Circus Solace Read Free Page A

strongly of his ma, he almost shuddered.
    “So it was a small town like any other until one day, when a small group of folk came through. Their horses were little more than bones with hair, their carriages falling apart like they were made of sticks and paper. They pitched up on the far edges of town and soon folks got to worrying about these strangers living on the fringes. Rumours started about them being odd looking, practising dark arts, all sorts of foolish tittle-tattle. So soon enough, the man who lived on the hill-he was known as The Gent-by then, he went and paid a visit to these men and women on the limits.” He stopped for a second and looked out the window as if what he was re-telling was alive outside their window. Matt peered out, imagining some magic at work, but there was nothing on the street save the cracked street lamps.
    “Now, remember these were different times. Folks back them, they carried as many g uns as they did rules and many a cruel and stupid folk settled disputes without so much as a word. Luckily, The Gent was not one of these men. He was a fair man and took no pride in what riches he’d accumulated but rather hoped in what they could create. He walked up to the campfire on his own and he met the weary travellers and spoke with them, face-to-face.”
    “These folks, yes they were different, some were too tall like me and others were small almost to the point of being shrunken into nothing. Others were missing limbs and others had too many, like they had the right amount of pieces but shared them up wrong. The Gent, he spoke to every one of them and didn’t flinch or wince at the sight of them and when there were those who spoke in broken, muddled sentences, he was patient and waited for them to finish. So they all spoke but they all told the same story; how they were a travelling group, who performed tricks and entertained. It had been a good thing until a weary, god-fearing landowner, who was disgruntled by the joy they seemed to inspire, spread lies against the band and rounded up the townsfolk against them. From that moment on, their name was tarnished.”
    “Now, The Gent listened to all this and offered them safe haven in the town. He said he would speak to the others but imagined no problem. The troupe, in reply, offered up their show and The Gent accepted. But, he said, if there were those among them who did not want to perform, if there were those who did not seek the spotlight and wanted more peaceful, calmer times, then jobs would be offered also. This set him apart, in their eyes, for he saw them not as freaks but as real folk, the same as him, just born a little different, no more no less. The Gent shook hands with each of them and the Moon-Dip Circus Show was born that night.”
    The old man paused and drank some coffee. He looked tired telling the story and Pa asked him if he didn’t want to continue this on another evening. Marcus shook his head, not angrily, Matt thought, but with some determination. It was clear that he was a man who did not finish until the tale was told.
    “So that was Moon-Dip for year after year. Some of the carnival folks performed and many others began a second life as carpenters, locksmiths and a dozen other jobs. Their addled limbs and unusual gait made them perfect for certain jobs. Annabel Cramer, who was born with fourteen fingers, became the best typist in town and there were plenty more successes where that came from. The Gent oversaw the town and sometimes appeared with his baby daughter, to cheers and high applause. Many married and some stayed with the group and even the advent of the motor car and the wireless didn’t seem untoward in a town that prided itself in seeing nothing strange in any people, save those who displayed surly manners.”
    “It went on thus until the day a young boy, not much older than you, young fella, took a shine to Annabel Cramer. He brought her roses and tried to woo her; he was a rich man’s son and