Page 100 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

Michel looked at the frightened clown, his mind going over Felix’s disappearance. He knew it would not have been fighting – he knew that Werner had been afraid at the time. Why didn’t I realise the truth?

‘I’m sure it was nothing,’ Michel lied to Hugo. ‘If Werner said it was for fighting then I’m sure it was true.’

‘So, he wasn’t taken because he was a Jew?’ Hugo asked hopefully.

‘Génépy, you need génépy,’ Michel said and opened the door, leading them to Jean and Giordano’s caravan.

Giordano reluctantly brought out his last bottle. Hugo said that in theory he could make more, but he didn’t have the ingredients and maybe the Germans would find them because he was making it, so it might be better if he didn’t?

‘Hush!’ Giordano snapped. ‘Drink and calm down.’

Michel sat on a wooden chair close to the fire burning in the iron stove. His nose was still cold; his whole body ached.

‘Where are the others?’ Hugo stood near the window, smoking distractedly and drinking his alcohol in quick sips.

‘Madame Rosie has gone to sit with Werner. Serge, Odélie and Henri left in a black car earlier. Kacper has gone for a walk around the grounds with Gino.’

Michel smiled at the thought of Gino appreciating the architecture of Henri’s grand house, and the town with its cathedral spire that pricked the clouds.

‘What are we to do?’ Hugo asked. ‘Just sit?’

‘Read a book. Here.’ Jean handed him a volume bound in red leather with gold lettering.

‘The Count of Monte Cristo,’ he read.

‘Like Henri. Read it. You will enjoy it. He brought it for me as a joke after what I said, but I think you are in need of a riveting tale more than I am.’

Despite himself, Hugo took it and sat down, the book on his lap.

There was a quiet knock at the door and Frieda entered. ‘Michel, can I borrow you for a minute?’

Michel left the others to their drinks and followed Frieda into her and Werner’s caravan. ‘What can I do for you, my love?’

She drew him to her and kissed him deeply.

‘That’s all I wanted,’ she said when she pulled away. ‘I just wanted us to be alone for a while.’

She opened the internal door Michel had noticed the first time he had come into the caravan, and inside was a double bed with a thick yellow duvet and plumped pillows.

‘My bedroom,’ she said.

Michel looked at her. ‘It feels wrong to go in there,’ he said.

‘Why is it wrong?’

‘It’s your room.’

‘I did not realise you were such a gentleman.’ She did not smile.

‘I just don’t want to hurt you, Frieda. I have hurt women in the past…’

‘How many?’

‘What?’

‘How many women?’

‘Not many, no, not many at all. It’s just that the way I feel about you, Frieda, I want to make you happy.’