I groan. Unlike her parents, Mum’s sister visited us after Mum died. She helped me find the job with the Sloanes, and invited Ba and me for the occasional Sunday dinner when her parents would not be around. “Why would I want to go backward?”

“It’s illegal for us to go to America. Who knows what could happen to you? I’d be half-mad with worry.”

My jaw clicks in annoyance. America not wanting us worries me, too, but I know how to take care of myself. “I’m not going back.”

The oval ball comes sailing at my head. I reach up to catch it, but Jamie snatches it out of the air a fraction of a second before me. He jumps to his feet. “Watch it, you clods.”

I scramble to my feet as well, in case there’s trouble.

The two young men with the plaid jackets run up to us. But instead of the wrath I expect, they doff their hats, exposing yellow hair thick as thistles.

“Beg your pardon, ma’am,” one says in the flat accent they use in Birmingham. “Brummies” always sound like they have a mouth full of cheese. “Didn’t see you there.” His grimace looks more sheepish than cross, and his tone is apologetic.

My fists loosen. He thinks he’s in trouble. I tip up my nose. “I’ll say. You may have your ball back . . .” The Brummie reaches for the ball, which Jamie is spinning on his palm, but I sweep up a finger. “On one condition.” Jamie pulls the ball away so fast, the Brummie nearly falls over. “You must pass along some generosity of spirit and let those two wee lads over there play catch with you.” I nod toward the back rail, where Wink and Olly are craning their necks at something Bo is showing them in the distance.

“Sure, ma’am.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Jamie releases their ball to them, and they jog away. Shooting me a weary look, Jamie sits back down.

“Now don’t you miss performing?” I crack.

“Not the kind of performing you want to do. I’ve moved on from that. I doubt I could even do a gunslinger, let alone the entire Jumbo.”

“Sure you can. You just have to practice.” The one-arm handstands we call gunslingers are our specialty.

“And even if all those things with Mr. Stewart happen, I don’t want to go to America. Walking a rope is a hundred times harder than shoveling coal, and I only did it because it was the best way to keep us from starving. Besides, I have work to do. My contract won’t be up for several months.”