Dougal was sitting in his armchair and Marie on the settee with their son, Patrick, reading a book. At two years old  he had the same copper coloured hair as Dougal, who looked over and smiled. He wondered if their next child, due in a few months, would also have it or have black like Marie.

Opening the evening paper, Dougal took a quick breath. The circus was coming to Swansea. His mind shot back to the nine year old boy he was the last time the circus had visited. He’d sneaked into the camp in the early morning to see the elephants and met Daisy and Mossie. He sighed. He could recall Daisy clearly, her sheer size, yet so gentle as she explored his body with her trunk. He had been in heaven at that moment. Mossie lived with the circus, a brown boy unlike anyone he had ever seen, Mossie had welcomed Dougal, taking him into the family that was the circus.