Chapter 11 #2
As they drew nearer to the tents, Harry became aware of an array of enticing smells.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she had not eaten since breakfast. She glanced at Beth, who was also sniffing the air; they were there to gather information but perhaps it would help them to blend in if they sampled some of the tempting treats on offer.
The crowd swelled as they approached the ticket booths at the entrance and it took some minutes for them to purchase two tickets and make their way inside.
Immediately, they were approached by a smiling woman in Victorian dress offering to sell them a balloon.
Harry waved her away and she moved on. Behind her, a trio of acrobats were tumbling for a small crowd.
Recalling Beth’s observation from her previous visit, Harry paused to study them but none of them looked small enough to navigate the tunnel beneath Berkeley Square.
For all their skill, they could not hold her attention for long.
Everywhere she looked, there was something remarkable to see: a majestic elephant being led towards the largest tent, bedecked in paste jewels and tasselled ribbons, an impossibly long-legged stilt-walker who graciously raised his top hat at those passing by, a pair of glossy-coated, gilt-decorated horses being ridden by a young woman with one foot on each of their backs.
A splendidly attired black-moustached ringmaster strode around, whip in one hand and a marching cane in the other as he exhorted people to roll up to the greatest travelling show they would ever see.
And dotted in amongst all of these wonders were the food stalls, each seller calling out their wares.
‘Jellied eels! Fresh from Southend this morning, get your jellied eels here!’
‘Meat pies, warm from the oven! Sausage rolls!’
There was no shortage of customers – each stall had a cluster of hungry patrons, keen to buy their wares. Beth tugged on her sleeve. ‘Look at that! It’s so pretty.’
Harry followed her gaze and saw she was staring at a machine that was spinning sugar into candyfloss. The sugar glistened as the seller wound it expertly around a stick and presented it to a waiting child. ‘Would you like some?’ Harry asked.
Beth shook her head. ‘Nah.’
‘Are you sure?’ Harry joined the edge of the crowd. ‘I’m having a stick.’
A flicker of indecision crossed Beth’s face before she gave in. ‘Go on, then.’
Harry had not noticed any undue scrutiny as they mingled with the crowd – most people seemed to be too busy taking in the spectacle around them – but she felt better camouflaged behind the swirl of candyfloss.
Checking the time, she saw they still had quarter of an hour before the matinee was due to begin.
‘Let’s try to sneak behind the main tent,’ she murmured to Beth. ‘We might learn more backstage.’
Affecting casual curiosity, they moved to the edge of the milling crowd.
Children’s delighted screams rang out as they whirled from the top of the helter-skelter.
Harry allowed her gaze to roam past the brightly painted tower to the cluster of dingy cream tents behind the big top.
These were not part of the spectacle, plain and unadorned to render them invisible.
Nevertheless, she saw they were guarded; a heavy-set, well-muscled man stood with arms folded and legs akimbo as he surveyed the scene.
From behind her candyfloss, Harry watched a variety of circus folk pick their way through the maze of ropes that held the tents in place, calling out and pausing to exchange words.
There was no sign of the man mountain she had encountered earlier that day, nor did she spy the smaller acrobat Beth had mentioned, but it was clear she had little hope of venturing further without being challenged.
Reluctantly, she turned back to Beth. ‘Guarded. I wonder why.’
Beth took a large mouthful of candyfloss and chewed. ‘Probably to make sure some nosy kid don’t get their head bitten off by a lion. It’s bad for business when that happens.’
‘I can imagine,’ Harry said, trying not to picture that particular scene. ‘In any case, we should probably take our seats.’
The ring inside the tent was vast, separated from the audience by a circle of low blocks.
The ground was lined with sawdust – the pine scent of it tickled Harry’s nostrils as they shuffled along the row to an empty space on one of the wooden benches arranged like a giant horseshoe behind the barrier.
Overhead, two empty trapezes had been tethered to the sturdy tent poles.
At the back of the ring, a pair of golden curtains tumbled from on high, hiding what Harry assumed must be the grand entrance for the performers and animals.
The air crackled with expectation as the benches filled with men, women and children.
Silence fell. Every face turned to the golden curtains.
An unseen band struck up a vibrant, rousing cascade of notes that Harry recognised immediately as ‘Entry of the Gladiators’.
Trumpets blared, drums thudded and the curtains were drawn back to reveal the portly, red-coated ringmaster.
He marched into the ring, beaming and waving his cane in perfect time to the beat, the band following.
Behind them there was a stream of dazzling colour: jugglers led acrobats, clowns capered ahead of lion tamers, four glossy horses walked placidly beneath their riders and bird-of-paradise trapeze artists turned somersaults in front of large-muscled strongmen.
Automatically, Harry’s gaze flew to their bare forearms. None bore the same tattoos as the man they had encountered in Solomon Pole’s shop.
‘The kid ain’t there either,’ Beth murmured as the acrobats passed in front of them.
‘We will have to be patient,’ Harry whispered, with a reassurance she wasn’t sure she felt. She could be about to waste an afternoon when time was of the essence.
After looping around the full length of the circle several times, the band led the performers back through the curtains.
They dropped shut with a dramatic swish and the music fell away, leaving the ringmaster to take centre stage.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to Cuthbert’s Travelling Circus!
’ he cried. ‘This afternoon, you will witness marvels and miracles beyond your wildest dreams. You will gasp, scream and laugh until you cry. You will be amazed by feats of strength, astonished by acrobatic skills and astounded by the bravery of our fearless animal tamers. Everything you see is real – every danger is deadly. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, prepare to be entertained!’
And they were. One act flowed quickly into another, no more than five minutes long so that the audience did not have time to get bored or even catch its breath.
Almost as one, they gasped as the Human Cannonball shot through the air, giggled at the antics of the clowns and covered their eyes when the trapeze artist missed the rung of her swing and caught the outstretched hand of her colleague instead.
It was almost thrilling enough to divert Harry from her true purpose, until the acrobats tumbled into the ring.
There were eight in total – four men, two women, a girl in her mid-teens and a small boy of perhaps around eleven or twelve, all leaping and somersaulting with dizzying speed.
A sharp nudge from Beth told Harry this was the young acrobat she had seen on her previous visit and Harry paid close attention as he twisted and turned.
He was certainly slender enough to use the tunnel beneath the house, but it was hard to imagine the exuberance with which he performed turned to darker pursuits.
Was it possible he was as nimble with locks as he was in the ring?
She could not help hoping her suspicions were wrong.
After a dazzling display that culminated in a precarious human pyramid, the acrobats departed to rapturous applause, which only died down when a gigantic glass tank filled with water was wheeled into the centre of the ring.
An excited muttering broke out as five brawny men strained to manoeuvre it into position, hauling on ropes and pushing as the water sloshed around inside.
Harry studied each of them. They wore brown coats and flat caps, in the manner of factory workers, which made it impossible to tell whether any of them might be the man they had encountered at the pawnbroker’s shop.
A shrug from Beth told Harry she had drawn the same conclusion.
And now the ringmaster was back, demanding their attention once more.
‘She may be small but she is mighty!’ he cried, and gestured to the tank.
‘Watch, if you dare, as Angelique defies death and escapes the tyranny of not one lock, not five locks but ten steel padlocks as she attempts to save herself from drowning before your very eyes!’
As he finished his dramatic exclamation, the curtain drew back and a slender young woman with hair the colour of flaming coals rode into the ring, standing on the back of a stocky pony.
She leapt off while the animal was still moving, landing lightly at the feet of the ringmaster, and Harry was startled to see she barely came up to his shoulder.
The crowd cheered as she spun before them, her perfectly made-up face split into a triumphant grin.
She threw off the satin dressing gown she wore, exposing a bathing costume that appeared to reveal more than it covered.
The man in front of Harry leaned forwards.
With great ceremony, the ringmaster reached beneath the tank and withdrew a heavy hessian sack and several lengths of iron chains.
Urgent music began to play as the ringmaster wrapped the chains around Angelique and made an enormous spectacle of securing them with padlocks.