The Circus Affair

Chapter 1-3

The following morning, dressed in black jazz boots and an assortment of lycra leggings, leotards, or matching two-piece ensembles in various colours, the girls began rehearsals.

Sienna had commandeered the ring and plonked an aged CD player on the ringside stalls, a wooden walkway, painted red that ran around the outside of the sawdust strewn ring, separating the audience from the artists. It stood about a metre high and sort of resembled benching. It was used by the artists during the show to stand on, run around on, or sit on during the various acts. Now, Sienna was using it as a substitute table.

She gathered the girls together and attempted to teach them the opening routine – a marching number with drums. This basically consisted of them marching around the ring in different formations for two and a half minutes and banging a drum that was held in place by a thick strap that was slung over their shoulders.

“Thank God nobody from home will be coming to watch us,” Wendy whispered after a while.

“Why’s that?” Lisa replied.

“Because this choreography is a pile of s**t!”

The others tried to smother their giggles as Sienna stood a few feet away, fiddling with the sound on the CD player.

As the morning wore on, and they were completely sick of marching, word spread quicker than a viral video on social media that there were four foreigners in the ring. The entire circus seemed to find some reason or another to enter the tent and saunter through at a snail’s pace to get a good look at the newcomers. The male members eyed the girls lasciviously, whereas the women assessed them through biased, critical eyes; weighing them up as future competition.

At lunchtime, Sienna clapped her hands, gave them an hour to eat, and left with her CD player. The girls slumped onto the ringside, looking disillusioned by the whole affair. Sweat was pouring off them, more from the heat within the tent rather than the exertion that would usually cause them to perspire.

“I don’t really understand why the show would go to all the trouble of bringing English dancers if they didn’t want us to do any real dancing,” Sarah began. “I mean, it’s perfectly obvious that Sienna is not a real choreographer. We could all dance her into the ground.”

“Yeah, it all seems a bit weird, doesn’t it?” Wendy agreed. “I was told that we were going to dance at the Metropolitan Theatre in Rio de Janeiro; we can’t work in such a huge, prestigious venue like that, with crappy routines like these!”

“Let’s go and get some lunch before we have to be back here again!” Melissa replied.

The girls wandered across the field; the rays of the bright Brazilian sun burning down on their uncovered backs, augmenting their irritation, hunger, and plight as they headed back to the tiny caravan.

* * * *

Four days later, Sienna deemed them ready for the show, and the final rehearsal had taken place. This was when they had discovered exactly why the routines were amateurish and so easy. Naively believing that they were to be the only dancers in the show, they were momentarily stunned when in sauntered an amalgam of wives, girlfriends, and offspring of the male artists. They were all shapes, sizes, and ages. Flotsam, with little or no dance training whatsoever. The four Brits stood out like supermodels in a holiday camp beauty competition.

Sienna unsubtly repositioned the motley group around the four new arrivals, and by the end of the afternoon, the tension was rising to boiling point. Those who had considered themselves to be the best of the worst had now been relegated to second position. Their usurping from centre stage did not go down too well. The quartet listened to their disgruntled mutterings in Brazilian or Latin American Spanish. Although they didn’t understand their incensed, angry chuntering, the girls could easily deduce that the long-standing members of the ballet were far from happy. That and the flashes of hatred in the other women’s eyes made the newcomers feel more like outcasts than ever before. The quartet realised that their estancia in Brazil was not going to be easy.