Flight of a Starling. Lisa Heathfield

not helping.’ Rob stares at him.

      ‘It’s not your daughters at risk, Rob,’ Da says.

      ‘But we’ve worked on it,’ Rob reassures him. ‘It won’t go wrong.

      ‘Won’t it?’

      ‘We’re ready for it,’ I tell Da. ‘We want to do it.’ I look at Rita and she nods.

      ‘Why are you so worried this time?’ Ma asks him.

      ‘Because we haven’t practised enough,’ Da answers. ‘This is the first time with the actual bowl and he wants us to perform it in a couple of days.’

      ‘You’ve got to trust me,’ Rob insists. ‘It’ll be worth it.’

      Ernest looks at Da steadily. ‘It might be pushing it for us,’ he says, ‘but that doesn’t mean it’s not safe. It’s just new.’ His wiry hair is pulled back in a ponytail, but stray bits still crackle out from his forehead. The teasing that he can’t be Spider’s da, not looking so different, sometimes touches too much on true.

      ‘We’ll be OK, Da,’ Rita says, linking her arm through his. ‘You’re just getting nervous in your old age.’

      ‘Who are you calling old?’ The smile he has can’t cut out the worry, but it’s enough for us to know he’s backing down.

      ‘Nerves are our enemy,’ Ernest reminds him.

      But they’re my friend too. They hold me before every jump. They’re by my side and never really let me go, sending sparks through me and making my smile real.

      ‘I think we should trust Rob,’ I say.

      ‘Yes,’ Sarah says. She’s desperate to impress, to be the centre of the performance.

      ‘Right then,’ Rob says quickly. ‘Let’s try it out.’

      We follow him and Ernest as they push the motorbikes to the edge of the ring door curtains.

      ‘So,’ Rob says, ‘Lo, remember you’re not happy as the changeling, you want to get back to your world. That’s the feeling you’ve got to get across to the audience.’

      I catch Rita’s eye and pull a face.

      ‘It’s not funny, Lo,’ Rob says seriously. ‘Just going through the motions isn’t enough. You’ve got to actually feel it, make the audience really believe.’

      ‘Yes, boss.’

      ‘I’m not the boss.’

      ‘He certainly isn’t,’ Ernest says. ‘He’s just a young pretender.’ But there’s warmth in his voice. Most flatties who join us only stay for a few months, but Rob has been with us four years and he’s woven to our circus fabric now.

      ‘You ready, fairy queen?’ I ask Rita.

      ‘Of course,’ she smiles, before she puts on her helmet, clicking it firmly into place.

      Rob and Ma sit on one motorbike. They pull down their black visors together, blocking themselves off from us. Da stands to the side with Sarah and Ash, watching as Rita and I climb on to the other bike behind Ernest. I have to crouch at the back and steady myself, before I pull my own helmet over my head.

      Immediately, the sounds are numbed. Inside it, the world shrinks to just me.

      Ernest turns to us. ‘Ready?’

      ‘Yes.’ I think the word stays trapped in the mask and so I nod.

      ‘Ten laps, then Rita, you jump on to Rob’s motorbike. Two more, then it’s you, Lo. They’re quick, so count. Don’t forget,’ he says. ‘OK?’ And I nod before he pulls down his visor.

      We’ve been over and over it and it’s locked in my mind. Still, I run through it, the exact pressure from my feet, where my hands must be.

      Rob and Ernest start the engines, filling the big top with the noise of the bikes. I hold Rita tight as we race and tip to the edge of the wall down into the bowl. From here, it’s beautiful, a perfect crater, a metal web for the future audience to see through.

      We drop into it and the speed is instant. One lap. Ma and Rob rush past us, head on, the fronts of our bikes almost scraping. Two laps. If I reached out, I could touch them. Three. I count as the wheels leap up above the edge, a mirror to them, air beneath us. My blood has become fire. I count the rest of the laps, each one burning adrenaline deeper into me.

      Rob comes close and Rita leaps on to their bike. I’m not meant to look, but I do. For long seconds the noise cradles her, before she’s caught by Ma and she’s safe.

      One more lap.

      ‘Go!’ I hear Ernest shout.

      I don’t have time to think, only jump in the way Rob’s taught me, enough to reach them.

      In one breath, everything is washed silent, before the world is back and I land behind Rita.

      But I’ve misjudged it. I know as soon as my foot hits the seat that it’s in the wrong place, the bike will unbalance. It tips too far to the side and Rita falls. Ma swings out an arm for her, but Rita crashes on to the metal and spins away from us.

      I try to jump for her, but Ma grabs me. She holds me until the bike stops on the ledge and I see Rita, curled too far away. We run and when I get to her there’s blood on my sister, twisting in ribbons up her arm. I try to say her name, but my breathing swallows it.

      Ash stands motionless as Ma kneels next to her and Da is taking the helmet gently from her head. Rita’s eyes are open. Her curls are smeared against her skin and shock is covering her face, but she’s breathing. The world starts ticking again as I take off my helmet.

      ‘Rita?’ I crouch down, scared to touch her.

      ‘It went a bit wrong,’ she smiles weakly, her words lopsided.

      ‘Does anything hurt apart from your arm?’ Da asks her. She shakes her head. ‘And can you move your legs?’

      ‘Yes,’ she replies. So he puts his arms under her, carefully lifts her and carries her quickly up the edge of the crater. Now I hold my sister’s hand. The skin from her shoulder to her elbow is grazed and packed with blood.

      ‘Your arm’s a mess,’ I tell her.

      ‘At least it’s not my face.’

      ‘Not the face,’ I say. And her laughter is enough.

      We don’t light the barrel fire. It feels wrong to do it until Rita is back safe with us. Instead, we sit in Ernest and Helen’s van, waiting for more news.

      ‘Why haven’t they phoned again?’ Rob is pacing up and down through the centre of us all.

      ‘It doesn’t mean anything is wrong,’ Ernest says. ‘Just that they’ll be busy.’ I know he’s saying the words for me too, using ones that I need to hear. Spider and I were born within days of each other, so his parents treat me almost like their own.

      ‘And she’s not concussed,’ Helen says. ‘Ray said they just need to check that nothing’s broken.’

      I imagine the camera looking through to my sister’s bones and in my mind I make them a smooth white, with no chips or cracks.

      ‘She’ll be OK, Lo,’ Spider tells me, squeezing my hand.

      ‘It’s not your fault, Rob,’ Ernest tells him. ‘Things go wrong.’

      ‘Rita could’ve died,’ Rob says.

      ‘But she didn’t,’ I remind him. He shouldn’t feel guilty about this. He only pushes us because he wants our circus to survive. ‘You made her wear the helmet. You made us all do that, so in a way you saved her.’

      ‘I’m not sure your da will see it like that,’ Ash says. He’s ripping little shreds of white