The Sequin Star (4 page)

‘We're heading towards Sydney – the Harbour Bridge opens in a week,' added Malia.

‘The opening of the Sydney Harbour Bridge?' asked Claire in disbelief.

‘Of course,' replied Rosina. ‘No one seems to have talked about anything else, except perhaps the depression, for months.'

‘What's the date?' Claire asked.

Malia leant over and read the top of the news­paper. ‘That's yesterday's paper, which makes it Saturday, March 12.'

‘
1932
?' asked Claire. ‘It can't be. It can't be. It's November, two thousand and . . .'

Have I somehow gone back in time?
Claire jumped up, ready to run.
But where can I run to? Where can I go?
She felt swamped by fear and confusion. She crumpled back into her chair, her heart thumping in her chest.

Rosina looked at her with alarm. Malia patted her on the arm.

‘My head hurts,' Claire confessed in a woebegone voice, rubbing her forehead.

‘Perhaps you should lie down for a little while. Do you live nearby?' asked Malia.

‘Yes . . . no . . . I don't know,' answered Claire. She burst into tears. ‘I don't know anyone here.'

Malia patted her gently on the arm. ‘You're in shock, I think. You'll be all right in a little while. What you need is a hot cup of tea, a couple of aspirin and a little quiet time.'

‘I thought Jem could go into town and telephone her parents,' suggested Rosina.

‘Good idea,' agreed Malia. ‘But first let's get her to lie down.'

Malia bustled around, ordering Rosina about. Claire wrote down her parents' names, address and phone number on a scrap of paper and gave it to Rosina.

In a few minutes Claire was tucked up under some blankets in a smaller green caravan, which appeared to be Rosina's. She drank some bitter herbal tea that Malia brought her, then curled up and was soon in a deep sleep.

Sometime later, a strange noise woke her. She stretched. Memories of the peculiar happenings filtered into her consciousness.
Such a strange dream
, she thought to herself. Her eyelids flickered open. The noise came again. It sounded like an elephant trumpeting.

4
Campfire Dinner

Claire's eyes flew open and she stared around in dismay. She was not at home in her beautiful bedroom – the bed piled with her favourite old teddies, funny photos of her friends stuck on the noticeboard, the dormer window overlooking the treetops. She was lying down in a cramped bunk in a tiny caravan. Claire felt overcome with despair and loneliness. She rolled over.

‘Oh good, you're awake,' came Rosina's voice from the doorway. Lula was still sitting on her shoulder with her tail wrapped around Rosina's neck. ‘I've brought you a bowl of broth and a cup of real tea. How are you feeling?'

Claire struggled to sit up and smiled wanly. Rosina handed her the mug of tea. She placed the bowl of broth on a little table.

‘A little better,' she lied. ‘Thanks for the tea. Have I been asleep long?'

Claire sipped the tea. It was hot and sweet, and seemed to have been made with condensed milk.

‘A couple of hours.' Rosina sat down on a bench that ran across the opposite wall. Lula slipped off her shoulder and started to play with an ostrich feather headdress lying on the table. She held the flamboyant white-and-pink feathers up to her own head, bobbing and nodding so the feathers danced.

Claire smiled at the sight. The bright feathers were way too long for the little monkey.

‘No, Lula,' said Rosina sternly. ‘How many times have I told you not to play with my costumes?'

The monkey obediently put the feathers down and started playing with a hairbrush on the table, using it upside down to brush her own short fur. She primped and preened in front of a small, spotted mirror.

Claire took in her surroundings. The inside of the caravan was shabby, with belongings piled everywhere. A rack of costumes hung at one end. Claire could see a sparkly pink-and-silver dress, a light-blue tutu and a purple velvet cloak. A pair of pink satin ballet slippers hung from the end.

Seeing the ballet slippers gave her a sharp pang. They made her think of home and her ballet lessons at the dance academy. She remembered how proud she had been when Madame Petrova had said she was finally strong enough to start learning to dance
en pointe
, after months of training and exercises. Going with her mum to be fitted for her first pointe shoes had been a special occasion, celebrated with a chocolate milkshake at their favourite café. Claire forced herself to look away.

Rosina took up a pair of pale-pink tights that were lying on the table and began to darn a large hole in the toe.

‘Can you remember anything now?' asked Rosina. ‘Do you know where you live?'

Claire took a deep breath.
What will I say? Shall I sound completely mad if I say I come from another century? Don't panic. Don't panic.

‘I live in Sydney, in Northbridge,' said Claire. ‘I'm not quite sure how I came here. My grandmother is very ill and in hospital. And my mother . . .' Claire paused. She wished more than anything her mother would walk through the door and sort everything out. ‘Well, anyway, one moment I was on a bus going home and then I was here . . .'

Claire began to cry again. Rosina handed her a handkerchief. She blew her nose gratefully. Lula climbed over and sat next to Claire, gently patting her on the arm. The tiny paw felt soft and leathery.

‘How old are you, Claire?' asked Rosina.

‘Fourteen,' she replied.

‘Oh? I thought you might have been older. You're tall.' Rosina paused. She seemed to be thinking. ‘You remind me of someone . . . someone I haven't seen for a very long time.'

Claire took another sip of tea. Its comforting warmth made her feel better.

‘Have some soup while it's hot,' suggested Rosina, passing Claire the bowl and spoon. ‘So let me see if I have this right? You live in Sydney and you don't know how you arrived in our camp?' Claire nodded as she sipped the soup. ‘So you don't know anyone here in Orange?'

Claire shook her head. ‘Only you and Jem and Malia.'

‘Are you trying to run away and join the circus?' asked Rosina, raising a dark eyebrow. ‘Every town we visit seems to have someone who thinks a circus life would be more glamorous than their own. They soon learn that it's mostly hard slog.'

Claire shook her head. ‘It never occurred to me to run away.'

Rosina drummed her fingers on the tabletop. ‘Jem tried to telephone the number that you gave him.' Claire sat up straighter, her heart in her mouth. ‘It wasn't a valid number. The operator tried to get through to the address that you gave him, but there was no one of that name living there. There never has been.'

Rosina paused. Claire went pale. She felt like she could hardly breathe.

‘I'm not sure what to think,' confessed Rosina. ‘Are you in some kind of trouble? You seem like a nice girl, and I'd like to help you if I can. I know what it's like to be alone and friendless.'

‘I'm not making it up,' Claire insisted. ‘I really don't know how I got here. I think I'm lost back in time . . .'

Rosina frowned. ‘Lost back in
time
?' Her voice rose in frustration. ‘What do you mean? That doesn't make any sense.'

Lula jumped up and down on the table, chittering at Claire as though she was giving her a good scolding. Claire winced. Rosina paused for a moment and sighed.

‘I don't
know
what's happening,' Claire wailed. ‘I don't
know
how I got here. I just want to go home. I just want my mum and dad.'

There was a moment's silence. Rosina's face softened. ‘Well, I can't turn you out in the field. I was talking to Jem and we thought perhaps you could stay with us until we get to Sydney. Then maybe you could find your memory . . . and your parents.'

Claire's eyes filled with tears again. She felt like she was drowning in a stormy sea of confusion, and someone had just thrown her a lifeline.

Claire blinked. ‘Thank you. I'm not sure what else to do.'

Rosina smiled at her. ‘Tonight we are performing. Tomorrow we pack up and move east. We'll be in Sydney by the afternoon.'

Rosina snipped the cotton thread with her scissors and examined her handiwork. She began to mend another small hole.

‘I'll ask the boss if you can work with us,' Rosina promised. ‘We can't pay you, but you could work for board and keep!'

Claire's spirits lifted. Living in a circus for a while sounded like it could be exciting, at least until she managed to get home.

‘Thank you, Rosina,' said Claire. ‘I really appreciate your help.'

Lula jumped over onto Claire's bed and scrambled onto her lap. Claire stroked the fur on her back. It felt comforting. Rosina stood up and went to the costume rack, selecting a number of items. She hung them over her shoulder.

‘Better stay low for a while,' advised Rosina. ‘The boss, Alf, doesn't like townies wandering around the camp, especially before a show. I'll come and check on you again before we start. Right now it's time for me to get the horses ready.'

After a while, Claire became restless locked up in the caravan. She peered through the dirty window.

Circus folk wandered around the camp, preparing for the show. She could hear the plaintive music of someone playing the violin drifting through the camp. On the grass between the caravans a number of acrobats were rehearsing. They turned somersaults, backflips and cartwheels. A young contortionist was manipulating her body into the most bizarre positions, almost tying herself in knots.

Malia was teaching her eldest daughter, Peggy, to walk on a tightrope just a couple of feet above the ground. Stella and Leo practised forward rolls on a tumbling mat. A terrier strutted along on its hind feet with a flag tucked under its front paw. A juggler tossed silver daggers, which flashed and sparkled as they spun end over end through the air.

A low rap on the caravan door gave Claire a start. Rosina entered, but she had changed. She now wore a short scarlet tutu spangled with large crystal diamantes, pink tights and satin ballet shoes. Her dark hair was pulled back and fell just below her shoulders in carefully coiffed waves.

Her face was made up with pale powder, rouge and red lipstick. Her eyes were smudged with smoky grey eye shadow and outlined with thick black eyeliner and heavy mascara. She looked very glamorous compared to the girl in jodhpurs from the afternoon.

Lula, wearing an identical outfit to her mistress, was once again on her shoulder. The monkey blew Claire a kiss.

‘You two look gorgeous,' Claire enthused. ‘Is it nearly time for the show?'

Rosina smiled. ‘Thank you. It starts in a few minutes. You must be feeling a little better?'

Claire nodded. ‘I've been watching everyone outside. It all looks very exciting.'

‘The show runs from seven until nine o'clock,' said Rosina. ‘Jem and I will come and bring you some supper afterwards. But stay in the caravan until we get back. I don't want Alf to see you wandering around until I've had a chance to talk to him, if Malia hasn't said something already.'

For the next two hours, Claire waited in the caravan. There was nothing she could do except feel alone and bereft. From the Big Top she could hear the lively band music and the cheers and applause of the audience. She kept thinking over and over about her impossible situation.
What if the circus owner refuses to let me travel back to Sydney? How will I get home? Even if I get back to Sydney, how will I get back to my own time?

Finally, she could hear that the show was ending by the loud cheers, then the clamour of the crowd spilling out into the night.

A few minutes later, Rosina tapped on the door. She came in, now wearing dark-brown make-up and an American Indian costume with fringing and feathers. She patted her mouth as she made a low Indian war cry: ‘Woo-woo-woo-woo.'

She pulled off her feathered headdress and smiled. ‘Hau! Sorry, you must be bored to tears. But the good news is that I spoke to the owner after the show. I explained the situation and Alf said you can travel with us to Sydney if you work. He has booked us a two-week stint on the North Shore.'

Claire felt an overwhelming sense of relief. If she could stay for the meantime she might be able to figure out a solution to her problems.

‘Oh, thank you,' said Claire. ‘But what work can I do?'

Rosina smiled and shrugged her shoulders. ‘There's always lots to do in a circus. You can help me feed and groom the horses and elephants, and help the cook prepare meals.'

Claire felt a flutter of nerves. She wondered what grooming the elephants might entail. ‘Thanks, Rosina. That's great.'

‘It will be rather lovely because in Sydney we get to stay in the same spot for two whole weeks,' added Rosina. ‘It will be a relaxing holiday. Usually we move on to a new town every day or two, travelling about a hundred miles a day. The pull-down and haul-out of the big top is a huge amount of work every day – as you'll see tomorrow.'

It all sounded so strange; Claire was lost for words. Her face must have betrayed her bewilderment because Rosina smiled at her.

‘Cheer up. Jem's just gone to fetch us some food,' Rosina explained. ‘Why don't you sit out by the fire while I get changed. I'll only be a jiffy.'

Claire pulled on her brown ankle boots and descended the steps of the little caravan. It was dark and the air was chilly. Groups of circus folk sat around various small campfires, chatting and relaxing. A shadow approached her out of the darkness. It was Jem with his dog, Jaspar, following close behind.

‘You're up. How're you feeling?' asked Jem. ‘Want some grub?' The aroma of rich meat and vegetables wafted from a pot he was carrying. In his other hand he held a plate of bread.

Claire realised she was starving. ‘Better and yes, please.'

Near Rosina's caravan a small fire burned in a circle of stones. Jaspar flopped down with his paws nearly in the flames. He carefully watched as his master set down the food pot. He wagged his tail hopefully.