The Girl Who Walked on Air (4 page)

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.

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.