"Yes, I see."
"About the van, it's out in back, up on blocks. It's no good to me. It had an engine overhaul just before Tim died. it might need some more work, I don't know." She named a price.
The van was in the barn behind the house. There were pigeon droppings on the cab, and a starred hole in the windshield. The trailer had one door in the side, and no windows. Because of the dropped frame, there was a center section almost twelve feet high; in the front and rear, over the wheels, Gene found that he had about a foot of headroom. The floor and the steps were carpeted in greasy-looking green shag. The bed was set crosswise in the front, next to a discouraged brown loveseat. The dinette table and two chairs were in the center section; one of the chairs was giant-sized. In the rear were the gas range, aluminum sink, refrigerator, toilet, and shower.
He gave her a check for a thousand dollars more than she had asked for. She took it, but her expression told him that she thought he was crazy. She gave him the address of the firm in Augusta where the van had been converted; he went there and talked to a salesman in the shop. "Well, sir, I'd say you want the engine and transmission checked over, and then new plugs, tires, fan belt. The body, now, that ought to be all right."
Gene told him about the hole in the windshield; the salesman made a note. "Yes, sir, we'll take care of that for you, and we'll look at the plumbing and wiring. About the inside, did you want some new carpeting? Maybe furniture? Might be a little wore-out by now."
Gene agreed to everything: new custom furniture, appliances, cabinets, and fixtures. The salesman's cheerfulness increased with each item until his round, honest face shone with pleasure. At last he retired to his office and came back with a long written estimate. Gene wrote him a check. The salesman was actually rubbing his hands; Gene had read about this in books but had never seen it, "Well, Mr. Davis, we'll have her all ready for you by the first of March, and I promise you won't know the old van."
The van was ready on March tenth. Gene hired a driver to take him to Lake Brantley, then another, on the twenty-seventh, to drive him to the carnival winter quarters.
The carnival lot, muddier than ever, was crowded with trucks, semitrailers, and equipment of all kinds. Workmen were busy around a half-assembled Ferris wheel. Two men walked by carrying a long plank between them. Gene put his head out the window. "Can you show us where to park?"
One of the men said, "Hell, I don't know. Over there, I guess."
"My name is John Davis. Will you tell Mr. Ducklin I'm here?"
"Okay."
Gene paid off the driver, sat in the trailer and waited. After half an hour someone put his head in at the open door. It was a young man in a leather jacket; he had sleek brown hair and a friendly, humorous face.
"Hello, Mr. Davis? My name's Mike Wilcox, I'm the talker for the sideshow."
"Come in. The place is a mess."
Wilcox climbed into the trailer and cast an appraising glance around. "Your first time with the carnival?"
"Yes."
"Well, the main thing is not to carry anything you don't absolutely need. It's amazing what you can do without. You'll get the hang of it, though. Are you nervous?"
"A little."
"Not to worry. Being a sideshow attraction is the easiest thing there is in a carnival. You don't have to do anything, you just are, sort of like the Grand Canyon. 'Freak' is the word they use here, but it's not a putdown, you know, a freak is a member of the upper class, because not everybody can be one. You won't worry about that, will you?"
"No."
"Good. Now you've got your rings all right, have you, and your photographs?"
"Yes, they're in those cartons over there. Are you English?"
"Yes, Birmingham, how did you know?"
"Have you been with the carnival long?"
"Three seasons. I like it, I really do. Ducklin's a dear man, and they're all good people here."
"Would you like a beer, or some coffee?"
"Thanks, I can't stay. I did just want to talk to you for a moment and give you an idea what you're in for. We've got five attractions in the string joint at present, not counting myself -- the Fat Lady, the Lizard Man, the Two-Headed Calf, the Sword Swallower, and you. The Sword Swallower has a routine of course, and that's easy on me; I just have to introduce her and she does her act. Now in your case, all you've got to do is sit there, and stand up when I ask you to, and I'll do the usual sort of spiel. What name do you want to use?"
"It doesn't matter. John Davis is all right."
"No, Davis won't do. Too short. How about, let's see, how about Callaghan? John Callaghan. No, doesn't have the right flow somehow. Pettibone would be good, but for a midget, not a giant."
"They used to call me Shorty in New York," Gene said.
"That's okay in fun, but not for the carnival. Let's see, John Wallingford. John Waterman. I want the three syllables. John Corrigan, too Irish. John Kimberley, Kimberley, I think that's got it. Sounds massive and dignified. What do you say?"
"All right with me."
"Okay, that's settled. Now you can't do an accent, I suppose, so we'll have to make you American."
"I thought I didn't have to talk?"
"People will be coming up to buy the rings, and the photos; you'll have to say a few words now and then, and you don't want to sound like a fake. So, let's see, suppose we make you from someplace like Wyoming. The wide-open spaces. Um, yes, I can work this up. Son of a rancher, and so on. Of course, if you have anything else in mind -- "
"No, that's all right."
"Now, there's one thing you ought to know. In the carnival, nobody ever asks you who you really are or where you come from."
"I'm sorry."
"No, not a complaint. I don't mind a bit myself, and plenty of people will tell you their life histories if you let them, but it's one of the rules that you don't ask. Actually it's one of the things I like about the carnival. Sort of like not having to show your passport."
"Yes, I see."
Wilcox gave him a keen look. "You're a bit down, aren't you?"
"A little, maybe. I'll get over it."
"Of course you will. Now I've got to move on, but if all goes well we'll have a run-through this afternoon, over in that direction, probably about three o'clock. Oh, one more thing -- you'll be needing a driver, and I think I've got one for you, a young man who works on the loop-the-loop. I'll send him round and you can make whatever arrangement you like with him." With a smile and a wave, he was gone.
At three o'clock he found Wilcox and a little group of people standing in a comparatively dry corner of the field. Behind them was a row of chairs, one of which was already occupied by a woman of astounding size; sitting down, she looked as broad as she was tall. Her small head, perched on top of this overflowing mound of flesh, looked as if it belonged to someone else. Her face was soft and sweet. The chair she sat in was a massive wooden construction, much heavier than Gene's, which had been set up at the end of the row; the rest were folding aluminum chairs with plastic webbed seats.
Wilcox saw him and waved him over. "Just in time," he said cheerfully. "Big John, I'd like you to meet the rest of our little troupe. This is Irma LeFever, our fire eater and sword swallower." Irma was a tall young woman, slender and blonde in a T-shirt and blue jeans; she smiled and took Gene's hand for a moment. "Welcome to the show," she said.
"This is Ed Parlow, the Lizard Man." A gray-faced, scholarly-looking man of about forty, dressed in a gray silk robe, nodded, but kept his hands in his pockets. "And this is Betty Ann Forster, our Fat Lady.' She smiled and nodded.
"Now what we'll do," said Wilcox, "is just run through for timing. Irma and I will do the bally, but we can skip that. The order will be Irma, then me with some clever card tricks and feats of prestidigitation, then the Fat Lady, the Lizard Man, the Two-Headed Calf, and finally our new giant, Big John Kimberley. What I'd like you to do is just to take your places while I'm doing the act that comes ahead of you. Before and after you can stand here and watch if you like -- John, this may be your last chance to see the others perform."