Eva Ibbotson - One Dog and His Boy

Now she got out of bed and ran along the corridor, moving as lightly as a little ghost, and into the room where the older boys slept, and pulled at the duvet on the bed nearest the door.

Mick woke, saw who it was, and sat up.

“Today’s the circus, Nini. We’re going to the circus,” he repeated.

He was a tough Geordie with ginger hair, freckles and a cheerful open face. His grandfather had been a coalminer till the closure of the pits. For some reason Mick had become Nini’s protector and the only person of whom she took any notice. “It’ll be good,” he went on. “There’ll be horses and acrobats and clowns.”

But Nini did not answer, only looked at him. He might have been telling her about a visit to the dentist. Mick sighed and reached for his clothes.

Greystoke House was not far from the common where the circus was encamped. The children walked there, shepherded by plump Mrs Platt and a nursery assistant called Doreen. They danced along, excited by the treat to come. Only Nini, clutching Mick’s hand, walked along in silence.

The circus was gearing up for the start. On a platform outside the big top a small man with a moustache was juggling a mass of coloured balls. Another man in spangled tights was beating a big drum.

“Come and see Henry’s Circus, the eighth wonder of the world!” he shouted.

The Greystoke children were early. They filed into the front row. Mick sat down next to a boy of about his own age, with a white dog on his knee. Nini was beside him. Her legs, too short to reach the ground, stuck out in front of her.

“It’s going to start,” Mick told her.

But nothing moved in the beautiful mask-like face.

Hal, holding on to Fleck, was sick with nerves. In half an hour The Dog Family Murgatroyd would do their turn, and if it went wrong they would be banished from the circus. All the same, he turned to smile at the boy who had just come in with a group of children and was sitting next to him. He had ginger hair and looked friendly.

The house lights dimmed, the band struck up. Mr Henry, in his ringmaster’s clothes, cracked his whip.

The procession came first. The horses, the clowns, the tumblers and acrobats, Pauline’s Parrots all sitting on her shoulders. There was a burst of clapping – and the show began.

The Texas Terrors galloped in first – a string of horses ridden bareback by three men who leapt from one gleaming back to the other… The Dainty Danielas – a group of girls in shining costumes who climbed on one another’s shoulders and threw each other up in the air… The Comedy Horse, a pony who followed his master round the ring trying to get sugar lumps out of his pockets… A stupendous display on the high wire with men and women pretending to push each other off…

Hal was holding his breath. The time had come. Fleck whined once and Hal shushed him.

“And, now Elsa’s Fabulous Dogs in ‘The Murgatroyd Family Go to Their Wedding’,” announced the ringmaster.

The clowns came on first. They wheeled in a huge bath filled with water, and carried buckets and a ladder. They were trying to get ready for the wedding feast, but everything kept going wrong. The legs came off the table they were scrubbing; the balloons they were trying to blow up burst in their faces or floated out of reach; one of the clowns fell backwards into the bath…

A tent with a big notice on it saying “The Church” had been put up near the entrance, and Rupert appeared and sat in front of it in his bow tie and silk waistcoat. Another lot of clowns came in on stilts, carrying trays of wobbling jellies and coloured streamers in which they got entangled, and they threshed about and pretended to cry.

And now, to a fanfare from the band, the cart pulled by Otto made its entry.

Otto was wretchedly nervous but Francine had given him a good talking-to and he managed to trot steadily three-quarters of the way round the ring. Li-Chee in his little bonnet and Honey in her frilly hat sat in their seats, but Francine was standing up on her hind legs. With her white wreath and the enthusiastic little yaps she gave, she was obviously an eager bride.

But now something happened which the children had not bargained for. The audience broke into a storm of clapping and as the sound grew louder, Otto began to tremble. He had faced all sorts of dangers in Switzerland, climbing up rock faces and plunging into dangerous crevasses to rescue trapped climbers, but this noise was horrible; it was not to be borne. His eyes rolled and he stopped dead.

And Li-Chee, who would have done anything for Otto, jumped down from the cart with his bonnet askew and reappeared beneath Otto’s legs. He meant only to reassure his friend, but it looked as though he was trying to pull the cart, and everybody laughed. Not at the clowns now, but at the gallant little dog.

It was at this moment that Mick turned in amazement to the little girl beside him. Nini was leaning forward intently, her whole face alight, her eyes fixed in wonder at the Peke.

In the ring, no one, for a moment, knew what to do. Otto was standing stock-still, his head hanging. There was no way he was going to pull the cart as far as the church.

And once again it was Francine, that old trouper, who took over. She leapt from the cart but she did not run towards her bridegroom. She charged in the other direction, making noises of terror. She had changed the plot and become a dog who did not want to be married, who wanted to be free – and Rupert caught on at once. He jumped to his feet and gave chase, barking angrily – a bridegroom who wasn’t going to be done out of his bride.

The two poodles rolled over together, but Francine escaped and ran up a ladder, and took a flying leap into the arms of one of the clowns. Rupert followed her. But now the clowns understood the game. They pretended to catch Francine; they grabbed her and lost her and hit their foreheads in despair. Round and round the ring went the fleeing bride, between the legs of the clowns, flying over the table, hiding behind the bath, yelping in mock terror – and round and round went Rupert, the thwarted bridegroom, following her trick for trick.

The slapstick grew wilder and wilder. The clowns stepped into the buckets, fell on the balloons and burst them… Li-Chee left Otto and joined in, yapping at the top of his voice.

Meanwhile, Fleck, on Hal’s lap, had been getting more and more excited. All his friends were down there and he wanted desperately to be brave and join them but he couldn’t quite do it. Then, in a sudden burst of courage, he jumped off Hal’s knee, leapt over the barrier – and landed in the bath of water. For a moment he paddled up and down, then he scrambled out, shook himself, and joined in the chase.

But now came Honey. She was, after all, the mother and she couldn’t bear the mess and muddle any longer. She leapt from the cart, still in her frilly hat, and began trying to herd the clowns, the dogs, the balloons – everything she could see – towards the exit.

Round and round they went, Francine and Rupert in the lead, then Li-Chee, Fleck and Otto with the cart. And round and round went the clowns.

But they still hadn’t left the ring and Honey now called on all her old sheepdog skills. She turned and ran in the other direction to meet Francine, her runaway daughter, head on. The music grew to a crescendo, everyone disappeared through the exit – and the lights went out.

And the audience roared and stamped and clapped and cheered, while behind the scenes, Mr Henry and George looked at each other and grinned.

Performing dogs are valuable, but dog clowns are pure gold.

“Well, we did it,” said Pippa triumphantly. “I reckon we can stay till Berwick and then it’s hardly any distance to your grandparents’. Even if they do something quite different next time, Mr Henry won’t send us away.”