“Hey. Hey.” There’s the sound of running feet, and suddenly Cale’s there, and he’s shoved the man aside. The stranger stumbles, and almost falls to the ground.
Cale impels me behind him and says in a low, deadly voice, “Is there any reason you’re touching her?”
“Calm down. I was just being friendly.”
“Fuck off you were.”
The man looks between Cale, me, and the wagons on the green, hatred and embarrassment burning in his eyes. “You lot aren’t fucking welcome here.”
Cale pulls out a knife, flips it in his hand and hurls it toward the man. It happens in a split second, and the knife sinks into a wooden sign that reads St Mary’s Church, right by his head. “You think I need your permission?”
The man jerks aside and backs off, pointing his finger at Cale. “I’ll be watching you and your lot. If anything’s stolen I won’t call the police. We’ll fucking sort you out ourselves, pikey scum.”
“Stop using that horrible word,” I scream at him.
“Looks like a pikey. Stinks like a pikey. It’s a fucking pikey.”
I take a step toward him, with the intention to do what I have no idea because he’s twice my size, but Cale catches my arm and holds me back.
“It’s all right. Let him go,” Cale mutters.
The man laughs hearing this, and strides off toward the pub, swaggering like he’s just won a fight. I hate that he’s acting like he’s won. That he’s better than us. A crowd has gathered. I realize that they’ve been there all along. Not to help us, but to stare.
I swipe at the tears on my face, hiccupping with despair and rage. A woman catches my eye and I call out to her, “Get a good look? Enjoy the show?”
She quickly averts her eyes, as if she’s ashamed. She should be ashamed.
Cale turns me toward him, peering into my face and pushing my hair back. “Are you all right?”
“I thought that was Dad,” I say, tears spilling afresh down my face. “Something about his silhouette, or he’s just been on my mind lately.”
I start to sob brokenly, and Cale pulls me against him, rubbing comforting circles on my back. “I’ve got you. Just breathe. It’s all right.”
I bury my face into his familiar warmth, taking deep breaths between sobs and trying to slow my panicked heartbeat. “The further south we go, the more afraid I become.”
“We’re going a different way this year. I diverted us this afternoon, and we won’t be passing your old home.”
I look up at him, confused, as I sniffle my way back to composure. I glance around at the village. “Is that why people here don’t like us? Because they don’t know us?”
Cale presses his lips together and doesn’t answer my question. He takes me by the hand and leads me over to where Elke, Anouk and everyone else in the circus has gathered.
Holding my hand, he calls to everyone, “Pack up. We’re moving on.”
There are nods of agreement and they all turn to their wagons and horses and start to load up what little has been unpacked. Everyone but Elke and Anouk, who are still watching me with worried expressions.
I turn to Cale. “We don’t have to leave. There’s meant to be a show tomorrow. We should—”
He takes my face between his hands. “You think we’re going to stay one second in a place where you don’t feel safe? There’s a common a few miles from here. We’ll camp there tonight, and move on to the next town in the morning.”
The ferocity in his gaze tells me he’s not going to be persuaded. He pulls me into his arms again and I melt against him, drawing all the warmth and comfort from his arms that I can. Then he leaves me with Elke and Anouk, and we get our wagon and Dandelion ready.
It’s getting dark as we trail out of the town, a somber mood hanging over the circus. We’ve never not been welcomed before, and I can’t help but feel this is all my fault. Because of me, we’re going to towns where people aren’t expecting us. Now we’re being greeted with hostility and malice. I’ve been in a happy bubble for so long I’ve forgotten that some people don’t like or trust us.
At our new campground, a deserted, treeless stretch of public land, I sit sunk in unhappiness by the fire. There’s lentil curry for dinner, but I feel sick as I watch people eat, and I go to bed instead.
The next afternoon we arrive in another town, and I’m aware of cool stares and judgmental expressions. I’m self-conscious about my frayed jeans and messy plaited hair, and the fact that we’re all sitting around a fire eating from tin plates. I’ve never felt like this before. I hate that I’m being made to feel ashamed just because we’re different.
When Elke, Anouk and I go out into the streets the next morning to sell tickets, people seem to give us more up-and-downs, and some whisper to each other and turn away. Still, we manage to sell all the tickets.