Love, Let Me Not Hunger Read Free

caravan of the Walters equestrian family which housed and travelled seven, to the smaller ones of the clowns and singles like Jackdaw Williams, who boasted of converted vans or simply lived like gypsies in doctored-up shooting brakes.
    The cages and the beast wagons could be hitched in train behind the lorries since the pace of the circus would necessarily be slow. Judy, the single elephant scheduled to accompany the show, and the horses would walk between towns and villages; and where the distances were too great for an overnight march, they would allow several days for the trip and camp en route.
    But what made the trip possible and potentially profitable, besides the streamlining of jobs and transportation, was Marvel’s solution of the setting-up problem, stemming from his study of the situation at first hand. Labour in Spain was so cheap that there would be enough manpower available at practically no cost at all compared with wages in Britain. And to ensure swift and smooth operation Marvel was taking along a ground staff consisting of his tent boss, Joe Cotter, his mechanic, Pete Sprague, and three experienced British tentmen who were also roustabouts and general circus hands. These would be sufficient, when bolstered by unlimited local hire, to put up the show in each community and pull it down. This ground staff would sleep in the lorries. All of the living wagons were equipped either with small kitchens or Primus stove units and the various troupes fed and looked after themselves.
    In his head Sam Marvel retained a catalogue of every act he had ever booked, or for that matter seen, including the specialties and capabilities of every member. The small company he had now gathered together was competent to present a programme of some twenty diverse and individual numbers, which collectively would add up to a performance of three hours’ duration. Among the things the showman had ascertained on his exploratory visit was that the Spaniards expected their money’s worth from the circus.

C H A P T E R

2
    I n the stuffy confines of his office, Marvel had the Walters family lined up in front of his desk—Harry and Ma; Jacko, Ted and Toby, the three boys, of whom Toby was the youngest; and the two girls, Angela and Lilian—and was explaining what he expected of them.
    He said, “We’ll keep the family act for the second half. You three,” and he nodded towards the boys, “open the first half with voltige. Call yourselves the Jacko Trio.” Sam Marvel had that oldtime showman’s reverence for the half- or even quarter-truth. With a change of costume and a partial change of name, the bemused flatties in the audience never caught on to the fact that the same performers were returning time and time again in different guises.
    “Your girls ought to be about ready on the wire,” he said to Harry Walters. “They’ve been practising long enough.”
    Walters merely grunted. “They’ll be all right.”
    “Okay,” said Marvel, “we’ll bill them as the Liliane Sisters.”
    Lilian Walters, who was the younger of the two, turned pink and smirked with pleasure, and then threw a look at her older sister who coloured likewise, but not with pleasure.
    “You got costumes ready for ’em?” Marvel asked of Ma Walters.
    The fat woman said, “We ain’t had time yet,” and also flushed, for she was always nervous in the presence of Sam Marvel. “We —”
    “Well, make ’em up then!” said Marvel. “Something flashy. Put the little kid in red and the big one in blue.”
    Pa Walters said, somewhat sarcastically, “Anything else?”
    “Yes,” said Marvel, ummoved by the sarcasm and glancing down at the paper he was holding. “You, Toby, you’re always mucking about with that bloody elephant. How would you like to present the pig?”
    “Bona,” said the boy, and reddened with pleasure and excitement. And then added, “Do you mean it, sir?”
    “Yup!” Marvel said curtly, and looked down at his paper again.