence, us both arriving back at the showground moments apart. ‘Ned,’ I said in a rush. ‘We were just...’ He spoke over me. ‘I’ve been thinking, remember that man yesterday in the village?’ I frowned. ‘What man?’ ‘The fancy gent in the carriage.’ ‘Oh, him.’ ‘He was looking for someone about Gabriel’s age. Said the person walked the tightrope. He was offering a big reward.’ ‘So?’ Ned emptied his cup. ‘I wonder if Mr Chipchase knows?’ ‘Don’t be daft,’ I said. ‘Gabriel’s a tightrope walker, not a runaway.’ ‘If you say so. You’re the expert.’ And he got up and went inside.  Chapter 9 The next day we set off for the nearest big town. We’d almost reached it when Mr Chipchase had a sudden change of plan. ‘Keep going till Sharpfield!’ he barked. ‘Drive your horses on!’ I groaned. Sharpfield was another two hours away. I’d suffered enough rough roads for one day. My very bones ached, never mind how Jasper’s must be feeling. ‘Why aren’t we stopping?’ I asked Paolo, whose wagon drew alongside ours. ‘Wellbeloved’s are here. Look.’ He pointed to a glossy poster stuck to a wall. ‘SENSATIONAL!’, ‘DEATH-DEFYING!’, ‘BLOOD-CURDLING!’ it screamed. My heart skipped a beat. Wellbeloved’s. That name was like a spell, magical and mysterious. Yet I’d never even clapped eyes on the show itself. Now, at last, we were about to drive past it. Eagerly, I sat up tall in my seat. ‘So where are they?’ I said, seeing nothing nearby but a churchyard and some cottages. Up ahead, the lead wagons turned off the main road. We were now in a lane. Great hedges towered over us on either side. Any view was blotted out. We were bypassing the town altogether. I slumped down in disappointment. Then I recalled something Gabriel had said. I twisted round in my seat. ‘Thought you said Wellbeloved’s were in America,’ I called to him. He was walking alongside our back wheel, his collar turned up so it hid most of his face. ‘Mr Wellbeloved is going soon, I believe.’ He was frowning again. It didn’t suit him as well as a smile. ‘Oh, I see.’ Except I didn’t. We never ran into other shows. Two circuses in the same town at the same time was pointless. Mr Chipchase planned his stands months ahead so it wouldn’t happen. ‘Jasper’s accident,’ I said out loud. ‘It’s thrown our schedule, ain’t it?’ ‘That’ll be it,’ Gabriel said.  Yet it didn’t explain us taking the long way round. Why on earth couldn’t we just ride past Wellbeloved’s stand? We’d be through the town and gone again before they noticed us. What with Gabriel’s change of show name, done to keep Mr Wellbeloved at bay, and now this, it was like we were running away. As we urged our tired horses into a trot, Mr Chipchase called over his shoulder. ‘Louie, put a blasted hat on!’ ‘What for?’ He didn’t hear me. Or maybe he just didn’t want to answer. * Late afternoon we arrived in Sharpfield. The sky was dull grey, the air thick with chimney smoke. We went down streets where all the houses looked the same; row after row of grimy brickwork. On street corners children stared at us with eyes too big for their faces. Eventually, we took a sharp turn left, through a gateway and into a factory yard. Workers on their break were leaning up against the wall. ‘Showground’s that way,’ said a girl, pointing to another gate. And she smiled a big, crooked teeth smile. I grinned back. Then the factory horn sounded; break was over, and she looked as grim-faced as everyone else. I shuddered. I could be that girl. If things didn’t improve, I would be. This past week Mr Chipchase had run out of patience. Tickets still weren’t selling. The Great Dog Detective skit was getting worse. Even Gabriel’s act lacked sparkle. Not long ago, however bad things got, I had hoped that Mr Chipchase would eventually see sense. But now even that chance was fading. He had his tightrope walker; he didn’t need me. ‘We’re not a charity,’ Mr Chipchase said after one particularly bad night. Put plainly, if I couldn’t earn my way, I’d be out. I heard it clearly behind his words. It made me sick with fear, for without the circus I had nothing. I didn’t think I’d survive. It’d be like pulling a fish from the river and watching it gasp its last on the bank. Finally, our wagons came to a halt. It was a bit grand to call it a showground. The stand itself was just half an acre of bare ground, surrounded by a wall. One by one, people jumped down from their wagons. I took off the wretched hat and scratched my head. A black cloud seemed to hang over us all. Mr Chipchase didn’t even get out of his trailer. ‘Just set up!’ he yelled through the window. ‘We’ll not be here longer than a night.’ Then he noticed me. ‘You! Louie! Get over here now!’ I pointed to myself. ‘What? Me?’ Stupid really, there was no other Louie. No one else had been told to wear a hat either, and it now hung limp in my hands. I climbed the steps of Mr Chipchase’s wagon, expecting an earful. ‘Boots!’ he bellowed. Kicking them off, I went in. Kitty sat on a low sofa. She looked at me coldly. Mr Chipchase was behind his desk, the accounts book spread open before him like a bible. I stood in front of him. ‘Is this about the hat, sir? Only it itches awful and I don’t see why I had to wear it.’ ‘What? Oh, never mind that now.’ His face looked so grave I felt myself sink. This was obviously about more than hats. ‘We have a problem,’ he said. I swallowed nervously. ‘Oh.’ ‘We’re losing money. Faster than I can fathom.’ ‘But you’ve got Gabriel now,’ I said. ‘If anyone can bring in the crowds, he can.’ Kitty smirked. I felt myself go pink as Mr Chipchase’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Personally, I’m not entirely convinced by young Master Swift. It’s hard to believe he comes from Wellbeloved’s, a show so notorious for its daring.’ He was right, though it did make me wince. Gabriel’s routine was polished to perfection. But it wasn’t exactly a sensation. It didn’t have that whiff of death we needed to bring in the crowds. ‘Anyhow, you’re not here to discuss Gabriel Swift,’ said Mr Chipchase. He looked down at his accounts and grimaced. Thoughts of Jasper, our wagon and my sorry wage all rushed into my head. My heart gave a hard thump. ‘Gabriel alone isn’t enough to carry this show. Nor are you, Kitty,’ Mr Chipchase said, knocking the smug look off her face. ‘Things need to be different. Starting tonight.’  ‘I could do something, sir. With Gabriel, I mean,’ I blurted out. ‘Don’t make me laugh!’ said Kitty. Mr Chipchase didn’t say anything. I glared at them both. ‘It ain’t funny! We’re going to start practising together.’ Kitty sneered. ‘If only you’d listen. We could perform together on the high wire, act out a story, that sort of thing. No one else has done it, not even Blondin.’ Mr Chipchase raised his hand for silence. ‘I can walk the high wire! I’ve told you I can!’ I cried. ‘Ask Kitty – she’s seen me.’ Most normal people would’ve indeed asked Kitty, whose bottom lip stuck out like a baby’s. Not Mr Chipchase. He rolled his eyes skywards. ‘And I’ve told you I won’t allow it.’ ‘But Kitty knows I can do it. So does Ned, and Gabriel Swift...’ His fist banged down on the table so hard the pens jumped into the air. ‘ENOUGH!’ I bit my lip to stop it trembling. ‘As from today, the Great Dog Detective act will cease to exist.’ ‘You’re cutting our act?’ I didn’t know whether to be glad or mortified. ‘But she’s still not earning her keep,’ said Kitty. ‘If she can’t perform, then what’s she doing here, Papa? I’ve often wondered.’ ‘That’s enough, Kitty.’ Mr Chipchase’s voice had gone very low. He shot me a quick glance. It was enough to make me shrivel up with shame. For that look said it all: the circus might look after Jasper, who’d performed here all his life, but it couldn’t carry me much longer. Mr Chipchase came out from behind his desk, pacing the small space between us. A vein bulged in his forehead. ‘Listen carefully, both of you,’ he said. ‘I’m running out of ideas.’ In the pit of my stomach, I knew this was it. I wouldn’t get another chance. ‘My new plan involves you...’ he said, stabbing at me with his finger, ‘and you, Kitty.’ Another stab. I almost sank to the floor. ‘Louie, you’ll join Kitty’s act as her assistant.’ ‘Please, sir!’ I begged. ‘Don’t make me! Not an assistant! I can do so much more. If only you’d just...’  He cut in. ‘Not just any old assistant, Louie. As from tonight, you’ll stand against the board when she throws her knives. You’ll be her living target.’ This had to be a joke. A very bad joke. ‘A living target? But sir, think of the do-gooders! It’s dangerous! The tightrope’s safer by a mile!’ He wasn’t listening. ‘I hardly think even you can mess this up,’ Mr Chipchase said. ‘And don’t worry, Kitty’s very good. She never misses.’ First time for everything, I thought bitterly. The little smile on Kitty’s face said the same.  Chapter 10 The audience, all ten of them, stopped rustling their toffee papers. Kitty Quickblade’s act was about to start. She was done up to the nines in a silver tunic tied with ribbon, which I’d sewn in place backstage. As for my fine costume, it was still the dung-green clown suit. And as usual my hair was plaited tightly and tucked under my hat. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Mighty Ned boomed. ‘We bring you a chilling spectacle... A routine where one mistake could mean instant DEATH!’ The crowd gasped. Ned was laying it on specially thick tonight. Perhaps he’d been told to; perhaps he was still in a sulk with me. Either way, my knees shook hard. If things went wrong tonight, I’d be for it. I’d wave goodbye to any dreams of being the showstopper. Or any notions of staying here at all. As Kitty bowed to the crowds, I did the same, flashing my best smile till I almost began to enjoy myself. ‘Get in place, weasel!’ Kitty hissed when she saw what I was doing. ‘And stop showing off!’ Reluctantly, I went over to the corkboard. It was round, the size of a table top. All I had to do was stand against it. Yet as Kitty faced me, my whole body started trembling. Her eyes were slits as she shifted the blade between her fingers. A cold sweat crept down my back. I tried to make myself still as a dead thing, all the while my brain screaming ‘Run for your life!’ Next time I’d ask for a blindfold. Kitty raised her arm. Flicked her wrist just a fraction. The knife spun through the air. It whizzed past my left ear and went thwunk into the board behind me. I breathed again, though I’d barely drawn air when a second knife went whoosh past my right side. A ringing filled my ears. The blade, still quivering, tickled my cheek. Now I couldn’t move my head. Zip. Another knife skimmed my left elbow. Then the same on my right side. I twitched in alarm. Kitty took aim, tipped her hand. A glint of steel, then thwack thud as the final knives hit the board either side of my legs. The spectators clapped half-heartedly.  Kitty turned to the crowd. Mighty Ned started speaking. I supposed this was my cue to move but I couldn’t. The knives snagged my sleeves and trouser legs, leaving me pinned like a butterfly in a glass case. I tried wriggling my arms, then... Thwack thud. My heart stopped. Directly above my head a new knife stuck out of the board. I glared at Kitty, who gave me a nasty little wink. This time the audience clapped with gusto. Kitty bowed to the crowd. Then she turned and tried to tell me something with her eyes. ‘What?’ I mouthed. She nodded furiously. A snigger went through the audience. She ‘shooed’ with her hands at the board behind me. Then I realised: she wanted her knives back. My entire outline was marked out by daggers. A couple of sharp yanks freed my arms. Reaching up, I grabbed the other knives. Most came out easy enough, though my trouser leg tore. But the finaI blade had caught in my hair. Across the ring, Kitty eyed me coldly. People began talking and shifting in their seats. Try as I might, the knife wouldn’t budge. Screwing up my eyes, I jerked forwards. The pain was fierce, the ripping sound even worse. Then I was free. A great hunk of hair hung from the knife. The crowd cheered and clapped like mad things. It beat the sound of being scalped alive any day of the week. Clearly Kitty didn’t think so. Crossing the ring, she looked ready to thrash me. ‘Get that last knife out! Quickly!’ She tried distracting the crowd but by now they were cheering for a different kind of act. ‘Swap over, why don’t you?’ A man shouted out. ‘Let the red-haired lassie do the throwing, and the dark one take the brunt.’ ‘Too right!’ yelled someone else. ‘Poor girl. It ain’t fair she gets to risk life and limb. I’d rather it was t’other way round.’ More laughing and jeering. I didn’t dare look at Kitty. And that stupid knife of hers still wouldn’t come free. Bracing myself, I heaved and heaved. But the damned thing stayed bedded up to its hilt. Her face appeared right next to mine. ‘You’re useless, weasel.’ I despised her more than ever. Gripping the knife one last time, I imagined it was her neck. At last, with a kissing sound, it slid free.  Kitty wrenched it from my hand. As she did so her eyes went wide in surprise. The crowd gave an enormous jeer, as she spun round, arms flailing. A small white dog was swinging from her tunic. ‘Get him off me!’ she screamed. Where Pip had come from, I didn’t know. He certainly wasn’t part of the act. Now he wriggled and thrashed like a fish on a hook. He wouldn’t let go. I knew I should stop him, but I couldn’t quite move. ‘Get him off me!’ Twisting round, Kitty tried to grab Pip. I got to him first. His little body was all tight and bristling. I wasn’t sure I could hold him. Then Mighty Ned’s voice filled the tent. ‘John Robinson, please come to the exit.’ It was the name no artist wanted to hear. It meant the act had gone so far wrong it had to be halted. The band struck up a tune, the lights brightened. Kitty stormed out of the ring, her tunic in tatters. Pip and me followed at a distance. The very thing I’d feared had happened; now I felt sick with dread. Backstage, Ned gripped my shoulders and peered into my face. ‘What’s got into you, Louie?’ ‘I... I... I don’t know.’ I was too embarrassed to meet his eye. ‘Well, you’ve run out of chances,’ he said, as if this was news to me. The clowns and Rosa looked on awkwardly. There was no sign of Gabriel, which was a small relief. But still I wanted to curl up and hide. For my shame was their shame; one bad performance affected us all. ‘You were stealing the show with all that smiling and bowing,’ Ned said. I shrugged. I’d enjoyed the crowd, they'd enjoyed me. Yet that was now a crime too, apparently. ‘And getting Pip to attack Kitty? That’s a low blow, Louie.’ ‘I didn’t make him do it!’ Ned gave me an ‘I don’t believe you’ look. Tears sprang in my eyes. Why the heck was Ned siding with Kitty all of a sudden? I buried my face in Pip’s fur. There didn’t seem much left to say. ‘I’m going to put some proper clothes on,’ I said. Once I’d changed out of the clown suit I thought I’d feel better. But even in my own frock with my hair loose again I still felt awful. Ned was right. And so was Kitty. I’d done myself no favours tonight.  Just as I was about to slope off, the backstage curtains flew open. Mr Chipchase came marching towards me. ‘What the devil!’ he bellowed. ‘Do you mean to ruin this circus, once and for all?’ Kitty was right behind him. I shuddered. Mr Chipchase had given me another chance and I’d thrown it away. There was nothing I could say. I turned and made for the side of the tent. Pip raced ahead of me. ‘COME HERE THIS INSTANT!’ Mr Chipchase yelled. I didn’t look back. Ducking under the canvas, I ran out into the night. Halfway across the showground I slowed to a jog, unsure what I was doing or where I was going. I couldn’t go home. It’d be the first place they’d look for me. And Jasper had to be spared. Pulling Pip to me, I hid behind the nearest tent. My heartbeat began to slow. Then came footsteps. Shadows fell across the grass. I held my breath and put a hand over Pip’s muzzle to stop him barking. Two figures approached. One was tallish, wearing a ringmaster’s hat. The other was squat like a toad. ‘I’ve let this go on too long,’ Mr Chipchase said. ‘But Louie’s marvellous,’ said Ned. ‘If you saw her, you might change your mind.’ ‘That girl’s had every sort of chance!’ ‘Not this chance, sir. And what with Gabriel Swift not being quite so special with his tricks...’ Ned stopped, letting it hang in the air. Mr Chipchase didn’t reply. But I groaned silently, begging Ned to shut up. ‘See, sir,’ said Ned, ‘I’ve a notion someone is after Gabriel, someone who wants to find him quite badly. This man has a carriage, and money by the look of him. It won’t be long before he tracks u