Circus Excite (28 page)

The moments just before the show started were always agitated and restless, and Julia felt herself hovering on the brink of panic as she let herself get worked up by the stirrings and noises of the crowd outside. Normally she'd whisper to the other performers, sharing in the adrenaline rush. Tonight, though, she was silent, knowing that she was about to attempt something that was so reckless it could be called crazy. Looking nervously around, she caught the eye of Henri, his face frozen in grim determination. He too was aware of the dangers of what Julia had planned, but had agreed to give his assistance when the time came. As had Joe, Sylvie, Sarah, the girls, and a couple of the stagehands. Julia had been careful not to let word spread. Though she needed the help of a few people, she wanted to make sure nothing would endanger her plan. Standing in the wings now with Sylvie, she felt her stomach lurching with nerves, and tried to focus on the show. She would still be performing her usual acts, and needed to calm herself so she could concentrate.

‘Good luck, girl,' Sylvie whispered before they took the stage. Julia merely nodded, too focused now on the show to respond. She felt the usual buzz as she stared at the stage, lit up now so that the audience were a dark mass of anonymous watchers in the shadows. Since she'd joined the circus, Julia had learnt how to turn her nerves into excitement, and the feeling of sickening anxiety that she'd felt the first time she performed was now almost enjoyable – like the moment when she undressed for a lover, she anticipated showing herself to the audience with a shiver of uncertain sexual delight.

Robert was walking forward now, his shoulders drawn back and his spine straight, ready to face the
crowd. Julia could see from the set of his jaw that this was not going to be an easy gig for him. There was a beading of sweat on his brow and his usual laconic smile was absent. Turning to the line of performers he gave them one last instruction before striding onstage to start the show:

‘Play your hearts out, ladies and gentlemen.'

Julia danced that night with her body at its most sensual and responsive – she couldn't stand to focus on what might happen after the show and so she concentrated on every beat, every rhythm and every movement of her limbs and torso. Even with the shadow of her plan looming over her she found the tension only sharpened her performance – she moved with such ferocious sexuality that she drew admiring whistles and applause from the audience even before her acts had finished. Dancing Pepper's Ghost with Robert was a fraught episode for her, knowing it may be the last time she could enjoy working with him. By the next morning, she could be out of a job. When the lights fell on the tableau created by her and Robert, the reflection of her body draped over his, Julia felt a keen sadness wash over her, as though the fading spotlight were the last time she would feel any warmth from Robert, or be able to dance for him in one of his private shows. It was an aching loss that seemed to pull her heart as much as her body, but at the same time she knew that she was prepared to sacrifice her nascent relationship with the ringmaster. At any cost, she wanted to perform the dance that meant so much to her.

By midnight, Julia's nerves had all but disappeared to be replaced by a strange calm. As the company assembled for the final ‘blow-off' – the parade to close the end
of the show – Julia checked round quickly for her accomplices. Receiving nods from Henri in the lighting booth and Sylvie backstage, she turned to the stage and took one last deep breath.

Just as Robert was about to step between the crack of the curtains and start the parade, Julia slipped recklessly in front of him, a black floor-length cloak wrapped over her shoulders and covering her costume. Behind her she heard him start to protest, before the noise of the audience and the stage lights took over and she ran to the centre of the platform aware only of the burning desire to perform.

It was a terrifying moment, standing alone on the stage with Robert and the rest of the circus watching from behind, frozen with confusion at Julia's unexpected appearance. It was unheard of for the show to deviate from its meticulously planned plot, and Julia knew how shocked her fellow performers would be.

For a full minute she stood in silence, waiting for Henri to start the music for her routine. Julia thought she might pass out or scream, as the audience started to shift in their seats and whisper loudly. Was it obvious something had gone wrong? What was happening in the sound booth? At any moment, Julia expected Robert to send on a couple of the roustabouts to tear her from the platform and carry her offstage. She had never felt so exposed, as though the entire audience and all her colleagues were watching her darkest, most intimate nightmare come to life. She started to wish that the earth would open and swallow her as the moments dragged by.

Then, at last, the deep beat of the music boomed from the speakers and Julia knew there was no going back. She was bound to perform this act now, even if it meant the end of her circus career. Trembling, she unfastened
the catch at her throat and let the cloak fall to the ground, allowing the audience see her in her slight costume of chains and one white feather.

If Julia had dreamt of emulating Josephine Baker when she imagined her act, she couldn't have anticipated the strength of the audience's reaction. At first they watched with appreciative noises, enjoying the sight of Julia gyrating her nearly-bare body before them, believing they were being treated to another sensual display of eroticism.

But when the black-clad acolytes started combing the audience with spotlights and cameras, there was an uneasy shifting in the seats. Julia heard shrieks of nervous laughter as the audience saw themselves projected on the giant white screen behind the stage, saw people turning their heads in an effort not to be filmed. There was a general rumbling of nervous excitement and she knew the act was disturbing them in a totally unexpected manner. As Sylvie climbed down among the front rows, moving like a shadow through the rows of seats, the atmosphere started to change. Some people seemed eager to get close to the performer, leaning forward in their seats and licking their lips as she passed them. Others were standing to leave, hastily shoving their jackets on and making for the doors. There was the sense that the tent was on the point of anarchy and no one could tell what would happen next.

When the hapless Joe was plucked from the audience and dragged onstage the mood turned again – now a certain line had been crossed and the audience waited with trepidation to see how the act would develop. Rather than sitting passively and watching the show, they were now moving around, some standing to better see what would happen, some trying to make sure they had an easy escape route. There was a fierce noise of
chatter and the entire tent was stirring, either with shock or delight. Julia couldn't tell but she knew she had to keep going. The cameras onstage were still filming close-up shots of her body, and now Joe's as he was slowly stripped and dragged towards her. The clicking of cameras surrounded her in a flurry as the audience tried to capture this unbelievable scene – the innocent bystander caught and forced to take part in some strange sexual performance. It was building to a crescendo, just as she'd hoped, and as she moved in closer to Joe and pressed herself against his face, Julia heard the noise of the crowd swell and mix with the music. It was bedlam – Julia and her accomplices onstage working their asses off while the audience gave in to their fearful delirium, their shouts and cat calls almost drowning the music as Joe was stripped and worked on by Sylvie.

As the show moved closer towards its climax Julia felt the pounding of her heart and the hot slick of sweat on her skin, tumbling over the bodies of the other performers and knowing the sight had the audience utterly captivated. She was working harder than she'd ever imagined, shaking with the effort and the fear, yet pushing her body to move with more vigour and passion. She felt strong jolts, shivers of desire that were amplified by the crowd's reaction, turned on like never before. This, wild reckless act was the closest she'd ever felt to the audience, their horrified pleasure so tangible she could almost taste it in the white-hot atmosphere of the tent. A hundred sensations were building around her: the sweating and gasping of her fellow performers; the hubbub of the crowd; the throb and wail of the music and the steadily increasing frequency of the strobe lights nearly overwhelming her as they all hammered closer to the final chaotic moments of her act.

The final parade passed in a blur. Julia was exhausted, her nerves shaken and her body aching with exertion. She couldn't bring herself to meet Robert's gaze, knowing the cold fury that would be emanating from him. She'd dared to interrupt his masterful performance to show her own crazy act – an act that had lost them a good few audience members and seemed to stir up a dangerous reaction in the crowd. The response was loud, the applause thunderous, but Julia knew she'd pushed her luck too far. It was going to be an unpleasant scene when she finally confronted Robert, and she wished she could disappear without having to face his anger.

As the performers finally left the stage, Julia slipped quickly to her caravan, avoiding the crew members who were eagerly trying to attract her attention, thrilled by her kamikaze actions. In the sanctuary of her narrow bunk, Julia collapsed and closed her eyes, burrowing her head into the pillow. Outside, she could hear shouts as the after-show party started, the performers still high on adrenaline and ready to cut loose. Her whole body was buzzing as though there was an electric current running through her, static crackling over her skin. For the first time, Julia had achieved something she'd never dreamt possible – found a way to express her exhibitionism and sexuality in a form that stirred an audience. In a moment she'd have to go and thank all the people who'd put themselves at risk to help her. She wanted to see Joe and Sylvie, and let them know how grateful she was, but at the same time the shadow of Robert darkened her thoughts.

Opening her eyes, Julia saw the picture of Josephine Baker hanging above her bed. The impish smile of the woman who'd dared to take Paris by storm seemed to wink at her and she felt a new stirring of joy. Even if she was now sacked, nobody could take away the buzz she'd felt when she heard the applause of the crowd.

‘It was worth it, Josie,' she said out loud, quietly thanking the image of the woman who'd driven her to try and realise her dream.

She cleaned the greasepaint from her face as though preparing herself for a firing squad. She dressed slowly, half listening to the sound of the party outside. As she pulled on an old shirt and jeans, she heard Sylvie's laughter and gave a tired smile. It was going to be a late night, and she had every intention of enjoying herself. It may be the last party she ever got to share with the strange and fabulous creatures of the circus.

As she stepped out of the caravan, she was taken off guard by the sudden whoops and cheers of the party cavorting round Joe's truck. Most of the company were assembled there, half of them still in costume, make-up smeared. All of them were turning to greet her, bottles of beer in their hands and teeth shining in the darkness.

‘A toast to the hottest ballerina I ever met!' Sylvie's voice rang out over the Meadows, jubilant and loud as she raised a bottle of beer to salute Julia. The others joined in a warm ‘hear hear', and Julia felt herself start to grin as they clapped her. It was the most welcome ovation she'd ever heard, and she stood on the steps of the caravan and gave a humble deep bow in return.

‘And a toast to all my accomplices,' she said, nodding back at Sylvie.

As she walked forward to join the party Julia noticed a tall figure standing apart from the group of happy performers, watching in silence. It was Robert, his face still pale with panstick, hands in pockets. Julia knew his gaze was fixed on her, and knew that she couldn't avoid him forever. Her heart did a flip as she thought of the anger she'd seen in him once before – a slow-burning and implacable anger that he expressed with a low even voice. The thought of confronting him made her feel
lightheaded, as though he had mesmerised her. Julia was the adept who had turned on her teacher – the upstart girl who'd dared to wreck his show. What could he possibly do to her that scared her so much, she wondered. She was strong enough to withstand the harshest criticism, the most vicious insults from her strict ballet masters. Yet the thought of Robert's disapproval filled her with a vast and uncertain dread.

‘Have a drink, Julia?' someone called to her, and she turned to see Joe's warm smiling face. ‘I bet you could use one after that performance.'

Julia hesitated. Part of her wanted badly to join the others, stay in the shadowy circle around the truck and discuss the show. She felt like celebrating, and the exhaustion was starting to take its toll. Her body was limp, her eyelids heavy. But she knew she couldn't rest yet – not until she'd seen Robert.

‘Thanks, Joe, I've got something to clear up first.' She gave him a wry smile and steeled herself to approach Robert. When she looked back, he'd disappeared.

Julia guessed where he'd be.

She ducked to enter through the gap in the canvas, and looked around. The house lights were still on, motes of dust dancing in the beams of white light. The air was still thick with the smell of dry ice, the stage abandoned and silent.

‘Robert?' Her voice fell flat in the empty tent. It was a strange feeling, to find the place so quiet after the pounding music and furore of the audience. Julia thought she could almost hear echoes of the night's show, but there was no sign of Robert. She walked slowly to the stage and pulled herself up, standing under the soft house lights and looking out at the rows of empty seats.

‘Can't get enough of the stage, can you?'

Robert's voice came from behind the curtain that
screened the backstage area, so low and velvety it was as though he'd run his hand over Julia's shoulders and stroked the back of her neck. She whirled round, searching for him.