Page 83 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

‘As I opened my mouth to apologise to her, she turned and walked away. Again, I did not blame her.

‘I did not watch her perform that evening; I could not bear it. The embarrassment of my failings haunted the show and I did not enjoy it or relax for the entire night. In a way, I was glad she was only there to make up the numbers and would be gone by dawn; I could then return to my life and concentrate on my career as ringmaster.

‘The following morning, I had little time to think of her as we busied ourselves packing and sorting. We had no train – that was something I wished for dearly and would make true in a year’s time – but back then we travelled as we do now, on foot, our horses pulling the weight of our lives and our costumes.

‘I climbed aboard the front of a caravan I had been gifted by the ringmaster – an elderly man who was looking for someone to take over, someone he believed could be me. My caravan was painted red, the name of the circus in gold swirling letters on the side. Inside I had little – a bed, a stove, a few belongings – but I was mightily proud of it. It was mine and mine alone.

‘As we began our journey, I talked gently to my mare Sophia, named after my grandmother, and told her of where we were headed next.

‘Suddenly, a loud bang came from inside my caravan. At first, I thought perhaps I had not secured a book or some such – but I realised it was far too loud a noise for any possession I owned to make.

‘The small hatch flung open and a face appeared.

‘“Coffee?” she asked.

‘I stared at her face for too long and she shouted at me, “Look where you are going!”

‘I spun around and concentrated on the road once more, pulling my mare Sophia away from oncoming traffic.

‘“So,” she said. “Coffee for the French-not-German Werner?”

‘“Coffee? Yes. I’d like that.”

‘I heard her whistle a tune as she made me coffee, and I thought I was in a dream.

‘I loved her – loved her so much I asked her to marry me. She said she would, and while we saved to buy the train we plotted our lives together. We would travel the world, see it all… and then things changed.’

Werner stopped and tears appeared in his eyes again. Jean passed him a handkerchief and let him take a moment to blow his nose.

‘If it is too hard, you do not need to say any more,’ Giordano said.

‘I have to. It is right. It is right to talk of her. To talk of the daughter she lost.’

Michel looked to him. A daughter? Frieda had a baby? It all made more sense now – her reluctance to leave, the way she had been kept almost wrapped in cotton wool, forbidden from doing anything that could harm her. Michel saw Werner with new eyes. He was simply a man trying to protect his love – protect her from the world because she had already lost so much.

‘She fell pregnant before we could marry,’ Werner said sadly. ‘I told her we would marry as soon as we could afford it, but she said she did not care. She felt loved and was so happy to be having our child.

‘We were back in Hungary when she delivered the baby. The troupe had travelled to her home country – I did it to make her happy.

‘When I held our daughter in my arms, I was so happy and full of love – it welled up in me so much that I was sure I could not contain it. My little girl wrapped her pink fist around my finger – there she was, the ringmaster’s daughter. All of this was now hers.

‘I gave the baby back to her mother and told her we would remain in Hungary, that her parents were due to arrive. She held our new daughter in her arms and screamed at me for being so stupid.

‘I didn’t understand. I thought she would have wanted to see her parents, her sisters. I’d telegrammed them, and they knew where we were.

‘“We need to leave, now.” She leapt out of bed and almost fell. I took our daughter from her.

‘“But you must rest. See a doctor.”

‘“I don’t want a doctor. I don’t want my family either. Please, Werner, please, let us go.”

‘I agreed, of course I did – I could not deny her anything. But before I could tell the troupe, there was a knock on our carriage door – a policeman, and with him, her parents.

‘They did not speak to me. The father pushed past me to her and grabbed his daughter’s arm, shouting in Hungarian – harsh, quick words. I was still holding the baby, but then the mother snatched her from me. I stepped in front of the brute of a man… but as you can see, I am short and I could not push him away.

‘“What’s happening? What’s going on?” I cried.

‘She screamed for our baby, who was now wailing. Her mother turned to leave.