Page 119 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

‘Speak to Hugo. He will explain,’ Michel commanded, and he saw Frieda smile at that.

‘After the clowns, we have our two fire eaters, one either side of Serge. Then we move to our acrobats – triplets, that’s you. Then the contortionists, then our animal show. We will finish with the trapeze and the tightrope walkers. Our finale is everyone working at once, the music tense, until – boom – it goes pitch black!’

‘And then?’ someone asked.

‘That’s the end, stupid,’ someone else retorted.

‘So, it ends in blackness?’

‘Yes, because the theme is death.’

‘Nice theme. And I’m not stupid.’

‘Please! Listen. Let’s begin now – just one after the other, a glimpse at the routines you have ready.’

A group of slim young men and women began with a ballet routine, soft and flowing, before moving into a stilted sequence, their bodies stiffening as if growing old.

‘Good, good,’ Michel said and clapped.

Next, Hugo and two small boys walked to the centre of the ring, the trio juggling brightly coloured balls.

‘Can we get these painted white?’ Michel asked them. ‘Then add some faces in black paint as if you are juggling skulls.’

‘Seems stupid to me,’ a chatty lad said. ‘Who’d want to see someone juggle skulls?’

‘Please – get it done. Your usual tricks, Hugo, need to be darker. So no red nose, no pulling silk handkerchiefs from your sleeves.’

‘What am I meant to do then?’ Hugo chewed on his nail.

‘No need to worry. Use your imagination. What would a clown do if it came back from the dead for just one day?’

‘Sounds like the stuff of nightmares,’ someone muttered from behind Michel.

‘I don’t know.’ Hugo cast around. ‘Maybe he’d walk stiffer, you know, fall over things? Maybe his leg would come off and the others would have to try and put it back on?’

‘Good! Yes, a living-corpse clown! Brilliant – work on it.’

Hugo grinned and blushed a little.

‘Next up, Serge – where is he?’ Michel looked around.

‘Practising fire eating outside. One of the others nearly burned the tent down before – see that black singe over there?’ Jean muttered.

‘Well – then we have the triplets.’

The trio walked lethargically around the ring, backflipping now and again.

‘What’s all this?’ Michel stopped them.

‘It’s not the same,’ Eliáš said. ‘We can’t do it without Odélie.’

‘You can, and you will,’ Michel said.

‘I’ll help.’ Frieda came to their aid. ‘We need Claudette – that will help. Let’s go and get her ready for the next rehearsal, eh? That way you’ll feel a bit better?’

The triplets followed her, and Michel gave her a grateful nod.

‘OK, so…’ Michel looked down at his sheet of paper. ‘Contortionists? Where are they?’