Page 89 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

‘We are moving?’

‘Yes. Do you want to sit up? I have water, some bread maybe?’

Michel allowed Giordano to place his hands underneath him and help him to a sitting position. Then he tucked pillows behind his back and handed Michel a glass of water. He turned up the lamp to brighten the space, and colours suddenly jumped about in front of Michel’s eyes so that he had to blink a few times before they settled down into shapes he could recognise.

‘What happened to me?’

‘You were attacked.’

‘By whom?’

‘Werner has a suspicion that maybe it was someone from the town, someone who didn’t like us being there and thought this would make us leave.’

‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘A day or so.

‘Why are we moving?’

‘We are heading for a town near Paris. Werner has friends there – he wired them – and we can stay with them and be safe for a while.’

‘Paris…’ Michel said.

‘Werner says we are safer when we know exactly where the enemy is, where we will hear what is happening and when. He thinks we are no longer safe in small villages.’

Michel shook his head and winced in pain. He raised his hand and his fingers found his bandaged skull, the back of his head swollen and hot to the touch.

‘Careful now, Michel. Careful.’

‘I left Paris because it was not safe.’

‘We are not going to Paris,’ Giordano said earnestly. ‘Near. Werner says we can get papers and perhaps leave France. He is trying. He has kept us safe so far; we must trust him. You must.’

Michel drank down the water and Giordano refilled his glass.

‘Madame Geneviève did not come with us. Neither did Vassily,’ Giordano said. ‘They have gone further south. Geneviève shaved her beard. She said her face had never felt so cold.’

Despite himself, and the pain and sadness he felt at more people leaving the troupe, Michel laughed. It began as a chuckle, then as Giordano joined in, the laughter became loud and breathless, tears streaming down their faces.

‘Her face was cold!’ Michel laughed. ‘It was cold!’

‘You know,’ Giordano wiped the tears from his face, ‘she looked so beautiful without the beard. I was sorry I had not taken her for dinner or danced with her. I shall miss her.’ His smile disappeared.

‘And Vassily.’

‘And him.’

‘Thank God we still have Hugo. I could not go on without génépy.’ Giordano shook his head sadly.

‘Where is Frieda?’

‘In Madame Rosie’s caravan. She is keeping her company. She was sad to see Geneviève go.’

‘My head hurts.’ Suddenly, Michel felt nauseous.

‘Lie down, lie down. That is enough for now. Close your eyes and rest. I will tell Jean to slow down a little, make it less bumpy back here.’

Michel lay back and closed his eyes, listening to Giordano speak to Jean at the front of the wagon. He was not sure if Jean slowed or not, but soon the rocking soothed his head and he fell into a dreamless sleep.