Opening Chapter

Sam Travis sat on a black plastic seat, eagerly waiting for Clamcorn’s world-famous circus show to begin.  As probably their most committed fan, he came to see the stunning performances year on year and tonight, on his thirteenth birthday, he was more excited than ever to see the familiar circus troupe. 



          “Be prepared for a show so dazzling, so spectacular, that your brain may explode!” the ringmaster’s deep voice boomed.  Enthusiastic clapping and whistling came from the audience – even Sam’s parents applauded manically like excitable young children.



          Sir Clamcorn - a broad-shouldered, imposing man, welcomed everyone to the opening show.  Sporting one of those funny, curly moustaches and with his jet-black hair, cropped red jacket and long, pointy face, he looked frighteningly formidable as supervisor of the circus.  As he struck his whip against the floor of the empty ring, he caught Sam’s eye, holding his gaze for a second longer than Sam thought comfortable.  He delivered a speech to introduce the first act but before he turned to leave he glanced at Sam again then bowed his head as he strode off.



          What was all that about? Sam thought. 



          Within minutes he’d dismissed the ringmaster’s strange behaviour as the first act paraded into the ring. 



          An overweight, middle-aged woman - wearing an ill-fitting flowery dress, bright-red lipstick and gaudy eyeshadow - waddled towards the audience.  The most striking thing about her was not her ghastly make-up or fashion sense but her thick, brown beard.  Trotting faithfully behind were four poodles – their fur dyed in crazy, garish colours – dazzling purple, burnt orange, fuchsia pink and lime green - rather like their owner’s taste in cosmetics. The bearded lady marched her coloured poodles around the ring as if it were Crufts. 



          “Now then luvvies – just watch this!” she cackled to the audience.  The poodles jumped, in turn, over horizontal poles more than six feet high before performing back-flips over each other!  Sam was absolutely spellbound. 



          “’Ow’s about that, dearies?” she asked the crowd, whose emphatic clapping told her the act had been well-received.  Sam smiled to himself.  He couldn’t help being totally enthralled at the circus and its acts - it was as if it was in his blood.  He felt drawn to the circus - a feeling which, as he grew older, had not diminished but grown more and more intense.  At a time when his friends had discovered other fascinating things (like girls – yuk!) - Sam just counted the months, and eventually the days, until the circus visited Popplethwaite again. 



          A little while later, Sam’s mum squeezed his hand. 



          “Are you enjoying the show, love?” she smiled.



          He nodded.  “It’s brilliant!”



          She relaxed into her seat and continued to enjoy her choc-ice that Sam’s dad had queued more than quarter-of-an-hour for in the interval - such was the size of Clamcorn’s audience.  Sam leant forward and noticed his dad was also smiling at him; he was obviously enjoying the show, or rather the time off from his busy shifts as an ambulance-man. 



          Sir Clamcorn reappeared after every performer had finished; his booming voice directing the show.  From Wesley, the elastic man (whom tonight had managed to squeeze through bendy pipes no wider than twelve inches across!); Calvin, the human transformer, with his impressive skill of juggling live and sparking fireworks; Psychic Sandra; the Magic Marvel (you really have never seen anything like him) - the acts continued into the night, each one better than the last.



          “We hope you have enjoyed tonight’s show!  Tell your friends – everyone you know - and do come and see us again.” Sir Clamcorn bade farewell to the audience.



          Sam thought this year’s show had surpassed all others and felt deflated at the prospect of a whole year before he was able to watch it again. 



          “Right, erm…are you ready to go?” his dad asked him, as everyone headed out of the Big Top bound for home. 



          Sam wondered why his dad seemed so nervous all of a sudden - he had seemed so relaxed watching the show.



          “I just need the toilet,” Sam said. “Just wait here, I won’t be a minute.” 



          “We love you, Sam!” his mum shouted after him.



          Okay…..I’m only off to the loo - what is it with everyone tonight? he wondered.



          Sam made his way through the departing crowd to the portaloos that stood at the rear of the field housing the circus.  He looked back over his shoulder; the Big Top looked fantastic at night with its black and white stripes, as opposed to the traditional red, adding to its mystifying presence.  The sign hanging from the entrance read:



Clamcorn’s Circus – WORLD FAMOUS!



THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH!



ALL WELCOME FOR THE BEST NIGHT OF YOUR LIFE!



          He smiled to himself – there really was nothing like it.



          “Well, I never!” said a strange voice.  A purple poodle, one of the bearded lady’s pets, was tied to a trailer near the toilets.  Sam spun round to find out who had uttered the words, but no one was there - just Sam and the poodle staring at each other. 



          “Sam Clamcorn!  We’ve found you!”  Sam whirled round, checking again; no – he definitely was alone. 



          Who was that? 



          The poodle continued to stare at him. 



          I’m going mad! thought Sam, for a moment there, I thought the dog was talking to me!



          “It really is you – there’s no mistaking that face!  Sam, this is what your father has been dreaming about for years – you don’t know what this will mean to him!  Let me loose and I’ll fetch him – hurry!” 



          Now Sam was really freaked.  It WAS the dog!  It was the dog actually talking to him! 



          “Oh, right…this will all be new to you, won’t it?  Look, I know this may seem unusual, but things will soon become clear.  Pardon me…I’m so sorry - I haven’t even introduced myself – how rude! I’m Jongo,” the poodle said.



          “But, you’re a dog…..how…” Sam’s voice trailed off.  He rubbed his eyes.  Feeling decidedly wobbly he stumbled into one of the toilets.  Once inside, he slammed the door and locked it shut.  What’s happening to me? he wondered.  Was that actually real?



Sam tried to make some sense from the last few minutes but after struggling to find a logical explanation, he realised it must have been a trick of his imagination. 



          Am I going mad?



          Sam didn’t dare leave the toilet for fear of the purple poodle accosting him again.  He wondered if he’d had an out-of-body experience.  He cast his mind back over the show.  Certain people’s behaviour had been strange, yes, but no one had attempted to confront him – especially not a purple dog!  Sam rubbed his temples and repeated to himself over and over again: This is stupid! I must have been dreaming – that dog cannot have been talking!



          A little while later, and once Sam had summoned up his courage, he opened the toilet door a crack.  The air outside had grown colder and no sound could be heard.  He carefully stepped away from the toilets but was astonished to find his surroundings had changed.  Instead of the farmer’s field in his home town of Popplethwaite where he expected to be, the whole landscape was frozen over into layers of ice and snow drifts.  The Big Top was still there, but all the lush green trees that had previously stood full of leaf were now willowy branches with a smattering of snow.  Sam’s lips wobbled and a shiver ran up his spine.



          Where am I?  What’s happened?



          He was unsure if he was shaking through fright or from the now-lowered temperature, but whatever it was, it only made matters worse.  He appeared to have no company in this strange out-of-body experience (which is definitely what he’d decided he was having) – even Jongo the purple poodle had gone.



          What now? What’s going on?  Where’s Mum and Dad?



          Question after question filled Sam’s confused mind which seemed to have frozen with the ground.  He heard the sound of footsteps.  He was tempted to lock himself back in the loo but, before he could, a voice shouted:  “Sam!  Sam - wait!” 



          He knew it wasn’t either of his parents.  This was a deep, booming voice…rather like….like…..Sir Clamcorn!



          “Sam!  Oh, Sam!”  Sir Clamcorn threw his arms around Sam, who had never been more bewildered.  Over his shoulder he could just see the bearded lady and Psychic Sandra who were both beaming from ear to ear. 



          “Oh, Sam!  We’ve been trying to find you ever since you were a baby” said Sir Clamcorn.



          Sam’s mouth dropped open.  After a few tense moments where the four of them just stared at each other – three in glee and one in shock – Sam found his voice.



          “But…..why?  Why have you been searching for me?  You’ve got the wrong person - my name’s Sam Travis.  You must have me mixed up with someone else.”



          Sir Clamcorn looked deeply at Sam, staring at his confused face.  “Sam, I would not mistake my own son,” he said softly.