The Collector of Remarkable Stories Page 11
"Hey, it’s Stretch," shouted someone as The Giant and Margie entered the camp. "Couldn’t stay away, huh?"
That someone was Grandma Doyle.
Margie barely had chance to say hello and hold her hand out before Grandma Doyle’s face was inches from her own. Her head was tilted to the side as she observed Margie with her one good eye.
"I’m Ivy Doyle," she said, "but everyone calls me Gran. Who are you?"
Margie could smell the powder on her face. Her eyes were also heavy with ash-coloured shadow and her cheeks and lips bright red with rouge and lipstick. She reminded Margie of a child experimenting with makeup for the first time.
"I umm," started Margie.
"No time for all that!" interrupted Grandma Doyle. "It’s getting nippy out here, let’s get you warmed up before you freeze to death."
Grandma Doyle was small, bald and fat, with legs so bowed it looked like she was clenching an enormous invisible ball between her knees. She also had a moustache - real Groucho Marxian bristles - and a magnificent beard that spread out in a double plume.
"Here you go," she said. "Meet some of the gang."
Margie soon found herself seated between an older man whose face was covered in tattoos and The Human Mermaid; a pretty young woman whose legs appeared to be fused together in a fish-like tail. "My name’s Mary," she said, offering her hand to a grateful and suddenly relieved Margie. "And mine’s Tatty," said the older man.
The gang also consisted of Douglas the Dough Boy, a sixteen year old who could stretch the skin on his body like pizza dough and The Magnificent Magnet Man who was able to consume anything made of metal, bicycles, airplanes, knives and forks, so much so that any magnet put within inches of his body would stick like glue.
Grandma Doyle plonked herself down between Mary and Margie and started telling the gang the story of her own days as a circus freak. Everyone in the gang seemed to have heard the story a thousand times before, but were happy to hear it again.
"Used to be called Ginger Beard," announced Grandma Doyle nodding happily at the memory. "Won competitions and everything. Elephant and Castle Bearded Lady Champion, 1923, 1924 and 1925!" she announced proudly. "But nothing compared to my mother’s mother mind you! Now she was known as Black Beardy. One of the biggest selling attractions at the Barnacle Reilly Circus, along with Mary Mungo the Human Midge, Lawrence the Lion Boy, Roland Rangoon the Rock Eater, and Brigadier Big the Tenby Giant."
As the fire crackled and the evening drew in, Grandma Doyle told everyone the story of how Black Beardy came to fall in love with Patrick de Lattre the Human Caterpillar.
"Patrick de Lattre was one of the most famous acts in the entire world because he had no arms or legs and crawled about on his belly like a caterpillar. Even so, anything you could do, he could do better. He could even sign his name and roll a cigarette.
Now, aside from the fact that Patrick was just a torso and a head, he was the best looking man this side of the moon. It was said he could make a woman fall in love with him just by getting them to gaze into his eyes. And he never had a shortage of that. Day in and day out he had woman falling down at his . . . well, his bottom I suppose. In any case," continued Grandma Doyle, "he only had eyes for one woman, and that was my grandmother. Head over heels he was. When he found out she liked violet poppies, he got everyone he knew, old and young, to go out and collect them from fields up and down the country. He collected so many of them poppies that they became extinct.
My grandmother, on the other hand, only had eyes for Lucky Sam the Lion Tamer. Lucky Sam was every bit as glamorous as a silver screen star with his film noir looks. His big trick - the one that always got the crowds going - was that he could put his head inside a lion‘s mouth. Two of ‘em, one after the other. But not just any old lions, hungry lions. Starve ‘em he would, for three days before every show. Then he’d have ‘em jumping through hoops and dancing around on their hind legs like they was a pair of poodles.
Then one day Lucky Sam’s luck ran out. He put his head inside the mouth of Babar Sher, a small shabby looking lion what had just been shipped in from Africa, and the lion’s jaw snapped shut. Just like that.
Now the audience, they ain’t never seen anything like it. They all think it’s part of the show. So, as his headless body collapses to the floor, blood spurting everywhere, the crowd begins to applaud. And they’re clapping and laughing and cheering and stamping their feet. Even the gargoyles which overlooked the entrance to the cage seemed to be laughing. They ain’t never seen such a spectacular magic trick.
Before long, people from all over the circus starts gathering round the lion tent to see what all the commotion was about, including my grandmother.
And you can imagine what happened when she saw Sam’s decapitated corpse twitching on the floor. And the satiated lion lying in a puddle of blood, its mangy muzzle resting on its mangy paws, peaceful as an old donkey.
In the twinkling of an eye she went from sanity to insanity.
For months, she lay curled up on a pile of cushions in her caravan, staring out of the window. Immovable. In complete desolation. Never uttering a sound. Not even when she sneezed. She was haunted by visions of her darling Sam, pleading desperately from behind giant lion’s teeth, as though he was trapped in some Hellish prison. Then, the lion would roar and Sam would scramble through the gap between the top and bottom jaw in an attempt to escape. But before he could get all the way out, the lion would snap its mouth shut like a bear-trap -- CRACK -- and Sam would be cut in half like a magician’s assistant. And poor grandmother would cry out in her sleep, louder and more wretched than any wounded animal, and the entire circus would wake up and shake their heads and whisper to each other: oh, that poor, unfortunate Beardy!
Through all of this Patrick de Lattre, the Human Caterpillar, refused to budge from her side, singing to her, and feeding her, and dabbing her forehead with a cool sponge whenever she dreamt of the hapless Sam. The weeks turned into months, and even though he was falling more and more in love with my grandmother, this limb-deficient Romeo was also getting a bit fed up with the one-way conversation. Finally, after several more months, he shook my grandmother awake and said:
‘Enough is enough. Pull yourself together!’
And she did. And they got married. Had six children. And lived happily ever after."
"I love that story," said Mary. "Heard it a thousand times but I never get bored of it."
"Right," said Grandma Doyle to Margie, "what are we going to do with you?"
Margie had no idea what Grandma Doyle meant.
"Stretch told me that you have quite a talent," she said, with a cheeky wink.
Margie threw a look at The Giant which made it clear she wasn’t happy.
"You may not like it dear," said Grandma Doyle, "but I'll tell you something for nothing, it will make you a lot of bleedin' money."
Margie was stunned. She had no idea what to say. She didn’t want to work here. Inside she was screaming. She wasn't like them!
"I don't want any money. Giant," she said angrily, "we don't need any money. We just need a bit of time to gather ourselves before we continue our journey."
"You do realise," said Grandma Doyle, "that money can buy you anything in Limbuss."
Margie continued to study the floor, without uttering a sound.
"Why would anyone want to walk to the Darkest of All Places when they could hire a balloon or a flying machine to take them there in a fraction of the time?"
The Giant's eyes widened with excitement and realisation. Why had he not thought of this? It was the perfect solution. He turned to Margie. "Oh please Margie, please. It ain't that hard and it's only for a few days ..."
"Only until you've made enough money to get you all the way there. Just think, dear, no more trekking through the dessert. And it's only going to get worse."
"Imagine how pleased Spider Beast will be when he finds out!" added The Giant.
Margie folded her arms across her chest
and sighed wearily. "What is it that I have to do?"
"If it’s true what Stretch has told me about your back - and you’re prepared to let people touch it - then you could be sitting on a gold mine."
Margie shifted uncomfortably.
"Let me see it," said Grandma Doyle gently. "Come on child. I’ve seen all sorts of things over the years, believe me, nothing shocks me anymore. Look at you, you’re young, you’re beautiful ..."
Margie looked up. The circle of freaks had shifted several inches closer as everyone waited to see what all the fuss was about. What on earth did this girl have that would make Grandma Doyle so excited?
Margie turned round slowly and allowed her shawl to drop exposing the top of her back and shoulders. The freaks gasped in unison.
"Well," said Grandma Doyle in shocked amazement. "I ain't never seen nothing like that before in all my years. Does it hurt?"
Margie shook her head. "Not really."
"Just wait until you touch it," said The Giant excitedly. "Go on, put your fingers on it."
Grandma Doyle reached her hand out slowly. To her astonishment, it was shaking. As her fingers almost touched Margie’s skin she felt a peculiar sensation like a shiver going down her spine. She quickly pulled her hand away and looked at The Giant, "did you say something?"
The Giant shook his head.
"I must be going mad," she smiled, "I could have sworn I heard someone saying the word NO in my ear."
"Is there a problem?" asked Margie.
"No, no deary, just a silly old woman being daft." And with that she placed her hand on Margie’s back.
Instantly, her hand was covered with a layer of crisp white ice, as though it had been sitting in a deep freeze for a week. Grandma Doyle shrieked and as quickly as she’d placed her hand on Margie’s back, she ripped it away again. The whole thing happened so quickly that it was hard for those watching to see what had happened. Tatty and Dough Boy had no idea why Grandma Doyle was suddenly hopping round in circles, cradling her hand. Mary the Mermaid on the other hand, had seen her hand encased in ice and was sitting in stunned and shocked silence. She shook her head, quite unable to believe her eyes.
Margie quickly pulled her shawl up and pulled it tight around her shoulders. Like Mary she didn’t have a clue what had just happened and didn’t instantly make the link between her back and Grandma Doyle's obvious distress. She backed away into a shadow nervously watching as Tatty and Dough Boy tried to calm the old lady down.
Eventually Grandma Doyle stopped screaming and slowly pulled her hand out from under her arm pit where she had shoved it to warm it up. Tatty, Mary, Dough Boy and The Giant all gasped. Grandma Boyle’s hand was as white and ghastly looking as Margie’s back and the tips of three of her fingers had turned black as though they had been roasted to a crisp.
"What in the name of -" quaked Tatty. He never finished his sentence because he was interrupted by Grandma Doyle.
"Where is she?" she asked, her eyes ablaze. "Where is the girl? Where is she?" She sounded like a woman possessed.
"There she is," shouted Dough Boy pointing to Margie who was trying to shrink even further into the shadows.
Grandma Doyle shuffled over to her until her face was inches from Margie’s. "Look at my hand," she said in almost a whisper.
Horrified by Grandma Doyle’s blackened fingers Margie turned her head away and squeezed her eyes shut. Grandma Doyle grabbed Margie's face tightly with her uninjured hand and pulled it back again. Margie felt dizzy and weak and Grandma Doyle's face began to swim about in front of her. But Grandma Doyle was far from finished with Margie. "Child," she said, more urgently this time. "You are quite simply the best thing that has ever come to this circus. You are a star!"
The excitement in Grandma Doyle’s voice was quite palpable now and despite their shock and horror at the events that had just unfolded, the freaks felt the excitement too.
"I have never seen anything like this before. Never. Giants, mermaids, stretchy skinned people, tattoos, fat people ... yeah, yeah; I’ve seen all those before. But YOU," she screeched, "you are a gift! A GIFT!". And with that she started dancing like a loon, hopping from one foot to the other.
"I can see it now," she said, "Roll up roll up. Come and see the world’s first and only ice queen. HOW, I hear you ask! Once a sweet and beautiful girl she fell into a frozen lake and her heart at once was turned to ice ..."
"But that’s not true," said Margie. "None of that’s true."
"It’s show business," said Grandma Doyle. "None of it has to be true. But people want to hear a story so we have to give them one."
"I need to think about this," said Margie. "I’m not so sure anymore ..."
"Take your time," said Grandma Doyle, "take your time. But not too long mind!"
It was Tatty who showed them to their wagon which was set on four large iron wheels. Like most of the other wagons it was a small wooden construction painted green and red with detailed scrollwork. Margie looked at the wagon, looked at The Giant then looked back at the wagon again. Neither said a word, although they were both thinking the same thing: how on earth would The Giant fit in that?
They needn't have worried. As soon as they entered the wagon it became clear it was no ordinary caravan for suddenly it seemed huge.
"Wow," gasped The Giant unable to believe his eyes.
The interior was as ornate as the exterior. A red leather seat, set into a deep mahogany panel, ran along one side of the caravan with drop down cupboards underneath. Perpendicular to this was a stove surrounded by a beautifully ornate mantle from which hung pots, pans, cups and a large copper kettle. And at the far end was the hugest bed they’d ever seen.
"I ain't never been in one of these posh ones before," he laughed. "I should bring you more often."
Margie sat on the edge of the bed and rested her head in her hands.
"Oh no" said The Giant, quickly dropping to his knees and placing his finger under Margie's chin. "Why can't I do nothing right?"
"It's not you, Giant. It's not Grandma Doyle either; she's lovely and all. I just have a bad feeling. Spider Beast said we had to go straight there ... to the Darkest of all Places."
"We don't have to stay."
Margie pulled The Giant's head down on to her lap and stroked his hair for a while. She was acutely aware they had a task to complete. She knew that people would be looking for her; Spider Beast had made that clear to her. Bad people too. But what if a flying machine could take them all the way? Their journey would be cut in half, if not more. They had to at least try.
"We do," replied Margie. "Grandma Doyle's right. We need the money to get us a flying machine. And you need the money for when you find your twins. Ladies like to be treated nice you know!"
The Giant smiled at the thought of being reunited with his twins.
What Margie didn't tell The Giant was that she was still being stalked by an unseen something. She had no idea what it was. What she did know was that every night when she closed her eyes she could feel it breathing down her neck and it terrified her. What's more, it seemed to be attached to her in some way; she could feel its weight on her back and shoulders all the time.
A knock at the wagon door made The Giant and Margie jump.
"Come in!" shouted The Giant.
"It’s only me," said Grandma Doyle as she poked her head around the door. Her damaged hand was now wrapped in a huge swathe of bandages. "Oh, it looks worse than it is," she breezed to Margie, whose eyes were already filled with tears. "I know you’re tired so I won’t keep you; I just thought I would drop off your advance. It’s to show you how excited we are about having you in the show." And with that she pulled out an enormous bag of coins from underneath her cape and handed it to Margie.
Margie nearly dropped the bag; it weighed more than it looked.
"I take it you’re happy with your accommodation. It’s free of course, as is everything else. Now, if there’s anything else you require just let me know."
The Giant emptied the bag out onto the floor. "Wow," gasped The Giant. "I ain't never seen so much money!"
"How much do you reckon we need?" asked Margie. "You know, to hire a flying machine?"
The Giant shrugged and shook his head.
Seeing the bag of money in front of her very own eyes, Margie suddenly felt less fearful. Grandma Doyle was right; this money had the potential to solve all their problems. After all, she'd barely made it to Avaricia in one piece. Could she survive another trek through the desert?
"Okay," said Margie, "let's stay for five days and after that we leave. Agreed?"
The Giant shook Margie’s hand eagerly. "Agreed."
The Amazing Ice Queen
The following morning Margie and The Giant left their wagon early and made their way across the circus ground to Grandma Doyle’s caravan.
"Morning," she shouted through the closed door. "Be out in a moment."
As Margie and The Giant waited, it quickly became clear that they – or rather Margie, was the new celebrity in town. It seemed that just about everyone and their dog was sitting out on their steps doing nothing in particular but staring at the newcomer intently. Others were standing in huddles, whispering and glancing over at the pair.
"Morning," shouted The Giant at a group of midgets, one of whom appeared to have wheels instead of legs.
Those that were talking stopped. And those that weren't looked away.
Margie rubbed her neck nervously.
"Maybe this is a mistake," she whispered to The Giant.
"They’re just amazed. They ain't never seen anything like you before, that's all."
"I dunno," said Margie looking around. "They don't look very happy to me."
"Ignore them," said a voice. It was Grandma Doyle. "They don't like change but they'll come round soon enough. Right," she chirped, clapping her hands together like a teacher, "there’s no time like the present to get you started. The gates open in two hours so there’s plenty of time for us to get your act together ... follow me!"