Andytown by David Louden

Tonight, a strong man died in Belfast.

We had been on the site for three days.  Day one, up went the big tent.  The rigging, lights, safety nets and everything else that goes into putting on ‘the show’.  Day two, the dress rehearsal and an opportunity for those of us who needed it, to get clean.  A chance for those of us who needed it, to score.  Day three was opening night.  We were set up on the outskirts of Andersonstown.  Out of the way, on a plot of land that had been raised to the ground under the promise of social philanthropy only for the plans to cool and the memories to fade.  Now it’s little more than uneven concrete and free parking.  That’s how Mal got it for the week for so cheap.  It should have been a risk this far out, but people are the same everywhere.  You put enough curiosities in one place and they’ll come out of wherever they’re held up to look at them.

I was in my dressing room when the commotion began, wrapped in a duffel in front of a three-bar heater with a quart of liquor in my hand trying to fight off the chill.  When you’re the illustrated man people expect to see skin no matter the weather.  As the screams caught the wind and got dragged across the city the commotion hit its peak, then most troublingly – it stopped.  The night became deathly quiet and I eased the top back onto the bottle, slipped it into my inside pocket and exchanged the fluffy slippers for Docs in order to go see what all the fussing was about.

I exited the comfort of the trailer and into Belfast’s abyss.  Devoid of street light the tip of the big tent was only illuminated by the big fat moon that seemed to sit behind it.  I made my way there.  There was an ominousness to the silence.  I feared the worst.  Before I even got inside I was proved right.  A tight crowd of freaks of all shapes and sizes formed a circle just around the spot where the edges of the bleacher seating gave way and the tent opened up to showcase all it’s got.  I looked towards the heavens.  She was still there. Jessica sat perched on her swing some sixty feet in the air like an angel who’s tree had been snatched out from under her.  I wedged an arm between the fish boy and bearded lady and pulled them apart.

‘Step aside, c’mon move.’ I barked, before calling to the technical booth. ‘Gil, can I get some light over here.’

The ringmaster’s big one lit up then turned quickly and shot my way.  It lit up every inch of concrete, flesh and cannon glitter that was yet to be scooped up.  A spandex clad strong man with a thirty-two inch neck and periwinkle moustache lay lifeless before me.  The side of his skull was crudely parted and a one hundred-lb weight lay close enough to implicate itself in the deed.

I took a knee for a better look.  I hadn’t always been an illustrated man.  At one point, before all the ink, I had a life and a job as an insurance investigator.  When all that went away I learned that life’s circus didn’t end when the big tent came down.  Something sat clutched in the big guy’s hand.  I pointed to Fred and waved him forward.

‘Can I get a little extra light here.’

Fred took a gulp, brought the torch to his mouth and expelled a white hot lick of fire that lit up the firmly coiled fist.  It looked like cloth.  It looked like a clue.  I got to my feet and took a step back.  I looked around them all and knew what they were thinking.  We needed to handle this ourselves.  A group of freaks and oddities call in the cops and every single one of us goes down for something.  As I looked upon the eyes that stared back at me I counted seven outstanding warrants, thirteen potential drug busts ranging from C all the way to A in class, not to mention the not-quite-legal status of some of the talent and riggers.  By the time all that was written up, Norm’s death would be put on whoever looked easiest to prosecute. 

‘Nobody leaves until we get to the bottom of this.’ I said.

They nodded and the other strong man took up a spot in front of the exit.

I knelt again and dragged the fabric from between dearly departed Norm’s fingers.  Green, shiny.  Synthetic.  From within the crowd behind me I heard one of the clown’s gleefully state:

‘Looks like we’re gonna have carney court.’

‘We should call the pigs and be done with it.’ snapped the Pierced Lady.

That brought a murmur of discontent from all those with skin in the game but no voice in their heads.  The conjoined twins Milly and Molly seemingly spoke for all others.

‘The pigs?!  All they’ll see is FREAKS!’ said Molly.

‘Freaks at best.’ replied Milly. ‘At worse, we’re all drug-addled child molesters.’

That brought about a stir of satisfied mumbles from everyone.

I got to my feet and walked to the rope ladder and looked up.  Jessica wasn’t fixing on moving any time soon, and I couldn’t blame her.  She either saw what happened and was waiting it out until it was safe or she didn’t and wasn’t likely to entertain ground zero and a killer.  I swallowed dry as I took hold of the first run and realised my knuckle tattoos were offering me sound advice; HOLD FIRM.

After five long minutes I stepped off the ladder onto a steep platform that was no wider than my feet side-by-side.  The mistake of looking down was made before I could even consider otherwise and as vertigo set in and the thought of the ground rushing to meet me took hold a single bead of sweat rushed from my hairline down to my eye.  I called out to Jessica.  She turned her head to acknowledge me but did little else to make it easy on me.  A few dozen wobbly-legged steps later and I was within six feet of her.  That was enough for me.

The acoustics meant that even this high up, virtually every word came across crystal clear.

‘Why’s he away up there?’

‘He’s off to see what that stool-pigeon saw.’

‘Some of them only have their own abuses as context.’ I offered almost apologetically.

‘Not like you and me, huh Bryan?’

From the ground it looked like she was as still as a gargoyle but from up close her swing was swaying in the evening wind.  Her balance remained perfect.  I tightened my grip on both rails and attempted eye contact.

‘They’re not wrong about the police.  I need to get to the bottom of this before the lynch mob gets started down there… or worse.’

‘I didn’t see nothing.’

‘Even without the double negative I know you’re lying.  You can tell me, or you can come down and tell them.’

Jessica spun on the balls of her feet before launching herself off the swing and onto the platform; inches from my face.  My stomach rolled at the idea of the action.  I took a breath and held it and did my best to avoid betraying myself.

‘I saw Fat Mal and the big guy there arguing.’

‘What about?  And don’t say you didn’t hear.  You can hear what Gabriel is snorting from up here.’

‘The big guy–’

‘Norm.’

‘Right.  He was shouting at Mal because he wanted paid for time he was out injured.  Mal told him where to go for his sick pay, then the big… Norm… said you’ll either make it right or I’ll make you pay.  That’s when they noticed me and they went their separate ways.’

It made sense.  I believed her. And I wanted down from that death perch.  Norm had torn muscles in his back which had laid him up for nearly two months at the start of the year.  Going to Mal for sick pay made about the same amount of sense as hiring hungry cougars to babysit.  My first week with this crew I learned that the MAL in FAT MAL didn’t stand for Malachy.  His given name was Allen.  It stood for malicious prick.

The climb down took twice as long.  Every run shook and my knees threatened to give way once we reached the height that wouldn’t kill you outright.  When I planted both feet back on God’s green I forwent kissing the surface and lit a cigarette.  They all looked to me for answers.  Milly and Molly were in the ears of a few clowns and the guy who wrangled the big cats back when they were allowed to tour with folk like us.  I cut out of the tent into the dead of night and the wind, and the rain.  Thick cuts of cold rain that reminded me I could be worse off.  I could be Norm; or the poor sop that the prowl car boys would finger for the job when I ran out of time.  The rain had extinguished my cigarette.  I let the wind take it as it fell from my mouth before I formed a fist and knocked on Mal’s door.

The door swung open.  All three chins and a chest weave were pointed squarely at me from over his once white vest.  He brought the fistful of sausages he called fingers up to his mouth, removed the ash-headed cigar from his grimace and welcomed me in.

‘You hear about the big guy?’ Mal spat.

‘I’m HERE about the big guy.  You do this?’

His laugh turned to an unhealthy cough as he retreated to the comforts of his luxury trailer before he took a glass from the draining board and spat something grey and unholy into it.

‘All that ink’s given you blood poisoning, son.  It’s going to your head and made you kiddy brained.  Did I do this?  Why would I risk losing all-fucking-this?’ He topped it off with a wave of the arms before he sat back and let his tired, dead eyes come to focus on the teardrop tattoo below my left eye.

‘You two got into a pretty heated one over some sick pay, and the way I know it to be is it’s always one of two things, Mal.  Money or sex.’

‘Well he knew I had no goddamn money to give him and he ain’t my type.  That bearded chick was one of his pussy posse.  Check with her.’

‘You’re straight with me, yeah?’

‘Arrow straight my friend.’

I let myself out and headed back to the tent.  Everything in this life was instant gratification.  I’d been looking into Norm’s death for an hour and could feel the grace period wrapping up.  When I pulled back the tent’s flap I realised that it wasn’t just my cigarette that had expired earlier.  In the middle of the floor lay the bearded lady.  All four limbs pointing out in a different direction with each wrists and ankles connected to a length of rope, which were in turn connected to a fleet of four miniature Volkswagen Beetles.  Outside in the wind and the rain, the pathetic little tin can rattle of their engines were masked but once under the top it filled the air along with the claggy bite of the fumes their lawnmower engines ran on.  I fought my way through the crowd again, and as I did I made eye contact with one of the clowns behind the wheel.  He waved a gloved hand my way then began revving his engine as the ropes got taught and the Bearded Lady grimaced through what could only be described as mild discomfort.

‘What the hell is going on here?!’

‘She did this!’ cried a clown.

‘It’s obvious.’ explained another.

‘Not to me.’

Milly and Molly stepped from the shadows with their hands behind their backs.  They smiled my way then purposely walked to the middle of the floor to take up their role as prosecutor.

‘While you were off chasing geese we got to the bottom of this thing.’

‘Sandy here found out her beau was pumping more than iron and put that extra testosterone she has to use.’

‘Obvious!’

‘That’s bullshit.’ screamed Sandy from within a plume of thick black exhaust smoke. 

The engine of one of the clown cars revved once more.  I watched as the muscles in her arms elongated before there was a cough and splutter from under the hood.  In an instant the rope went slack as all four wheels fell out from under the car.  Before the first wheel could fully roll away the doors had dropped off, and the bonnet popped open as steam hissed out of the bust radiator.

‘German engineering my ass.’

The remaining three drivers killed their engines.  I called them over and put them to work untying Sandy.  Milly and Molly seethed through unspoken words and glances.  Something in them didn’t look right.  It didn’t feel right.  I stared at them knowing I had perceived the issue without registering it.  What was it?

‘What’s he doing?’ whispered the fish boy.

They’re always in-sync.  Always, together… that’s a given.  No.  It’s something else.  I reached into my pocket and felt the fabric.  Green, synthetic, slightly elasticated like a cuff or…

I smiled.

Then I walked towards them.

‘It took me a moment to figure out what I wasn’t seeing.  I guess I’m guilty of the same thing so many people are when they look at you two.  They only see you TWO.  The twins, both of you.  Hard to perceive one conjoined twin without the other.’

‘Did he just say he was guilty?’

‘You’re a clown, Rik, not an idiot.  Hush now.’

‘Now that I see you individually I see the differences, Milly and Molly.’

‘You do?’

‘Of course.  Milly’s hair is down for starters.  You two normally look identical.  Tough to tell you apart other than the fact you’re always on the same side.’ I reached behind Molly and pulled out her scrunchy.  The shiny green fabric uncurled a maze of golden curls which hit her shoulders and recoiled ever so slightly.

It took them a moment, but only a moment, before they realised.  Molly levelled a boot to my shine and they were running for the exit before anyone else twigged.

‘It’s them!  THE TWINS!’ yelled Jessica from her spot in the Gods.

They were through the tent flap and into the night before anyone so much as moved a muscle.  I pulled myself back to my feet and was hopping after them when the ringmaster passed me.  He threw back the flap in time to see the stocky silhouette of Milly and Molly become illuminated as a flash of lightning tore from the sky above and hit them square in the torso.  I froze as they dropped to the ground but soon the tent was emptying around me and I made my way outside.  For the third time in a matter of hours I fought my way through a crowd of onlookers then wished I hadn’t.  The bolt from on high had achieved what science had shied away from and separated Milly and Molly.  Both lay badly scorched and bleeding heavily.  The already dark night took on an even deeper shade as their life-force sat thick and the colour of oil under an angry Belfast skyline.

Three dead.  There was no handling this internally.  Cops were going to have to be called.  For those who stuck around, lives were about to become a little more difficult.  There’d never be answers.  Not real answers.  I put my hand to my mouth as Milly looked my way and took her final breath.  Jessica had come down from her Queendom to survey the damage us mortals are capable of.  She took one look before she grabbed hold of my arm and led me away.

‘Forget it, Bry.  It’s Andytown.’

David Louden

Image: Circus Big Top in bright colours surrounded with bunting from Pixabay.com