Every morning she waited for the bus to go past, hoping that one day she’d get on it and finally leave the village. One day she would just get on that bus, travel into the city and disappear into the crowds, never to be seen again.
She’d join the circus, of course.
Become a trapeze artist and soar over the crowds who’d come to see her perform the death-defying triple somersault wearing a glorious spangled leotard that she’d spent the months creating sat next to the small fireplace in the rented cottage they shared during the winter months when the vans and props were repaired and the performers did callisthenics every morning so they would be ready for the spring.
The cottage would smell slightly damp, the wallpaper - pale blue stripes and tiny pink roses - would be peeling at the corners, but this would be the nearest thing any of them had to home, apart from their vans they lived in all summer.
She’d share her room with Sally, a contortionist who could fold herself into a small suitcase that Larry the chief clown would pick up and take out of the ring every performance. Larry and Sally were in love with each other and they planned to leave the circus. Why, she didn’t understand.
The circus was all she’d ever wanted in life.
And every morning she’d watch for that bus and imagine her life in the circus as she collected her small loaf of bread, pint of milk, and meal for one from the Co-Op. And as she spoke to the staff or her fellow shoppers about the weather, none of them guessed that she dreamed of the circus. Why would they? All they saw was a little old lady carrying her daily shopping.
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