Flight of a Starling. Lisa Heathfield

us too much to put us in real danger.’ Lo told me how he paced up and down last night, his thoughts filled with me.

      ‘Are you definitely all right to perform?’ Lo asks, serious now. Blame isn’t a word we use in our circus, but deep inside her I can tell that guilt still flickers.

      ‘Course,’ I say. ‘Besides, it’s only set-up today.’

      ‘You’re not to do any heavy lifting,’ Da tells me.

      ‘I’d better look after her then,’ Lo tries, but Da just clips her gently round the head.

      ‘You, Miss Lolita, will have to work twice as hard.’

LO

      With set-up finally finished, Rita and I go to find the barrel fire. Rob is already there in the darkness sitting on his stool, Spider on the carved log next to him. Sarah sits cross-legged on the grass, watching as Ash throws some wood in and pokes at the flames with a stick.

      ‘I’m just saying, he shouldn’t have done it,’ Rob says.

      ‘Who’s done what?’ I ask, unhooking Rita’s arm from mine. Rob moves up for us and we sit next to him on the stretch of log by the warm.

      ‘You don’t need to know,’ Spider says.

      ‘I don’t need to, but I want to,’ I say, yet his silence is the only answer I get.

      The dark edges of the park sit behind us, watching the back of my jacket sewn with a dragon’s head, its fire-breath winding up my sleeve.

      Tips of orange burn out of the barrel as Ash sits down.

      ‘When you going to be my bride, Rita?’ he asks as he does every time.

      ‘Never,’ she replies.

      I laugh. ‘You will, Rites.’

      Rob chuckles and spits at his feet.

      ‘Are you coming to see the town with us?’ Spider asks him.

      ‘I’ll leave you younger ones to enjoy it alone tonight,’ Rob says.

      ‘You’re not much older,’ Rita tells him, tipping her head slightly as she looks at him. When Rob joined us, I couldn’t tell his age. He slipped between us and our parents and I know he’s really settled somewhere in between.

      ‘Ready to go?’ Ash asks, his eyes only for Rita.

      ‘Maybe,’ she says, although she knows she will. We have to explore. If we didn’t, I tell her, our souls will shrivel up and die.

      ‘Should you go out with your arm still bad?’ Rob asks her.

      ‘It’s loads better already,’ she says, giving him a smile to wash away his guilt.

      ‘Can I come?’ Sarah asks, wide-eyed in the flame light.

      ‘You shouldn’t even still be awake.’ Ash ruffles his sister’s hair and she ducks away from him, making it neat again.

      ‘It won’t be long before you join us,’ I tell her.

      ‘And you’re not exactly missing much,’ Rita adds.

      ‘Don’t be late back,’ Rob says, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees. The fire-shine catches on one cheek, the other in shadow. ‘It’ll be an early start.’ He picks up a leaf and starts slowly shredding it, dropping each section to the ground when he’s done.

      ‘We won’t be,’ Rita says.

      I stretch my legs out in front of me, my arms straight to the solid black sky. The warm from the fire touches the line of my bare belly, between my top and my jeans.

      ‘It’s endless up there,’ I say, as my bracelets clink down on each other. They sound like stars falling.

      ‘We should get going then,’ Ash says. He stands up and puts his hands out towards Rita. She lets him pull her to her feet, but won’t keep her fire-warmed palm in his.

      ‘Sure you don’t want to come?’ Spider asks Rob.

      ‘I’m staying here,’ he says, still staring into the flames.

      ‘Suit yourself,’ I say, grabbing Spider’s hand to pull myself up. ‘See you later.’

      We walk across the darkening grass, Rita linking her arm through mine. Two boys cut close nearby on bikes, caps low on their heads. They stare at us for too long and I wonder if our circus blood somehow sits on the outside of our skin. Spider starts to walk more quickly, so we stay with him and Ash until we’re by the road and we follow the way the few cars are headed as they thread through the night.

      ‘This place gives me the creeps,’ Rita says.

      ‘It’s OK,’ I say.

      ‘Nah. There’s something rotten in the air.’

      ‘You won’t think that when people pay to come and see you prancing around in your feathers,’ Ash says.

      ‘Fair enough.’

      We cross the road at the traffic lights and the shops on either side are ones we’ve seen a thousand times before. It’s too late for them to be open, but there’re still people around.

      ‘I bet they’re all ghosts,’ I say.

      ‘I don’t care, as long as they’ve lots of lova to make us rich,’ Spider says.

      ‘We’ll never be rich, Spides,’ I say. Even with Rob’s new ideas, every year less people come to see us.

      ‘It’s definitely got grimy air,’ Rita says.

      ‘We won’t be stopping long,’ I remind her.

      ‘Lil said no good was coming. Maybe it’s here that it’s going to happen,’ Rita says.

      ‘Lil spouts baloney,’ Ash reminds her and I know he’s right. Lil, with her ancient van and cards she can’t really read.

      ‘No more than you,’ she says. Ash looks hurt. He must feel like a boat cut loose – one day Rita is kissing him, the next she doesn’t want to know.

      The line of shops moves out, curving round a fountain stuck large in the concrete. It reaches high, its water tumbling in prickling lines.

      ‘There’s something nice,’ I say, pointing towards it.

      ‘The water, or the forbidden flattie boys?’ Rita asks. Sitting on the edge are three of them. They watch us as we get closer. They were talking, but now they’re quiet.

      ‘Evening,’ I say.

      ‘Evening,’ the boy nearest us says, a cap tight down over his eyes while the other two just nod.

      ‘Lost your tongues?’ I ask, but my words have no sharp edges to them.

      ‘Hi,’ the boy next to him says, his face cracked through with acne scars. I bet Lil’s cream could sort him out. The boy at the end with the stud through his ear stays silent.

      I lean over the stone ledge and put the tips of my fingers into the bubbling water. Beneath the foam is a scatter of coins. If these boys weren’t here, I know what I would be doing now.

      Spider and Ash look like they want to keep walking, but I sit down and catch my hand in the falling tracks of spray.

      The nearest boy takes off his cap and there’s an instant pull inside me. Da always told me it’s best not to look at a flattie too long, but I’ve never seen one like this. He’s got cheekbones you could balance cups on. And Ma says curls on a boy mean he’s honest, so I reckon his blood is true through and through.

      ‘You’re not from round here?’ he asks. He has hair the same deep brown as Spider’s.

      ‘No,’