Lisa Heathfield - Flight of a Starling

Immediately, the sounds are numbed. Inside it, the world shrinks to just me.

Ernest turns to us. ‘Ready?’

‘Yes.’ I think the word stays trapped in the mask and so I nod.

‘Ten laps, then Rita, you jump on to Rob’s motorbike. Two more, then it’s you, Lo. They’re quick, so count. Don’t forget,’ he says. ‘OK?’ And I nod before he pulls down his visor.

We’ve been over and over it and it’s locked in my mind. Still, I run through it, the exact pressure from my feet, where my hands must be.

Rob and Ernest start the engines, filling the big top with the noise of the bikes. I hold Rita tight as we race and tip to the edge of the wall down into the bowl. From here, it’s beautiful, a perfect crater, a metal web for the future audience to see through.

We drop into it and the speed is instant. One lap. Ma and Rob rush past us, head on, the fronts of our bikes almost scraping. Two laps. If I reached out, I could touch them. Three. I count as the wheels leap up above the edge, a mirror to them, air beneath us. My blood has become fire. I count the rest of the laps, each one burning adrenaline deeper into me.

Rob comes close and Rita leaps on to their bike. I’m not meant to look, but I do. For long seconds the noise cradles her, before she’s caught by Ma and she’s safe.

One more lap.

‘Go!’ I hear Ernest shout.

I don’t have time to think, only jump in the way Rob’s taught me, enough to reach them.

In one breath, everything is washed silent, before the world is back and I land behind Rita.

But I’ve misjudged it. I know as soon as my foot hits the seat that it’s in the wrong place, the bike will unbalance. It tips too far to the side and Rita falls. Ma swings out an arm for her, but Rita crashes on to the metal and spins away from us.

I try to jump for her, but Ma grabs me. She holds me until the bike stops on the ledge and I see Rita, curled too far away. We run and when I get to her there’s blood on my sister, twisting in ribbons up her arm. I try to say her name, but my breathing swallows it.

Ash stands motionless as Ma kneels next to her and Da is taking the helmet gently from her head. Rita’s eyes are open. Her curls are smeared against her skin and shock is covering her face, but she’s breathing. The world starts ticking again as I take off my helmet.

‘Rita?’ I crouch down, scared to touch her.

‘It went a bit wrong,’ she smiles weakly, her words lopsided.

‘Does anything hurt apart from your arm?’ Da asks her. She shakes her head. ‘And can you move your legs?’

‘Yes,’ she replies. So he puts his arms under her, carefully lifts her and carries her quickly up the edge of the crater. Now I hold my sister’s hand. The skin from her shoulder to her elbow is grazed and packed with blood.

‘Your arm’s a mess,’ I tell her.

‘At least it’s not my face.’

‘Not the face,’ I say. And her laughter is enough.

We don’t light the barrel fire. It feels wrong to do it until Rita is back safe with us. Instead, we sit in Ernest and Helen’s van, waiting for more news.

‘Why haven’t they phoned again?’ Rob is pacing up and down through the centre of us all.

‘It doesn’t mean anything is wrong,’ Ernest says. ‘Just that they’ll be busy.’ I know he’s saying the words for me too, using ones that I need to hear. Spider and I were born within days of each other, so his parents treat me almost like their own.

‘And she’s not concussed,’ Helen says. ‘Ray said they just need to check that nothing’s broken.’

I imagine the camera looking through to my sister’s bones and in my mind I make them a smooth white, with no chips or cracks.

‘She’ll be OK, Lo,’ Spider tells me, squeezing my hand.

‘It’s not your fault, Rob,’ Ernest tells him. ‘Things go wrong.’

‘Rita could’ve died,’ Rob says.

‘But she didn’t,’ I remind him. He shouldn’t feel guilty about this. He only pushes us because he wants our circus to survive. ‘You made her wear the helmet. You made us all do that, so in a way you saved her.’

‘I’m not sure your da will see it like that,’ Ash says. He’s ripping little shreds of white paper and chewing them into balls. He spits them careless into his hand and drops them in the waste bin. I’m glad Stan and Carla have taken Sarah back to their van, so she won’t see him looking so worried.

‘Spider says she’s going to be OK, Ash,’ I tell him, but I’m speaking quickly, trying to wash away my own guilt. If I had landed properly, if I had got it right, then Rita would be safe with us now.

Ash looks up at Rob, lets his eyes follow his pacing. ‘The flatties don’t need so much danger when they come to see us.’

‘I think they do,’ Rob says.

‘So you’re still going to keep in the motorbikes?’ Ash asks. Rob looks so briefly at me that I doubt he sees me nod.

‘Yes,’ he says.

Spider’s ma takes a thick cloth from a hook and reaches into the oven. She pulls out two trays settled in steam and a sweet smell clings to the room. No one says a word as she picks out her thin china plates from the cupboard. Her spoon sinks deep and steady through the bread pudding.

‘Spider,’ she says, without looking up. ‘Pass it round.’ And he gets up.

I’ve never once seen him falter in his ma’s demands. Ernest and Helen wanted children enough to line the tent with, but were blessed only with Spider. Sometimes, I think their dreams for him are too heavy on his shoulders. Sometimes, I imagine lifting them off bit by bit and letting the real Spider roam free.

He passes me a plate. I don’t want to have it, not without Rita here, and I know I won’t feel like it until she walks through the door. But I’ve been given the food and so I must eat, the sugar tasteless on my tongue.

It’s gone ten o’clock when Ash and I see the lights of Da’s car swing into their place. We turn from looking through the window and run out of the door, jumping down the steps in one and getting to the car as it’s still ticking hot.

Rita’s face looks tired through the window, but she’s smiling. I open the door, but it’s Ash she’s looking at and it makes everything feel uneven.

‘Are you OK?’ he asks her, reaching in to hold her hand.

‘I’m fine,’ she says. She has Da’s jacket perched big on her shoulders, a white fabric bandage winding thick up her arm.

‘Let’s get you into Terini,’ Ma says, leading us across the grass towards mine and Rita’s van, stopped next to theirs.

‘You could’ve at least broken it,’ I say to Rita, prodding her better arm.

‘I wish I had,’ she says. ‘Instead I’m going to have a scar like a wrinkled old prune.’

‘It’ll match your face nice, then,’ Ash smiles and he kisses her quick on the lips before she can protest. It’s the first time he’s kissed her like that where Ma and Da can see and it makes the dark air prickle awkward.

‘They’ll be turning in early tonight,’ Da tells Ash, as we get to the steps of Terini.

‘Oh, OK.’ Ash doesn’t take his eyes from our Rita. ‘You sure you’re all right?’ he asks her.

‘I’m fine.’

‘Good,’ he says earnestly. ‘I hope it doesn’t hurt too much.’

‘I can’t feel a thing,’ she laughs. ‘Not with all the painkillers.’

‘If you’re sure then,’ Ash says. ‘I’ll say goodnight.’

‘Goodnight,’ Rita says and Ma is already pushing her fast through the door.

‘Night, Ash.’ I hug him tight and feel the last of his worry dissolve, before I climb the van’s steps and shut our door to the world.

Inside, Ma is pulling back the duvet on Rita’s top bunk. ‘Lo, promise me you’ll come and get me from our van if Rita needs me,’ she says.