The Girl Who Walked on Air (3 page)

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.

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.