The Sequin Star (22 page)

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Authors: Belinda Murrell

Tags: #FICTION

BOOK: The Sequin Star
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Lula grabbed the headpiece and ripped the diamante-and-sequin star away from the headband, scattering feathers everywhere. She pranced around, holding the clasp to her forehead.

Rosina stood, dropping the blanket from around her shoulders. She scooped Lula up and gently prised the clasp away. ‘No, Lula!'

Claire gathered the fallen ostrich feathers and the ragged headband. She laid the remains of the ruined headpiece on the table.

Rosina looked at the clasp and sighed. ‘Well, I won't be wearing that again in a hurry.'

Looking at the clasp on its own, Claire could quite clearly see that it was identical to the brooch that she wore pinned to her bodice – the brooch that she had discovered among her grandfather's treasures. She pressed her own star ornament with her fingers.

Rosina tossed the sequin star down on the table in disgust.

Kit picked it up and examined it. ‘It's pretty.'

‘It's worthless,' Rosina said. ‘Nothing but a cheap costume trinket that we found in the markets.'

‘No,' Kit contradicted, smiling. ‘It's an exotic jewel worn by the glamorous Princess Rosina of Romani. It must be worth a king's ransom.'

Rosina laughed. ‘Would you like to keep it – as a souvenir from your circus adventures?'

Kit looked at Rosina and smiled. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and carefully folded it around the brooch. He tucked the jewel away in his breast pocket.

‘Thank you, Rosina. I'd be honoured.'

21
The Final Straw

Kit said goodnight and left. Jem and Rosina stayed seated by the fire, finishing their tea and chatting about their possible futures. Claire went inside the caravan to get ready for bed. She removed the star brooch from her costume and tucked it away in the pocket of her jeans. She took off her costume and hung up her tutu.

She was just brushing her hair when a loud shout came from outside. It was Kit.

‘Fire!' he yelled. ‘There's a fire in the Big Top.'

Claire grabbed her clothes from the foot of her bunk. She pulled on her jeans and singlet, then her socks and boots, and dashed down the stairs.

Performers and roustabouts in various states of dress emerged from every caravan. Claire could see Kit, Rosina and Jem hurrying towards the Big Top. A strange orange glow lit up the sky. The air smelt of smoke and burning paraffin.

As Claire darted between the caravans she could see massive flames roaring up the sides of the central tent. She could feel the heat, even from this distance.

Terrified whinnies came from the horse yards to the right, while Elsie trumpeted in fear. To the left, Sultan roared, pacing up and down in his cage. Men ran for shovels and buckets, while others shouted orders.

Frank and Roy had fetched the water truck, which was used to carry water for the elephants, and were spraying the flames with the hose. Other roustabouts had organised themselves into a line from the tap to pass buckets of water to throw on the flames. All their efforts seemed futile.

Claire looked around for the others. In the flickering light of the flames, Claire could see that Jem had gone to help Frank and Roy with the water hose. Rosina was running towards her beloved horses, followed by Kit. Claire decided that she could be the most help with the animals, so she raced after Rosina.

The horses were frantic now, neighing and rearing in panic. Rosina had slipped into the yards and was calling out to them in calming tones. ‘It's okay, boys. Good boys.'

In the elephant enclosure next door, Elsie and Empress were pulling on their ropes. Elsie flapped her ears and trumpeted in fear. Claire paused outside the elephant enclosure, torn between helping Rosina and calming the elephants.

‘It's okay, Elsie,' Claire called, trying to mimic Rosina's soothing tone. ‘Good girl, Empress.'

The elephants calmed momentarily, shivering with nerves.

A loud crack sounded from the Big Top as one of the tent poles snapped and collapsed. Elsie reared up on her hind legs, ripping out the picket stake that tethered her to the ground. Empress pulled backwards, unearthing her own tether. In fright, both elephants stampeded out of the enclosure, heading away from the inferno – and straight towards Claire. She had seen the damage that a stampeding elephant could do to fences, a chookhouse and a green­grocer's shop. She threw herself out of the way, feeling the wind from the elephants' massive legs as they charged past. One of the picket stakes, still attached to Elsie's foot, flung out and struck Claire in the chest.

Claire fell heavily, all the breath knocked from her body.

Her head slammed into the ground with a sickening thud.

Pain. Nausea. Darkness.

‘Are you all right?' The voice belonged to a young male.

‘Jem?' Claire mumbled. She opened her eyes. The light was blinding. Pain shot through her temple. She touched her head with her fingertips. It felt warm and sticky.

‘Are you badly hurt?' asked the voice again. ‘Can you hear me?'

A face peered down at her from above. It was a boy about her own age, with brown hair and blue eyes, wearing a bike helmet.

Claire sat up gingerly. She looked around, expecting to see the circus lot, with its burning tent and caravans. Instead, it was daylight in the busy street near her home, in front of her usual bus stop. She breathed in deeply.

The boy was holding a bicycle. He had a nasty graze down his left leg. Claire's bag was lying in the gutter. A crowd of passers-by had gathered around, looking concerned. A flood of euphoria surged through her when she realised where she was.

Claire beamed up at the boy leaning over her. ‘No, I'm fine,' she cried. ‘I'm perfectly, wonderfully fine.'

The boy frowned. ‘I think you hit your head rather hard.'

‘Yes,' said Claire, ‘but it's nothing. I'll be all right now.'

The boy took his helmet off and wiped his forehead. ‘Sorry I hit you, but you seemed to just jump out in front of me. I didn't have time to swerve.'

‘It was my fault. I was distracted and didn't see you,' Claire explained. ‘My name is Claire Stanton.'

‘I'm Tom Macintosh.'

Tom helped her up and she sat on the kerb. A woman standing nearby rang the ambulance. Claire found her handbag, lifted out her battered, faithful old phone and rang her mother. She felt like she was holding a lifeline in her hands.

‘Mum?
Mum
?' Claire cried.

‘Claire. Is everything all right?'

Tears welled up when she heard her mother's beautiful, familiar voice again. ‘I'm okay, Mum, but there's been a slight accident. I was hit by a bike. They've called an ambulance.'

Claire could hear the panic in her mother's voice as she demanded to know details. ‘I'm on my way, darling,' her mother promised.

A few minutes later an ambulance arrived and the officers asked both Claire and Tom their names and addresses, and examined their injuries.

Tom was treated by the medics, who cleaned and bandaged his leg. Claire had the cut on her forehead daubed with antiseptic. Despite her protestations that she was perfectly fine, the medics insisted on taking both her and Tom to hospital in the back of the ambulance, and the two patients chatted along the way.

Tom had seen Claire too late, braked too suddenly, and was flung over the handlebars as he hit her. Luckily, he was wearing a helmet. Claire explained her grandmother's illness and confessed to being distracted and worried. It turned out that Tom lived just a couple of streets away from her. He seemed like a friendly boy.

Both of Claire's parents met her in the emergency ward, and she flung herself into her mother's and then her father's arms.

‘I missed you so much,' she sobbed. Her parents exchanged worried glances.

‘Are you all right, Claire?' asked her father gently.

‘I just want to go home.'

The doctor examined Claire, dressed her forehead and pronounced her bruised and battered but otherwise well. Tom was in the cubicle next door. She saw his parents arrive, looking anxious.

‘I just want to say goodbye to Tom,' Claire said. ‘The accident wasn't his fault – it was totally mine – and I think he was hurt quite badly.'

Claire popped her head around the curtain. Tom was lying on the bed, looking pale and tired. His parents were sitting beside him.

‘Sorry again about running out in front of you,' Claire apologised with a shy smile. ‘I hope you're feeling better soon.'

‘I'll be fine,' said Tom with a grin. ‘A few grazes won't slow me down. Maybe I can pop around to your house and see you in a few days – see how you're coming along?'

‘That would be nice,' Claire said.

Claire's parents took her back home and tucked her into bed, where she snuggled into her fresh, clean sheets, under her turquoise doona. She looked around her beautiful, familiar room and felt a wave of happiness and relief wash over her. She was really, truly home.

On Tuesday after school, Claire went to visit Nanna in hospital. Mum had explained that the doctors thought that her confusion and hallucinations had been caused by a nasty infection. Nanna had been on strong doses of anti­biotics for the past couple of days and was much more lucid, although still a little woozy.

Claire walked in carrying a large bunch of flowers. Nanna opened her eyes and smiled. Claire stooped to kiss her on the cheek.

‘Hello, my darling,' said Nanna. ‘What beautiful agapanthus. Can you set them on the shelf?'

Claire placed the flowers on display and took a seat beside the hospital bed as the two exchanged pleasantries. When they had both assured the other that they were perfectly well, Claire slipped the star brooch out of her pocket and put it in her grandmother's hands.

‘I found this in Grandpa's box,' Claire explained.

Nanna took the old brooch and turned it over in her hands. She sighed, a look of misty remembrance in her eyes.

‘I can still recall the day I gave this to your grandfather,' Nanna said. ‘He always treasured this funny old piece of costume jewellery.'

‘I know. Will you tell me more about it, Nanna?' asked Claire. ‘About the circus? You mentioned it while you were sick.'

Nanna gave her a sharp look. ‘I blurted that out, did I? Well, when I was a girl, I was a circus performer. I was known as Princess Rosina of Romani.'

Claire nodded. Nanna went on to talk about some of the adventures she'd had in the circus, most of which Claire knew but was happy to hear again.

‘But why didn't you ever
tell
us about this, Nanna?' Claire asked.

Nanna smiled a mischievous smile. Claire could see a flash of the old Rosina. ‘In those days, to be with the circus was not at all respectable. Kit's father was horrified that he would even
think
of associating with people from the circus. It was easier not to talk about it. It was a bit like knowing that your ancestors were convicts. In those days, absolutely no one would admit such a connection.'

‘Sounds like Kit's dad was a bit of a tyrant,' Claire replied, remembering Mr Hunter and his conservative views.

‘No, not really,' Nanna said. ‘Once you knew him, he was a real sweetie – although he was an old-fashioned gentleman with quaint ideas about gentility.'

Claire smiled.

‘When I married Kit –' Nanna paused, as though the memories were too difficult, and then continued. ‘When I married Kit, I had become Vivien Blake – a movie actress, someone respectable and glamorous. Then I became Vivien Hunter, loving wife and mother, a stalwart of Sydney's well-to-do society.' Claire patted her grandmother's hand. ‘But all that time, I never forgot Princess Rosina. You know, there is an old circus saying, “Once you have sawdust in your shoes, you can never get it out.”'

Claire wondered if her time in the circus counted as getting sawdust in her shoes. Well, she definitely knew it was something she would never, ever forget.

‘What happened after the circus fire?' asked Claire.

‘The fire,' said Nanna, remembering further back. ‘The Big Top was completely destroyed, along with many of the props and equipment. In those days, the canvas tents were waterproofed with paraffin wax dissolved in kerosene. When the fires started, we had no way of stopping it – the whole tent was gone in just a few minutes.'

‘Did you find out how the fire started?' asked Claire.

‘Who knows? A cigarette butt, an electrical short, a disgruntled employee? But the consequences were devastating. Sterling Brothers Circus broke up after that.' Nanna sighed. ‘The circus was already struggling because of the Depression. Many of the performers and animals ended up in different, bigger circuses. It broke my heart to say goodbye to some of the animals I had worked with for years.'

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