All forty of us are gathered around him in the ring, most still in costume, all sweaty and hungry. Kit’s little twin sisters are slumped on the ring mat in their sparkly tutus, quietly crying. Kit crouches behind them, rubbing their backs and whispering in their ears. Walid’s hands move fast and fluid as he interprets Peter Potts’s words into Auslan – Australian sign language – for Jerry, who is Deaf. Everyone in the circus has learnt at least the basics of Auslan, except Diego, our highwire walker, who can never seem to remember any of the handshapes Jerry shows him.

‘Yes, we know, Peter,’ says Mum. ‘We’ve got lots of ideas. We’re trying –’

Peter Potts jerks a thumb over his shoulder, interrupting her. ‘Plus, I hear that you need a new big top. Which is, what …?’ He looks around with a smirk. ‘A hundred and fifty thousand dollars? Two hundred thousand? My father was trying to work out how to find the money when he died.’

Diego flings an arm into the air and calls out, ‘We can get by without a new big top! We can repair it!’ Beside him, Zanni shakes her head, tears sliding down her face, one hand resting on her pregnant belly. Two of the dogs look up at her with flattened, worried ears.

My dad’s voice is quiet. ‘We can’t keep repairing it for much longer, Diego. I’ve been mending it for months now. We really do need a new one. And you know that no big top means no circus.’

I squeeze in beside Dad and he pulls me close. A dog howls nearby, sending a cold fizz up my spine. I glance at Mum to see if she heard it too. She’s always picking up messages – from animals, from trees, from the very air – and she says there’s information all around us, if only we’re open to it. But her face is blank as she steps close to Peter Potts. Like me, she was born into this circus, and can’t imagine life without it.

I hear the upset in her voice. ‘Pete, you’re not thinking of shutting us down, are you? What would your dad think?’

His answer is quiet and controlled. ‘He’d understand.’