Page 29 of The Show Woman

28

The Fall, reprised

Showtime .

High above the tent Violet glistens like a sleekit fish. Stock-still, toes pointed, head bowed as though in prayer. Lena circles the ring, walking endless laps to quell her fury. She feels Violet’s eyes upon her as she paces, a resting malevolence emanating from the rafters.

Carmen has not returned. Rosie and Violet did not come back to the wagon, and Lena suspects they slept in the stable. But they have, at least, turned up to do the show.

Lena’s hands shake as she introduces Violet.

‘Look up,’ she says. ‘Can you see her? Right at the top of the tent. Look up, ladies and gentlemen, because this young woman is about to fly.’

Grasping the bar, Violet pushes off the board, her body taut as piano wire. For a single, perfect moment she is flying. Soaring through the tent, light as the air that carries her.

Lena will not look up, will not give her the satisfaction of knowing she is watching her. But then, as if it were planned, as if it were the most graceful of movements, Violet’s hands slip from the bar as though it were spun from silk. Or coated in grease. And just as Lena turns her head, she falls.

The tent glitters. Lena runs. But not even the tail-coated ringmistress can stop gravity.

Violet, heavy as the moon, lands on the sawdust with a toneless thud. The crowd begins to howl. The greatest trapeze artist who ever lived is lying flat on the floor of the tent. Her toes are still pointed. And it is Lena who is looking down, and screaming.