Adam and I split summer of ’52. We’d been taking each other for granted, being together out of habit, not really connecting anymore. And he hated when I was drinking.
‘You get drunk and maudlin, talk around your past – never about it.’
‘Don’t pry,’ I said, ‘leave me be.’
‘You need to talk about it.’
‘Don’t tell me what I need.’
I ended it before he could. He didn’t speak to me for weeks after, but I hardly saw him anyway, as he was involved in Freaks and Wonders and I was busy clowning. It was strange going back to my caravan in the evenings now he wasn’t there. I met up with mum and dad for a weekly evening drink, and I started going round to Marv’s with Ali and Paul and drank with them a couple of nights a week. They were all about fifteen years older than me and they’d fought in the war – Ali and Paul had been in the army with dad, and Marv was in the RAF. Ali and Paul barely spoke about it, but Marv regaled us with tales of derring-do and womanising. When Marv wasn’t with us in the evenings he was off wooing one of the glitter girls and he’d tell us all about it the next day, ‘That Laura, she was something else – kept me up all night.’ He didn’t seem to care I was a woman. At first I thought their easy acceptance was because of Mad and James, but we hit it off and they enjoyed my crazy stories about the London ghosts and my collection of animals.
I wasn’t with anyone for the next few years; just brief flings here and there. Mum and dad had rules, the main one being that we weren’t to fraternize with any locals when we stopped off, though I know many did. The second rule was that if we had affairs, it wasn’t to affect our work. The third was that there were no unplanned pregnancies; contraception was provided and every child was given sex education. If any performers wanted children, they informed mum and dad, giving them time to plan so that performances didn’t suffer. The circus was one big family and mum and dad encouraged everyone to help with the children.
It wasn’t until ’55 that I was in another serious relationship, when I fell for another angel. Angelina was a glitter girl, one of the aerialists who worked with mum. Everyone called her Glitter Queen when she became one of our big stars with fans clamouring for her autograph after shows. When she took part in the parades through the towns she’d wear wings. She was a dream.
I went to watch her rehearse whenever I had the time. She was another fiery angel – all temper and expletives when practice didn’t go well, no patience if anyone dared to disagree with her. I must have been watching her work for weeks when she came over to me after rehearsal.
‘Jesus!’ she said. ‘You saw that, right? If he doesn’t pull his fucking weight the whole act will fall apart. I need a drink – you coming?’
I went back to her caravan and sat on her bed as she told me about her trouble with Dave.
‘He’s got a problem with me just because I turned him down. What are we – school children? Jesus!’
She didn’t seem to mind that I was there as she peeled off her tights and unclipped her bra. She stood naked in-front of the mirror, taking her hair out of a bun, brushing it and tying it back. She pulled a towel around her and said, ‘Just getting a quick shower, hang around will you? Help yourself.’ She pointed to the whisky on her dresser.
We lay on her bed, drinking late into the evening. She finally moved on from the trouble with Dave and told me about growing up in poverty in Manchester, said her parents had tried to marry her off to an old man with money, ‘so when your circus came I stowed away. I’m lucky your parents took me on.’
‘We’re the lucky ones – you’re our star.’
‘All thanks to your mum,’ she said raising her glass, ‘taking a chance, taking the time to train me.’
‘Mad knows potential when she sees it,’ I said, clinking glasses with her.
I took a drink, but Angelina just looked at me, eyes narrowed and said, ‘How long have you been watching me for?’
I swallowed the whisky and coughed. ‘I don’t know,’ I said.
‘It’s been weeks, right?’
‘I was just—’
‘Were you ever going to make a move? Or just watch me from a distance?’
She leaned in, kissed me and that was us – Goblin-clown and Glitter Queen, the gossip of the circus.
We met up every evening, talking about our childhoods, discussing rehearsals, drinking and fucking into the night.
‘My first love was an Angel,’ I said. ‘Just like you – all fire and brimstone.’
But our relationship was more tempestuous; I’d get jealous as she flirted with her fans, convinced I was going to lose her to one of the men who showered her with gifts. She did interviews for magazines, telling them she was single and just waiting ‘for the right man.’
‘Are you ashamed of me?’ I said.
‘Of course not, G. It’s all publicity – I’d lose my fans if they knew we were together.’
The clown troupe changed towards me when they found out I was with Angelina. They didn’t do or say anything overt, but I could see there was something up the way the glanced at each other whenever I mentioned her, and when I joined them for drinks I could tell they didn’t want me there anymore. I didn’t know what to do; there was nothing I could point to that had really changed and I knew they’d just deny it, so I went on as if everything was fine. Our work didn’t suffer – we were still a great team, so I decided to leave it, thinking it would eventually all work out.
Dave, the aerialist who’d been giving Angelina trouble, called me over one morning. He waved a magazine at me, pointing to one of her interviews.
‘Are you man enough for her, Goblin? Do you have what it takes?’ he said and grabbed at his groin, grinning at me. I wanted to hurt him, but I didn’t stand a chance, so I clenched my fists and stalked away, listening to him laugh.
I told her and I thought she’d be on side, given the trouble she’d had with him, but all she said was, ‘Ah, just ignore him, G, he’s a child.’ And when I wouldn’t let it go she said she had no patience for my ‘neurotics’.
I can’t count the times we’d fight and split up and be back together again by morning. I enjoyed the drama of it at first, but we were together for over four years and it started to wear me down; whenever anyone in the circus glanced my way I would prickle, already defensive, sure I knew what they were thinking about me, about us. It was too much to be in the fishbowl; I loved when we went home over the Christmas period. Angelina and I would hole up together, enjoying being away from the noise and stress of circus life. Over Christmas and New Year ’58 and ’59 we watched Quatermass and the Pit, gripped by the unfolding story of Martians and genetically modified humans, but then Angelina teased me when I had to stop watching because it gave me nightmares.
She gave me Frankenstein by Mary Shelley for Christmas. When I opened it I wanted to throw it back in her face. It’s David who should have given me the book. He had said he would and Angelina had ruined it.
‘What’s wrong?’ said Angelina.
‘Nothing.’
‘You told me you loved the films. You said you’d never read it, so I thought—’
‘I loved the films when I was a kid, that’s all.’
I apologised later, telling her it reminded me of the past and I didn’t want to think of the past anymore. She kept on about it, though, just like Adam – grilling me about the past, about David and why I was searching for him. She couldn’t just let it be. And I was growing tired of things always being so uncertain, sad that I no longer felt at ease in the circus, so I ended it, spring of ’59. There was a hubbub just after we split, but it died down and it felt like things were back to normal – no more eyes on me, no more razor tongues.