Lisa Heathfield - Flight of a Starling

‘This place gives me the creeps,’ Rita says.

‘It’s OK,’ I say.

‘Nah. There’s something rotten in the air.’

‘You won’t think that when people pay to come and see you prancing around in your feathers,’ Ash says.

‘Fair enough.’

We cross the road at the traffic lights and the shops on either side are ones we’ve seen a thousand times before. It’s too late for them to be open, but there’re still people around.

‘I bet they’re all ghosts,’ I say.

‘I don’t care, as long as they’ve lots of lova to make us rich,’ Spider says.

‘We’ll never be rich, Spides,’ I say. Even with Rob’s new ideas, every year less people come to see us.

‘It’s definitely got grimy air,’ Rita says.

‘We won’t be stopping long,’ I remind her.

‘Lil said no good was coming. Maybe it’s here that it’s going to happen,’ Rita says.

‘Lil spouts baloney,’ Ash reminds her and I know he’s right. Lil, with her ancient van and cards she can’t really read.

‘No more than you,’ she says. Ash looks hurt. He must feel like a boat cut loose – one day Rita is kissing him, the next she doesn’t want to know.

The line of shops moves out, curving round a fountain stuck large in the concrete. It reaches high, its water tumbling in prickling lines.

‘There’s something nice,’ I say, pointing towards it.

‘The water, or the forbidden flattie boys?’ Rita asks. Sitting on the edge are three of them. They watch us as we get closer. They were talking, but now they’re quiet.

‘Evening,’ I say.

‘Evening,’ the boy nearest us says, a cap tight down over his eyes while the other two just nod.

‘Lost your tongues?’ I ask, but my words have no sharp edges to them.

‘Hi,’ the boy next to him says, his face cracked through with acne scars. I bet Lil’s cream could sort him out. The boy at the end with the stud through his ear stays silent.

I lean over the stone ledge and put the tips of my fingers into the bubbling water. Beneath the foam is a scatter of coins. If these boys weren’t here, I know what I would be doing now.

Spider and Ash look like they want to keep walking, but I sit down and catch my hand in the falling tracks of spray.

The nearest boy takes off his cap and there’s an instant pull inside me. Da always told me it’s best not to look at a flattie too long, but I’ve never seen one like this. He’s got cheekbones you could balance cups on. And Ma says curls on a boy mean he’s honest, so I reckon his blood is true through and through.

‘You’re not from round here?’ he asks. He has hair the same deep brown as Spider’s.

‘No,’ I say. ‘We’re with the circus.’

‘Serious?’ the middle boy asks. ‘The one in East Park?’

‘I don’t know if it’s east, but it’s a park,’ I say.

‘You must’ve seen the posters,’ the same boy says to the other two. ‘The one with the angel on it.’

‘It’s a changeling,’ Rita tells him.

‘A what?’

‘A fairy left in place of a stolen child,’ the nearest boy says.

‘How d’you know that?’ the boy on the end laughs.

‘But in our circus, it’s the changeling who wants to get back to her home,’ Rita says.

‘It looks like an angel on the poster,’ he says.

‘They’re the same thing,’ I tell him. ‘Didn’t you know?’

‘It’s not like a normal circus then?’ the nearest boy says. He’s looking right at me as he speaks.

‘It’s more frightening,’ I say, willing him to look away first, but he doesn’t.

‘Do you do all the normal stuff, though?’ the middle boy asks.

‘You’ll have to come and see,’ I reply.

‘We should get going,’ Ash says, stepping closer to Rita.

‘We’ve only just got here, Ash. You can go if you want,’ I tell him. ‘Rita and I won’t be long.’

‘You can’t stay on your own,’ Spider says. ‘Your ma would kill us.’

‘We’re not on our own,’ I say. But Ash and Spider don’t move.

‘Is there a clown then?’ the middle boy asks. I touch my finger to my eye as quick as I can and I know the others do it too. ‘What are you doing?’ he asks, uneasy.

‘Superstition.’ I regret it as soon as I say it. I don’t want them walking into our world.

‘I’m Dean,’ the boy nearest us says. He puts out his hand to shake mine, all formal. I have to take my fingers from the water and wipe the wet across my jeans.

Dean. I take his name and wrap it and unwrap it in my head.

‘Lo,’ I say.

‘Is that your real name?’ he asks.

‘No. Laura is.’ He doesn’t speak, but he nods his head and has a smile that says he likes it. ‘This is Rita,’ I say and he shakes her hand too, staring right into her eyes in a way that makes my stomach flip with jealousy.

‘I’m Will,’ the boy next to him says, leaning across to shake Rita’s hand and then mine.

‘Paul,’ the boy with the earring says, tipping his finger to his forehead in a mini salute.

‘What’s it like then, this town?’ I ask, as Spider shuffles his feet and Ash steps even closer to Rita’s side.

‘It’s all right,’ Will says. ‘What’s it like in the circus?’

‘It’s all right.’ I mimic his words.

‘It’s everything,’ Rita says.

Dean sort of squints at the pair of us.

‘Are you two sisters?’ he asks.

‘Rita’s the eldest,’ I say.

‘Only by eleven months,’ she reminds me.

‘And the sensibillist.’

‘Is that even a word, Lo?’ Rita laughs.

Dean wears a denim jacket that looks battered by too many years. Underneath it, his white T-shirt is clean. His fingernails are cut properly and clean too. Ma would approve, if he wasn’t a flattie.

‘Are you brothers?’ I smile at all of them.

‘Nah,’ Will says. ‘I’m too good-looking to be related to them.’

A group of girls walk past, their heels clicking on the concrete. I like their laughter. It almost swallows them whole.

‘What’s it really like?’ The look Dean gives me swoops down into my bones. ‘Travelling all the time?’

‘It’s what we know,’ I say. I won’t tell these strangers how sometimes I wonder if I want more. That maybe the circus isn’t always enough.

‘It’s home,’ Ash says.

‘But you’re always moving.’

‘The outside isn’t home. It’s the inside,’ Rita says. ‘Inside the vans and inside us.’

‘We like it,’ Ash says from next to her. He hovers like a crow.

‘I think you’re lucky,’ Paul says. He’s perched on the end, leaning far enough forwards so the conversation reaches him.

‘So do we,’ Rita says.

‘What’s it like staying in one place all the time?’ I ask.

‘Boring,’ chips in Will. ‘I wouldn’t mind coming with you.’ The way his eyes are on me makes me feel naked.

‘We don’t let just anybody in,’ Ash says.

‘Were you born into it then?’ Dean asks. I feel safer with him looking at me.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘And our ma and da before us.’

‘They’re circus born and bred?’ Will asks.

‘And proud of it,’ Ash tells him.

‘Why wouldn’t they be?’ Dean looks up at him. ‘It sounds like a good way of life.’ Ash only pushes his hands back into his pockets and shrugs.

I put my hand palm-down into the water. I turn to kneel on the edge and then tip myself over. I splash into the cold wet, my feet the last to disappear.

Under here, I can’t see or hear anyone. In the blackness, I feel the grainy floor of the fountain, my fingers brushing past circles of coins. When I can no longer breathe, I go back, my head breaking through the bubbles on the surface.