Circus Solace (4 page)

“Well, well, well, what do I see here but three
fellows’ waiting to tuck in to something naughty-naughty and illegal in this fair land of ours.” His voice was light but full of snap, like a bully giving out orders from a safe place in the tree tops.

“Fellows, I am mayor
Cirrus but some say Se-ri-ous and make no doubt about it,” he went on his voice rising to a pitch that was just below a scream. “I am one
serious
clown!”      

“I was just offering up an old recipe,” Marcus said.
His voice was strong but even Matt could hear the slight tremor underneath it, just at the back of the throat where fear starts to grow.

“Oh. Oh! Oh-oh-oh,” went the clown, cutting him off. “Well, old things are a crime in a new town, just the same way that old ways have no place in a modern metropolis like Moon Dip Falls. You’ll put that offensive offering in the garbage disposal, sir
, or else your lease on this building will take its place down the shredding-chute. What will it be?”

“Look, my son and I were just having lunch,”
Pa said. He rose out of his seat and immediately the damaged duo of twins sprung up in-front of Cirrus. Even so, he didn’t flinch and Matt felt a surge of pride for Pa that burned almost as brightly as the rainbow cake that sat on the table which had caused all this mess.

“Well, you look like a stranger and you don’t know the rules, do you now. Bartleby!” The one on the left pulled out a sheet of paper and dropped it on the table.

“Those are the rules to live by if you live here,” the clown said, the hysteria suddenly dropping out of his voice. For a moment he sounded as if he were addressing a town meeting about mundane matters. “If you stay, you learn, if you remain ignorant you leave the way you came.” 

“We’re not leaving,”
Pa said quietly, though his voice was just as clear as the clown’s. “We’re on the top of the hill and that’s where we’ll be.” Matt noticed it then: the clown’s eyes bulged, just for a second, before he recovered.

“Well, well, well and heaven’s-to-
Betsy, that old pile, eh? Well, you take care not to choke on all that dust or get lost in amongst all those weeds, won’t you now?” The two men laughed in slow, thudding chunks to the left and right of him. It sounded to Matt like two anchors dropping slowly to the floor, wheezing with rust.

“We’ll be fine as we are
,” Pa said and for a moment there was silence. In the next, the clown pulled out a shrunken flap of something from one pocket and a small silver pump from another. In a flash he placed one into the other and a balloon lit into life. In the next moment, the clown drained the helium balloon back to a flap and took a step forward to Pa. He opened his mouth and let out a long, high pitched scream. His tongue was dark at the edges and yellowed at its core. When it was over, he took a step back and looked expectantly to the two bulky guards who both laughed on cue. He turned and left without a word and the men followed him out. It dawned on Matt the clown hadn’t even acknowledged him the whole time.

“You okay, Matty?” he said, finally breaking his glare fr
om the window, as the car screeched away. Matt managed to nod and felt a small surge of Pa’s bravery pulse through him.

“I’m sorry,” Marcus said as he reappeared at the counter. His hands were still shaking and even though he loomed over the counter, he somehow seemed small.

“I’m sorry if we got you in any trouble,” Pa said, waving off the apology. “It was our fault.”

“No, it wasn’t but you watch yourself now, boys,” Marcus answered. “Now he’ll think you’re trouble.” He wiped his hands with a cloth and Matt saw streaks of rainbow appear on
it. It was sad and beautiful at the same time. It made Matt’s heart ache.

“Maybe we are,”
Pa said and gripped Matt’s hand tightly. Matt saw something new in his eyes now, beyond the sadness of the last few months or the cautious happiness of the road trip and the last few days. Now, with the mayor, it had changed again. Matt saw determination in Pa’s eyes and something else, too: steel.

             
                            *

For a few days, Matt and
Pa worked on the house. The more they worked, the less they seemed to notice the tilt and Matt was sure the harder they toiled, the more level the place became. With the windows and doors opened, the scent of the breezes drifted in. It was a gentle smell; a mix of freshly spilt lemonade and just cut flowers. Even when Pa brewed coffee or cooked food, the scent didn’t seem to lessen but instead combine make it better and stronger. It reminded Matt of photos he had seen of remote islands, where nothing seemed to damage the cliffs as much as make them more stunning. Matt thought of his ma in those times and how the illness did not make her weak but older and more beautiful, as if she had lived nine lives and had taken only the good from each one of them. Matt wiped his eyes on his sleeves when he thought about her but did not feel bad about the tears he shed.

Even though it was hard, Matt began to feel stronger in those days of work.
Sometimes he looked over and saw what he was feeling in Pa, too. The sweat brought more colour to his cheeks and the little sun there was stayed on his arms. Most of the time they would work in silence and the few words they shared were about the house. It was a good silence and a comfortable one that they both fitted inside. Each day they broke for lunch and sat on the porch, looking out to the fields, watching the long swaying grasses. When they were done for the day, they would take their dinner up to the roof and sit and watch the stars as they bloomed in the night sky. The moon would appear like a spotlight, watching over them; guiding crumbs into their mouths and the glasses to their lips. Sometimes the moonlight felt stronger and more powerful than the weak sun of the day.

Matt still watched the fields.

Each day, Matt saw something/someone moving in amongst the trees. At first he had it down as a deer but then on another day it stood and the silhouette was clearly a man. Matt noticed whatever it was did not move beyond the boundary of the fields; once or twice it reached the edge of the clearing but then stopped violently, as if some rule or penalty was being enforced. It would stutter and then shamble away, as if scolded, back to the folds of the forest and out of sight. Matt had waved, swished a handkerchief and even held up a hand painted sign to be read but nothing seemed to grab its attention. He sensed it was not a cruel thing or something sent to do them harm. Even in the shade, Matt sensed goodness to it, even as it slouched and jutted at odd angles. In a way, the strange thing reminded him of the house, the way it covered itself in darkness but only for protection and not in order to pounce. Over the days, the creature became as much a watchful guardian from the fields as the thick moon had become overhead in the sky.

As the tw
o of them made their way through each room, Matt looked for signs of his ma. At first he searched for photos on the walls but saw the deeply faded marks where they had once sat and then been removed. He found small damages to the beams and wondered if they had been made by her at his age, reckless and clumsy; nothing really mattering until that moment when an adults’ voice brought her back to reality with a sharp word. Even when they made their way to the attic, where Matt had high hopes, they found nothing but dust and the tell-tale signs of a life once lived and now long gone. Matt saw Pa put his hand to the lighter segments of wood where caskets and crates had clearly once rested, as if trying to find a signal, another map to guide them. All that was left were brittle pieces of straw where even the birds had flown the coop.

             
                                                        *

That night, as they sat on the roof, Matt searched the fields for the creature and saw nothing bu
t the swaying branches. As he put his palm down on the slate tile, he felt a ridge that made his skin twitch. Without thinking, he looked down and saw the indent spread into more lines. He squinted and the moon illuminated the clear outline of an arrow under his fingertip. Somehow, he knew it had been carved by his ma; the line was uneven and too careless, lacking a grown-up’s tired precision. Matt glanced over to Pa, who was preparing the sandwiches and distracted in the best way, by the breezes and the stars. Matt bit his tongue, reluctant to get Pa’s hopes up after the disappointment of the attic. Instead, he carefully adjusted himself and searched for the next arrow. It was behind him and led easily to another and then another.

Matt clamoured after the slates, careful with his feet and even more careful with his eyes. The arrows were carved onto the safest, most central part of the roof
; the chimney at the heart of the house. By the time Pa called over to him, Matt already felt his heart roaring with discovery. On the breast of the chimney, his ma’s handwriting glowed in the starlight. An asterisk lit the top of the flue and Matt saw how she had delicately written around the circular chimney pot. One sentence began in a long, looping ring, leading onto the next. At a distance it could have looked like a stripe. Matt heard Pa’s footsteps pad over towards him, as he crouched and started reading.

To whoever should be reading this, welcome! You find the owner of this pen, Amelia Persephone Stephens, of sound mind and willing, on this day, to share her innermost thoughts and dreams with you, said stranger. I leave this gap for your signature---- so we will join as partners for our brief time together!   

By the time he had read this first section, Matt had already crab-walked two circuits of the chimney. Pa followed behind him, muttering every word. As he continued, Matt heard his ma’s voice carved on the stone mingling with Pa’s whispers out loud in the air. For a moment, it felt as if they were re-united; his ma’s bubbling energy and Pa’s quiet force linking them back together, unbroken.

I declare, on this chimney document, I will do my utmost to achieve the following: I will…

1
.) Have a dream that will stay with me forever

2
.) Eat a Star Ship Pie the size of my own head

3
.) Sing a song without blushing

4
.) Run a four minute mile

5
.) -###########

6
.) See more of the world than less of it

7
.) Love and be loved

So say I, stranger! And what will you do in return, now our pact is sealed in clay? Make seven wishes and see that they happen! I’ll see you on a summer’s day, my mystery friend!  Amy xxxx

Matt reached out and put his fingertip to the final kiss and then made way for Pa to finish the final circuit. Despite all he felt, all the happiness and sadness the words had stirred inside him, Matt wondered what the two of them looked like, hopping and shuffling around an old chimney pot like they were! Pa reached the end and then went back to the list, looping his thumb and forefinger over and over on one spot. The moon was at its strongest now and a beam illuminated Pa where he stood. He waved Matt over, fishing through a shirt pocket with his free hand.

“We’ll sign. You first Matty,” he said, handing
over the pen. Matt hesitated but saw Pa’s eyes encourage him. Matt crouched and put his other hand out to steady himself, knowing he would only get one shot. Satisfied, he signed his name on one half of the line, leaving enough space for Pa to go alongside. After it was over, Matt put a finger to where she had written her full name. The two stood back, admiring the words by the stars and the moon.

“What was the one ma had scratched away? Number
five?” Matt asked.

“It was a promise about the house, the people in town, something she must have wiped away when she left.”
Pa’s voice was tight.

“Did she manage the others?”  Matt thought about her singing, sleeping, travelling and laughing.

“Yes, she did,” Pa said, putting his hand on Matt’s shoulder.

“You started thinking about your seven dreams yet?”
Matt asked and looked up to Pa. In the moonlight his face appeared silver, like a warrior statue.

“Only one
,” he said quietly. Matt knew the answer but felt the question had to be asked, to get everything clear and in the open. Then they would be ready and then they would start fighting.

“About the one ma scratched away?”

“That’s right Matty. First of all, we’re going to make your ma’s list complete again.”

He squeezed Matt’s shoulder and the two stood, looking at the words until the streams of moonlight changed angles and they
slowly returned to their food, the night and a whole new set of plans.

             
                            *

The next day, the mood in the house changed a little. It didn’t feel like they were strangers anymore. Matt didn’t feel as if he was passing through. On the first night in the house, it had almost felt like they were staying for a dare, a challenge. Finding his ma’s message and seeing that small, heartbreaking set of scratches of a broken promise had changed everything.
Pa began to talk with purpose and any sense of walking on egg shells had slipped away the moment they found the chimney.