Read The Girl Who Walked on Air Online
Authors: Emma Carroll
In an eye blink, it was over. Jasper lay still on the floor. Deep within the crowd the screaming started. The screams became shouts became groans of horror. Mr Chipchase rushed into the ring, with Kitty and Paolo in his wake.
‘Don’t look,’ said Marco, trying to shield me.
But I had to see. The crowd was on its feet, surging for the exit. I tried to squirm free from Marco’s grasp. Pip started yapping at my ankles.
‘No Louie, stay back!’ Marco said.
I clawed at his arm until he loosened his grip. In a flash, I ducked through the curtains.
A huddle of figures stood in the middle of the ring. Just as I reached them, I stopped. Mr Chipchase looked over his shoulder. He saw me and stepped back to let me through. Yet my feet didn’t want to move.
I took a deep breath. Shut my eyes for a second and told myself to be brave. My legs shook as I shuffled forwards. The group of people closed around me. It struck me as strange: here I was in the centre of the ring. Everyone was watching me. In a funny way, I was the star of the show. How I’d hoped for such a moment. How I’d dreamed of it.
Yet never in the world like this.
It was safer to gaze at Mr Chipchase’s waistcoat, with its thick golden watch chain and buttons straining. He had an arm around Kitty’s shoulders. For once they weren’t even bickering.
‘I don’t know what went wrong,’ Mr Chipchase said.
I supposed he was speaking to me.
Eventually, I looked down. There was no blood. Jasper lay on his side like he was sleeping. His eyes were shut, his hand tucked sweetly under his cheek. The only strange thing was the way his feet twisted outwards.
I sank down beside him. A lock of stray hair had fallen across his forehead. I smoothed it tidy; he’d have wanted to look neat, even now. Then I took hold of his hand and, turning it over, gave back his kisses.
One. Two. Three.
I waited for the pain to hit. No one spoke a word. We must have stayed like that quite some time, for when I looked up, all I saw was a wall of legs. They seemed to press in on me. I found it hard to breathe.
The legs shifted. Hands pulled me to my feet. An arm went around me. It was Rosa the bareback rider, and suddenly I was glad to have someone holding me.
‘Should we get a doctor?’ I said.
Everyone looked to Mr Chipchase. He’d let go of Kitty and was dabbing his face with a handkerchief.
‘Sadly, that won’t be necessary,’ he said.
The group fell silent. Outside, a horse whinnied. A steady tap tap on the canvas told me it had started to rain.
Suddenly Rosa stiffened. ‘I don’t believe it!’ She was pointing at Jasper. ‘He moved!’ she cried. ‘I swear to you, he’s just moved!’
I seized Jasper’s hand and leaned in close to his face.
‘Jasper? Can you hear me?’
Nothing.
‘It’s me, Louie.’
Not a flicker.
I didn’t have the strength to get up. I held Jasper’s hand, imagining all the love draining out of me and flowing into him. It felt stronger than saying it out loud. I might have been there a minute, an hour, even a whole day. At some point, I felt a tickling against my palm. I thought it was my own fingers moving.
Then I realised it wasn’t. Jasper opened his eyes.
*
Paolo was sent to get a doctor from town. The other men lifted Jasper onto a hurdle and carried him back to our wagon. He was properly awake now, and the tiniest movement made him cry out in pain.
Once inside, we got Jasper into his bunk. It wasn’t easy since the bed was narrow, and to reach it the men had to turn sideways. There was much gasping and grunting, and even when Jasper was finally safe in his bed the weight of the blankets were too much for him to bear.
The doctor came from town quick enough. His first order was for the crowd outside our wagon to leave. ‘Except those responsible for the care of this fellow,’ he said.
That left just me and Mr Chipchase, who looked like he’d rather go too. I began to feel nervous myself. The doctor introduced himself as Dr Graves. It wasn’t a very cheering name for a person in his line of work, but everything else about him was purposeful and neat, right down to his well-trimmed whiskers. He ordered me to bring him water to wash his hands in, so I stoked the stove and put a pan on to heat. Then after removing his jacket and hat and cleaning his hands, he began his examination.
‘Easy, my good man,’ said Dr Graves.
There were many sharp gasps; I winced at each one. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the doctor to reach his conclusions.
‘He has a bad fracture to his pelvis. There’s a break to his right thighbone too. How exactly did this happen?’
I shivered as Mr Chipchase explained. ‘He fell a good sixty feet.’
‘And how did he land?’ asked Dr Graves.
‘On his right-hand side.’
‘How long was he unconscious?’
‘About fifteen minutes.’
‘Hmm . . . did he know you when he came round?’
‘He knew Louie here. Didn’t let go of her hand.’
They both looked my way. Then the doctor rummaged in his bag, pulling out a little brown glass bottle. He gave it to me.
‘Mix this with a cup of warm water. Let’s say thirty drops. It’ll take the edge off the pain.’ Then, to Mr Chipchase, ‘I’ll need your help to set the bone in his leg.’
There was a silence.
‘Come now,’ said Dr Graves. ‘It’s a two-man procedure. The sooner we get it done the better.’
Mixed with the drops, the water turned a reddish brown and smelled bitter. The doctor took it from me and propped up Jasper’s head so he could drink it. Some of it spilled from his mouth but mostly he swallowed it down, eyes tight shut. Soon he was drowsy. The doctor removed the blankets and Jasper’s costume without too much flinching.
‘Now, sir,’ said Dr Graves, turning to Mr Chipchase. ‘If you could just step over here . . .’
But Mr Chipchase had gone as pale as raw pastry. He backed towards the door. ‘I’ll find someone else for you,’ he said, and was gone.
The doctor cursed under his breath. He looked at me. ‘Will you do it? Before the laudanum wears off?’
I nodded. He bid me stand at Jasper’s shoulder. I glimpsed a twisted limb, bulging above the knee. The skin was shiny-tight. It hardly looked like a human leg at all.
‘Put both hands around his thigh, and grip it hard,’ said Dr Graves. ‘And when I count to three, pull backwards with all your strength.’
There wasn’t time to be squeamish. I gripped. Dr Graves took hold of the lower leg in the same way. Jasper groaned, twisting his face into the pillow.
Dr Graves bit his lip. Little drops of sweat had formed on his brow. ‘One . . . two . . . three . . .’
I heaved with all my might. The doctor pulled in the opposite direction, turning the leg as he did so. Jasper screamed. There was a grinding noise. Beneath my hands I felt the bone shift. Something creaked.
‘Enough!’ cried Dr Graves.
I glanced down. Jasper had passed out cold. Yet his leg was now a thing to behold, stretched out straight as a train track.
‘Good work,’ said the doctor, admiringly.
My face, I supposed, looked astonished, for he then spoke sharply, ‘Quickly now, pass me those bandages.’
I did as I was told, though I couldn’t help grinning. It was rare that I got the chance to show I might be more than a ticket-selling, costume-mending nobody.
Once Jasper was all bandaged up and sleeping soundly, the doctor made ready to leave.
‘You are his daughter, I assume?’ he said.
It wasn’t a mistake easily made, not with my red hair, though I did have Jasper’s surname of Reynolds. And if anyone asked, I’d say, ‘I’m his niece from the country,’ which was what I did now. So far it’d kept me safe from the orphanage.
The trailer door swung open. Mr Chipchase’s great bulk filled the doorway.
‘You’re too late,’ said the doctor. ‘The bone has already been set.’
‘Managed by yourself, eh?’ said Mr Chipchase, who clearly hadn’t found anyone to help and looked relieved to be let off the hook.
‘I was most ably assisted by his niece here.’
I felt pleased as punch. Or at least I did until I saw the shock on Mr Chipchase’s face.
‘What,
Louie
?’
I scowled at him. The doctor hadn’t thought me too young to help
him
. There were things I was good at, and not just mending broken legs. If only Mr Chipchase would give me the chance.
The doctor put on his hat. ‘We managed well. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients.’
‘Wait!’ Mr Chipchase seized the doctor’s arm. ‘Can we move him tomorrow?’
‘That wouldn’t be wise. He needs complete rest.’
‘But we can’t stay put! We’re a travelling show!’
It was true. We never stayed longer than two nights anywhere.
‘Then you’ll need to make an exception,’ said Dr Graves, removing Mr Chipchase’s hand from his arm.
‘And if we do stay, will he be back in the ring soon?’
The doctor looked horrified. ‘I hardly think so!’
‘But Jasper’s my star performer. He has to get well. The show won’t make money without him,’ said Mr Chipchase.
‘That man,’ Dr Graves said, nodding at Jasper, ‘is lucky to be alive. If he walks again – and I mean
if
– I predict he will have a profound limp.’
A limp wasn’t much, not really.
Yet Mr Chipchase’s face said otherwise. This wasn’t good news, not to a circus. Jasper was our showstopper act. Mr Chipchase stroked his side whiskers: this wasn’t a good sign either.
‘What are you telling me, doctor?’ he said.
The wagon seemed suddenly chill.
‘I’d start looking for another star performer, Mr Chipchase,’ he said. ‘Jasper Reynolds’s days as an acrobat are over.’
*
Once the doctor was gone, Mr Chipchase cleared his throat. He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, making the plates rattle on the shelves.
‘What is it, sir?’ I said, for I reckoned this was about Jasper.
He stroked his whiskers. ‘Louie, we took you in as a baby and now you’re a . . . well . . . quite a bit older.’
‘Yes,’ I said, thinking he’d not win any prizes for observation.
‘Jasper was a good earner for this circus. And, as you know, we’re not a big venture. Not like . . .’
‘Wellbeloved’s,’ I cut in.
‘Exactly.’
Wellbeloved’s was a big, flashy circus, and Mr Chipchase’s pet hate. He mentioned them when times were tough, and always in the same bitter tone.
‘So,’ he continued, ‘money will be tight. And if Jasper can’t work for us, then . . .’ He raised his palms.
‘What?’
‘You’ll have to do more around here.’
‘I’m game,’ I said. ‘You know I am.’
But Mr Chipchase frowned. ‘Taking you in hasn’t made life easy for us. Even to this day there are . . .
issues
.’
I didn’t quite follow.
‘Speak plainly please, sir.’
He rubbed a hand over his face. ‘All these years, I’ve expected someone . . . to claim you,’ he said slowly. ‘But they haven’t.’
I eyed him nervously: what
someone
? Though I knew from the tightness in my chest exactly who he meant. I hardly needed reminding of how
forgetful
my mam was when it came to me. Still, this new information hurt like a slap.
‘My mam won’t come back for me, sir,’ I said, eyes stinging. ‘Ain’t any point thinking she will.’
Mr Chipchase looked taken aback. ‘Louie, I don’t . . .’
‘She was glad to get shot of me, sir, truly she was.’
He went tight-lipped. I hoped that meant we were finished, for I’d nothing more to say on the matter.
‘We’ll care for Jasper as best we can,’ he said. ‘But the doctor’s right . . . what this circus needs now is a new showstopper.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘And you, young lady will need to earn your keep.
More
than your keep from now on.’
‘Yes sir,’ I said again, trying not to smile. For surely he’d just solved his own problem.
That night I couldn’t sleep for trying. Then just before dawn my eyelids grew heavy. And –
bam –
Mr Chipchase’s words exploded in my brain. Fancy him expecting my mam to come back! Didn’t it prove what she thought of me, that she’d forgotten I existed? I lay stiff and cross under the blankets. Pip opened one sleepy eye at me then went back to snoring. By now I was fully awake.
Jasper slept on in the opposite bunk. Quiet as I could, I lifted a corner of my mattress and pulled out my scrapbook. It was stuffed with newspaper clippings, all of which were on the same topic. I’d learned my letters from the headlines, though I still got stuck on certain words. Spreading the book across my knees, it fell open on my favourite page. The headline alone got my heart pounding: ‘BLONDIN ROPE DANCES ACROSS NIAGARA.’
Glued on the page was the grainy picture of a man on a high wire. The Great Blondin himself. He stood with his left leg tucked behind him, balance pole across his knees. Every time it struck me – how tiny he looked! A rocky gorge reared up behind him. On the river below boats passed by like dots. Yet it was impossible to look anywhere but at him. He gave off magic, a kind of hope. It was as if he was walking on air.
This magic flickered inside me like flames. If Blondin believed the impossible, then so could I. And it wasn’t
that
impossible, not really. With a shiver, I thought of Miss Lilly, who last night said she foresaw a great change. Normal times I’d have shrugged it off, but things
were
changing, so fast it made my head spin. Chipchase wanted a new showstopper: I had a talent to offer. Put like that it sounded simple. All I had to do now was make him listen.
*
Sunrise was the best time for practising. Once I’d watered the horses and tipped their oats onto the grass, I fetched my rope. For months now I’d hidden it in the belly box of our wagon. Heaped in with the horses’ harnesses, Jasper hadn’t noticed it was there.
This morning the horses looked dozy as they ate. Not me. I was wider than wide awake, the fluttering in my stomach quite strong. I’d dressed in one of Jasper’s old tunics. It beat tucking up my skirts like I usually did. But then today wasn’t usual. Not by far.
Next job was to wake up Ned. And that was never ever easy.
He lived with his mam, Rosa, the bareback rider. The remains of last night’s cooking fire still smouldered outside their wagon. Me and Ned had our own special knock, of a kind adults seemed unable to hear. I did it now, a tap-tap-tap with just my fingernail on the side of the trailer, right near where he slept. I waited. And waited a bit more.
‘Come on lazy bones,’ I muttered under my breath.
An age seemed to pass. I knocked again. Even Pip started to look bored. Finally, the door opened. Ned appeared, still wrapped in a blanket.
‘What’s going on?’ he said blearily. Then his face fell. ‘It ain’t Jasper is it? Nothing’s wrong?’
‘Jasper’s passable,’ I said. ‘Now listen. I need your help.’
‘What’s that rope for? And what the heck are you wearing?’
I sighed impatiently. ‘All you have to do is watch.’
*
Twenty minutes later I was ready. No one had ever watched me before, only Pip – and that didn’t quite count. Jittery though I was, I trusted Ned to be straight with me. He saw all the acts go in and out of the ring, so he’d know a star turn if he saw one.
The rope was now tied between two stout trees, about ten feet off the ground. I’d climbed up there myself while Ned watched from the ground. He thought it was all one big prank. Right up until I kicked off my clogs, tied back my hair and asked him for a leg-up onto the rope.
‘You ain’t getting up on
that
?’ he said in amazement.
‘Of course I am, stupid. Now help me up.’
‘You’re stark raving.’
‘I will be in a minute if you don’t help me!’
‘It isn’t safe, Louie. You can’t just get up on the rope and . . . well . . .
do it
. It’s a proper skill. It takes years of practice!’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I know.’
I could’ve told him about my scrapbook. About Blondin, my hero. And that while he, Ned Bailey, had been snoring away in his cosy bed, I’d been practising every morning for as long as I could remember. But I wanted him to see it for himself.
‘Help me up,’ I said.
‘No.’
I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘If you don’t help, I’ll tell everyone you’re sweet on Kitty Chipchase.’
He glared at me. Then he put his hands around my waist.
‘Not like that,’ I said, wriggling out of his grasp. ‘Do it like I’m getting on a horse.’
So he cupped his hand for my foot and on the count of three he heaved me upwards. I moved onto the rope till I lay flat across it. Slowly, I eased myself into a crouching position. Now I was a lot taller than Ned. The thought made me giggle. Or maybe it was just my nerves.
‘I’ve got a bird’s-eye view of the top of your head,’ I said.
‘And I’ve got a gentleman’s-eye view of your ankles, pretty miss,’ said Ned, putting on his posh ringmaster’s voice.
‘Stop it,’ I said, giggling again. ‘Now step back and watch.’
‘Shouldn’t I stay here? Just in case you fall?’
‘You’re a pea-brain, Ned. ’Course I won’t fall.’
My mind went quiet. I stood up slowly, counted to five and focused straight ahead. The entire world had shrunk right down to this one length of rope. Nothing else existed. Under my feet the rope swayed slightly. It was part of me now. It had grown out of my heels and toes. We were the same thing, this rope and me. It made me feel wonderfully light.
Arms out to the side, I took a step forward. Then another. Left foot, right foot, sliding forward along the rope. When I reached the other side I stopped. Turned right round to face the way I’d come. The only movement was in my ankles as they worked to keep me upright. I started walking again, this time making more of a show, flourishing my wrists, stopping to crouch down and stretch out each leg in turn. It felt good to be watched. It made me think harder about how I moved, what shapes and lines I made.
When I reached the middle the rope began to sway. Not badly, but enough to make me steady myself. I didn’t have a balance pole; I made do with outstretched arms. Bending my knees a little helped too. Slowly, surely, I kept moving, the rope always a part of me. As it grew still again, I spun on one foot like a dancer. Below me, Ned breathed in sharp. Eventually, at the other side, I leaned on the tree trunk and grinned down at him.
‘What d’you reckon?’
His mouth hung open. ‘Do it again,’ he said. ‘Blimey, Louie! Do it again!’
Pip barked excitedly and ran round in circles. The flames were there again inside me. Now I’d started, I wanted more. More people, more cheers, more gasps of delight.
Focus, Louie
.
A deep breath, a thought of Blondin above that great ravine and my mind cleared. I stepped out onto the rope, spread my arms and walked as if I was strolling in the park. Then I turned right round and did it all again.
Finally Ned said, ‘You better come down.’
Back on the ground, I felt suddenly shy in my too-big tunic and Jasper’s old tights. Ned seemed unable to speak.
‘Sorry I got you out of bed,’ I said, once we’d untied the rope.
Ned stayed silent, his hand dragging slowly down his face. ‘I’ve never seen the likes,’ he said eventually. ‘I bet even Wellbeloved’s ain’t got anyone like you.’
He sounded like Mr Chipchase. It made me grin.
‘Wellbeloved’s has got EVERYTHING. We ain’t in the same league,’ I said.
‘If you say so.’
‘But am I any good?’ I said, impatient now.
He took my hand, squashing it between both of his. ‘You’re better than good. You’re blooming brilliant!’
‘Really?’
He nodded eagerly. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I had to be sure I could do it,’ I said. ‘And Jasper would have kittens if he knew what I’d been up to.’
‘He’d have stopped you most probably,’ said Ned, for we both knew Jasper worried more than twenty mothers.
I laughed. ‘He could’ve tried!’
‘Where d’you get a talent like that from though, Louie?’
I stopped laughing. ‘It’s
my
talent,’ I said, taking my hand away from his. ‘It doesn’t come from anywhere else.’
‘Maybe it’s in your blood.’
I’d much rather Ned kept telling me how good I was. I didn’t much fancy talking families.
He leaned close to me, putting on a silly, storytelling voice. ‘Maybe your mother was a famous performer in a far-off land . . .’
‘Stop it.’
He pulled a face. ‘I was only playing.’
‘My mother abandoned me here, and that’s all I know – all I
want
to know,’ I reminded him. ‘Jasper’s my family. I don’t need anyone else.’
‘I didn’t mean to . . .’
‘And as far as I’m concerned, my mother ain’t anyone fancy, so there’s no point pretending she is. I don’t even know her name.’
We fell quiet.
‘Ta for watching me,’ I said eventually. ‘You’re the only person who has.’
He grinned. ‘Just wait, Louie. You’ll be filling that big top in no time.’
It was impossible to stay cross at Ned for long. ‘D’you think so?’
‘Too right I do!’
And he shouted for all the world to hear, ‘Mr Chipchase! Call off the search! Your new showstopper is right here!’