“Okay, everyone, back to work. The drama’s over. There’s nothing more to see here,” said Marina, shooing the circus workers away. She went and spoke a few quiet words to Winnie, placing a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. When she saw me, her eyes lit up in a smile.

“Lille, how are you? I have to thank you for all the work you’ve done on my accounts. Everything’s so organised now, it’s like a dream. Come, have tea with me.”

I allowed her to lead me back to her camper, where she sat me down on the couch and went about turning on the kettle. There was a loud thump on the door, and when Marina went to answer it, I heard a gruff male voice muttering to her, sounding annoyed.

“You’ll find no alcohol here, King, so you’re out of luck. It’s about time you sobered up, anyway.”

I heard rather than saw it when he slammed his hand into the side of the camper and swore loudly. My heart jumped in my chest.

“Just give me a fucking drink, Marina. I swear, just one more, and then I’ll quit. Please.”

There was a struggle in her voice as she said, “No, I won’t. I can’t enable you anymore. Now please go. We’ve had enough drama on this campsite for one day.”

She slammed the door shut and took several deep breaths before turning back to me. “Sorry about that. He’s my brother. I love him, but the man is going to kill himself if he keeps drinking.”

“It must be difficult,” I said sadly.

She sighed and walked to the kitchen, lifting the kettle and pouring the boiled water into a teapot. “It is difficult. King’s lived a bizarre life. If you could have seen him in his day, you’d never connect the man he was then to the man he is now. He’s not a bad person, but his addiction makes him horrible to live with at times.”

Her words had my mind racing with questions I wanted to ask, but I felt it might be rude. I went with something simple. “King’s a very unusual name. Is it a nickname?”

She shook her head and set the teapot down on the table, pouring us each a cup. “No, it’s his surname. His given name is Oliver, but nobody ever calls him that anymore.”

“But your surname is Mitchell.”

“That’s right. We’re only half-siblings. Same father, different mothers. That’s why there’s such a large age gap between us.”

“So you weren’t raised together?”

Marina lifted her cup to her mouth and took a sip. In contrast to how distressed she’d been a moment ago, she now seemed relaxed and open. “Oh, goodness, no. King and I had very different upbringings. My mother was a lounge girl…King’s mother was a concert pianist. British upper crust. So you see what I mean when I say life used to be a lot different for him.”

Well, that was certainly interesting. I wondered what great tragedies must have befallen him to bring him so low. Not that living with the circus was low, but he didn’t even have a camper van. From what I could tell, he slept rough most nights. A small pang of emotion swept over me as I considered the loneliness of an existence like that, the pain he must be going through.

I thought back to the first time I’d seen him the other day, and how I’d felt like his eyes held a multitude of experiences, sinner and saint all rolled into one. I was about to ask her more questions when I realised that King wasn’t really the person I wanted to learn about. Jack was just as much of a mystery, one that pulled at my curiosity far stronger than anything else.

As we drank our tea, I tried to figure out a casual way to work him into the conversation, but then I didn’t need to. Marina did it for me.

“I saw you show up with Jack today while Winnie and Julie were arguing,” she said, and her observation made me self-conscious. It felt like Marina saw a lot more than most people. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Yeah, he, uh, came into town with me and Lola.”

“Really? Did you ask him to come?”

I wasn’t sure what she was getting at, but I answered anyway. “Um, yes. Well no, actually. I invited him, but then he was rude, so I withdrew the invitation. Then he decided he’d come anyway.”

“You know,” said Marina, plucking a biscuit from the plate on the coffee table and taking a bite, “I first met Jack a number of years ago in Dublin. He was practically still a boy back then. Had been performing fire tricks on the street for passers-by. His skill at such a young age was incredible. I’d never seen anything like it. So I waited until he was done and expressed an interest in recruiting him into the circus. I tell you, I’d never come across such a mistrustful creature as I did when I first met young Jack.” She paused and chuckled.

“He was angry at me, came right out and said he wasn’t a gigolo. He thought I was trying to buy sex from him when I’d made the suggestion of work. It was a terrible misunderstanding. I left, but returned the next day and tried to convince him that I wasn’t a madam or some washed-up old woman looking for sex, but that I ran a circus and I thought he’d be ideal to perform with us. Still, he wasn’t having any of it. I gave him a card with my information, and every time I saw him chuck it in the bin. I knew real talent when I saw it, and I wasn’t going to give up on him. So I came back every day for a week until he finally agreed to have lunch with me. And the rest, I guess, is history. But my point is, Jack doesn’t trust easily. I’ve seen him in your company a number of times now, and it’s heartening. The fact that he’s letting you in means something.” Reaching across the table, she took my hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “Promise me you’ll be careful with his trust, Lille.”

There was genuine affection in her voice, and I knew that, for whatever reason, Marina cared a great deal for Jack.

“I will be, I promise.”

“Thank you, love.”

A moment of quiet went by before I spoke. “You know, he may not be as mistrustful as you think. I’ve seen him with Julie….”

Marina cut me off with a sound of derision. “Jack doesn’t trust Julie. I think we both know what that relationship is all about. It’s a friend he needs, not a pair of open legs. You, Lille, are his friend. He needs a friend.”

What she said took me by surprise. Was I his friend? I wasn’t sure my feelings for him were entirely friendly. In fact, I was certain they weren’t. Still, there was such hope in Marina’s eyes that I felt I needed to make an effort to be his friend. Whatever had happened to him to make him so untrusting of people must have been horrible, so I supposed, despite his behaviour sometimes, he deserved a friend he could trust. I resolved myself to being that person. It would also allow me to tick an item off my list. I’d thought it contained only selfish endeavours, things that would make me feel better, make my life better, but I was now seeing that wasn’t the case at all. I could use my list as a means to make better the lives of those around me, too.

Yes, Jack would be my number seven:

Make a new friend.

Six

Jack’s brother was in the paper

“I wish I could have a flower for a nose and butterfly wings for ears,” said the little girl whose face I was painting red like a ladybird. Her name was Bea, and she was the daughter of one of the circus workers. She seemed to always be running around the place unsupervised, so I tended to spend a lot of time with her, mainly because I worried she might get lost or hurt if left alone. I was a worrier like that, which was why my lofty dreams of adventure often didn’t pan out.

“I don’t like the way noses look. They’re ugly. Ears are ugly, too.”

I laughed loudly. How could I not? The things children came out with sometimes were just crazy. “I tell you what,” I said fondly. “I’ll paint you a portrait, but instead of a nose, you’ll have a flower, and instead of ears, you’ll have the prettiest little butterfly wings anyone has ever seen.”