Page 64 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

‘You will bring everyone’s papers to me tomorrow morning before you leave. It will give me the chance to note down our visitors – names, origin. I’m sure you understand.’ He clipped his heels together, alerting the other soldiers that the search, for whatever it was, was over.

Michel looked over at Frieda, whose smile had disappeared. Werner took her by the elbow and steered her towards their caravan. Serge escorted Oberleutnant Köhler and his soldiers towards the stall selling Hugo’s génépy.

‘You OK?’ Michel felt Jean’s large hand on his shoulder.

‘I am. You?’

Jean’s face was pale, Giordano’s even more so. ‘What were they looking for?’

Jean’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, his voice dry. ‘Nothing. They just like to cause trouble.’ He turned to look at Giordano.

‘Jean, tell me,’ Michel whispered urgently. ‘What’s happening? What were they looking for?’

‘Nothing,’ Jean repeated, looking Michel dead in the eye. ‘They’re just seeing if they can stir things up. That’s what it’s like now – ask Anton, he hears it all.’

Jean and Giordano returned to their tent and Michel left them. ‘Madame,’ he said to Geneviève, ‘let me help.’

He bent down to pick up her clothes, the shoes, a book, which had been thrown out into the night. She did not speak, but now and again gave a muffled sob as she dusted off her belongings.

‘Thank you, Michel,’ she said finally, carrying the last of her things inside. ‘I would invite you in, but as you can see, I am in a bit of a mess at the moment.’ She gave him a watery smile.

‘Madame, no matter.’ He took her hand, kissed it, and gave a little bow. ‘If you need anything?’

‘Merci, you are a true gentleman.’

Michel made his way back to the horses, aware of the clump of soldiers who still stood nearby, laughing with Serge.

‘You are quite the charmer still.’ Odélie appeared at his side.

‘Madame Geneviève? She was upset.’ Michel frowned.

‘No, no! I’m sorry. I did not mean it like that. It was a joke, nothing more.’ She touched his arm. ‘It is emotional, all of this, for all of us.’

‘It is.’ He scratched at the stubble on his cheek; when had he shaved last?

‘You look tired, Michel.’

‘I am.’

‘Then go and rest for a while.’

He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

‘Will you help me if I need anything?’ She tilted her head to the side; her eyes narrowed a little and the smile seemed less sincere.

‘Of course,’ Michel said. ‘Just as I would do for Serge, or Jean-Jacques, or anyone here.’

Odélie’s smile dropped. ‘I need Claudette with blue feathers, not crimson.’

‘You said crimson before.’

‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Odélie snapped. ‘A woman is entitled to change it whenever and however much she likes! Blue.’

Michel watched as she stalked away. He sighed.

He was exhausted but did not rest as such. Instead, he sat outside his tent watching and waiting to see if Frieda would reappear.

The crackle from Anton’s radio made him look to the left. Anton was in his tent; no light, just the radio. Michel listened hard and heard voices – German, not French – and then Anton’s voice as if he were having a conversation.