Page 38 of The Peculiar Incident at Thistlewick House
The following day was colder than previously, because Jack Frost had sauntered nonchalantly through Thistlewick Tye overnight, leaving a dusting of white sugar over everything, from the spiky tree branches, to the drooping, overgrown grass beneath Mallory’s feet.
The circus women had been out early scouting for kindling, whilst the men slept off their sore heads and nursed the bruises and scrapes from the altercations of the night before.
By midday, Katerina had roused them all and Samson had set the hands to waggon repainting and was leading a full afternoon of rehearsals, as Mallory cleared up the pots and dishes from the greasy pork and watery vegetable stew.
Mealtimes were her favourite part of the day.
Her previous life had been one of piecemeal embroidery work and domestic duties and, in that regard, not much had changed.
As part of the circus, she was a one-trick pony – there simply to be gawped at by those who praised the heavens that they weren’t so afflicted – so she was lumbered with many of the more unpleasant jobs to keep the troupe on the road.
She emptied chamber pots, washed clothes and dealt with the ailments and injuries of her fellow workers.
But this was different to before. Here, people said thank you.
Here, people hugged her with soft, warm arms and genuine smiles.
Here, she was as odd as everyone around her and, in a strange way, her abnormalities made her fit in.
And that was never more apparent than when they all sat together on the long wooden benches at trestle tables, or around a smoky campfire, to share food.
The flagons of ale were passed to everyone, including the ugly girl with the face covered in strange lumps, as they celebrated their successes and rued their failures.
The jokes flew thick and fast, and they were all teased; from Samson for his broken nose and impetuous decisions, to Cupid for his size and, even occasionally, if someone was feeling brave, Katerina.
That afternoon Mallory met Sarah in the copse.
The young girl had slipped away from home as soon as her chores were completed and she shyly handed over a large whelk shell, announcing the Toad Girl would always be able to hear the sea now, wherever in the country she was.
Mallory put it to her ear, and the whispers of the waves made her smile. What a thoughtful gift.
They chatted as they walked back to the camp and Sarah told her that, now she was ten, she no longer attended the village school but instead stayed at home providing nursing care for her elderly grandparents, so that her mother and father could work.
‘Although the school was closed for a week recently after the schoolteacher became violently ill,’ she said, skipping along beside her new friend. ‘Mother says it was probably something he ate. Grandmother said it was divine retribution because he’d been caught gambling.’
They stepped from the trees and came up behind the tethered horses, close to the waggons that held the monkey cages.
The six carthorses, even-tempered beasts and good workers, pulled the waggons, and the two beautiful grey Arabs were the equestrian act.
The Caley sisters performed with, and trained, the animals but Harry and the other two lads did all the heavy work: mucking out, grooming and breaking in.
Harry had worked in stables all his life but had fallen foul of the law and spent time inside, consequently losing both his job and any possibility of decent references.
People he invariably antagonised, but animals seemed to like him.
‘Treat ’em with kindness and they’ll learn faster,’ he’d always say. Cupid, on the other hand, had no patience with them. Another reason he would never rival General Tom Thumb.
Sarah petted Beauty, the gentle grey gelding who was grazing nearest to the woods.
‘We’re a small troupe but the horses are by far the largest portion of the show,’ Mallory explained. ‘Circuses started out as equestrian displays, and it’s only in recent years other acts, like tumblers and clowns, have been included.’
‘What sort of tricks can the horses do?’ the young girl asked.
‘Beauty and Star can stand on their hind feet, kneel down, roll over and even shake hands. There are two specially adapted saddles with handles and straps for the Caley girls to hold so they can do handstands and vault over them. But,’ she confided, ‘they’re quite plain and people pay to see the extraordinary, so Zella’s high wire steals the show every time. ’
Sarah was only half listening, distracted by the sight of two smaller, more eye-catching beasts, huddled together further back.
‘Zebras!’ The young girl could hardly contain her excitement.
Samson’s most recent idea had been to purchase and train up four zebras.
The deal was struck without Katerina’s knowledge, over a few drinks in a backstreet London tavern.
It was a huge mistake. He might be the creative genius but she was the voice of reason – the sensible head.
She’d been furious when he returned, because she knew more about these creatures than her husband.
He hastily tried to persuade her that the stunning beasts would be an unparalleled draw.
‘Imagine,’ he’d said, ‘the spectacle of such eye-catching animals prancing around the ring! It’s never been done before.’
But zebras were almost impossible to train.
They had a reputation for aggression and a strong flight instinct, and weren’t even capable of carrying a rider, like a horse.
Their backs weren’t as sturdy and their gait was different.
There was a reason no one had done it before.
So, they’d been lumbered with the stupid things and mounting debts.
Samson, the big man with the small brain, had been duped.
He’d managed to sell a pair of them to a small zoological gardens, but they still had two remaining, added to which, the miserable climate did not suit these African creatures.
One, in particular, Harry didn’t think would last the winter.
As striking as they were, they did very little.
They could be paraded through the towns as an advertisement for the circus but, despite Samson’s best efforts, they were untrainable and merely visual novelties – much like Mallory herself – except a zebra was exotic and coveted, and she was not.
‘Don’t get too close,’ she warned the young girl. ‘They can be unpredictable.’ As if to prove her point, the one nearest to them flattened its ears to its head and bared its teeth. ‘Come see the monkeys instead. They’re much friendlier.’
Checking there was no one about, she heaved Sarah on to one of the covered waggons and they crept over to the three capuchins.
About two feet tall, with tails as long as their bodies, they were brown, almost black, with cream-coloured heads and shoulders.
The circus had travelled up to Liverpool six summers ago to buy them, as anything and everything went through this centre of global trade.
It had been a fraught trip, as, although they technically weren’t married, the Ballards had all but divorced over Samson’s threat to purchase an elephant.
‘That little one does flips and rides the horses.’ Mallory pointed at one of the monkeys. ‘And this one here dances jigs and steals hats. I make tiny waistcoats for them and they look so smart.’
‘Oh, look at their darling little pink faces!’ Sarah was fascinated by the inquisitive creatures, with their wide eyes and nervous expressions.
Samson was not always the most patient with those in his care, and Mallory often felt uncomfortable about the way he trained them – their short leashes yanked violently when they failed to perform. Harry was much kinder to the horses.
‘How thrilling to live with such amazing animals,’ Sarah said. ‘If I was part of the circus, I’d spend all day admiring the zebras and talking to these darlings. I’m not sure I’d ever get any work done.’
‘When you live with the exotic and unusual, it becomes ordinary,’ Mallory pointed out. ‘Not that I don’t love my life but it’s not all sparkles and glorious rounds of applause.’
It was degrading to have people mock her unsightly skin, especially when it was covered in umber and sienna-based greasepaints – yellow ochre around her eyes to make her look as toad-like as possible.
To be pointed at in disgust and hear cruel things.
As part of her act, Katerina ordered her to eat mealworms and crickets and, at first, the insects turned her stomach, but no one refused Katerina.
The Ballards had spun increasingly fantastic tales about who she was and where she’d come from, and she endured the curious faces that peered at the girl who was purported to be the result of a scandalous union between a gigantic warty amphibian and a plucky female explorer who’d become separated from her party and violated by this beast. A monstrous half-breed who had been found in the jungles of the as a baby, and whose mother had died shortly after their rescue.
It seemed to Mallory that the more preposterous the tale, the more the public lapped it up.
‘I don’t like being laughed at,’ she admitted, ‘and have the same feelings and emotions as everyone else. But I try to remember I’m probably more content than most of the overworked, underpaid and unhappily married souls who pay to gawp at me.
Everyone at the circus is someone I consider a friend.
We’re all very different but I’ve found that people who have something to teach you, whose experiences are different to your own, make excellent company. ’
‘We’re different, too, aren’t we?’ Sarah’s wide freckled face looked up at hers and Mallory had to smile, guessing where this was leading.
‘We are indeed and so would make excellent friends.’ She heard the chatter of the Caley girls approaching. ‘Come, let’s see what acts are rehearsing and give you a taste of the circus.’