Page 82 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

‘That’s not why I am saying this – leave or stay, that’s not the point! I’m saying it because…’ Werner looked around wildly. ‘Because I trust you. Because I’m drunk. Because it’s all changing.’

Michel instantly felt his face flame and his stomach turn. Werner trusted him. Trust. Frieda.

‘Some more wine for Michel, Jean, pour him some more wine.’

Jean did as he was instructed and Michel raised a toast to Werner, all the while feeling the guilt creep across his chest.

‘Now, Michel. If you’ll permit me, I’ll tell you a story. It will help you to understand why I was so hard on you. The others know – I told them at a given time, when I knew they were one of us. Now, it’s time for you to know.’

Despite the wine, the tiredness, the guilt, Michel sat forward, intrigued to find out the secrets of the circus.

‘I met her on the longest day of the year. The summer solstice. I was in Hungary with my troupe – a different one to this bunch, and I wasn’t ringmaster yet. Just a wide-eyed novice – like you, Michel. I worked with the horses, I sewed costumes, I helped choreograph the evening. I did everything and anything to learn it all. I was obsessed, you see. Obsessed with becoming a ringmaster.

‘I had been to a show as a child and wanted to be that man who commanded an entire circus. Like a conductor with his baton, he was in charge of his musicians and the music they would make. So that was my dream – a simple one, as I had no schooling, no parents; only a grandmother, who I am sure was glad to see me leave and join the circus that came through town when I was fourteen.

‘Anyway, where was I? Yes, right. The summer solstice. We were in Budapest, in a park next to the Széchenyi Baths – the hot springs – and you could see the steam from them rising in the violet sky. It was a strange night. The sun was behind a cloud and yet glowed brighter, as if trying to make itself known. The orange glow, the purple of a midsummer sky, and those ancient waters and their steam… it felt as though we were on a different planet and something magical was about to happen – something that would change me forever. I sound romantic and foolish, don’t I? I thought this of myself too, as soon as the thoughts had appeared in my mind, so I turned away from the steam and the sky, and went about my business – for there was a lot to do.

‘We were the guests of a count and his elderly, sick wife who had a love for tricks and magic. We had brought in more acts: travellers who could tell fortunes; exotics that could bend their bodies, breathe fire and dance like otherworldly creatures.

‘I walked towards the main tent, ready to greet the important guests before the show, when I saw her.

‘She walked in front of me, a long mane of blue-black hair tumbling down her back. She wore a costume of silver sequins with a matching headband, and her long legs flashed out from the hem of the little skirt as she strode towards the tent, and the trapeze.

‘I was shorter than her by some inches and my legs had to work twice as hard to catch up. But I did. And when I did, I tapped her on the shoulder so she had to turn to look at me, and then, just like that, I could not speak. She was beautiful. Her green eyes were ablaze with light from the torches, her cheeks flushed, and her lips painted a deep red.

‘“Yes?” she said.

‘I said nothing.

‘“Yes?” Her accent was thick.

‘“I am French,” I said stupidly.

‘She cocked her head to the side like an inquisitive bird. “So you are,” she replied, now in French, perfectly accented, as if she were magic and could speak any language she wished.

‘“I am Werner.”

‘“Werner the Frenchman. Your name is not so French.”

‘“My father was German. My mother, French. I am French.”

‘“All right, French Werner. I’m just here for the night but I thought I’d talk to the others – gets a bit lonely when you are on your own—”’

‘I know that feeling!’ Jean interjected. ‘My first circus, I was alone.’

‘Then you met me.’ Giordano smiled.

‘I did. But now Michel is alone. We must find him a Giordano!’ Jean raised his glass, as did Werner.

Michel smiled weakly. He wasn’t alone. He had thought he had Frieda. But now, hearing how Werner had met her, how he had cherished her from first sight, he felt sick with the knowledge that he had already lost the fight – he had never really been in with a chance.

‘Drink, Michel!’ Werner said. ‘Drink.’

Michel drank, wishing that the story would end quickly so he could go away, be alone and decide what he was going to do.

‘Now, where was I? Oh yes, she said she was there for one night – just one. So I said to her, my voice all stupid and high, “I am here all the time.”

‘She laughed loudly. I couldn’t blame her; I sounded simple. I wanted so badly to impress her, but I knew that I could not – she was the otherworldly creature that fell from the heavens. She would not be interested in me.