Page 43 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

‘Michel!’ Jean-Jacques appeared, his costume the same as at rehearsals, his regal wig slightly askew. ‘Isn’t it glorious?’

‘I haven’t seen it yet – I didn’t want to get in the way.’

‘Leave them for a while, and come and play mouche with me. Then we’ll seek out some food.’

‘You think Werner wouldn’t mind?’

‘Trust me: he’s so busy flitting here and there, he won’t notice.’

Michel and Jean sat outside Michel’s tent, each on a picnic chair with an upturned box serving as their card table.

Jean took a deck of cards from his pocket. ‘Now. Tonight I will win, and you will lose, and everything will be right with my world once more. Here, take this.’ He handed Michel a small silver flask. ‘Génépy – calms the nerves.’

Michel took a swig; it was thick and hot at the back of his throat. He passed it back to Jean.

‘Ah. Hugo has it wrong again. Not enough wormwood, too much vodka,’ Jean-Jacques commented.

‘Where is Giordano?’ Michel asked, coughing a little as the potent alcohol slid down.

Jean’s enormous hands shuffled the deck. ‘Busy. He is worried about his hair. He says he’s found a grey one and now will not perform until it’s gone. So, he is seeing Madame Geneviève who may be able to help. I assume she will use shoe polish – what else is there these days?’

‘He could see the Great Vassily; perhaps he can make it disappear!’

Jean grinned. ‘Giordano can’t help being vain – he’s Italian and his looks are everything to him.’

‘How did you two meet?’ Michel suddenly asked.

Jean-Jacques picked up a card and studied his hand. ‘Ah, now. A giant and a dwarf – how else do they meet but at a circus!’

‘Werner’s circus?’

‘Maybe a little bit before.’

‘Did you come to Werner together for a job?’

Jean-Jacques looked up. ‘Something like that.’

‘And Werner made you an act?’

Jean shrugged. ‘Are you going to look at your deal? Do you need a card?’

Michel leaned back in his chair, studying his cards. ‘You think you can win?’

‘I can only try.’

‘Try this.’ Michel played his hand.

‘Are you sure you’re here to look after the horses? I am starting to think that you should be a magician; I’m sure you’re keeping cards in your sleeves.’

Giordano, wearing his jester’s costume, appeared. Jean took one look at his face and offered him his chair. The dwarf sat down, his legs dangling. Jean-Jacques offered his partner a drink, and Giordano took a swig.

‘What’s wrong?’ Michel asked.

Giordano grumbled under his breath; something about the customers, the job, his hair.

‘Did you fix your hair?’ Jean-Jacques asked.

‘She put shoe polish on it,’ Giordano said sullenly into his chest.