Milli and Ernest tried to pick up fragments of the conversations taking place around them but could only glean single words or disjointed phrases because people were speaking so quickly. Some of these words included:
spectacular, unexpected, surprise
and
world-renowned.
Whilst this did not clarify anything much, it did at least reassure them that there was no cause for alarm. The traffic had stopped but no one seemed to mind. Vendors had stepped out of their shops and workers were leaning perilously out of office windows and ignoring their ringing phones. The children managed to get the attention of Mr Percival Bow, who was standing outside his violin shop, and asked him what was going on.
‘Where have you two been hiding?’ he chided gently. ‘Haven’t you heard the news? The whole town’s in an uproar. This is a historic event. My oh my, are we in for a treat!’
Milli and Ernest turned in the direction Mr Bow was pointing and saw a gangly figure on stilts parading up and down the main street. The children did not recognise the man with his long dreadlocks and spider web tattooed across his face. He was clearly an outsider. Every inch of him was hung with bells and with each step he created a racket that was impossible to ignore. He had the same effect as one hundred town criers all working together. (Town criers, as everyone knows, date back to the Middle Ages and existed to deliver important announcements and proclamations to the people. Unfortunately, they have long since been replaced by technology, which is undoubtedly more efficient but sadly less dramatic.)
Suddenly the man stopped and the curious crowd closed in around him. Balancing effortlessly on his stilts, he drew something from his ear and popped it into his mouth.
Throwing back his head, he inhaled deeply and breathed out a column of fire above his head. There was a collective gasp and the crowd took a step back. The fire hovered a moment before scattering. It twisted and danced until the blazing image of a circus tent hung in the air. Above it, the fire scrawled the message:
The Lampo Circus Awaits.
The burning letters gradually faded and began to fall. The onlookers ducked and shielded their children from the embers, but there was no need as they transformed midair into circus flyers that fluttered their way downwards. The crowd scrambled to collect them before they were snatched away by the wind. The fire breather’s feat was met with thunderous applause and cheering. His painted face remained surprisingly blank despite the thrill he had generated and, with a brief bow, he continued on his way.
Now, you may be thinking that all this fuss by the Drabvillians about the arrival of a circus was just a touch disproportionate. But that is because you and I have been spoilt by access to a variety of events, each one more exhilarating
than the last. I, myself, recently attended a birthday party hosted in a video-game parlour where the guests were invited to divide into armies, slip into bulletproof vests and do battle using laser guns. At home, we are able to visit virtual realities via our computer screens and help our favourite heroes save the world simply by pressing buttons and manoeuvring little levers. But this story is about the technologically naive citizens of Drabville who were about to get their first taste of something you and I engage in as routinely as brushing our teeth:
entertainment.
The truth is, if someone had walked down the streets of Drabville juggling a few old oranges, the citizens would have been impressed. The arrival of a world-renowned circus could not help but send them into a spin.
Milli made her way back to Peppercorn Place with one of the flyers in her pocket. A flustered Dorkus, still in pelican-print pyjamas (despite it being late afternoon), greeted her at the door. This was the furthest distance Milli had ever seen her sister venture from her bedroom. Even Dorkus had heard the news
and was full of questions. Had Milli seen anything of the actual circus? What had she heard? What went on at a circus?
Seeking answers to similar questions herself, Milli made her way to the kitchen. Given the excitement she had just witnessed in the square, it was disconcerting to find her parents seated at the table, deep in conversation and looking decidedly ill at ease.
‘The town’s gone mad,’ Milli blurted. ‘Everybody’s talking about this Lampo Circus.’
‘It’s been a long time since anything like a circus has come to Drabville,’ Rosie said. ‘I suppose the reaction is understandable.’
‘Why do you look so worried, then?’ Milli wanted to know.
Rosie did not quite understand her own trepidation, but suspected it came from a vague awareness of her family’s, and indeed the town’s, vulnerability.
They had only recently recovered from the upheaval of conquering Lord Aldor and restoring the townsfolk’s shadows. She did not feel prepared for another disruption so soon. Unable to articulate this to her exuberant
daughter, however, she opted for a conservative response.
‘There are more important things to think about,’ she said, and reverted to reading the newspaper.
‘But I can go, can’t I?’ Milli said. ‘They’re only here for a week.’
Mr Klompet rose to put the kettle on, which he always did at the first sign of discord.
‘Milli has to go!’ put in Dorkus, quite prepared to live vicariously through her sister. ‘Who else is going to tell me all about it?’
Rosie remained noncommittal. ‘We’ll see,’ she replied, smoothing her younger daughter’s dark curls.
And despite her persistence, this was the only answer Milli was able to elicit from her mother all evening.
S
till thinking,’ Rosie repeated calmly for possibly the sixth time that morning. This was in response to her daughter’s incessant questioning as to whether she had arrived at a decision regarding the Lampo Circus. ‘Just bear in mind that I think better when I’m not being badgered,’ Rosie added.
The circus was putting on its opening performance that very morning and Milli had not yet been permitted to go! What had got into her usually liberal parents? Mrs Perriclof had not expressed reservations of any sort and she was the type of mother who diarised daily sugar intake! But Mrs Klompet suddenly wanted answers to all
sorts of things. How long had the Lampo Circus been operating? Were they a licensed company? What had made them decide to come to a small and out-of-the-way town like Drabville? What was Mr Lampo’s personal history? Milli could neither answer nor see the relevance of any of these questions, but with Mr Klompet siding categorically with his wife, the decision appeared to be final.
When Ernest arrived at the house in his best trousers and a bow tie, the news that Milli would not be accompanying him left him thoroughly downcast. Milli was his best friend and going to the circus without her would be no fun at all. As a display of solidarity, Ernest decided on a noble course of action. If Milli was prohibited from going, then he would make the ultimate sacrifice of abstaining and share with her the deprivation. If this heartless decision was going to cause psychological damage in the long run, then they would be damaged together. He couldn’t allow Milli to go through something like that alone. Milli tried to talk sense into him but Ernest remained steadfast in his decision.
Touched by this loyalty, Milli resolved to spend every waking hour of the following week with
Ernest. After all, they didn’t need the Lampo Circus. They had never had any trouble entertaining themselves before. To keep their minds off what they might be missing, they decided to invent a new and outlandish game that would go down in Klompet and Perriclof history.
But invention was no easy task with their concentration regularly interrupted by reports of the circus and its wonders. In the days that followed, Drabville came to resemble a ghost town. Usually responsible people packed picnic baskets and spent entire days idling on the village green. The news of the circus spread like wildfire and it seemed as if an invisible
Out of Order
sign had been plastered over everything. Theatre performances were cancelled until further notice, birthday celebrations were rescheduled, wedding ceremonies postponed, and even the Drabville Bank’s annual Invest and Jest party, which had taken place on the same date for ninety-five years, was shifted on the calendar!
There wasn’t a single shop that still welcomed customers through its doors. Every retailer, traffic warden and postman in town had been granted a holiday. People were forced to bake their own
bread as the bakery staff had taken immediate leave, citing ‘family reasons’ for their absence. For the week that Lampo and his circus were in town, the children were only required to attend half-days at school. If any parents were disgruntled about this, there wasn’t much they could do as all school staff had absconded to the village green where the circus had set up camp. The only living organism to be found in the classrooms each afternoon was the mould growing on rejected bananas that had been buried behind pot plants and lockers. Milli and Ernest could not even seek refuge in the library because Miss Linear had taped a
Closed Until Further Notice
sign to the entrance. This was unheard of, as it was her personal philosophy to keep the library doors open through ‘hail, sleet and snow’ as she liked to put it.
The circus arrived on Monday, and by Wednesday there was not a single soul who had not seen the show. In fact, most had seen it more than once because the acts varied from day to day. Milli and Ernest heard painstakingly detailed accounts of the incredible feats performed inside the tent and the magical treats that could be purchased there. The more they heard, the more
tormented they became. They found they did not have the enthusiasm to slip into one of their games, and even visiting the ruins of Hog House had lost its appeal. Their thoughts drifted inevitably towards the circus during every conversation. It really could not be helped when there was nothing (not even school) to fill the long hours of the day and serve as a distraction.
According to reports, Ringmaster Lampo was an instant success with the town’s children. He kept all manner of tricks and treats in the oversized pockets of his waistcoat which he gave away readily to those lucky enough to be in closest proximity. As for the grown-ups, Lampo regaled them with tales of circus history dating back to ancient times. And he never failed to inquire with interest after their own town affairs, which they were more than happy to gabble endlessly about. Although Milli and Ernest had never laid eyes on the ringmaster, they were already beginning to dislike him and his blasted circus which had excluded them so wholly from their own community.
The week stretched on interminably, rather like sitting in an algebra lesson when the teacher is talking about quadratic trinomials. But still
Mrs Klompet remained unyielding. She tried to make up for it by setting aside extra time for Family Capers, but Milli refused to participate. The tension in the household mounted. As more tales of the circus reached them with each new day, Milli became more and more resentful until she could think of nothing else. Even Stench sensed her mood and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible for fear of being accidentally trodden on or banished outside.
In Bauble Lane, Ernest was faring no better. He was being teased (more than usual) by his younger siblings, who, unable to comprehend his decision to stay away from the circus, ridiculed it. When he wasn’t with Milli, Ernest spent most of his time holed up in his bedroom brainstorming synonyms for ‘injustice’ to add to his lexicon. He even took to having his meals in his room as listening to the family’s excited chatter about the marvels of the Lampo Circus had begun to interfere with his digestion.
On the morning of the circus’s last day in town, Milli and Ernest decided to go for a stroll at an abnormally early hour to avoid running into what
they had dismissively dubbed ‘circus fanatics’. They were looking forward to the Lampo Circus packing up and moving on so they could put the whole beastly experience behind them and recover some of the popularity they had now come to miss. Quite by chance they ran into two unexpected people. A pair of young circus performers in green tights and spangled capes were back-flipping their way down Drabville’s main street, looking as flexible as if their bones were made of rubber. They stopped every now and then to paste flyers on lampposts and shopfronts.
When the two reached Milli and Ernest, they came to a halt. They were a girl and boy who seemed to be about the children’s own age, with burnished red hair, freckled noses and startlingly blue eyes. They gazed at Milli and Ernest as if they did not often meet other children and were unsure how to behave. The boy smiled awkwardly while the girl shuffled her feet.
As usual, Milli took the initiative.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I’m Milli and this is my friend, Ernest. What are you doing out so early?’
‘I could ask the same of you,’ the boy retorted spiritedly, before formally introducing himself.
‘I’m Finn and this is my twin sister, Fennel. We’re Lampo acrobats.’
His sister smiled shyly, then did an impressive double somersault before shaking their hands. The children could not help liking the twins immediately. How providential to run into a couple of Lampo’s actual stars. It was the closest to the circus the children could expect to get thanks to Milli’s intractable mother.
‘Have you seen the show?’ Finn asked.
‘Not as yet, but we’re hoping to,’ Milli fibbed. ‘You both seem very talented.’
The twins beamed at the compliment.
‘Well, we have to practise every day,’ Finn said.
‘Are your parents in the circus too?’ Ernest wanted to know.
‘They were,’ Fennel said softly. ‘We’re orphans.’
‘I’m terribly sorry,’ said Ernest, conscious that he had made a faux pas.
‘It’s okay. The circus is our family now,’ said Fennel.
‘Is Ringmaster Lampo as wonderful as everyone says he is?’ Milli asked.
The pause that followed this question was a touch too long. The girl seemed to
pale a little and stole a sidelong glance at her brother.