should be careful what you wish for,’ I tell Rita, as I scoop up the last scraps of sawdust from the barrow, throwing them high into the air, before we watch them settle heavy and wet on the ground.
‘Come on,’ Rita says. ‘Rob’ll be waiting.’
‘Is he really going to put in the new motorbike trick?’ Sarah asks.
‘He says it’ll bring in more people,’ Rita says.
‘Will it be dangerous?’
‘It has to be.’
Sarah walks quickly to keep up, stopping with us as I balance the wheelbarrow against the props van.
‘Tricks’ll kill you if you leave that there,’ Rita tells me.
‘I’ll say it was you then.’ I laugh and link my arm through hers as we go into the big top.
‘What’s that?’ Sarah asks. A huge bowl takes up almost the entire space of the performance ring. Its walls are made from a giant metal spider’s web.
‘Rob hired it,’ Rita says. Ash looks over and smiles when he hears her voice. He’s standing next to Ernest, Spider’s da, and even though he’s taller than him he still looks like the boy we’ve grown up with. He’s handsome too and I wonder why Rita can even doubt him.
Da’s back is to us. ‘The risks are too high.’ He’s an angel’s breath shorter than Rob, but he’s determined.
‘It’s what they want to see, or we lose them,’ Rob says.
‘I think it looks exciting,’ Sarah says and Da turns to us.
‘Lo and I are OK with it,’ Rita says, going to stand next to Rob.
‘But I’m not sure I am,’ Da says.
‘It’s no bigger a risk than anything else we do,’ Rob says, his hand on the seat of the motorbike. ‘It might look it, but the consequences are all the same.’
‘He’s saying we could all die doing any one of our tricks,’ Ash laughs.
‘You’re not helping.’ Rob stares at him.
‘It’s not your daughters at risk, Rob,’ Da says.
‘But we’ve worked on it,’ Rob reassures him. ‘It won’t go wrong.
‘Won’t it?’
‘We’re ready for it,’ I tell Da. ‘We want to do it.’ I look at Rita and she nods.
‘Why are you so worried this time?’ Ma asks him.
‘Because we haven’t practised enough,’ Da answers. ‘This is the first time with the actual bowl and he wants us to perform it in a couple of days.’
‘You’ve got to trust me,’ Rob insists. ‘It’ll be worth it.’
Ernest looks at Da steadily. ‘It might be pushing it for us,’ he says, ‘but that doesn’t mean it’s not safe. It’s just new.’ His wiry hair is pulled back in a ponytail, but stray bits still crackle out from his forehead. The teasing that he can’t be Spider’s da, not looking so different, sometimes touches too much on true.
‘We’ll be OK, Da,’ Rita says, linking her arm through his. ‘You’re just getting nervous in your old age.’
‘Who are you calling old?’ The smile he has can’t cut out the worry, but it’s enough for us to know he’s backing down.
‘Nerves are our enemy,’ Ernest reminds him.
But they’re my friend too. They hold me before every jump. They’re by my side and never really let me go, sending sparks through me and making my smile real.
‘I think we should trust Rob,’ I say.
‘Yes,’ Sarah says. She’s desperate to impress, to be the centre of the performance.
‘Right then,’ Rob says quickly. ‘Let’s try it out.’
We follow him and Ernest as they push the motorbikes to the edge of the ring door curtains.
‘So,’ Rob says, ‘Lo, remember you’re not happy as the changeling, you want to get back to your world. That’s the feeling you’ve got to get across to the audience.’
I catch Rita’s eye and pull a face.
‘It’s not funny, Lo,’ Rob says seriously. ‘Just going through the motions isn’t enough. You’ve got to actually feel it, make the audience really believe.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘I’m not the boss.’
‘He certainly isn’t,’ Ernest says. ‘He’s just a young pretender.’ But there’s warmth in his voice. Most flatties who join us only stay for a few months, but Rob has been with us four years and he’s woven to our circus fabric now.
‘You ready, fairy queen?’ I ask Rita.
‘Of course,’ she smiles, before she puts on her helmet, clicking it firmly into place.
Rob and Ma sit on one motorbike. They pull down their black visors together, blocking themselves off from us. Da stands to the side with Sarah and Ash, watching as Rita and I climb on to the other bike behind Ernest. I have to crouch at the back and steady myself, before I pull my own helmet over my head.
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!’
