CHAPTER 4

Watch out for the circus…

Already on the street I heard the music. High notes echoed through the brick walls and made the windows rattle. Parade drums, trombones, violins and trumpets with banners played like mad from Elfvie’s house.  It actually sounded as if she had an entire circus orchestra in her living room.

I stood outside her house and tried to open her front door with one hand over my ear and the other hand trembling on the door handle. The dramatic music made the walls breath like the belly of a trumpet player and my feet wobbled by the swinging of the stairs.  Once inside the house, I had expected to see Elfvie fly through the hallway hugging her broomstick. But the house seemed to be empty.

The music reminded me of something. Hands over ears I went into the living room searching for the vinyl player. The stodgy waltz went sometimes sky-high into a stormy tornado of horns and flutes. It sounded like a clown’s idiotic dance between elephants and sea lions. I could see his clumsy feet tap-dance across the sand with his hands by the red-striped braces. I identified the music as I recognized my fear, my fear of clowns. The music was a troll’s parade.

I sat on the floor leaning against the wall with my arms over my head when the music abruptly stopped.  It clicked in the door lock and Polo rushed in. I heard Elfvie’s content giggling in the hallway while changing into slippers. I did not lift my head until I saw the worn slippers in front of me.  Elfvie’s sky blue eyes blinked at me behind the round glasses. She had already put on her apron. “I think we have lost a troll”, I said. “Really?” she replied while lending me her warm hand to get me back on my feet.

Indeed, one of the trolls had left its position on the glass table. The other trolls did not look sad. They looked happier than usual even though they’d lost a friend.  I go out and look for him later, Elfvie said and closed the porch door to the garden. We sat down in the kitchen and read out loud from the new multi-coloured newspapers that Elfvie had brought with her home. Polo took a seat in Elfvies knee and glared up at me under his curly fringe. If a dog can smile, so he did.

It was nice to sit in Elfvies kitchen reading the tabloids.  Her laughter made me feel better.  Still reading she said, “It’s not healthy to get that upset you know”. Her fingers twisted Polos fur. I am not upset, I replied. But don’t you feel a bit sad about the troll gone missing? I do not refer to the little troll who went exploring; I am referring to you creating a troll’s parade, Elfvie looked up from her paper. She tore out a page from the magazine and translated the twisted letters. “The Circus comes to town”, Elfvie whispered and a dimple popped up in her face. We must go and see it, she continued and placed the poster on the fridge with two cookie magnets. It will be a great spectacle!

We decided to buy tickets for the Circus the next day and at the same time go troll hunting. I also decided it was time for me to go home and Elfvie let me out by the porch exit. After I left she grabbed the broomstick from the garden shed. It took almost al night to sweep up the glass fragments from the living room floor.  Broken glass from sentiments often explodes into their smallest components. The light pink injustices were scattered over the floor and the hypersensitivity had spread over the carpet and in under the couch. As soon Elfvie approached with the brush the broken glass fled to another part of the room. At last she had managed to capture every little piece in a glass jar. She decided to save these passionate glass sentiments in the pantry for later. Before Elfvie went to bed that night she had sat down by her kitchen table and written letters to all her elderly neighbours. With squiggly ink writing she told them to watch out for the circus.