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“Amen,” she whispered. “Amen.”

  She smiled.

  “Make me tea, Corinna.”

  Four

  They sat on Nanty Solo's bed, sipped tea from little silver cups and nibbled ginger cookies. Outside the dusty window, the day began in Helmouth. People moved in and out of the neighborhood. Kids dawdled by the entrance to the Cut. The distant motorway dinned. Joe turned his face from the window. He pressed his cheek out with his tongue and felt the taut striped covering of paint there. He moved his shoulders beneath the cool dark clothes. He glanced at the unicorns and the tigers. He looked upon his friend Corinna who could fly and his friend Nanty Solo who had fed him ancient tiger bone. He leaned back against the wall, here in the ancient gaslit caravan beside the great blue fraying tent. He breathed gently and listened to the gentle running of his blood, and he felt at home.

  “In the beginning,” whispered Nanty Solo, “everything was new. The tent, the tent poles, the ropes, the pegs, the caravans. Long long time back. The writing of the names was bold and bright. The moon and sun and stars was bright as silver and true gold. Beasts was carried from the darkest and the furthest corners of the world, and they prowled in gleaming cages and in the darkest and furthest corners of the brain. Men had learned to be strong as lions. Girls had learned to fly like birds. On the first of all nights, the tent was raised in a green field outside a great city. At dusk the stars came out in an inky sky and shone upon it all. The city glittered like a sky upon the earth. Between the earth and sky the blue tent glowed. And people left the city and walked out into the green field and into the glowing tent and they looked in astonishment at all that occurred before them in the sawdust ring. Tigers roared, girls flew, men as strong as lions lifted many men. Soon the tent moved on, to other cities, other fields. But it also stayed, and glowed forever after in the dreams of those who had entered it.”

  She sipped her tea and sighed.

  “Now we are mocked and spat upon. We scurry from wasteland to wasteland. We are part of no one's dreams.”

  She smiled at Joe. “No one's except those like you, I think, Joe Maloney.”

  “Y-yes,” said Joe.

  “The tiger come for you last night,” she said.

  He gasped. “Y-y—”

  “It come to find you.”

  “Y-y—”

  “It come for you, for you will be the one to take the tiger out.”

  Joe stared at Nanty, at Corinna. They smiled back at him.

  “Wh-what?” said Joe.

  “It's OK,” said Corinna. “There are no tigers, Joe.”

  “That's right,” said Nanty. “There is no real tigers.”

  She pressed a twisted finger to his lips.

  “One day not too far away, there'll be bits of me and Hackenschmidt and Charley Caruso and good Wilfred rattling round inside this relic box.”

  She put the box back beneath the covers.

  “And further off, mebbe bits of my Corinna and bits of you, my Joe Maloney.”

  She gazed out through the tiny window, toward the folk resting, playing, passing by, toward the tussocky grass of the wasteland and the house walls of Helmouth. In the corner of the window, a fat spider squatted at the center of its web.

  She sighed. There was a deep rattle in her chest. She gripped Joe's hand.

  “In the end, Joe, everything is old. The tent falls and rots away and all the folk wander or is dead and the acts is no more and all is forgot. All is forgot.”

  She smiled. Corinna kissed her cheek.

  “This is a good pal for you, my Corinna,” said Nanty.

  “Yes,” said Corinna.

  “Like a twin a bit, I think,” said Nanty. “And it's good to say he's braver than he thinks he is.”

  Corinna grinned at Joe.

  “I know he is.”

  “You can go now, boy,” cackled Nanty Solo. “Remember this. This place come from them that tamed the wild wild beasts. It come from them that listened to the wild wild beasts inside themself. All they did was put a tent round that and take it travelin' round and round the world. You don't understand, of course. You are just a boy. You have come for this day, the last of all our days.”

  “Come on, Joe Maloney,” said Corinna.

  “When Nanty's gone and is in the box,” said Nanty, “will you take a piece? Will you swallow Nanty?”

  “Say yes,” said Corinna.

  “Yes,” said Joe.

  “You may kiss me then,” said Nanty Solo.

  Corinna nudged him.

  He trembled as he leaned toward the bed and kissed her damaged cheek. She caught his hand and pulled it to her mouth. She nibbled at the corner of his thumbnail and bit a piece off and swallowed it.

  She cackled and wheezed.

  “Bye-bye, little boy-thing,” she said. “Bye-bye.”

  Five

  “It is! It is! It's Only Maloney! Only Maloney, lalalala…”

  Cody's crew danced together to the song and howled with laughter.

  “Here, tiger! Here, little tiger!”

  “Walk proud,” said Corinna. “They're nothing to do with you.”

  She turned her face to them for an instant and spat. She told Joe about Nanty Solo, how there had been great pains in her head one year, how doctors had opened her head and taken something out, how she had been left blind, how Nanty had wept and said they had taken out her soul. She told him about the rumors: Hackenschmidt had opened her up again and dropped in a new thing—some said a spider, some said a snake's tooth, some said a drop of tiger blood, some said the tears of an angel—and then closed her again and how Nanty was much improved by this and how she could see through the white membrane on her eyes into the deepest secrets of the human heart.

  Joe tried to listen. He felt his claws, his thunderous heart. He cursed his boots, his stuttering walk, his stupidity, his stupid disguise that they'd seen through so easily. He'd be mocked forever after for this day, for all this evidence of that stupidity. He closed his eyes, saw Stanny and Joff. They crouched by a swiftly flowing stream. They smoked cigarettes. Joff sharpened a hatchet on a stone. Stanny sharpened a knife. They grinned at each other. He should have gone with them, should have taken his own hatchet beneath the motorway and through the woods and up onto the mountain. He swiped at the stupid stripes on his face. She caught his hand. She stopped him, and stood facing him, holding his two hands, there, not fifty yards away from the mocking crew.

  “You're more than you think you are,” she said. “You're more than they think you are.”

  He tugged his hands away.

  “I—I know I am!” he said.

  His face burned. He stared at her.

  “Only Maloney, lalalala…”

  He gasped. His head rang with the voices of those who mocked him, those who said what he should be, those who said what he could be. The words struggled for life on his tongue.

  “And I—I—I am more than you think I—am!” he stammered.

  She touched his hand again, but he pulled it away.

  “That's why we need your help, Joe,” she said.

  “My help?”

  “That's why the tiger came for you.”

  He stared. He sighed. He wondered what she meant but he knew himself that the tiger had a purpose, that it had searched for him, that it had called him. And he felt the fur on his skin. He felt the heart drumming in his chest.

  “We find it hard to understand,” she whispered, “but sometimes the most important things are the most mysterious. We don't have words for them. But we need someone like you, Joe. No, we need you.”

  Joe narrowed his eyes. He stared into her. He saw other worlds, other lives. He knew that Corinna had larks and tigers inside her. He knew that her mind could stretch as far as and beyond the Black Bone Crags.

  “It's always been said,” she whispered, “that when the circus comes to an end, we'll need someone to take the beasts back to the forest. Only that way will the circus be truly ended. Only that way will our hearts
be truly at rest. Only that way will we be able to think of beginning again.”

  “But there's no w-wild beasts.”

  She said nothing. She met his eyes. He nodded. He knew that there would always be wild beasts.

  Suddenly, Joe's mum's voice rang out.

  “Joe! Joe!”

  They turned. There she was, coming from the Cut.

  “Joseph!”

  He saw the fright in her eyes. He wanted to run to her, be held by her, hurry back home into Helmouth with her, take the tiger off him, take the satins off him, just be ordinary Joe Maloney again.

  She slowed as she came nearer.

  “You left me in the night, Joe. How could you leave me in the night?”

  She kept back from him.

  “How could you, Joe?”

  He chewed his lips. Tears filled his eyes.

  “And look at you,” she said. “What's happening, Joe?”

  “H-had a dream, Mum.”

  “Oh, Joe! And you couldn't have come and woke me like all the other times?”

  “I found him,” said Corinna.

  “Found?”

  “He was—”

  “And who are you?”

  “Corinna. Joe's friend. Found him at dawn.”

  Joe's mum stood there, unable to speak, eyes on her boy.

  “Couldn't st-stop myself,” said Joe.

  She came to him, held him by the shoulders.

  “I'm tr-trying to…”

  “To what, Joseph?”

  “To… grow up, Mum.”

  “Are you, Joe? Is that what this is?”

  The song started again, ringing across the waste-land toward them.

  “Only Maloney, lalalala!”

  “Leave him alone,” she whispered, without turning. “Joe Maloney's worth a field full of you.”

  She held him, touched the painted face.

  “You did this?” she said to Corinna.

  “Yes.”

  Joe's mum shook her head.

  “A funny'n. Such a funny'n.”

  “He's fine,” said Corinna. “I'm looking after him.”

  Joe stood straight, held his head up.

  “Don't need l-looking after. I'm f-fine. And I'll just be here, beside the t—”

  “Tent,” said his mum. She sighed. “You gave me such a fright.”

  She blinked, asked the question of herself.

  “Is this OK? Is this what should be happening when a boy grows?” The song about her son rang out again. “Listen to them. Silly stunted stupid things. Is that what he should grow like?”

  She held her boy at arm's length.

  “No,” she whispered. “He should grow like Joe Maloney, good and true.”

  “I'll c-come back, Mum. I'm not going aw-away.”

  They looked at each other, the three of them.

  “Let me st-stay,” said Joe.

  His mum lifted her eyes, scanned the tent and the billboards and the empty morning sky.

  “Such a worry,” she said. “You were always such a worry. Knew from the start there'd be strife and struggle and—”

  “Clear off, circus filth!” yelled Cody's crew. “Take your tent somewhere else!”

  There was another group, too, Bleak Winters' bunch. They clustered in another part of the waste-land.

  “Circus equals cruelty!” they chanted. “Set the animals free!”

  “This happens everywhere you go?” said Joe's mum.

  Corinna nodded.

  Joe's mum gazed at the tent.

  “It's a lovely thing, isn't it?” she said.

  “Yes,” said Corinna.

  Joe's mum held him.

  “This boy walks in darkness,” she said. “He walks where others wouldn't dare to go.”

  Corinna nodded.

  “You'll stay with him?”

  “Yes,” said Corinna.

  “Go on, then, Joe.” She cuddled her son. “This is a girl with a heart that might be big as yours. Stay with her.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “And don't forget. I'm just over there.” She smiled sadly, bright-eyed. “Bring Corinna for lunch, Joe. Bring your new friend for lunch!”

  She kissed Joe and turned away.

  Corinna lifted the flap of the tent.

  Six

  It seemed higher, much higher than before. The faded sun and moon and stars seemed a thousand miles away. The roof of the tent reeled like the sky and Joe crouched, and pressed his hands to the straw and sawdust as if to secure himself.

  She giggled.

  “Second thoughts?”

  “No.” He tried to steady his heart, steady his breath. “No.”

  “Come on, then.”

  She took off her coat and dropped it to the floor.

  “Wait here, watch me, then you do it. OK?”

  She stepped up onto the rope ladder that hung from the central pole. He saw how her feet curved over the rungs, how she could grip with her toes, saw how strong the slender muscles in her arms and legs were.

  She set off climbing, then paused.

  “It's easy,” she said. “Just like falling. It'll look like miles, but the net'll catch you and hold you and you won't hurt yourself. OK?”

  He nodded.

  “When you've done it once, you'll want to do it again, straightaway. You will, Joe.”

  She climbed again, past the safety net, until she reached the platform, and stood there.

  “Nothing can happen,” she said. Her voice rang in the still blue air. “You jump straight out like you're going to fly. You arch your body. You stretch your arms. You try to make your body beautiful and elegant and streamlined. But even if you drop like a scared turkey, the net'll catch you and hold you. OK?”

  “OK.”

  She jumped, head up, body arched, arms stretched out like she was reaching for the sun and moon and stars. He watched. He wanted to copy her, but also to catch the moment when there was nothing of her to see, the moment when she disappeared. But she didn't disappear. She rolled in the air, drew her knees to her chest, landed on her shoulders, and the net sighed as it took her and held her safe.

  She swung down to the sawdust beside him.

  “You were… there all the time,” he said.

  “Course I was. I'm not good enough. It's only in my dreams that I disappear.”

  He toed the sawdust.

  “But mebbe Joe Maloney's a natural, and soon's he starts jumping he starts to disappear.”

  She grinned.

  “Just one way to find out.”

  She knelt down and started to unlace his left boot.

  He stepped back.

  “You think you'll go flying with these on, Joe?” She caught his foot again.

  She eased the heavy boot over his heel. Joe blushed at the smell of his sweat. But she just smiled and took the sock off too. Black dirt beneath the toenails and a rim of black around his ankle.

  “Lovely feet, Joe,” she said.

  Joe smiled.

  She took off the other boot and sock. She rubbed his feet tenderly.

  “Fancy keeping lovely little feet locked up in those things.”

  She took her slippers off and stood with her feet side by side with his.

  “We could nearly be t-twins,” he said.

  “Ha! Yes, we could.”

  Then she knelt and eased her slippers onto his feet.

  “Better, eh? Much lighter. Things you can fly in.”

  He flexed his toes, stood on tiptoe.

  “Lovely,” he whispered.

  “Up you go. Go on.”

  The ladder twisted, swung and trembled as he climbed. He scrambled his way through the net.

  “You're a bit like a turkey,” she said. “But go on. Just go on.”

  He tried to fix his eyes on the roof of the tent but he had to keep looking down at his clumsy feet on the narrow rungs, and Corinna was further and further away. Then the larks inside him started singing, helped to lift him to the platform's edge. He c
limbed onto it, and stood there, gripping the pole. His knees shuddered.

  He looked down through the blue shade to her upturned blue face. Her eyes shone. All around, the blue-starred tent wheeled.

  “Listen, Joe. Look straight out, into the air above the net.”

  He looked out.

  “Nothing can harm you, Joe. There's just air, and that can't hurt you, and then the net'll catch you and keep you safe.”

  He tried to breathe deeply, slowly.

  “Mebbe it's true, Joe. Mebbe in another life, in the life before the last life, you were the greatest flier of us all.”

  The larks inside him hung high in the blue and sang and sang.

  “Mebbe we were together, Joe. Mebbe we were twins in sparkling costumes, catching each other high in the air while tigers growled below us.”

  He teetered at the edge. He heard the awful growl, the roar, like something from some deep dark cavern rather than from an open mouth. His head reeled. He looked down and saw tigers caged inside the ring, tigers clawing the air, tigers clawing at their trainers.

  “Believe in it, Joe. Just jump.”

  He jumped. He held his arms out. He reached for the sun. He crumpled into the net.

  He lay twisted and awkward, the net cords digging at his skin.

  “Brilliant!” said Corinna, from below him. “Brilliant, Joe.”

  He rolled clumsily toward the edge of the net.

  And then the air inside the tent trembled. The flap was drawn back. Hackenschmidt stood there, a huge shadow, a silhouette.

  Seven

  For many moments, Hackenschmidt just stared. Then he came forward, into the blue light. He wore blue trousers, a blue shirt with white flowers on it, shiny black shoes. His hair and beard were combed. He seemed three times as high as Joe, three times as wide. His arms were as broad as Joe's waist. His hands were bigger than Joe's head. He walked to Joe, who lay still at the edge of the net.

  “Come down,” he said. His voice was soft and calm. He lifted Joe with his great hands from the net. He slowly swung him down onto the sawdust floor. He straightened Joe's satin clothes, just as Joe's mother would. “Do you know who I am?” he asked.

  “H-Hack—”

  “Yes. Hackenschmidt. The Lion of Russia, the greatest wrestler ever seen. The champion of the world. The…” His voice faltered and he sighed. “And you are Joe Maloney.”