Circus Shoes

  ‘Not quite right, he wasn’t,’ Ben objected. ‘Not quite hisself to me.’

  Mr Cob shook his head.

  ‘That’s because you were looking for trouble. Nobody else saw any. Maxim was watching him in the ring. He said he seemed all right.’

  ‘He wouldn’t ’ave if he’ had to follow Canada instead of Canada’s place bein’ behind ’im. Besides, he’s always waltzed with Masterman these last two years. Far as ’is ring work’ concernd there wasn’t no change.’

  ‘But if he was missing Canada all that much why didn’t he start the hullabaloo on the Friday? That’s what I can’t understand.’

  Ben chewed his straw thoughtfully.

  ‘The way I looks at it, Mr Cob, is this. You bought Canada and Lorenzo when they were just off two. You gave ’em to me to break. On account of them coming same time they was stabled side by side. When they was broken to liberty work we takes them tenting. Again they’re stabled side by side. Well, you know how ’tis, a ’oss don’t think ahead like, same as you an’ me. What ’e has is memory. All last week at Bournemouth he’s fussed because Canada ain’t there, but there’s nothin’ to mak ’im think he won’t be by tomorrer. But yesterday when we builds up the stable we don’t put up no stall for Canada. Lorenzo finds hisself alongside Pepper, and he don’t like it.’

  ‘Well, he’ll have to learn.’ Mr Cob turned away. ‘He’ll get used to it in time. And he’s got Masterman one side of him. He’s used to him.’

  Ben spat out his straw. He watched Mr Cob disappear round the bend in the stables. He turned to the grooms.

  ‘Put on his harness.’ He shook his head at Peter. ‘’E’s pinin’. ’Osses has eyes same as you an’ me. Lorenzo’s been fussed since Canada went. Now he’s downright upset. ’E can see Canada’ stall ain’t been built. There’ll be trouble. You’ll see.’

  ‘He’s still got you,’ Peter suggested.

  Ben gave Lorenzo an affectionate pat.

  ‘That won’t do ’im no good. Tell you a funny thing, Peter, which most folks who loves ’osses tries to deny. But it’s the truth. ’Ossess don’t care for men. Maybe they’ll come at the call of one voice, or neigh when someone comes into the stable. But that’s ’abit. Sell the ’oss. Get another man to teach him the same tricks. Two or three days, and he’ll be comin’ to the call from the new voice, and neighing fit to bust hisself when the new owner comes in the stable.’

  Peter hated this. He stammered with indignation.

  ‘Mustard would miss me now if I went. I know he would.’

  Ben turned away.

  ‘That’s the way I like to think, son, about all the ’osses. But ’tain’t so, and facin’ facts never hurt anybody.’

  Lorenzo was a clever horse. He was the best waltzer of all the liberties. He had always been impetuous and excitable. A very different type from his quiet friend Canada. Habit made him conform to the circus routine. He knew just at what hours he would be fed and watered, just at what hours he would be dressed for the shows, just what was expected of him when he got in the ring, and what long, quiet hours he would have to gossip with his friend. A change in his routine not only upset him, but brought all his natural excitability and impetuosity to the top. He did not plan what he would do, he just let his feeling run away with him. If one bit of his routine was upset, then it was all upset. His friend of years had been taken away. Then he did not want to eat. He did not want to gossip. And when he got into the ring on Monday night he suddenly found he did not want to work.

  Maxim was not expecting trouble. Of course he knew that Lorenzo was off his food, and missing his friend, but he had not known him in the early days when he was being broken. He did not know what a lot of temperament lay under that placid exterior.

  The trouble started at once. The greys came cantering into the ring. Maxim cracked his whip and whispered to them. That should have been the signal for each of them to stop and put their forelegs on the ring fence. So all the horses did except Lorenzo. He did not move. He stood in his place in the ring with Masterman on one side of him and the leader Allah on the other. But Allah should not have been there according to custom. When they formed a circle it should have been Canada who stood between him and Allah. For days he had been uneasy at this change. Now he knew he could not stand it.

  Maxim cracked his whip again. Gently he came over and fondled Lorenzo’s head. ‘Up,’ he whispered. But Lorenzo would not move. Maxim cracked his whip beside him so that the end just flicked him. He stood like a rock. It was bad policy to allow disobedience. There would be a rehearsal. For this performance Maxim let it pass. He could not go on keeping the audience waiting. The orchestra broke into the Blue Danube waltz. The horses stood in their pairs. Juniper led off with Ferdinand, Biscuit followed with Halfpenny, Robin with Pennybun. Then should have come Canada and Allah, but since Canada was gone Allah was sent out of the ring before the waltzing started, so that it was now the turn of the star waltzers, Masterman and Lorenzo. Masterman got into his position. Maxim cracked his whip. Masterman took his first steps. Lorenzo felt a surge of rebellion. He would not waltz. He would not do anything. His world was turned upside down and he could not bear it. He kicked up his heels, jumped over the ring fence, galloped through the artistes’ entrance to his own stall, and there stood with hanging head, all the spirit gone out of him. It had done him good to rebel. But now the rebellion was over and he was just a lonely horse missing his friend.

  No horse could be allowed to get away with that sort of behaviour. Directly the first performance audience were out of the big top, the greys were brought back. They were put through their whole performance, only this time Lorenzo had Alexsis on his back. It was weary work. It took ten minutes to get his forelegs up on the ring fence, twenty minutes to get him to waltz properly, and another quarter of an hour to force him to bow at the end of his performance. Long before they had finished the rehearsal the audience were coming in for the next house. As Lorenzo made his last bow, Maxim patted him and gave him two lumps of sugar. He followed him out of the ring. In the artistes’ entrance he stood mopping his forehead. He had been able to get neither food nor rest between the shows, but he was satisfied. By nothing but patience he had once more taught the horses that he would have unswerving obedience.

  Peter had, of course, heard how badly Lorenzo had behaved. He stood under the seats by the artistes’ entrance to watch the second house. He watched the first half without seeing it properly. His mind was fixed on Lorenzo. Had he learnt his lesson? Would he do it right this time?

  The liberty act came after the interval. Peter gave a silent prayer: ‘Please God let him do it properly, they’ll only make him do it afterwards if he doesn’t, and he’s so unhappy already.’

  But Lorenzo did not do it properly. His will had been over-come at rehearsal. The combined cajoling of Maxim and Alexsis had worn him down. But now he had no one on his back. Things were wrong. Why should some parts of his life go on as usual while other old habits were changed? He had always stood by Canada. Why wasn’t he now? He did not even wait in his place in the ring, much less put his forelegs on the fence. He kicked up his heels, pushed his way between Half-penny and Robin, jumped over the fence gate, and, disregarding everybody, galloped back to his stall.

  Peter hardly dared go down the stables after the show. What would they do to a horse who behaved like that at two shows running? He peered out from under the seats to see if Gus were about. They were not allowed to watch the second house in term-time. But tonight he had risked it. He simply had to know how Lorenzo was getting on.

  Gus was not in sight. Peter ran down the stables. A few of the audience were passing through. The voices of the grooms saying ‘No smoking in the stables, please’ came with monotonous regularity. To Peter’s surprise the greys were in their stalls. He had thought they would be going back for rehearsal. Lorenzo was in his stall too. His head dropped. Nobody was looking at him. Peter knew it was not the thing to do to a disobedient horse, but Lorenzo looked
so depressed he simply had to. he went into his stall and gave him all the food he had in his pocket. It was three carrots and five lumps of sugar. Lorenzo ate the lot. Peter was glad; he knew he had not eaten much all day. He might be a sinner, but he would feel better with something inside. He turned to go out. Ben was looking at him.

  ‘When a ’oss has disobeyed,’ he said quietly, ‘it’s actin’ stupid to pet him.’

  Peter was so sorry for Lorenzo he lost his temper.

  ‘I should think somebody better. You know he’s going to be beaten until he does it right.’

  Ben found himself a nice straw. He got one for Peter.

  ‘None of the ’osses is ever beaten. Mr Cob goes mad if a groom so much as speaks rough to ’em. I’ve ’eard ’im threaten to flog one of my boys because he saw him give old President a smack when he was playin’ up. And if ever a ’oss needed smackin’, President does.’

  ‘Well, what’ll they do to Lorenzo? I bet they don’t let him off. And it’s very unfair, because he only wouldn’t work because he’s miserable.’

  Ben smiled.

  ‘You’re gettin’ ’ot before you need, son.’ He felt in his pocket and brought out an old envelope. ‘Take a read of that. It’s a copy of a cable what went tonight.’

  Peter took the envelope. On it was written:

  JENSON. JENCIR. NEYWORK.

  If you still want that other grey you can have him stop Cable immediately as will ship Friday Cob.

  Peter looked up.

  ‘Is it Mr Jenson that bought Canada?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Peter looked up.

  Peter handed back the envelope.

  ‘Will he have him, do you think?’

  Ben put the envelope in his pocket.

  ‘Yes. Wanted him from the beginnin’.’

  ‘Well, will you send a letter with him to say he must be stabled next to Canada?’

  Ben put his straw on the other side of his mouth.

  ‘The groom that goes with ’im will tell ’im.’

  ‘But don’t you think you ought to write as well? Just to make sure?’

  Ben spat out his straw.

  ‘Not to Mr Jenson. He knows more about ’osses than any man in this business. You don’t need to tell Mr Jenson nothin’. He feels ’ow a ’oss feels. He was over here once. Wanted me to go back with ’im.’

  ‘What, to America?’ Ben nodded. ‘Why didn’t you?’

  ‘Well, I reckoned as there wasn’t no need for me an’ Mr Jenson in one circus. You see, here I’m wanted. Mr Cob, the Kenets, and Maxim, they’re all fine riders and know a lot about ’osses. But now and then there’s somebody what does a bit more than know about them. Well, Mr Jenson’s one of them and I’m another. I reckoned it were better we was split up like.’

  ‘Would you have earned a lot of money in America?’

  ‘Yes. Powerful lot. But what for? I got a place to sleep, enough to eat, and a bit put by for when I’m too old to work. No man don’t want more. My work’s with the ’osses and where I reckons it’s best for them I should be, it’s best for me.’ He looked along the rows of sleek backs. ‘Bless ’em. That’s what I say. Good night.’

  He moved slowly away, walking as quietly as he talked. Peter had a feeling the ‘Good night’ had been to the horses and not to him.

  The lights were dimming, the grooms yawning their way to bed. Peter left the stables. It was a glorious night. Talk and laughter drifted across from the men’s mess-tent. Here and there a cigarette glowed. One of the lions gave a sleepy roar. Peter hurried as fast as he could across the ground. Gus would be angry, but it was worth it to know that Lorenzo was going to join Canada.

  Peter was lucky. Gus was not at home. He was still at supper with the Kenets. He scuttled into bed. When Gus came in he was asleep.

  Peter swam at Bognor, Santa a week later at Brighton. Gus came down to Brighton beach to watch them both. He never bathed himself as he considered it put his eye out for his work. So he stood on the promenade where he could see.

  Peter plunged straight into the water and swam with good, bold strokes. Santa floundered a bit. She took quick, nervous strokes. But there was no question but that she was swimming.

  Gus was pleased.

  ‘You’ve done well.’ He felt in his pocket and brought out two new half-crowns. ‘There you are. Buy something you want. You can go on the beach when you like, but keep in your depth till you’re more used to it. Well, I must go back and put some paint on my face.’

  Peter and Santa did not go back with Gus. They said they would like to walk.

  ‘I say,’ said Peter, ‘that was awfully nice of him.’

  Santa looked admiringly at her half-crown.

  ‘I’ve been thinking lately he was liking us more. Quite often now he lets me cook the breakfast.’

  Peter wrung out his bathing trunks.

  ‘And he asks me to clean the car. I think he’s finding us useful. I wish he’d say something. There’s not an awful lot of time left. There’s Eastbourne, that’s one week. Then there’s Hastings, three days, and Folkestone three days. That’s two weeks. Then there’s Canterbury and Maidstone. That’s three weeks. Then Dover and Deal. That’s a month. Then there’s only one week after that. Whitstable and Margate. Just think, in five weeks this’ll be finished.’

  Even the pleasure of having learnt to swim and having got a reward of half a crown faded. They walked gloomily up on to the front and turned homeward.

  ‘I can’t believe he means to send us to Saint Bernard’s or Saint Winifred’s,’ Santa said hopefully. ‘He must know we’d hate them worse than ever after this.’

  ‘I hope not.’ Peter did not sound very hopeful. ‘But you remember he told us we didn’t know they’d be awful as we’d never seen them.’

  ‘Shall we ask him?’

  Peter stopped to take a pebble out of his shoe.

  ‘I’d rather we didn’t. If he said we were going to Saint Winifred’s and Saint Bernard’s it would spoil the five weeks that’s left.’

  ‘I know,’ Santa agreed. ‘But if he said we were stopping with him near the winter quarters it would make the rest of the time more heavenly than it is.’

  Peter stopped. He held out his half-crown.

  ‘How about us tossing for it? Heads we ask him; tails we don’t.’

  He tossed. It was tails. Santa sighed.

  ‘In a way I’m sorry. I’ve got a sort of pressing feeling just in the middle of me. It comes whenever I think about what’s going to happen to us.’

  Peter put his half-crown in his pocket.

  ‘Let’s go and have an ice. It’ll make us feel better.’

  ‘Yes, let’s.’ Santa skipped at the idea. ‘But don’t let’s go into any shop that says “Vanilla”, because I want strawberry.’

  The weather went on being lovely. Every day at Eastbourne, Hastings, and Folkestone Peter and Santa swam. When they got to Canterbury there was, of course, no bathing, so they had more time for games on the ground and violent practice on the water-act cloth. It was at Canterbury they first heard there was trouble in the Petoff family. Fifi mentioned it as they came back from afternoon school.

  ‘There was a terrible noise in your caravan last night, Olga. It woke us up. Maman has a migraine today. She says it is because you make such a noise she cannot sleep.’

  Olga turned a cartwheel.

  ‘It’s terrible. Father cried. Mother screamed. We all had a dreadful mood. It was already light before we felt better and had some tea.’

  ‘To drink tea foolish was when one a mood has,’ said Fritzi severely.

  Sasha hopped along on one leg.

  ‘Not to us. Tea makes us feel good.’

  ‘What was all the row about?’ asked Peter.

  Olga took his arm. He tried to wriggle free but she held on. She lowered her voice dramatically.

  ‘Alexsis said he would run away!’

  ‘Why?’ asked Santa.

  Olga looked at her impressivel
y.

  ‘The Elgins have an engagement in Paris for Christmas. They wish Alexsis to go with them. Alexsis had to tell my father. There was a terrible row.’

  ‘Me and Olga’ – Sasha hopped to the other side of Peter – ‘felt as if our beds was shook. Never we had a bigger row.’

  Peter pulled his arm free of Olga’s.

  ‘Won’t your father let him go?’

  ‘Certainly not. He is needed for the horses.’ Olga turned another cartwheel. ‘This very Christmas he is to work in the act.’

  ‘Has Mr Cob given him a contract?’ asked Fifi.

  Olga shook her head.

  ‘Not yet. But he will.’

  Fifi made an immense gesture with both hands. It expressed her complete disbelief in such a contract. Hans accepted it as if she had spoken.

  ‘Fifi right was. Unless the contract signed is, nothing is known. It may be the Elgins will go to Paris, and Alexsis remain, and he no work will have.’

  Olga finished a flip-flap. She caught up with the rest of them.

  ‘And still my father won’t let him go. He says he has to work with the horses. When Sasha is older it will be different. Even if Alexsis may not work this Christmas my father will train him all next year.’

  ‘You see,’ Sasha explained to Peter and Santa, ‘the Kenets have no contract with Mr Cob after one more year. It may be they will stay. But it may be they will get more money if they go. If they go there’s only my father and Paula for the high school. That’s not enough.’

  Hans, Fritzi, and Fifi nodded. It was not enough. Hans spoke for them all.

  ‘Alexsis will not be able to go.’

  ‘Well, I think it’s shame,’ said Peter. ‘I hope he runs away.’

  Fritzi looked shocked at such stupidity.

  ‘That all talk is. Where would he run?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Peter’s voice was stubborn. ‘But I think it’s a shame if he has an offer he can’t take it. He could come back to his father if the Kenets go.’

  Fritzi tapped his arm.

  ‘When one has nothing of sense to say it is better to silent be. How will he practise when he has no horses?’