Circus Excite (16 page)

‘And what are you going to do with the pictures?'

‘I told you, Julia. They're for research. Or you could call it inspiration.'

‘Uh-huh.' Julia nodded, hoping he wanted them for himself. Not only would it lessen the chance he wanted to threaten her with them later, but also she relished the thought of him looking at her for kicks. If she could turn him on, even as a model in his dirty picture collection, surely that meant he was attracted to her?

‘You see, Julia, I have an idea,' Robert continued. ‘I want to bring in a new act. A headline act, just before the final curtain.'

Julia looked at him, hardly daring to believe what he was telling her. Sitting curled up on the floor, Sylvie gave her a wink and grinned. She obviously knew exactly what Robert was about to tell her.

‘I want a dancer, Julia, to play the part of my lover. It's a tough routine. Take a lot of rehearsing, and the timing needs to be perfect.' Robert was speaking casually as usual, but there was no doubt that what he was saying was deadly serious. He looked at her with his
film-star expression, a dare glittering in his rich brown eyes.

‘So what do you say? Do you think you can handle it?'

THE DIM HOUSE
lights were on, the thump of dark electro music sounding as the tent lay empty. Julia hung in the wings, watching as the first few people moved, raggle-taggle, into their seats. She was still wrapped in her bathrobe, face scrubbed and bare of make-up. There would be more than three hours before she was onstage, Robert's new act taking the prestigious 11.30 slot, the last before the midnight finale. The programme was designed to end with a bang, and Robert wouldn't perform early on when the audience was still restless. Only once the other acts had warmed up the house would he present his most breathtaking skills – the magic and illusion that he was renowned for. Now Julia would be appearing with him, playing the role of his ‘object of desire'. With his mastery of timing and suspense, Julia understood implicitly that this meant she was being offered a chance to make her name in the circus.

She was well aware of the added kudos this act offered her, and the unspoken but tacit pressure to pull it off. If she missed a cue, or fell out of synch with Robert's precisely co-ordinated routine, she could blow the whole thing. It was more tension than she'd felt before. She looked down to see her hands were shaking with nerves. If she didn't know better than to drink before going onstage, she'd be downing a large brandy.

From outside came the roar of engines, and Julia heard the shouts and laughter of the audience approaching the tent.

The buses had arrived, disgorging crowds of drunk and excited Mancunians onto the site. They were a rowdy babble, dressed sharp and smelling of fresh aftershave, beer and cigarettes. Julia loved watching the changing landscape of their audiences, hearing the different pitch and lilt of the accents as the circus moved further north. While the people who came to see the show tended to be of a certain type – young, liberal, decadent – she noticed the certain flavours of each location. There had been a riotous celebratory atmosphere in kitschy Brighton. Tonight the crowd seemed bawdier; Julia heard rough throaty laughs from men grouping together in almost predatory fashion. Women were dressed in dazzling ghetto-fabulous style, squealing and teetering as their heels sank into the soft mud of the midway between the sideshows and the main tent. The bar tent was packed, empty glasses already littering the grass around the door, and Julia heard chants of encouragement as a line of young guys at the bar downed shots of tequila.

Behind her, Henri stopped and peered over Julia's shoulder at the scene outside. He watched the raucous crowd for a moment, his deep implacable eyes taking in the debauched atmosphere. Finally, he grunted his judgement:

‘A tough house tonight, Julia. They'll be baying for blood.'

He looked at her with an expression that could have been forbidding or challenging. Julia was never sure how to read him, knowing how his thoughts tended to perverse contradictions.

‘They're just up for a good time, Henri,' she shrugged, silently hoping she was right. The circus trod a difficult line between exciting the audience and causing riots. Julia was never entirely sure this wasn't Robert's secret aim – to drive the audience out of control, to shake them
up and disturb them until the lines between the stage and the crowd blurred. She knew how he loved playing games, distorting things, most of all provoking people till they were shaken into questioning their taboos, till they wanted to break the rules. As Julia spied surreptitiously on the crowds outside, she realised she was acting out this role-reversal herself.

‘Looking for secrets out there?' Robert had appeared suddenly at her elbow, and seemed to be reading her thoughts. ‘What are you hoping to find, Julia?'

Julia had no intention of joining in with his philosophising. She just wanted to focus on her performance later, make sure she was psyched up for it.

‘Just checking out the crowd,' she replied stubbornly, determined not to be drawn into another situation where Robert had the upper hand. She nodded at the beer tent, trying to divert his attention. ‘They seem to be gearing up for a wild night.'

‘Like animals,' Robert observed, looking absently at the crowd. His voice was neutral. ‘The more noise they make, the less power they actually possess. The ones you need to watch, as they say, are the quiet ones.' He nodded at a couple of men who stood apart from the crowd, sipping from bottles of beer. ‘Those two.'

‘What, those are the ones who'll start throwing Molotovs halfway through the first act?' Julia said contemptuously, scrutinising the pair.

‘I didn't say that.' Robert had moved closer to Julia, so his mouth was inches from her ear. His breath was warm against her face as he stood behind her and they both gazed at the men. ‘Look at the way they hold themselves.'

The men were relaxed, one of them in a black leather jacket, the other in a T-shirt, both dark-haired and well built. Julia noticed a subtle confidence in their manner, as though they were waiting for something to happen.

‘You know what they're here for, Julia.' Once again, she felt that desperate lurch in her stomach, the strange mix of revulsion and allure that Robert effected on her. He was whispering to her now.

‘What do you think they want to see? D'you think they're just after a display of your tits, or do they want more than that?'

Keep cool, Julia told herself. Play the game. She leant against the curtain, pulling the perished velvet closer around herself so she was wrapped in it, the fabric coiled tightly round her arms.

‘You could bring them in here now. Look, they're just a few feet away. Don't you feel like giving them a little preview?'

‘I don't want to spoil the surprise, Robert. They'll see me later.'

‘What are you going to show them?'

‘Just what you told me to show them. Not enough.'

‘And afterwards? I know how you get after a show, Julia.' Robert pulled the curtain tighter round Julia's shoulders, till it constricted her ribs and she couldn't move her arms. He held on to her, forcing her to face the men.

‘I know you get wet when you're dancing. I've seen how you walk after you leave the stage.' Julia's heart was hammering in her chest now, the curtain and Robert's arms making it hard to draw breath.

‘You're suffocating me,' she said quietly, trying not to struggle in his grip.

‘I'm showing you what you want,' he replied. ‘Wait here.'

Abruptly letting go of Julia he moved swiftly out onto the site, heading straight for the men standing by the beer tent. Julia watched as he hailed them and started chatting amiably. He pulled a deck of cards out of his back pocket, and unfurled them in a fan, offered them
to the men. She noticed the swaggering ease that the man in the leather jacket displayed, choosing a card with a casual gesture, a half smile. He wouldn't allow Robert to overawe him. As Robert shuffled the deck, Julia saw him questioning the men, deferring to them. He was buttering them up. There was a barely perceptible tension between them, the two townies macho and assured, Robert playing the part of strange conjuror. Julia knew just how well he could anticipate people's reactions.

Robert pointed to the man's friend, asking him to find his card, which had miraculously transferred itself into his back pocket. The men relaxed, laughing, and Robert drew them in closer, as if about to tell them a secret. Julia tensed, suspicious. The three men turned to where she hid in the shadows, and she shrank back behind the curtain, withdrawing from their curious stares. What the hell was he up to? She retreated, running to hide in her caravan.

Sylvie was outside, warming up for her performance. Leaning against the bumper of the caravan, she continued stretching, regarding Julia's approach from her bent-over position.

‘You got nerves, dancing girl? On your big night?'

‘Robert's up to something again.' Julia wished there was someone in the circus she felt she could totally trust. She got the feeling Sylvie was jealous of her being chosen to perform with Robert – she'd been acting coldly ever since they'd arrived in Manchester. Right now, though, she was the only person Julia had to talk to.

‘Oh Robert . . . he'll break your heart, baby. Nothing but games with that man.' She straightened up. ‘What has he done?'

Julia frowned, not sure if Robert had actually done anything. At least, not yet.

At quarter past eleven Julia emerged from her caravan, costumed and in full make-up. Eva had devised a tailored forties suit for her; black pinstripe with patent leather shoes. She wore a pillbox hat at an angle, fixed securely to her hair with long pins and Kirby grips. It was a bizarre outfit in the muddy site, and Julia struggled to walk the hundred yards to the tent. Her make-up was a garish parody of glamour – white panstick caked her face in a thick layer, her eyes were heavily outlined with dramatic black liner and false eyelashes curled up to her brows. She had painted her lips a violent shade of red, as crimson as blood, and smudged grey shadow in the hollows of her cheeks so that her cheekbones stood out razor sharp. Hidden by the mask of her make-up, she felt the buzz of pre-show anxiety transform into adrenaline as she heard the noise of the crowd inside. The motorbike engines screamed as they left the ring, and Julia slipped into the backstage pen.

Robert was waiting for her, also clad in stage gear, dressed in a costume that was modelled on a private dick from a film noir. His face was whited up and a smear of five o'clock shadow shaded his jaw; hair slicked down and shining with grease. His eyes, like Julia's, were rimmed with black. In a white shirt and braces, pinstripe trousers and brogues, he had a seedy, dangerous look to him.

‘And here's the lady we've all been waiting for.' His lips curled in a smile that intimated cruelty. ‘Ready?'

‘Sure,' she said, forcing a hard crimson smile in his direction. ‘Raring to go. How's the show been so far?'

‘The townies are loving it. Particularly John and Mark. They're especially looking forward to seeing you perform.'

Julia knew instantly Robert was referring to the men he'd been talking to before the show. ‘Really.' She kept
her voice cold, one eye on the curtain. ‘Why would that be?'

‘I told them you just loved to meet your fans. I've invited them to come backstage after the blow-off. They seemed very keen.' Robert could barely suppress his smile. Julia shook her head.

‘I'm not getting involved in more of your games, Robert.'

‘Oh, Julia, please. This is turning into a very interesting adventure. You're going to be the centre of attention tonight. Don't let me down.'

As the whistles and shouts from the audience reached a loud crescendo, Robert strode out onto the stage, leaving Julia alone in the wings. She listened as the music started up, a raucous jazz number full of blaring saxophones and snare drums. There was no time left to argue. Even though her nerves were frayed by Robert's baiting, Julia had to push her feelings to one side and focus on the show.

The act started with a single spotlight, Robert slouched on a chair, a cigarette hanging from his hand, wreaths of smoke surrounding his shadowed face.

Julia danced onstage with staccato pointed steps, moving like a film star up the Hollywood red carpet. She circled Robert, drawing herself up haughtily and looking down at him with disdain. This part, as he'd explained to her, was an illustration of her power – she would tease him, lifting the edge of her skirt to show the top of her stocking, a rich girl playing with the desire of a down-at-heel drifter. As he craned forward and reached out to touch her, she'd whirl away from him, miming laughter. They danced around each other, Julia making suggestive movements, pulling her jacket off and rolling her shoulders, Robert by turns trying to catch her and feigning disinterest.

Every time Julia showed a little more flesh, the
audience responded with howls and whistles, willing Robert to grab her and force her to strip. But the point was to show virtually nothing, and although she pulled down her top and bared the curve of her breast to Robert, the audience would see nothing. They could feel the vicarious thrill of Robert's arousal as he ogled Julia, but they were presented with a view of Julia's back, and no more. Julia could feel the hungry eyes of the crowd fixed on her, hear them murmuring and whispering. The entire tent was turned on.

Julia kept up the dancing flirtation with Robert, enjoying the feel of him lusting after her even if it was only an act. As he became yet more frustrated by her coquetry, Robert's movements became sharper and angrier. She draped herself over him and stroked his thigh, only to pull away moments later, and finally he drew a gun from his pocket. The music was suddenly cut dead. A crack of gunfire was made offstage, and Julia dropped, lifeless, to the ground.