Circus Excite (20 page)

She knew with total conviction what she had to do next.

EDINBURGH WAS A
gothic fantasy that captivated Julia: crenellated towers sticking out above the cobbled streets; the blackened stone walls of the castle high above; gardens spilling over with flowers and fountains and everywhere swarming with people. Bewildered foreigners bumped up against street artists and ticket touts, traffic fought its way along Princes Street, and the roiling harsh cry of pipes sounded from buskers on the street corners. Julia loved the buzz and the chaos, the mix of stylish opera buffs and barefoot shabby fringe performers. She had visited a couple of times before, once on a boozy college trip, once with friends to see a couple of dance shows. Never, though, had she arrived in the city in Festival time as a performer.

As the trucks rolled slowly up the bridge that led to the south of the city and the Meadows, where they'd set up for the last fortnight of their summer tour, Julia leant forward in her seat. Passers-by turned to watch as the convoy of dark six-wheelers moved slowly towards the site, twelve black lorries with ‘Circus Excite' emblazoned across their sides. While there were many strange sights all over the city during the Festival, few were quite as imposing as the cavalcade of vehicles bringing the circus to town. The performers, stuffed into cabs and peering back at the onlookers, were also a source of great curiosity. As they neared the large rolling park which would be their showground, Julia felt the surge of excitement that she always got when she was the centre of attention, waving back at the gawping pedestrians and
blowing kisses, to the amusement of Joe who sat calmly in the driver's seat ignoring the fuss.

‘You just love causing a sensation, don't you, babe?' he teased Julia as she gave a wink to a group of lads standing watching the troupe's arrival.

‘It's my inner diva coming out for the big show.'

‘Biggest yet,' Joe agreed, blowing out his cheeks as he considered the work he had ahead of him. The circus was playing for two weeks, two shows a night. New programmes had been printed, and thousands of glossy flyers and posters would flood the city. Julia had secret fantasies of five-star reviews and packed houses shouting for more, along with a thrilling fear that it could all go terribly wrong.

She'd performed the new routine with Robert for the past week in Manchester, and had a taste of being the star of the show. Somehow, though, Edinburgh seemed different. It felt to her like the summer had been one long rehearsal in preparation for this – a chance to perform in front of the most discerning and difficult audiences in the world, outspoken art snobs half drunk and looking for a chance to heckle. The thought made Julia's toes curl.

‘Still,' she mused, half to herself, ‘five days to opening night. Time to check out the other shows.' Silently she wondered if any of her classmates were around. The Festival was a magnet for everyone in the theatre and there was a strong chance she'd bump into someone she knew. The thought gave her an uncomfortable flutter in the pit of her stomach – how would her peers react to the circus? Pushing her uneasiness aside, she turned her attention back to the site. The lorries ahead were already parked in a ring, forming the circular enclosure that would be Julia's home for the next three weeks. Joe rolled his truck in behind the others and they jumped out, shaking out tired muscles and nodding to the other
crew as they surveyed the ground. Julia was used to the loud rough attitudes of the roustabouts now, had even come to enjoy the banter as they set up. For just over two months the circus had been her entire world: the gruelling manual labour and the dazzling adrenaline of the shows had formed her days and nights. The experiences along with the intense episodes of sexual discovery had woken an exhilarating sense of freedom in her.

As she circled the site in her scruffy work clothes, waiting for construction to start, Julia found herself almost dancing over the grass. She was brimming with nervous excitement and jittering like a schoolgirl.

‘Look who's getting over-excited,' Henri called, giving her a lop-sided grin as he pulled a box from the back of his lorry. Since the night in Manchester, Julia had found a subtle shift in the atmosphere between her, Henri and Rachel. The other woman seemed to have retracted her claws and gave Julia a nod when she passed her. Occasionally she even flashed her a dangerous little smile, as though to remind her the ceasefire was temporary. There was an uneasy balance between them now, although Julia was well aware of the volatile nature of relationships in the circus enclosure. She was working her way into this strange new world, but every step seemed to bring new dangers as well as new possibilities. Still, as Julia looked around the green, tree-lined park she felt part of something bigger than herself – as though she were at last finding a place where she could dare to fulfil her dreams, even her darkest fantasies. It would never be an easy place to live, but Julia wasn't interested in a quiet life. Part of her was starting to enjoy even the highly charged spats with Rachel, as though they were indeed playing a game and she was starting to understand the rules.

Only Robert remained untouchable, closed off in his bubble of cool disciplined authority. No matter how Julia
talked to him, no matter what she did, he never lost his poise. Although she still wanted him so badly it sometimes made her ache, Julia kept her fantasies to herself, treating him with calm respect and trying not to let him ruffle her when they performed. Before a show, when they waited backstage for their cues, Robert would try to provoke her. He'd tease her, let his gaze wander slowly over her body and remind her of what he'd seen. Slowly, Julia had learnt to harden her reactions to him. He may turn her on, he may make her so weak with desire it was hard to concentrate on the act, but she wouldn't let him know. Gritting her teeth, Julia would flaunt herself on the stage, dance so close she could smell his aftershave. She moved as though she were fucking him, using her body to turn on the audience. But when his eyes met hers, their dancing brown glitter inviting her to go further, Julia would return his gaze with a blank, cold stare. She refused to be drawn into any more of his games. She made do with silent fantasies of Robert – in her head she tied him to the scaffolds with ropes and tormented him in front of the whole crew, teasing him till he begged her to bring him off.

Today, he walked round the site frowning, looking as though he'd slept badly, Julia thought. His shirt was crumpled and there were dark circles round his eyes, which were still as intense as ever, but seemed to have lost the playful spark that both maddened and excited her. Curious, she approached him.

‘Robert?'

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice, and for a moment he looked at her blankly.

‘Julia,' he said, recovering himself and focusing on her. ‘There's a box of flyers in Henri's cab, get yourself in costume and take a thousand.' His voice was rough, as though he'd chain-smoked forty cigarettes, but had
the same note of authority that made Julia respond immediately.

‘Where am I going?' she asked hesitantly. ‘Which costume should I wear?'

Robert considered briefly before answering. He pointed at her.

‘Noir suit. Full make-up and heels. Just walk round till you find an audience; you'd probably best head for The Mound.'

Before she had a chance to ask any more, Robert had moved towards the roustabouts and was deep in discussion. It was clear she was expected to work the rest of it out for herself, and she didn't waste any time. The chance to escape the grind of setting up and get a glimpse of Edinburgh was a welcome relief.

She approached Henri as he was unloading the crates from his van.

‘Got some flyers for me, Henri?'

‘Ah, damage control, is it?' Henri nodded knowingly at her.

‘What do you mean?'

‘Haven't you seen the review?'

Julia shook her head. Henri's face darkened.

‘Robert's nemesis, venting spleen in
The Stage
. There's a copy in the cab if you want to see it. I warn you though, it won't make for happy reading.'

Julia climbed into the cab, wondering if she was about to find the reason for Robert's haggard appearance. Lying on the floor, with a bootprint on the page as though someone had stamped on it in disgust, was a newspaper. She skimmed the headline: ‘
PERVERT'S PROGRESS
'

As she read on, Julia felt a cold nausea rise in her chest. The reviewer used the most vicious language he could to slate the Circus, and phrases stuck in her head with their brutal disdain: ‘vile parade of freaks and tarts
. . . twisted brainchild of Robert York . . . filthy and rotten to the core'. There was no mention of her act other than to acknowledge the ‘misused' talents of the performers, but the attack on the circus and Robert himself was enough to leave her deeply shaken. It was a poisonous piece of writing, and Julia realised that in the flighty gossip-ridden world of theatre, it could be enough to wreck the show forever.

Julia had never realised just how many steep hills there were in Edinburgh, but after walking for half an hour in her stilettos up the Royal Mile and over the bridge to the chaotic centre of the city, she knew she'd never forget. In the strong August sunshine, her pancake make-up and ritzy costume were outlandishly uncomfortable. The ‘noir' suit was tightly tailored, pinched in at her waist and stretching tautly over her ass to accentuate her curves. Her cleavage was shoved upwards and jiggled dangerously close to spilling over as she struggled towards Princes Street, drawing incredulous glances from passing tourists. She pulled a small suitcase behind her, stuffed with flyers for the show, and swore as her heels caught in the cobble stones. Stopping every so often to ask directions, she was keenly aware of the reactions to her garb – from shocked distaste to amused delight or, in the case of several males, blatant leering.

As she stalked along the street, dodging bus queues and scanning crowds of foreign tourists trying to single out likely audience members, Julia felt like she had been plunged into a particularly surreal performance. Anywhere else her outrageous appearance would cause a riot, but in Festival Edinburgh she was one freak among many. Mimes in extravagant stage costumes stood on every street corner; a clown with bleached dreadlocks tottered in stilts down the street; ticket touts shouted
raucous banter as she passed. The whole city had turned into one riotous circus, she thought as she headed to The Mound.

Here, in the shadow of the castle, Julia found what seemed to be the heart of the Festival. The art galleries sat like Greek temples in a stone plaza above the gardens, their steps and colonnades swarming with tourists and performers. A unicyclist juggled fire in the centre of a crowd of noisy onlookers, while a band of East European musicians sang a plaintive tune a few feet away. Other acts milled around, posing for photographs and pressing leaflets into the hands of bewildered tourists. Market stalls sold cheap jewellery and trinkets, while hot dog vans wheeled their way across the square.

In the midst of the bustle, Julia stood and opened her suitcase, pulling out a handful of flyers. As she straightened, she put on her dazzling stage smile and started looking for possible punters. She knew the circus would only appeal to a certain type of patron, and scanned the crowd for those she thought had the verve-filled, offbeat appearance that Robert liked to see in the seats. Quietly, she wondered how many of these people would find the show so shocking they would call for it to be banned, as the review had. Would they even be allowed to perform? Complaints were still enough to scare the councillors who dished out public entertainment licences, and it didn't take much to cause a scandal.

Shaking herself, Julia tried to concentrate on the job in hand. She looked around for possible punters, but found they made a beeline for her anyway. The fact that she was dressed with a salacious mix of exposed flesh and extreme glamour helped to attract the attention of the more liberally minded in the crowd, and she soon got into the rhythm of banter with passing people. She found putting on an attitude of irreverent burlesque was the easiest way to catch a punter's interest,
whistling or winking as the person approached and fluttering her diamante false eyelashes coquettishly. It was a performance all of itself, and after half an hour Julia realised she was working just as hard as she would have been on site, bumping her hips, bowing and dipping to the stream of people who passed her and flirting hard with anyone who stopped to listen. It was a task just to compete with the noise of traffic, street musicians and the chatter of many languages that filled the air.

She found herself suddenly surrounded by a gaggle of burly tanned men who seemed very taken with her costume, some of the bolder ones reaching out to try to finger the lace on her corset or pat her ass. They laughed uproariously and cajoled each other as they cracked jokes in incomprehensible Italian, disorientating Julia and starting to intimidate her. The group stood very close around her, smiling greasy smiles and sucking their teeth as though examining an animal at auction.

‘Okay,' she said, smiling grimly and trying to keep her cool. ‘Nice to meet you boys, but I really must get on . . .' She tried to move aside to escape, but found her way blocked by the largest of the men, who threw up his hands beseechingly, as though begging her to stay. It was a delicate situation, and Julia thought wildly of how to extricate herself, especially difficult when the men seemed not to understand a word of English.

‘Just tell them
VAFFANCULO
!'

A voice behind her suddenly rang out, a young woman's voice that was blessedly familiar. Julia turned astonished to find Karin standing, arms folded, next to a tall and well-muscled man. Her strident shouting seemed to work, as the crowd of Italian men immediately started moving away, presumably to look for easier targets. Julia was overjoyed to be rescued, and particularly tickled by Karin's jaw-dropping outrage at the sight of her outfit.