Part 1.

   Ticket number 278! Two seventy eight? Fumbling in pocket, couldn’t be mine, never that lucky. Crumpled, very.. smoothed.. staring, reading.. 2 7 8 .. dear goodness -.. YES ..  YESSSS!    Was mine, mine was the winning ticket!!!

   I ran about like a frantic chicken, arms high in the air, hands clenched into fists. Thank goodness I was wearing decent shorts, But although a girl who rarely wore a bra, wished my t-shirt hadn’t been quite so loose! Okay, what the hell am I talking about! Home now, home after six weeks spent with a travelling circus! ‘Still seems like a dream. Was the most incredible experience and there wasn’t a single second I’d have missed.

   Certainly, it was a busy time, everyone had tasks to do in and out of the ring, but, somehow, even though things were often chaotic, the nightly applause – ‘mustn’t forget the three matinees – proved just how much was accomplished behind the scenes. Come mornings I often woke up feeling exhausted, but circus people push

on day after day. How could I complain?

   Mind you, one of the trapeze artistes inspired me. And, yes, there’s a story behind those words, she says, blushing like a teen. Sometimes things happen that mark one forever, or, we meet people who leave an indelible mark – blessed be! 

   To return to the beginning: having shoved a few clothes and the necessary wotsits into a rucksack, I took the train to Exborough, walked for a couple miles, arriving at the venue – a site twice and a half times as large as a soccer field. My arrival coincided with a league of lorries and caravans rolling in. The field was a frantic ants’ hill, already thronged with people of all shapes, sizes and ages. It was more than evident by the colouring and look of most of the circus people that it was a cosmopolitan set up. How true that was: during my stay I met two Germans, a Chinese family of seven, five Hungarians, a Russian, three Estonians, two volatile Italians, numerous Scots, three Burmese acrobats and varying numbers of Spanish e folk who, for some reason, came and went! Some of the performers or work force were pleasant and friendly, others okay, a few – well, we won’t go into that! It was a giant melting pot for sure. One that often boiled over!

   An enormous man well over six feet with muscles growing on muscles, who – I later discovered, was an Estonian and whose English vocabulary consisted of the foulest words I’ve ever heard – pointed out the guv’nor’s caravan. I knocked gently on the door, no answer, knocked again

   Was then yelled at, ‘Come in for God’s sake. Say whatever you need to then clear off!’

   Of course that made me feel immediately welcome. NOT! To cut a long story short, I was told to help with the horses, never mind whether I liked them or not .. too bad. Also, I was to generally assist the wardrobe mistress, a woman called Cheap Cissy. Hmm, you might well ask !

  I was allotted a bed, well – a four foot long seat in Grizzy’s caravan. She was a widow with three children, one of whom – a raven haired girl of nine, was mute and mentally almost as bright as a button. She stroked my pale yellow sweatshirt, grinned up at me, took it against her chest, hugging it like a mother hugging her new-born baby. What could I do?. For the remainder of my stay she wore that shirt as if it was one of the spoils of war. Maybe it was!

Part 2

   One evening, way after the circus had packed up for the day, when the animals had been fed, watered and snuggled into their places, make-up had been removed and costumes washed and/or hung up, and, the performers had had their fill of whatever meal had been put together – I was sitting with two of the trapeze artists, Nogi and Lertz, also Cheap Cissy and Viola, the woman who took the gate money. They were reminiscing, looking just a little pensive when Nogi sighed a long, long sigh, ‘You remember that Louise woman?’ They looked at each other, smiling, grinning, nudging, then at me. ‘Wasn’t sure what to say, I didn’t know the woman mentioned. They must have forgotten I was just a quite useless, temporary addition to their lives.

  ‘This one look like ‘ur, you think? Thinnur, more bones but like ur… not the same but, like ur.’ They all laughed. Looking directly at Nogi I raised my eyebrows – as one does. They all laughed again.

  ‘Who was Louise, tell me, stop laughing! What’s the joke? ‘ I leaned towards Nogi, noticing his gaze moving from my right breast to my left.

   ‘She was ‘ere for a yur but she went run off with some moneys, yes, Viola?’

  ‘Slippery as an eel she was, seemed alright but, in truth, she was a thief, tha’s what she were.’

  Lertz coughed, peeped sideways at Nogi then, poured us all a second mug of cider. ‘She was nobody. But she was a visitur, she were welcome, but she cheat us.’

  ‘You won’t cheat us, little one, will you? We ‘ave not opened arrr arms to another outside arrr world till now. The guv’nor was paid good money to give time to someone. You arrr the someone, do not cheat, us, no.’

  Suddenly there was the sound of a fiddle. It had to be old Rembrandt, a Dutchman who, although well over seventy, still helped to look after the six Arabs. Within hours of arriving I’d been told he was a man of magic, that he could cure anything or anybody merely by playing his fiddle. I’d grinned at that. China Chang looked at me, said that I’d soon be laughing elsewhere.. in other words – well you know the saying. In fact, Rembrandt was a dear, dear man. He didn’t say much but, what he said was measured and wise. He asked questions though and shook his long gray-maned head depending on how he approved the answers. We worked well together

  Nogi rocked his body back and forth, finally swinging himself up off the hay bale and onto his feet. He put out his hands, placed them on my shoulders then somehow drew me up, up, up onto my feet. He placed his hands on my hips, looked into my eyes, then very, very slowly began to move inch by inch to the right. Not knowing what to do, I tried making the same move, but – 

  ‘NO, no, you woman, you stay still. The man e’ moves, the woman stays still, lets him do what ‘e do. He know what to do. You understand me?’

  There was something about those words that made my body tingle. Something was happening, ‘thought it was just a dance, but ..I turned to look at the others. They were gone. ‘Hadn’t heard them go, they hadn’t said goodnight.

  It happened sweetly, slowly – at first. For a while we danced to Rembrandt’s fiddle, gaze to gaze. As the music quickened so our love-making began .. our love-making continued .. our love-making became wilder and wilder. The words and noises we sometimes screamed, sometimes whispered, were an unintelligible lust-language As the tempo slowed, we collapsed into each other’s arms, sweating, panting, shuddering.

   As dawn rose, he kissed my mouth, gently shaking me awake. In fact I was awake but, pretended not to be, his kisses tasted of clover honey. I stretched, tried to pull him against my body.

  ‘Little woman, wake up, no time, no time for more.’

   He kissed my mouth, the end of my nose, my right ear, then, Nogi put his hand to my breast, tweaked the nipple and, tickled me.

  ‘Stop, please, please, stop, I’m .. stop.’ My body filled to .. HAPPY.

Part 3.

   On the eighteenth day of my stay, having travelled to three different sites, a rumour spread that Minella, one of the acrobats, had been taken ill with a serious virus. Her family were taking her to the city hospital. They were going to stay close by until she was better or at least on the way to recovery. The guv’nor looked even angrier than usual, but was  talking animatedly to various of the old-timers.

   That evening the guv’nor knocked on Grizzy’s caravan door,

   ‘Hear from Rembrandt you were a gymnast, can do things with your body, were in competitions. You’re on tonight. you have a ten minute spot. Find a costume, find your face paint. Go to it.’

   I finally discovered Nogi on the far side of the field, smoking. Nobody was permitted to smoke anywhere near the big top or the caravans. It was taboo, people were heavily fined if even the hint of tobacco was noticed. Nogi put his arm around me, told me not to worry. Everything would be alright. He ignored my protestations, ignored my claims that I’d not practised, hadn’t had time to rehearse where to go, how to use the circus ring .. anything .. everything!

  ‘Little rabbit, you stop, stop now .. attend to music, is fine. Listen always the music. You hear me? Now come, for change, we put more clothes on!’

  As the band played its last chord before I was due on, I stood huddled to Nogi, shaking from head to foot. I whispered,

  ‘I don’t want to do it, I can’t .’

  He placed a hand on each of my cheeks, kissed my bright red lip-sticked mouth. I clung limpet to rock.

Part 4

  Slowly.. slowly the audience’s chitter-chatting lessened until there was virtual silence.

  From the silence came the sound of the fiddle ..

  The curtains opened.

  I stood, shaking head to feet. Lit by a sun-sized spotlight I was , dressed in a near  diaphanous red voile costume. I raised my arms. Trembling, Was -. petrified. But the audience saw .. a butterfly – a red quivering butterfly. The spotlight hovered over my head then, flick-flickered over my wings;  they looked to be flying. I heard Nogi call, ‘Go, fly, my beautiful, go fly.’

  I ran forward, stopped .. I couldn’t do this .. I couldn’t .. the fiddle’s tempo increased, then, slowed. I heard a cheer, a call, ‘Go, butterfly, go, go!’

  The fiddle became a hundred piece orchestra, fortissimo, fortissimo.. then, silence. I inhaled, gasped .. prayed.

  I shuddered my body scalp to heel.. then slowly glided forward and with a skip, did a handstand, slowly flicking my feet upwards as if coming slowly to life.

 Two cartwheels, a leap into the air .. four cartwheels, then .. a pause so i could send a quiver of movement down from raised fingertips, across my breast and hips, to my feet .. I moved again, managing a double layout – ‘hadn’t done that for a while .. leaped onto the edge of the ring .. ran .. wings floating, as if on a excited current of air.

  I turned .. ran in the opposite direction .. allowing my body to bend and rise. I stopped, looked across the ring. ‘Didn’t realise it at the time, the sound of the fiddle – the sound Rembrandt was creating – yes, creating.. was carrying me .. enchanting me .. mesmerising me. It played on.. and on.. and, I danced .. leaped .. contorting my body into curves I thought no longer possible. Cartwheels and back bends, more complicated moves and tumbles, I could still do them, I COULD still do them!

  Fear had stopped me from competing. I’d been a more than creative competitor, performing skilled displays during my years as a gymnast – until .. until.. I’d fallen very badly, hurt my back. Whilst I’d danced occasionally and swum regularly but gently, where gymnastics had been concerned my life had  virtually stood still, 

scared witless, afraid to find out if my skill had deserted me, the gift to use my body as a tool, a somehow powerful but delicate tool.

  When, finally, not after ten minutes but twenty, the fiddle began a leap to its final bar, I stood, back to the curtained entry point.

  But here I was raising my arms .to run… run.. seven deer-like leaps and then.. dear Lord, then.. I propelled my body .. up .. up .. up .. into the air .. I flew .. flew .. flew .. flew .. .. one front somersault .. two .. another.. four ..

  My landing .. by the mere space of a breath .. was .. at the feet .. of Rembrandt and his fiddle.

  I slowly swayed to an echo of dying notes. The supreme magician lowered his head, his eyes looking down into mine..  He nodded once.. twice.. three times. .

  Can’t exactly remember what happened as I gasped for breath. Think .. think .. tears cascaded down my cheeks, onto my heaving chest. It was as if there’d been a breaking of sorrow’s waters.. and here.. there.. was a crazy re.birth of Something. Something inexplicable.. not exactly surreal, not exactly miraculous.

  I do remember running out of the ring, out of the big top and.. just running and running. The night was sharp and silver. Stars bounced from their hiding places behind clouds. The moon smiled down at me. I smiled back .. in fact, I laughed. Then, I cried and cried .. and cried.

Part 5

Then,  I laughed.