he added, “do not make any loud noises, because if you do, she might come after me.”
I don’t know if Mr Crepsley was really scared, or if it was part of the act, but he looked frightened. He wiped the sleeve of his right arm over his forehead, then placed the flute back in his mouth and whistled a strange little tune.
Madam Octa cocked her head, then appeared to nod. She crawled across the table until she was in front of Mr Crepsley. He lowered his right hand, and she crept up his arm. The thought of those long hairy legs creeping along his flesh made me sweat all over. And I liked spiders! People who were afraid of them must have been nervously chewing the insides of their cheeks to pieces.
When she got to the top of his arm, she scuttled along his shoulder, up his neck, over his ear, and didn’t stop until she reached the top of his head, where she lowered her body. She looked like a funny sort of a hat.
After a while, Mr Crepsley began playing the flute again. Madam Octa slid down the other side of his face, along the scar, and walked around until she was standing upside-down on his chin. Then she spun a string of web and dropped down on it.
She was hanging about ten centimetres below his chin now, and slowly began rocking from side to side. Soon she was swinging about level with his ears. Her legs were tucked in, and from where I was sitting she looked like a ball of wool.
Then, as she made an upward swing, Mr Crepsley threw his head back and she went flying straight up into the air. The thread snapped and she tumbled around and around. I watched her go up, then come down. I thought she’d land on the floor or the table, but she didn’t. Instead, she landed in Mr Crepsley’s mouth!
I nearly got sick when I thought of Madam Octa sliding down his throat and into his belly. I was sure she’d bite him and kill him. But the spider was a lot smarter than I knew. As she was falling, she’d stuck her legs out and they had caught on his lips.
He brought his head forward, so we could see his face. His mouth was wide open and Madam Octa was hanging between his lips. Her body throbbed in and out of his mouth and she looked like a balloon which he was blowing up and letting the air out of.
I wondered where the flute was and how he was going to control the spider now. Then Mr Tall appeared with another flute. He couldn’t play as well as Mr Crepsley, but he was good enough to make Madam Octa take notice. She listened, then moved from one side of Mr Crepsley’s mouth to the other.
I didn’t know what she was doing at first, so I craned my neck to see. When I saw the bits of white on Mr Crepsley’s lips I understood: she was spinning a web!
When she was finished, she lowered herself from his chin, like she had before. There was a large web spun across Mr Crepsley’s mouth. He began chewing and licking the web! He ate the whole of it, then rubbed his belly (being careful not to hit Madam Octa) and said, “Delicious. Nothing tastier than fresh spider webs. They are a treat where I come from.”
He made Madam Octa push a ball across the table, then got her to balance on top of it. He set up small pieces of gym gear, tiny weights and ropes and rings, and put her through her paces. She was able to do all the things a human could, like lift weights above her head and climb ropes and pull herself up on the rings.
Then he brought out a tiny dinner set. There were mini plates and knives and forks and teeny-weeny glasses. The plates were filled with dead flies and other small insects. I don’t know what was in the glasses.
Madam Octa ate that dinner as neatly as you please. She was able to pick up the knives and forks, four at a time, and feed herself. There was even a fake saltcellar which she sprinkled over one of the dishes!
It was round about the time she was drinking from the glass that I decided Madam Octa was the world’s most amazing pet. I would have given everything I owned for her. I knew it could never be – Mum and Dad wouldn’t let me keep her even if I could buy her – but that didn’t stop me from wishing.
When the act was over, Mr Crepsley put the spider back in her cage and bowed low while everybody clapped. I heard a lot of people saying it wasn’t fair to have killed the poor goat, but it had been thrilling.
I turned to Steve to tell him how great I thought the spider was, but he was watching Mr Crepsley. He didn’t look scared any more, but he didn’t look normal either.
“Steve, what’s wrong?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Steve?”
“Ssshhh!” he snapped, and wouldn’t say another word until Mr Crepsley had left. He watched the odd-looking man walk back to the wings. Then he turned to me and gasped: “This is amazing!”
“The spider?” I asked. “It was great. How do you think—”
“I’m not talking about the spider!” he snapped. “Who cares about a silly old arachnid? I’m talking about Mr … Crepsley.” He paused before saying the man’s name, as though he’d been about to call him something different.
“Mr Crepsley?” I asked, confused. “What was so great about him? All he did was play the flute.”
“You don’t understand,” Steve said angrily. “You don’t know who he really is.”
“And you do?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, “as a matter of fact I do.” He rubbed his chin and started looking worried again. “I just hope he doesn’t know I know. If he does, we might never make it out of here alive…
THERE WAS another break after Mr Crepsley and Madam Octa’s act. I tried getting Steve to tell me more about who the man was, but his lips were sealed. All he said was: “I have to think about this.” Then he closed his eyes, lowered his head and thought hard.
They were selling more cool stuff during the break: beards like the bearded lady’s, models of Hans Hands and, best of all, rubber spiders which looked like Madam Octa. I bought two, one for me and one for Annie. They weren’t as good as the real thing but they’d have to do.
They were also selling candy webs. I bought six of those, using up the last of my money, and ate two while waiting for the next freak to come out. They tasted like candy floss. I stuck the second one over my lips and licked at it, the same way Mr Crepsley had.
The lights went down and everybody settled back into their seats. Gertha Teeth was next up. She was a big woman with thick legs, thick arms, a thick neck and a thick head.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am Gertha Teeth!” she said. She sounded strict. “I have the strongest teeth in the world! When I was a baby, my father put his fingers in my mouth, playing with me, and I bit two of them off!”
A few people laughed, but she stopped them with a furious look. “I am not a comedian!” she snapped. “If you laugh at me again, I will come down and bite your nose off!” That sounded quite funny, but nobody dared chuckle.
She spoke very loudly. Every sentence was a shout and ended in an exclamation mark (!).
“Dentists all over the world have been astounded by my teeth!” she said. “I have been examined in every major dental centre, but nobody has been able to work out why they are so tough! I have been offered huge amounts of money to become a guinea pig, but I like travelling and so I have refused!”
She picked up four steel bars, each about thirty centimetres long, but different widths. She asked for volunteers and four men went up on stage. She gave each of them a bar and said to try bending them. They did their best, but weren’t able. When they had failed, she took the thinnest bar, put it in her mouth, and bit clean through it!
She handed the two halves back to one of the men. He stared at them in shock, then put one end in his own mouth and bit on it, to check that