Saffron & Bruno and the Circus.

Something odd was happening in the field opposite the window of the attic.  It was a something that was odd enough to halt the walking through walls practice and make the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew gather at the window to watch what was going on.  Trucks and caravans were pulling up and parking.  The Sixteen Stephens looked blankly at one another. Andrew bided his time.  It was too early in the year for the fair; the car-boot sale happened in the school car park, and the annual Easter Egg hunt happened annually at Easter, when eggs were hunted.  They were certainly very colourful vehicles; they were all covered in pictures of acrobats, jugglers, magicians, ballerinas and …ah, yes… and clowns.  The Sixteen Stephens each gave a smile, and so did Andrew; then, went back to their walking through walls practice.  They knew all they needed to know, now.  Each ouch was now accompanied by a dismissive snort or some such other derisory noise.  Clowns.  Foolish things.  You’d never catch one of the Sixteen Stephens plumbing the depths.

The circus had arrived!

Down in her room, Saffron, Natty and Bruno looked out of the window and watched as the circus trucks parked up and began to unpack.  Natty grabbed Jeremiah, so he could see the big tent too.  The girls grinned from ear to ear at the thought of a visit to the big top.  They were curious as to why the walking through walls practice restarted quite so soon after it had stopped?  They felt sure the Sixteen Stephens would be fascinated by the arrival of the circus and that Andrew would be in his element explaining all that he knew about the attraction.  They left the bedroom and headed upstairs to see what was going on.

Opening the eggshell blue door, Saffron and Natty, and Bruno and Jeremiah, walked into the attic and a cacophony of dismissive ouches.  Walking through walls practice was back underway.  The girls and their toys stood and watched.  The Sixteen Stephens were well and truly focused on damaging their noses and Andrew was routinely going through his mantra of encouragements and gee-ing ups to get the ghosts through the walls.  He had even added in an impromptu “imagine there’s a custard pie on the other side of the wall waiting for you.”  All this did was make Stephen Number Ten stop practising for a while and lazily spin a pie on his finger instead, and make Stephen Number Eight create a small puddle of drool on the floor and bang his nose firmer and more painfully into the wall than he had been doing so.

After a while the ghosts realised that Saffron and Bruno, and Natty and Jeremiah, were in the attic.  They paused their practice and said hello.  The girls and looked confused.  Well, the girls looked confused, Bruno looked like he always looks, like Bruno, and Jeremiah did his best Jeremiah impersonation.

“Um… You have seen what’s over in the field, haven’t you?”  Asked Saffron.

“You’ve seen the circus trucks, we mean,” said Natty.

“Yes, we’ve seen them,” said Stephen Number Twelve, “All very good.”

“Hmmm,” agreed the rest of the Sixteen Stephens, “All very good.”  Andrew smiled.  He had an inkling as to how this conversation was going to go.
“’Hmmm, all very good’?”  Mimicked Saffron.  “What do you mean, ‘all very good’?  It’s a circus!”

“We know,” replied Stephen Number Seven, “We have seen circuses before”
“Yes,” said Stephen Number Twelve, “They’re like a great big tent for camping in but no one sleeps in the tent, they just run around and jump about and make other people in the tent go ‘ooooh’ and ‘aaaah’ and then they all go home and don’t even sleep in the tent!”  The two girls were dumbfounded.  If they had been asked to describe how they thought the Sixteen Stephens would react to a circus arriving in the field across the road, flippant indifference would not have been the words they would have chosen… no, ecstatic, delirious, insanely happy, custard pie flinging joyous, high five slapping excited, or bunting and kazoo wieldingly euphoric would have been the words they would have chosen.  Saffron wriggled her nose in bewilderment.  She could not actually believe her eyes.  This is something of a sentence, of course, given that she was staring at a room full of ghosts; it’s that that usually would have people doubting their eyesight not the reaction of said ghosts to the arrival of a circus in the village!  Saffron turned to Andrew in the hope of getting an explanation.

“Andrew?”  She asked, “What’s going on?”  Andrew shrugged his shoulders.

“They don’t like circuses.”  He replied.  Saffron and Bruno and Natty and Jeremiah looked agog.  Well, Saffron and Natty looked agog, Bruno looked like his always did, and Jeremiah kept up the Jeremiah impersonation.  The Sixteen Stephens didn’t like circuses?  What on earth could that be all about?  The two girls turned again and looked at the wall walking into ghosts and shook their heads.  How could you not like a circus?  Saffron decided to ask out loud.

“How can you not like circuses?”  Saffron asked out loud.  The Sixteen Stephens paused their walking through walls practice and looked at Saffron.  “I mean,” Saffron carried on, “what’s not to like?  The acrobatics, the trapeze, the magicians…”

“The Jugglers, playing with fire and maybe knives and stuff that’s sharp…” Natty joined in.

“And what about the beautiful dancers and the ringmaster, holding control over the whole show…”
“And the clowns…” At the mention of that word the whole attic shuddered.  Stephen Number Ten’s cheeks went a bit pink.  The Sixteen Stephens closed their eyes and did that funny thing that people do when they’ve come in out of the rain or if someone has mentioned spiders to them.  They all sort of shuddered. Then they made that funny noise that goes with that funny thing people do too.  The Sixteen Stephens shuddered and went “uuuuhhhuuuhhh”… you know the noise…  Saffron and Natty were shocked.  Surely the Sixteen Stephens would love clowns?  The make up, the costumes, the pratfalls, the jokes, the missing you with a ladder and then hitting you with a ladder, all the clowns getting out of a ridiculously small car and then the car falling to pieces.  It all seemed like exactly the sort of thing the Sixteen Stephens would find hilarious.  Andrew shrugged again.  The girls shook their heads again and left the ghosts to their practice.

*

It was with a curious mixture of emotions, the following day, when Saffron and Natty, and Bruno and Jeremiah, went back up to the attic to give the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew their news.

“Dad got us tickets for the circus, tomorrow night,” said Saffron, unsure whether to be excited or not.

“That’s terrific!”  Said Stephen Number Four, “I hope you have a brilliant time!”
“Oh.”  Said Saffron.

“Wow!  Fantastic!”  Said Stephen Number Fifteen, “I bet the trapeze artistes will be amazing to see for real!”

“Um.”  Said Natty.

“You’ll have a great time, I’m sure,” said Stephen Number Twelve.  Bruno didn’t say anything, neither did Jeremiah.  The girls goldfished a bit with their mouths and, once again, turned to Andrew for an answer.
“Just because they don’t like circuses doesn’t meant anyone else doesn’t have to like circuses,” he said.  The girls goldfished some more.  Bruno didn’t, nor Jeremiah.  It did make some sense, they supposed.  Saffron thought of onion gravy; it was something she did not like at all but her father seemed to appreciate it and that was all okay…perhaps, this was sort of the same thing.

“After all,” said Andrew, interrupting her train of thought a little, “It would be a poor old world if we all liked the same things, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” said Saffron.

“In actual fact,” said Stephen Number Twelve, “we do quite enjoy circuses.”

“You do?”  Said Saffron, “Yesterday, you were all ‘Oh, very good’.”

“I know,” said Stephen Number Twelve, “but we do enjoy the circus, truly we do.”

“We love the acrobats,” Stephen Number Eleven chimed in, “They’re so flexible and the shapes and twists are incredible to watch.”
‘I like the one who jumps off the incredibly high platform and dives into a bucket of water,” said Stephen Number Four.
“No,” said Andrew sympathetically, “You saw that once of a cartoon and it seems to have stuck in your head, somehow.”

“Right into the bucket, no splash!”  Stephen Number Four mimed a ‘no splash’, whatever that might look like.  Andrew shook his head and chuckled.

“I love the glamorous costumes and the music,” said Stephen Number Two.

“I thorough enjoy the history and tradition of the role of the Ringmaster,” said Stephen Number Twelve a little pompously.

“I love the hot dog stands,” said Stephen Number Eight.  Saffron looked at Natty and Natty looked at Saffron.  They both had in mind to ask the same question.

“What’s wrong with clowns?”  Asked Saffron.  The Sixteen Stephens did that funny thing and made that funny noise again and then looked at each other as if waiting for one of them to give the obvious answer.

“I mean,” said Natty, “not being funny or anything…”

“Just like a clown,” said Stephen Number Twelve under his breath.
“Pardon me?”  Said Saffron.

“Clowns,” said Stephen Number Twelve, “They’re not funny.”

“They’re hilarious!”  Said Natty.

“Yeah,” said Saffron, “Buckets of confetti, slipping over, water coming out of the flower when you sniff it, all that stuff.  They make you laugh!”  She was met with sixteen of the stoniest looking faces she had ever looked at.  The Sixteen Stephens all did that funny thing again and made that funny noise.  Stephen Number Ten’s cheeked darkened.  Andrew chuckled.

The girls were surprised by the Sixteen Stephens' reaction to their having tickets to go to the circus!

*

The big top buzzed with chatter and kerfuffle and music and “roll up, roll ups” and excitement.  Saffron and Natty, and Bruno and Jeremiah of course, and Saffron’s Mum and Dad, searched for their seats and took in the sights around them.

“It’s been ages since I’ve been to the circus,” said Saffron’s Dad.  The big top was quite the sight to see.  The circus ring was just as you’d imagine it, decked out with a straw-like matting and ringed with colourful barriers about a foot tall.  To the back of the ring was the main entrance, all decorated in glitter and shimmy; gold and pink and silver.  Streamers ran from the walls to the top of the circus tent and there, up in the rafters, the trapeze stood ready for performance.  The tension in the tent was growing.  The grins on the audience’s faces were growing.  The groans from the Sixteen Stephens were growing.  Andrew shrugged as Saffron and Natty turned at the unexpected sound.

“What are you doing here?”  They asked.

“I couldn’t keep them away,” said Andrew.

“Look,” said Stephen Number Ten, his cheeks positively glowing, “look at that picture.”

“Look at his nose,” said Stephen Number Six, “How hard must he walk into walks for it to be that red?”  Saffron and Natty shushed the silly ghosts and turned back to the circus ring.  The music had built to a crescendo and then fell silent.  A spotlight picked out the Ringmaster, who had come out through the sparkling curtains and was calling the audience to attention.

“Ladies and Gentleman!  Boys and Girls!  I give you tonight not the village’s finest circus, not the county’s finest circus…not the country’s finest circus, but … the world’s finest circus entertainment!”  There was a mighty cheer from the audience.  Stephen Number Twelve cheered along.  Stephen Number Ten rolled his eyes.  Stephen Number Eight tried to see if he could fry and egg on Stephen Number Ten’s cheek; Stephen Number Ten put a stop to that toot sweet.  Stephen Number Eight started eyeing up the hot dog stall, instead.  “Ladies and Gentlemen!  Boys and Girls!”  The Ringmaster continued, “I give you ‘Circus Magnifica’!”  The cheers turned to ooohs as four acrobats flew out over the top of the gold and pink and silver entrance, tumbling and cartwheeling through the air.  They landed in the centre of the ring and bowed low to accept the applause of the audience.  At once, they were off into a mesmerising routine, twirling and somersaulting, leaping off platforms and forming human pyramids and fantastic shapes that both defied gravity and the likelihood of having a skeleton of bones still joined together in the proper fashion!  The shrieks and cheers of the audience were loud and long.

"I give you Circus Magnifica!"

 Next came a trio of jugglers that had the crowd spellbound.  They formed a triangle around the perimeter of the ring and their act sometimes had them juggling individually and sometimes in threes.  The crowd thrilled at one moment when the jugglers faced out to the crowd and the juggling clubs came hurtling towards them from over their shoulders.  The timing was impeccable and the soft hands were sure, as not one single club was dropped.  It was astounding.  The rafters rattled again to the cheers of the crowd.  Soon, they were hushed to silence as the jugglers adorned themselves with blindfolds and lit the juggling sticks aflame.  The flames leapt from hand to hand, turned circles in the air and leapt once again, and again.  Each throw was accompanied with an intake of breath from the audience.  The trick finished with each of the jugglers throwing off their blindfolds and turning to catch the final burning stick facing their section of the crowd.  The cheer almost took the roof off the big top.  Saffron’s eyes were ablaze with admiration.  It was all so exciting, she actually felt the moment when she started to breathe again; she hadn’t realised the moment when she had stopped!

As the crowd regathered itself after the excitement of the juggling act, the trapeze artistes got themselves ready for their turn in the big top.

“Oh, me,” said Stephen Number Fourteen, “I do so love the trapeze artistes.  They are my fa-a-vor-ite, without a doubt.”  The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew, Saffron and Bruno, Natty and Jeremiah, and Saffron’s Mum and Dad and the rest of the audience, turned their attention to the top of the big top and listened to the breathless commentary of the Ringmaster.

“See the flying trapeze, see the artistes, not secured by wires, no, Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, secured only by the strength of their hands and arms!  Secured only by the determination and grip of steel that is felt through those fingers!”  There was a hushed intake of breath as the trapeze began to swing.  What followed was equally as stunning as the jugglers.  The artistes swooped, spun, dived and twisted; they appeared to defy gravity and hang in the air waiting for their fellow artiste to come and seize a hold of them before they fell.  Saffron realised after a moment that her mouth was hanging open.  She closed it; realised a moment later that it was back hanging open again; looked around, saw that everyone else’s mouths were hanging open (except Stephen Number Eight, whose mouth was chewing on a hot dog he’d got), and she left it open.  The sight was an amazing one.  The final, triple-flip, somersault and pike, with the trapeze artist snatched from the air at the very last moment brought the crowd to their feet.  The applause was loud and it was long and, then, as it subsided, it happened…the honk of a car’s horn.  Saffron turned her eyes to the circus ring floor where a tiny jalopy car was tweedling its way to its centre.  She felt the temperature behind her drop by a fair few degrees, except in two particularly specific spots.

Comical music was playing over the sound system.  Accompanying this music came the roar of an engine, the squeal of brakes as the car stopped and a horribly loud car horn.  The door to the car opened and out got one, two three, four five, six clowns.  The audience clapped and cheered.  There was no way six clowns could fit in that car!  It looked too small even for one clown!  The first clown out of the car, expansive trousers and huge shoes and all, was holding the door open for the other clowns.  Once the last clown was out of the car, he closed the door.  The car collapsed into a heap, wheels rolling off stage, the horn giving a dying honk.  The car door was left in the hands of the clown.  He turned to the audience, gave a shrug and dropped the door…right on his own foot.  The other clowns honked with laughter and pointed at their unfortunate companion.  The audience laughed along too.  Then one of the clowns came on stage carrying a ladder over his shoulder.  Into the old routine he went, and even though everyone knew what was coming, it was performed with such gusto that the audience couldn’t help but laugh along again.  He swished the ladder around, missing clowns one way to hit them in the way back!  Clowns ducked and dived, tumbled and tripped trying to get out of his way.  Through all this, one of the number of clowns had wandered off to the front of the crowd and was letting people smell the flower he was wearing in his lapel.  Sure enough, everyone who smelled the flower was squirted in the face with water.  It was an old trick but a good trick and the audience were gamely playing along.  Saffron’s Dad, in fact, soon wore a wet face and Saffron could not help giggle at the silliness of it all.  Behind her, she could hear a tut.

“See,” said Stephen Number Four, “look at his nose.  If he’s walking into walls that hard he needs to see a doctor!”

“Or a Psychiatrist,” agreed Stephen Number Fifteen.

“What I don’t understand,” said Stephen Number Two, “is why one of them even needs a ladder.  I mean,” he went on, “what’s he going to lean it on?  We’re in a tent!”

“And, how’s he going to climb up it with feet that big?”  Asked Stephen Number Eleven, not unreasonably.  And then it happened.  One of the clowns appeared on stage carrying a custard pie.  Saffron could sense a further cooling and heating of the atmosphere behind her.  The clown with the custard pie approached one of his companions and squashed the pie right in his face.  Saffron felt the heat behind her reach boiling point.

“Enough!”  Shouted Stephen Number Ten.  “I can’t take ia moment more of this utter…nonsense!”  The fifteen other of the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew all looked at the enraged ghost (as did Saffron and Natty).  Stephen Number Ten thrust an accusing arm toward the clowns performing on stage, who were, obviously, completely oblivious to the uproar occurring be seats B23 and B24.  “Every time we come to the circus, we see clowns belittling and defiling the artistry that is the throwing of the custard pie!  Every time we come to the circus, all we ever see is a pie thrust into the face of an expectant accomplice!  Where’s the style?  Where’s the élan?  Where’s the panache?  Where’s the fun in that?  It’s easy to go up to someone and shove a pie in their face, see,” to demonstrate, Stephen Number Ten floated over to a clown and shoved a pie in the clown’s face.  The clown was a little taken aback.  “How much more skilful, more expertise to measure the arc of flight, the pace and power required, the trajectory to be traced?”  Stephen Number Ten rose into the air as he spoke, wild gestures and sweeps of the arm accompanied each sentence; his head swung back to and fro, in real danger of loosening off his neck and careering through the air.  He produced a pie, twirled it a few times and then threw it in a beautifully defined parabolic arc, splatting straight into the face of the clown he’d just shoved a pie into.  The clown was taken aback again; he hadn’t factored on being hit by pies during this part of his performance.  He began to look around nervously, checking to see whether any other errant custard pies were en route.  A pained and tortured look cast itself across Stephen Number Ten’s eyes.  How could his beloved custard pies be treated with such disdain?  “I can take it no more.”  He concluded, “I am aghast at the treatment of the pie.”

“You ‘a ghost’ upset at the treatment of the pie,” Stephen Number Twelve corrected him, but Stephen Number Twelve was ignored.

“That clown did not even have the good grace to say ‘food fight’,” said Stephen Number Ten, in very measured tones.  There were murmurings of agreement through the chorus of Stephens.  “And everyone knows,” said Stephen Number Ten, his incredulity expanding to a factor of eleven, “that whenever a pie is used in a face smearing fashion, the words ‘food’ and ‘fight’ shall be used, yay, verily and foresooth, t’was ever thus and ever thus shalt be!”  The ghosts applauded Stephen Number Ten.

“Huzzah!  Hurrah! And Gadzooks!”  They chanted.  Stephen Number Three went so far as to shout out the unfortunate phrase, “You tell ‘em like it really actually is, Stephen baby!”  Andrew shook his head in amused disbelief.

“Tell them?”  Said Stephen Number Ten in response, “Tell them?  I shall do more than merely tell them.”  Stephen Number Ten floated out into the middle of the circus ring.  “I believe the words I am looking for are ‘FOOD’ and ‘FIGHT’!”  Custard pies appeared in the furious ghost’s hands, they whizzed through the air and hit two clowns in their faces.  The clowns were shocked.  They knew the script, they weren’t supposed to get pied today; they were expecting some gloop down their trousers and a bucket of confetti to be thrown over them.  The last thing they expected were pies to the face; especially pies that materialised out of nowhere and splatted them in the face!

“FOOD FIGHT!”  Stephen Number Ten shouted again.  The remainder of the Sixteen Stephens piled over the top of the barrier surrounding the circus ring and began to fling their custardy wares.  The clowns were at sixes and sevens, which was odd because there were only six of them so quite how they became “and sevens” is anyone’s guess!  Pie after pie flew through the air and hit its mark.  The clowns were a mess of yellowy custard and golden pastry.  Whichever way they turned a pie was hurtling towards them.  The audience were roaring with laughter.  The couldn’t quite see where the pies were coming from but they could certainly see where the pies were landing…and they were landing right on the heads, faces and bodies of the clowns.  The bewildered look of the clowns added to the comedy.  Their flustered movements and searches for cover added to the fun.  One managed to get the door to the car up in front of him.  Stephen Number Twelve wound down the window and launched a pie through it!  One managed to put up an umbrella with no covering on its spines.  It was a pitiful gesture and one that didn’t help him one jot, pie after pie landed on him.  Stephen Number Five floated over to another of the clowns and flung pie after pie down his stupidly wide waisted trousers: so much so that the clown could hardly move his legs.  He slumped to the ground; custard seeped from out of the top of his shoes and over the top of his waistband.  The Sixteen Stephens were giving vent to the fury of a fair few years’ worth of circus visits and the crowd were completely enamoured with the resulting chaos.  Eventually, the clowns, exhausted and defeated by these mysteriously appearing custardy comestibles, slumped in a pile in the middle of the circus ring.  A small arc of water jetted out of a flower on one of their lapels and a small honk was emitted from a clown’s nose.  The audience rose as one and gave them an ovation like they’d never received before.  The Sixteen Stephens stood around the clump of clowns, pies at the ready.

“That’s for not treating the custard pie with the respect it deserves!”  Exclaimed Stephen Number Ten.

“And for having noses that should have by now received some sort of medical treatment!”  Yelled Stephen Number Four.

“And for having oddly shaped feet!”
“Yeah, although I reckon that’s not the real shape of their feet!”

“Yeah… Well, they should have thought about that before coming out in public then!”
“Yeah!”
“Yeah, and they should get trousers that fit properly!”
“Yeah, and a car with a decent warrant of fitness!”  There was now an element of confusion in the ghosts’ ranks.  It felt like they were losing their focus.  All eyes turned to Stephen Number Ten.  His cheeks weren’t glowing quite so fiercely as they had been.  He wore a look of triumph instead.  Stephen Number Ten gave the signal.  Each of the ghosts flung their last pie.  The clowns wore one last pie to the face and then there was a blackout.

The clowns were soon a custardy mess!

In the confusion that followed, which included much harrumphing from the clowns, shrugging from the flummoxed Ringmaster and a few finger clicks from Andrew, the circus ring was restored to its former shimmering gold, pink and silver glory and the show went on.  Saffron and Natty looked in astonishment at the sixteen ghosts who had returned to their seats via the hot dog stand and who were now all contentedly tucking into their sausage in a bun.  Except for Stephen Number Eight who was tucking into his sausage in a bun, his burger in a bun, a pottle of chips, some popcorn, some candyfloss, an ice-lolly and a mega-sized bucket of fizz.  Stephen Number Eight burped.  Contentedly.  Saffron and Natty shook their heads and turned back to the circus.  On stage a somewhat overawed magician was trying to get the show back on track.  He knew something was amiss but couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.  A few rabbits out of hats and flowers from up the sleeve and doves from out of the toaster (a quite unique variation on a theme), and a bunting of underpants from out his trousers later and the crowd were laughing and applauding as they always were.  The circus was a thundering success and the finale of the human cannonball went down a right treat.

*

Saffron and Bruno and Natty sat in the attic and watched the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew as they went about their walking through walls practice.  The circus had been the talk of the town; it had definitely been the talk of the classroom.  Saffron and Natty’s friends had spoken about nothing else all day.  The most talked about part of the circus show, of course, had been the clowns and the marvellous trickery and technology that had been used to launch all those custard pies into the circus ring.  The pupils in class and Mr Dressing were all agog at the rehearsal that must have gone into the performance.  Mr Dressing could not believe the skill of the clowns who seemed to be in the perfect spot to receive the pie to the face, to the back of the head or down the trousers on each and every occasion.  Only Rachel, who had not been able to go to the performance, had an idea as to what had actually happened.  A couple of knowing looks between the three girls had let her know she was right.

The bump of the noses and sound the ouches wound around the room.  Andrew exhorted his charges to feel the wall absorb through them and to feel themselves become one with the walls.  It never worked of course; the Sixteen Stephens just kept getting redder noses.  Absentmindedly, Stephen Number Ten spun a custard pie on his finger as he, repeatedly, walked into the wall.  He didn’t appear to mind that his nose was getting as red as a clown’s today.  Saffron smiled at her ghostly friend.  He flicked the pie into the air and deftly transferred it from one hand to the other as he moved.  He really did love the art of the custard pie: there was, indeed, so much more to it than merely shoving one in someone’s face.  There was style, there was panache, there was flamboyance, there was the satisfaction of seeing a well-aimed pie fly through the air and splatter just sweetly on the face of the recipient.  Saffron smiled again and gave Bruno a big cwtch.