Secret Heart (8 page)

“Only Maloney, lalalala!”

“Leave him alone,” she whispered, without turning. “Joe Maloney's worth a field full of you.”

She held him, touched the painted face.

“You did this?” she said to Corinna.

“Yes.”

Joe's mum shook her head.

“A funny'n. Such a funny'n.”

“He's fine,” said Corinna. “I'm looking after him.”

Joe stood straight, held his head up.

“Don't need l-looking after. I'm f-fine. And I'll just be here, beside the t—”

“Tent,” said his mum. She sighed. “You gave me such a fright.”

She blinked, asked the question of herself.

“Is this OK? Is this what should be happening when a boy grows?” The song about her son rang out again. “Listen to them. Silly stunted stupid things. Is that what he should grow like?”

She held her boy at arm's length.

“No,” she whispered. “He should grow like Joe Maloney, good and true.”

“I'll c-come back, Mum. I'm not going aw-away.”

They looked at each other, the three of them.

“Let me st-stay,” said Joe.

His mum lifted her eyes, scanned the tent and the billboards and the empty morning sky.

“Such a worry,” she said. “You were always such a worry. Knew from the start there'd be strife and struggle and—”

“Clear off, circus filth!” yelled Cody's crew. “Take your tent somewhere else!”

There was another group, too, Bleak Winters' bunch. They clustered in another part of the waste-land.

“Circus equals cruelty!” they chanted. “Set the animals free!”

“This happens everywhere you go?” said Joe's mum.

Corinna nodded.

Joe's mum gazed at the tent.

“It's a lovely thing, isn't it?” she said.

“Yes,” said Corinna.

Joe's mum held him.

“This boy walks in darkness,” she said. “He walks where others wouldn't dare to go.”

Corinna nodded.

“You'll stay with him?”

“Yes,” said Corinna.

“Go on, then, Joe.” She cuddled her son. “This is a girl with a heart that might be big as yours. Stay with her.”

“Yes,” he said.

“And don't forget. I'm just over there.” She smiled sadly, bright-eyed. “Bring Corinna for lunch, Joe. Bring your new friend for lunch!”

She kissed Joe and turned away.

Corinna lifted the flap of the tent.

It seemed higher, much higher than before. The faded sun and moon and stars seemed a thousand miles away. The roof of the tent reeled like the sky and Joe crouched, and pressed his hands to the straw and sawdust as if to secure himself.

She giggled.

“Second thoughts?”

“No.” He tried to steady his heart, steady his breath. “No.”

“Come on, then.”

She took off her coat and dropped it to the floor.

“Wait here, watch me, then you do it. OK?”

She stepped up onto the rope ladder that hung from the central pole. He saw how her feet curved over the rungs, how she could grip with her toes, saw how strong the slender muscles in her arms and legs were.

She set off climbing, then paused.

“It's easy,” she said. “Just like falling. It'll look like miles, but the net'll catch you and hold you and you won't hurt yourself. OK?”

He nodded.

“When you've done it once, you'll want to do it again, straightaway. You will, Joe.”

She climbed again, past the safety net, until she reached the platform, and stood there.

“Nothing can happen,” she said. Her voice rang in the still blue air. “You jump straight out like you're going to fly. You arch your body. You stretch your arms. You try to make your body beautiful and elegant and streamlined. But even if you drop like a scared turkey, the net'll catch you and hold you. OK?”

“OK.”

She jumped, head up, body arched, arms stretched out like she was reaching for the sun and moon and stars. He watched. He wanted to copy her, but also to catch the moment when there was nothing of her to see, the moment when she disappeared. But she didn't disappear. She rolled in the air, drew her knees to her chest, landed on her shoulders, and the net sighed as it took her and held her safe.

She swung down to the sawdust beside him.

“You were… there all the time,” he said.

“Course I was. I'm not good enough. It's only in my dreams that
I
disappear.”

He toed the sawdust.

“But mebbe Joe Maloney's a natural, and soon's he starts jumping he starts to disappear.”

She grinned.

“Just one way to find out.”

She knelt down and started to unlace his left boot.

He stepped back.

“You think you'll go flying with these on, Joe?” She caught his foot again.

She eased the heavy boot over his heel. Joe blushed at the smell of his sweat. But she just smiled and took the sock off too. Black dirt beneath the toenails and a rim of black around his ankle.

“Lovely feet, Joe,” she said.

Joe smiled.

She took off the other boot and sock. She rubbed his feet tenderly.

“Fancy keeping lovely little feet locked up in those things.”

She took her slippers off and stood with her feet side by side with his.

“We could nearly be t-twins,” he said.

“Ha! Yes, we could.”

Then she knelt and eased her slippers onto his feet.

“Better, eh? Much lighter. Things you can fly in.”

He flexed his toes, stood on tiptoe.

“Lovely,” he whispered.

“Up you go. Go on.”

The ladder twisted, swung and trembled as he climbed. He scrambled his way through the net.

“You're a
bit
like a turkey,” she said. “But go on. Just go on.”

He tried to fix his eyes on the roof of the tent but he had to keep looking down at his clumsy feet on the narrow rungs, and Corinna was further and further away. Then the larks inside him started singing, helped to lift him to the platform's edge. He climbed onto it, and stood there, gripping the pole. His knees shuddered.

He looked down through the blue shade to her upturned blue face. Her eyes shone. All around, the blue-starred tent wheeled.

“Listen, Joe. Look straight out, into the air above the net.”

He looked out.

“Nothing can harm you, Joe. There's just air, and that can't hurt you, and then the net'll catch you and keep you safe.”

He tried to breathe deeply, slowly.

“Mebbe it's true, Joe. Mebbe in another life, in the life before the last life, you were the greatest flier of us all.”

The larks inside him hung high in the blue and sang and sang.

“Mebbe we were together, Joe. Mebbe we were
twins in sparkling costumes, catching each other high in the air while tigers growled below us.”

He teetered at the edge. He heard the awful growl, the roar, like something from some deep dark cavern rather than from an open mouth. His head reeled. He looked down and saw tigers caged inside the ring, tigers clawing the air, tigers clawing at their trainers.

“Believe in it, Joe. Just jump.”

He jumped. He held his arms out. He reached for the sun. He crumpled into the net.

He lay twisted and awkward, the net cords digging at his skin.

“Brilliant!” said Corinna, from below him. “Brilliant, Joe.”

He rolled clumsily toward the edge of the net.

And then the air inside the tent trembled. The flap was drawn back. Hackenschmidt stood there, a huge shadow, a silhouette.

For many moments, Hackenschmidt just stared. Then he came forward, into the blue light. He wore blue trousers, a blue shirt with white flowers on it, shiny black shoes. His hair and beard were combed. He seemed three times as high as Joe, three times as wide. His arms were as broad as Joe's waist. His hands were bigger than Joe's head. He walked to Joe, who lay still at the edge of the net.

“Come down,” he said. His voice was soft and calm. He lifted Joe with his great hands from the net. He slowly swung him down onto the sawdust floor. He straightened Joe's satin clothes, just as Joe's mother would. “Do you know who I am?” he asked.

“H-Hack—”

“Yes. Hackenschmidt. The Lion of Russia, the greatest wrestler ever seen. The champion of the world. The…” His voice faltered and he sighed. “And you are Joe Maloney.”

“Yes,” said Joe.

“You'll refresh the world, you and my Corinna.”

He turned his eyes to the trapeze.

“You went up there, eh?”

“Yes.”

“Brave boy.”

He sighed again. His breath fell across Joe's face. They stood together, the huge man, the scrawny boy, the lithe girl. They stood in the blue shade, in deep silence, just the sighing of breath, distant drone of traffic, the shifting of the tent.

“Listen to it,” whispered Hackenschmidt at last. “The lovely gentle sound of canvas between the world in here and the world out there. Do you think it's lovely, Joe?”

“Yes.”

They gazed toward the ancient faded galaxy. They breathed the blue air and the dust.

“Soon,” said Hackenschmidt, “the tent will be gone. Everything that has happened in here…”He flicked his fingers at the air. “Gone, just like that.”

Great sadness crossed his face.

“We have been so beautiful, Joe. Even me, even ugly Hackenschmidt. So beautiful.”

He smiled, and was silent for a long time, and Joe watched him, and relaxed, and knew that once again he had found a stranger who was also familiar.

“I don't have many words,” said Hackenschmidt.
“I grunt and growl and howl. My body has been my expression all these years.”

Silence again. Hackenschmidt lowered his eyes.

“Step onto my hands,” he whispered.

He knelt and spread his two hands flat before Joe's feet.

“Go on,” said Hackenschmidt. “Step onto them. Stand still. Trust me, Joe.”

Joe stepped forward and stood on the great palms.

“Imagine you're part of me,” said Hackenschmidt. “Imagine you grew out of me.”

Joe breathed deeply as Hackenschmidt lifted him. He tottered, and he reached out to Hackenschmidt's shoulders, but the hands beneath his feet tilted and shifted to keep him in balance.

“Trust me,” said Hackenschmidt.

Joe relaxed. He rose higher. He felt how Hackenschmidt responded to him, supported him, understood him. Hackenschmidt lowered him again, set him on the floor again.

“We'll let no harm come to you,” he said.

Joe breathed calmly.

“The tiger came for you,” said Hackenschmidt.

“Yes.”

“Did you see me as well? In the darkness, between the houses and the wasteland. Did you see me there?”

Joe spun back into his dream. He stood at the window, stared out at the massive figure in the Cut.

“Did you hear me?” said Hackenschmidt. “Tiger! Tiger!”

“Yes,” said Joe. “I thought I was as-asleep, but…”

“Me too. I snuffled and snored through it all, Joe Maloney. You saw Hackenschmidt, but there was no Hackenschmidt. Hackenschmidt was in his dreams.”

Joe sighed. He closed his eyes. He brought to mind the tiger, the glittering eyes, the hot, sour breath, the harsh tongue, the great curved teeth. He looked at Hackenschmidt, at Corinna.

“I…I saw you. I saw the t-tiger.”

“Yes. Hackenschmidt was in the dream of Joe Maloney. Joe Maloney was in the dream of Hackenschmidt. The tiger was the one that prowled between us, the thing that crossed from dream to dream. The tiger was the one that found you out and brought you to me. You understand?” Hackenschmidt shook his head. “Me neither, Joe.”

Joe couldn't go on with this. He floundered. His head reeled. He closed his eyes. Skylarks burst out singing deep inside. He dreamed of being lifted from the sawdust ring, soaring through the galaxy, hanging far off in the endless blue of sky. He felt Hackenschmidt's great hands cradling his head, felt the great thumbs stroking his brow, heard the low whisper.

“Joe. Joe. Joe.”

“Where you gone?” Corinna said gently.

He came back down to earth.

Hackenschmidt held him.

“You've come home, Joe,” he breathed. “That tiger's gone out prowling many nights, through all the wastelands and little towns we've been these past few years. Night after night I've dreamed him finding nothing, nobody. He's prowled through simple total darkness, seen by no one. Till now. Till you.”

He smiled.

“The tiger brought you home, Joe. I'm so happy that we found you. Now show me what you did.”

“Eh?”

“Climb up again. Jump again. Go on.”

“Go on, Joe,” said Corinna. “We think he was mebbe a flier in another life, Hackenschmidt. We think mebbe he and me was together.”

“Yes. That's possible. That would explain a great deal.” He held Joe's shoulders. “You don't remember it, though?”

“N-no.”

“Ah, well. Go on up.”

Joe climbed. Hackenschmidt held the ladder tight beneath him. He climbed through the net, to the platform. Stood there, clinging to the pole. Stared into the empty air that could do no harm. Tried to imagine a world with the tent gone, just empty air going on forever and forever. Could not imagine it. Closed his eyes and the tiger came, with
its stench, its growl. Closed his eyes and the voice of Hackenschmidt came.

“We need a boy with the heart of a tiger. We need a hero. We need you, Joe.”

Joe teetered.

“Now jump!” called Hackenschmidt. “Go on, Joe Maloney. Jump!”

He jumped. He jumped as if he jumped away from all his fears, all his confusions, as if he jumped into a world that he had searched for in all his days and nights of wandering the wasteland. He reached into the air as if nothing would ever stop him, as if he'd go on jumping forevermore.

The net sighed and creaked. Joe rolled to the edge. There was only Corinna below. No Hackenschmidt, as if he'd never been there at all.

Corinna giggled as she pulled Joe's clumsy boots onto her feet and stood up and did an awkward dance in them.

“When I was little,” she said, “he taped silver slippers round my feet. ‘Dance, dance, dance,’ he said. I could barely walk. My first memory—standing here, his voice going, ‘Dance, dance, dance.’ ”

“Hackenschmidt?”

“Hackenschmidt.”

They sat on the low wooden wall around the ring. Sunlight through the canvas walls intensified. Far-off traffic din. Vague bitter chanting from outside.