'Let that be a warning to you' by Anne Summerfield

We saw a man fall from the sky. Or that was how it seemed. The outdoor performance, the ropes and pulleys of it, the hastily-constructed scaffolding frame, the nets that were out of place and out of line. A man dressed in lycra and sequins, a man with fabric wings outstretched, flying for an instant before he crashed to earth.

And then there were blue lights and hushed voices, hands over mouths and eyes starry with tears. But for a moment, there’d been mam and me, gazing up, watching and watching, the trapeze, the silk ropes, the tricks that made us sigh. And Mam saying it was like a miracle, that he was like superman, that he was an arrogant bugger, before he fell from the sky.