Zarconi’s Magic Flying Fish Read online

  He heard his mum draw breath and then she spoke slowly, as if she were speaking to a three-year-old.

  ‘Gus, darling, I’d love for us both to go home but I have to keep on with the treatment. You’ll have to be brave and wait a little longer.’

  The phone line crackled and Gus knew she was waiting for him to say everything was okay.

  ‘Gus?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Are you all right, darling?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘What have you been doing?’

  ‘Not much,’ he said.

  The mobile felt slippery with sweat. Gus rubbed his hands on his shorts and passed the phone from one hand to the other.

  He heard his mum sigh and then she started talking about the new people in her room and how Mrs Scully in the bed opposite had moved to another ward. When she told him how Pete Spanner and his mum had been to visit her, Gus suddenly felt tired.

  ‘I have to go now, Mum.’

  ‘I’ve written a big letter to you, Gus. Pete gave me something to put in it too. I’ve sent it to Esperance.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Gus.

  He knew she wanted him to say more but he couldn’t make the words come out.

  ‘Take care, sweetheart. We’ll talk again next Sunday.’ Her voice was fading out.

  ‘Yup. Bye,’ said Gus.

  He switched the phone off and laid it down on the benchtop.

  ‘What’s your mother’s news?’ asked Nance without looking up.

  ‘I can’t go back for a while yet.’

  ‘She’s not worse, is she?’ Nance looked at Gus, her face full of alarm.

  ‘About the same,’ he said sourly. ‘Don’t worry, You won’t be stuck with me forever.’

  Nance put her pen down and stretched one hand out to Gus.

  ‘Come here, sweetie,’ she said.

  Obediently, Gus stood next to her.

  ‘We’re really happy you’re here,’ she said.

  Gus nodded. She slipped one arm around his waist and gave him a quick hug. She smelt of leather and ink and the scent of her pushed back the cold tide of unhappiness that swelled inside him.

  ‘You can stay with us as long as you like,’ she said.

  Gus was silent. They both knew ‘liking’ had nothing to do with it. There was nowhere else to go.

  8

  SAWDUST IN THE BLOOD

  Doc couldn’t get permission to use the oval. The progress committee wanted to keep the football ground clean for some big event that was happening during the week, and didn’t want to have to worry about sawdust and elephant dung left lying around.

  The circus crew worked all afternoon setting up the tent in a paddock on the edge of town. Effie and Gus raked away the rocks that were scattered across the site while the men positioned the king poles. Coils of rope, blocks and tackle were unloaded from the trucks and Doc sat astride the king poles as he ‘dressed’ them, securing the cables so the poles could be raised up in the heart of the tent.

  Pikkle and Mac unrolled the six big pieces of canvas, and when every last piece of tackle was in place, Cas hooked a steel cable to the first king pole. Then he leapt behind the wheel of one of the trucks and slowly drove a few metres away. The cable tautened and the king pole began to rise into the air. Gus imagined it piercing a hole in the sky. The mess of flat, sprawling canvas began to billow and swell and finally take shape.

  The worst of the job should have been over then, but the ground was hard and flinty. Everyone grew bad-tempered from the effort of driving pegs into the red soil. It took another hour to get the seats in, the speakers in place and the sawdust spread in the ring, ready for the evening’s performance.

  A low grey sky settled over the big top and not a breath of air moved across the desert. The circus looked small and lonely sitting on the dusty plain.

  ‘Do you think anyone will come?’ asked Gus.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Vytas. ‘It is not often that a circus comes to a town like Iron Knob. Many people pass through but few stop so these Iron Knobbers, they need our magic. You will see, everyone will come out for Zarconi’s.’

  Vytas was right. At quarter past seven, there was a long queue at the ticket office and Nance was flat out taking the money.

  Gus hung around the back door of the big top while everyone else prepared for the show. Something about the fact that the whole town had turned out to watch Zarconi’s made Gus feel restless. For the first time, he didn’t want to be left out.

  ‘Come now, little Gus,’ said Vytas. ‘Tonight you join the show. You must look like you are the grandson of the great Zarconi and share a little bit of your magic! Here Effie, we must find a costume for this boy. Hannah, you will do his makeup?’

  Hannah looked at Gus and smiled.

  ‘Come over to my caravan and I will turn you into a beautiful auguste, Augustus.’

  Gus couldn’t resist Hannah. When she took his hand and led him across the stony site to her caravan, he followed her meekly.

  Inside the caravan, she unfolded a chair and opened her makeup box. It was full of little pots of greasepaint and thick coloured crayons and liners.

  Hannah held Gus’s chin and turned his head from side to side. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes grew narrow as she examined his face and then she laughed. ‘Ah no, before we begin, first you must wash this grubby face of yours. With cold water, please.’

  Gus filled the small kitchen sink and made a show of dousing himself before sitting down again with Hannah opposite. He liked being this close to Hannah. She always smelt interesting, of chocolate and something sweet and oily.

  She slipped an elasticised band over his head to keep his hair off his face and made two huge circles of white around his eyes and his mouth. Next, she drew a big red smile on his lips. She made his eyebrows into two pointy arched black triangles set halfway across his forehead and then looked at him thoughtfully with her head to one side.

  Effie slipped into the caravan with her arms full of costumes.

  ‘Give him pimples, Hannah,’ said Effie, stepping up to watch.

  ‘Keep out of it,’ growled Gus. He already felt sweaty underneath the layer of grease paint.

  ‘No, she is right, we need something more, but not pimples,’ said Hannah. She peered at him closely as she placed a dozen black freckles across his cheekbones.

  ‘And now, your nose, because you can’t be an auguste without one,’ she said. She painted a circle of red on the end of his nose but then shook her head and rummaged around in her makeup kit until she found a red plastic nose that she fixed in place.

  Effie dumped her load of costumes onto the floor. She slipped a pair of spotted underpants on her head, held a bright pink tutu up against herself and wriggled her hips.

  ‘C’mon, baby! Ooo-la-la! This is the outfit for Gus McGrath!’

  ‘Get out of it,’ said Gus again, but he laughed anyway. He was never quite sure when to take offence at Effie’s jibes. She kept the knickers on her head but grew serious as she made her selection of costume for him; a bright yellow and black checked jacket, huge green trousers with red braces, and a red and white striped T-shirt. Gus had to be careful slipping the T-shirt over his face so as not to smudge his makeup. When he’d finished, Vytas climbed into the caravan with a huge pair of clown shoes and an oversized green cap. Gus stood in front of the mirror and felt a shiver of unexpected pleasure.

  It was crowded in the back-door area, with people bumping into each other and jostling props. A hot wind lifted the flap of the tent and threw a flurry of dust into the small space where everyone was milling, waiting for Doc to announce their acts. Rosa pawed the ground impatiently with her hooves and Cas spoke softly into her ear and stroked her nose.

  ‘Now, little Gus, you understand what you are to do?’ said Vytas.

  Gus nodded. ‘As soon as Cas and Effie finish the bareback riding, I come out and muck about for a couple of minutes while Mac and Pikkle set up for your magic act.’

  ‘Good
boy. A few waves to the crowd and one or two pratfalls, this may seem a little thing, but it is a big help for the audience to have a distraction. It keeps the magic in the air.’

  Hannah burst into the back-door area on her unicycle and Mac whisked her juggling rings and the cycle out of the way. As Doc’s voice boomed inside the big top, Cas lifted Effie up onto Rosa’s back. She looked small and elegant in a white lycra costume covered in silver spangles. She glanced down at Gus and winked.

  ‘Break a leg,’ she said.

  ‘You too,’ he replied.

  Gus peeped through the curtain and watched with a mixture of envy and pride as they entered the ring, Cas’s silver cloak swirling around him. Rosa broke into a steady canter and at a cue from Cas, Effie did a handstand on the horse’s back. The audience clapped wildly. The heat in the tent was stifling and Rosa’s neck and flanks were shiny with sweat but Effie looked silvery-cool and graceful as she brought her legs down and balanced effortlessly on the horse’s rump.

  Cas vaulted up and joined her, grasping her small hands in his. Their costumes shimmered in the spotlight as Cas lifted Effie into the air to stand on his shoulders. Cas gripped Effie’s ankles firmly and her long hair streamed out behind her. She looked as if she was about to take flight.

  It happened so quickly that Gus couldn’t work out how Effie fell. One moment she was on her father’s shoulders, a dazzling angel circling the big top, and the next she was lying in the sawdust in a broken and crumpled heap.

  The audience let out a horrified gasp. Cas leapt down from Rosa’s back and crouched beside his daughter, his face twisted with fear. People jumped to their feet and stared at them. Hannah, Nance and Doc were in the ring in a flash and Nance grabbed Rosa by the harness and led her away. Backstage everyone was talking at once.

  Gus couldn’t bear it. He had to do something. He dashed out into the ring, but the huge clown shoes were like planks strapped to his feet. He fell flat on his face and lay sprawled in the sawdust, panting for breath. The crowd laughed uncertainly, unsure if it was all part of the act. Doc looked up and took in everything in an instant. He grabbed a microphone and signalled for the music to be turned up.

  ‘Nothing to worry about folks, nothing to worry about,’ he boomed. ‘Just a small mishap – the little girl will be right as rain. But here’s a genuine piece of worry for you, ladies and gentlemen,’ he called, putting one foot squarely in the middle of Gus’s back.

  Gus lifted his head and saw Cas kneeling beside Effie, gently touching her head and running his hand along her back before scooping her up into his arms and carrying her backstage.

  ‘Keep it together, sonny Jim,’ said Doc in a low voice pressing his boot gently into Gus’s back.

  Gus understood. He rolled out from under his grandfather’s boot and struggled to his feet, waving stupidly at the crowd as if nothing had happened, before tripping over his own feet again and landing flat on his face. This time, he did it deliberately. The crowd laughed nervously.

  ‘Zippo Zarconi, ladies and gentlemen,’ roared Doc behind him, ‘the clumsiest little clown in Australia.’

  Gus got to his feet, straightened his cap and pulled at his braces. His mouth felt dry and his skin was clammy all over but he grinned like a frightened monkey and did a clumsy dance in the sawdust. The crowd murmured and a little girl in the front row shrieked with laughter. Without a word, Gus strode up to her, grabbed her hand and shook it violently before spinning around and falling flat on his face again. He threw himself at the ground and bounced up again and again. Pratfalls, backward somersaults, forward rolls – he tumbled as fast as he could, using every trick that Effie had taught him. Each time he came to his feet he waved to the audience with both hands. His cheeks hurt from grinning and he felt a tide of panic rise inside him as he realised he was running out of ideas. He knew he’d been in the ring less than five minutes, but it felt like hours.

  Just when Gus thought stage fright was going to take hold of him, Pikkle charged into the ring on a tiny tricycle, madly honking the horn on the front. Buster sat on top of his head, wearing a ruffled collar and a cap with a propeller on it, yapping furiously. Just the look of them cracked a laugh from the audience.

  ‘Introducing Buster the Wonder Dog and his faithful companion Pikkle!’ announced Doc, looking just a little alarmed at the way things were developing.

  Pikkle rode up to Gus and cycled around him in smaller and smaller circles. Gus had no idea what he was meant to do but Pikkle winked and fell off the trike, knocking Gus flat on his back. One wheel of the tricycle kept on spinning while Gus and Pikkle lay in a tangled heap in the sawdust. Buster trotted around them, sniffing curiously. He raised one leg and let loose a spray of pee all over Gus and Pikkle’s legs. Gus banged his head on the tricycle as he scrambled to get away from it.

  The audience roared with laughter but out of the corner of his eye, Gus could see Doc slap one hand on his forehead and groan. When Nance stepped into the ring a look of relief washed over his face.

  ‘And now ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the amazing Nancy O’Brien will demonstrate her whip-cracking expertise. Here’s a little lady who, despite her delicate frame, can wield a three-metre stockwhip as if it were sheer gossamer.’

  Nance, dressed in a cowgirl outfit, strode into the centre of the ring and uncoiled her stockwhip. She bowed to the audience and then drew her arm back. The whip cracked like gunshot fire. Once, twice, faster and faster she worked it, until the whole tent echoed with the ricocheting sound.

  Nance whirled the whip around her head before bringing it down either side of Pikkle and Gus. Gus’s body tensed each time the leather flicked past him. The tip of the stockwhip licked the ground at Pikkle’s feet and he leapt around in a comic dance. Gus felt his neck prickling with sweat as Nance turned to face him and her green eyes met his with a knowing nod. He knew it was safe, that Nance wouldn’t let the whip touch him, but he couldn’t help shivering as it bit the sawdust in front of him.

  Pikkle pretended to look relieved that Gus was getting the attention. He took a newspaper out of his pocket and started to read it, holding it well away from his face and whistling. Buster lay in the sawdust to one side of them, his paws folded over the end of his snout, and that gave Gus an idea of what he could do next. When the whip skimmed past him again, he did a backwards roll that landed him right beside Buster. He put his hands over his head, and lay there whimpering.

  Nance whirled the whip around her head again, bringing it down across Pikkle’s newspaper and tearing it in half. Pikkle looked dumbfounded. He clutched one side of the paper in each hand and stared at Nance with mock disbelief. Defiantly, he threw one half of the paper on the ground and pretended to read the remainder. Nance sliced the newspaper in half again and again, until Pikkle was left with a piece no bigger than an envelope. When Nance brought the whip down expertly on this tiny scrap, Pikkle threw the fragments into the air and leapt onto his tricycle. Buster scrabbled up Pikkle’s back and sat on his head while Gus ran after them, flailing his arms. As he passed into the annexe, Doc’s hand reached out and thumped him on the back.

  ‘You beauty, Gus. You saved the bloody show,’ he said, close to Gus’s ear.

  Before Gus could catch his breath, Doc was gone, back in the ring to do his fire act.

  Gus kicked off his clown shoes and ran barefoot across the hard ground to the Cuelmos’ caravan. Hannah came outside when she saw his face at the screen door.

  ‘Effie, is she okay. Is she hurt bad?’ he asked breathlessly.

  ‘Don’t worry, Gus. Just a concussion. She’ll be fine.’

  Gus shut his eyes and felt the knot of fear that had been tightening in his chest slowly unravel. A light rain began to fall and Hannah went back inside to watch over Effie. Gus walked across the circus lot, turning his face up to the sky to feel the cool splashes of raindrops mix with the dust and greasepaint.

  After the show, everyone sat around in Doc and Nance’s caravan and even though they all
knew what had happened, Doc insisted on telling them over and over again how Gus had saved the show. His face was flushed even redder than usual and he slapped his knee and laughed even when people made ordinary remarks.

  ‘Well done, cobber,’ Doc crowed. ‘Let’s drink another toast to the boy. A real Zarconi at last!’

  Gus had never seen his grandfather so cheerful. Doc opened another bottle of champagne and tried to top up Vytas’s glass but the old magician slipped his hand over the top of his glass and refused. Vytas glanced across at Nance. She was frowning, her lips a thin tight line.

  ‘Pikkle and Nance did most of it,’ said Gus, quietly.

  ‘Pikkle, schmickle,’ roared Doc. ‘You’re the one who did what a real clown is meant to do! You got out there, faced that crowd and gave us time to sort Effie. You’re a natural, boy!’

  He pinched Gus hard on the cheek and his breath was hot and strong with alcohol as he put his face up close. Gus swallowed hard and tried not to back away.

  ‘There’s sawdust in your veins, boy, mark my words. Blood will out – every time!’

  Later, Gus couldn’t sleep. His mind whirled with all the events of the evening – Effie’s fall, her pale face among the heaped bedclothes in the Cuelmos’ caravan, the whip-cracking, the sea of faces that was the audience. He felt bruised all over from doing all those pratfalls and backward somersaults. He’d thrown himself around as if he were made of rubber. The crowd had loved it. The sound of their laughter was still inside his head, making his ears ring. He turned over and punched the pillow into shape and tried to think of something boring that would stop the excited fizzing that was going on in his head. As he grew calmer, he became aware that Doc and Nance were arguing at the other end of the caravan.

  Gus couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he could tell Doc was angry. Nance’s voice was tight, like a low hum, while Doc’s voice became a roar as the argument continued.

  ‘You reckon I’ve forgotten! You think I don’t know everything that Cas was feeling when that kid hit the sawdust. You think I could ever forget what a father feels when that happens!’ he shouted, so loudly that Gus thought everyone in Iron Knob would hear him.