Through the fog, Ned could barely make out the âNO ENTRYâ sign to Grittlesbyâs pedestrianised shopping arcade and the two metal bollards at its sides.
âDad, weâre not going to make it!â
âOh yes we are, my boy, oh yes we are!â
Their beloved old car hurtled through the barrier and there was a loud tearing noise as both of the Morris Minorâs wing mirrors were ripped off. Ned looked out the rear window to see Moâs van screech to a sudden halt as it crashed into the bollards. At the other end of the arcade, their path was blocked by an even larger barrier, that Ned was sure not even his newly crazed father would try and break through. Terry went quiet, looking left and right, then left again.
âHold on to your seat, son.â
Nedâs dad slammed the gearstick into reverse and spun the wheel. The old Morris Minor flew backwards, turning wildly up a narrow one-way street. Faster and faster the car sped, crossing one then two intersections, and then another. Ned now had no doubt that his father had gone mad when the car hit a high kerb and flew into the air.
In that moment of free fall, Ned saw his life flash before him. He saw his school surrounded by a flock of Câs, his dad staring at the inner workings of a toaster, Whiskers asleep on his pillow. And Ned did the only thing he could think of.
âArggggggghhhhhh!â
The car landed with a loud crunch. Its boot popped open sending their bags flying as smoke poured out of the engine.
It took a good thirty seconds of his dad shaking him before Ned felt ready to stop yelling.
âItâs all right, Ned, we made it!â
But Nedâs thoughts were somewhere else. âWhiskers ⦠what about Whiskers? Dad! We left him behind!â
âDonât worry about him; heâs tougher than he looks. You need to move,â said his dad, thrusting one of the black bags into Nedâs arms. âQuickly, Ned, theyâll be on us in a second.â
The thought of the clowns brought him back to the moment with a thump.
âWhere am I going? Why?â
âI was going to explain everything before the show, I wanted to prepare you, but my plans they ⦠just get to the Circus of Marvels, Ned, theyâll keep you safe.â
Ned couldnât believe what he was hearing.
âWeâre being chased by homicidal clowns and you want me to hide in a circus?â
âIâm sorry, it wasnât supposed to be this way, Iâve tried to protect you â¦â
âWhat wasnât? Dad, youâre scaring me. Whatâs happening?â
âJust get to the circus â theyâre waiting for you. Take one of the tickets, you wonât find them without it. Donât worry, Neddles, just give Benissimo the box, heâll know what to do.â
Terry grabbed the remaining ticket, tore it into shreds and started swallowing the pieces.
âWhat is going on, Dad?? How do you know these people? Where are you going? When can I come home?â
Ned could feel the tears welling in his eyes.
âYouâre going to need to be brave, son, and grown up, more grown up than Iâve ever let you be before ⦠but I will find you, Ned, I promise. Trust only Benissimo and Kitty, and donât lose sight of that box.â
âBut what does it do? Whatâs it for?â
From back the way theyâd come, still hidden in the fog, came the honk of a horn and somewhere beyond it another.
âThe clowns ⦠theyâre coming,â said his dad, now peering into the darkness. âTheyâve found me.â
âT E R R Y,â called a rasping voice, that was both ugly and near.
âRun, boy, just run!â
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The Greatest Show on Earth (#ulink_674c1880-121a-5e63-a401-3d8a2284219a)
Ned held onto his dad, tears beginning to flow down his face. How could he leave him to those monsters, with their cracked make up and glass cutting nails? It was the strength of his dadâs push that gave him his answer. Ned had no choice.
He ran in the direction he was pushed, through the thick fog, only stopping when he could run no more. He looked down at the ticket clutched in his hands. Gold letters spelled out âBENISSIMOâS CIRCUS OF MARVELSâ and underneath the words was something he recognised. A picture of an elephant with tiny wings. It was just like the one from his dream. Nothing in his little world made sense any more. How could a travelling salesman obsessed with safety be mixed up in all this, whatever âall thisâ actually was? Who were those clowns and what was the first one scratching into the glass?
When he had caught his breath, Ned set off again, half running, half stumbling deeper into the wall of fog, until suddenly he hit something hard. When he looked up, in place of the tree he was expecting was a mountainous, red-cheeked man, who looked every bit as terrifying as the clowns. Ned was too dazed to try and escape, and was still catching his breath when the mountain spoke.
âYou are boy, no?â he said, sounding decidedly Russian.
âErr, yeah â¦â At least, he thought he was. Though the last half hour had left him unsure of ⦠well, almost everything.
âI am Rocky. You are safe now, no one mek passing. De Circus has you.â
There was a gust of wind and within a few seconds the surrounding fog started to form shapes. It swirled and rolled over itself, revealing lights and an echo of music. The mountain stepped aside to reveal his fatherâs birthday surprise: BENISSIMOâS CIRCUS OF MARVELS.
It had an old, hand-carved wooden entrance, with angels at its top and pitchfork-bearing devils at its bottom. Miniature red and yellow hot-air balloons with little lanterns at their bases floated above the sign, welcoming in their visitors.
Nedâs father â safe, sensible Terry Waddlesworth â was in serious trouble, Ned was in the hands of a Russian mountain, and yet somehow, as they approached the entrance, Ned couldnât help the faintest of smiles.
A team of three, white-moustached emperor monkeys worked the crowd. They wore smart red outfits, with bellboy hats cocked to one side, one taking the admissions at the front desk, while another checked peopleâs tickets. The third monkey cranked the handle of a strange-looking machine. From its mass of brass pipes, percussion instruments and what looked to be part of a violin, came the most bizarre music. It sort of wheezed out a tune that was both fast and slow, light-hearted and melancholy.
Ned followed Rocky past the queue and into the packed grounds. His head was a riot of adrenaline, of both horror and wonder, as he took in the sights while his fatherâs name and the way the clown had snarled it still throbbed in his ears.
There seemed to be three main strips or streets, formed by gypsy caravans and painted lorries, strung together by a web of fairy lights. He could see palm readers, tests of strength, a mechanical Punch and Judy show and a hall of mirrors, outside of which, according to the sign, stood Ignatius P Littleton the third, âthe Glimmermanâ, who was a portly old gentleman covered from head to toe in tiny, rectangular mirrors.
âRoll up! Roll up!â he yelled, his suit and hat alive with reflections. âSee yourself as never before! I guarantee youâll wish you hadnât, or your money back!â
The circus folk were dressed in a mix of old styles and new. A top hat with a leather coat, gypsy bracelets and ruffled shirts under military jackets and bowler hats. Their faces were all decorated in one way or another, some with glitter, others with white face paint and a few were covered in tattoos. âCANDY MONGERâSâ sold sweets and the biggest popcorn buckets heâd ever seen, while âthe Rubbermenâ passed out helium balloons of every conceivable size and shape.
But as much as Ned marvelled at the sights and sounds, he couldnât stop thinking about the clowns out in the fog, and his dad out there with them.
âRocky, my dad said I should talk to Benissimo, do you know where he is? Can you take me to him?â
âEveryone see Benissimo, Benissimo is boss,â answered Rocky, motioning beyond the sea of faces and over to the big top.
Ned had the sense that Rocky had been waiting for him and knew at least something of his predicament, though the urgency of the situation seemed to be going over his head. He hoped that, for all Rockyâs enigmatic comments, he was taking Ned where he needed to be. As they waded through the crowd, Ned had an odd sensation. It wasnât that anyone was looking straight at him, but it felt like there was someone out there watching from the shadows, from the nooks and crannies of the tents and trailers. Then just as suddenly as the feeling had started, it stopped. It was then that Ned noticed something else. He didnât recognise anyone in the crowd, not a single soul, and yet they all seemed to know each other, giving the occasional nod or stopping to shake hands. Ned realised that he hadnât seen a single circus poster or ad in any of the usual spots around town. In a place like Grittlesby, a visiting circus was news, so why werenât they publicised? Where had they all come from and who were they?