Page 127 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

‘I assumed you would want her to go with you. It will be safer for her,’ Henri said, his eyes not on Michel but on Werner.

‘She can’t leave,’ Michel said. ‘Werner—’

Werner shook his head. ‘Bonnet, eh? It suits her.’ He looked at the book again.

‘But what about the others?’

‘Serge and Jean will leave at the end. They know how to disappear for a night. Then, I have made provisions for them to leave too. The triplets will stay with me, in my attic if need be. Bertrand will take Madame Rosie to his home in Paris. Kacper and Hugo will travel south tomorrow. I have a lady friend with a lot of money and a large villa. She will be glad of the company.’

‘There are more people in the show, Henri, the others we have hired…’

‘Don’t worry, Michel. Fireworks inside the tent will cause a distraction. Those we have hired know how to disappear back into the shadows of Paris.’

‘What of Giordano?’ Michel’s head was spinning. ‘Jean will not leave until he knows he can do something to help him.’

‘I will have news on him soon – very soon,’ Henri said.

‘And you? And Werner?’

‘We will be OK.’ Henri sat on the edge of Werner’s bed. ‘We have always been all right.’

‘Odélie?’ Werner said.

Henri’s expression changed from relief to anger.

‘We must, Henri. We must help her too,’ Werner implored. ‘I know what she has done – but it was not her fault. Talk to her again, Henri. She told Michel what they did to her – what they threatened to do.’

‘You are kinder than you look.’ Henri smiled weakly. ‘Fine. She leaves now. Our friend in town will take her somewhere in his cheese delivery truck. I will make a call.’

Henri left and Michel waited a few minutes before he spoke.

‘I will take care of her,’ he said quietly. ‘I promise.’

‘I know you will.’

‘Will you really be OK?’

Werner shrugged. ‘Henri will. Most definitely. He has too much money and is too clever to get caught. He will disappear if he needs to.’

‘And you?’ Michel said again.

‘If I need to.’ Werner groaned as he tried to swing his legs out of bed. As he did, Michel saw that the side where he had been stabbed was swollen to bursting and an angry crimson.

‘If I need to,’ Werner said again as he pulled his nightshirt down, avoiding Michel’s gaze. ‘You’ll send for Serge? I need him to help me dress. I want to see the show.’

‘You should rest.’

‘I want to see the show! It is still my circus; it still has my name on it.’

‘As you wish, Ringmaster.’

Michel left Werner on the edge of his bed, his feet not touching the floor.

The townsfolk arrived first, just as the lights were switched on, hooked to generators that whirred and grunted. Torches were lit with kerosene, lighting the way through the maze of tents.

Serge’s voice boomed from a loudspeaker, announcing the delights to come, whilst Kacper played his accordion at the entrance, the children stopping to pat Gino on his furry little head.

Michel watched the procession fill the field. After half an hour, a trail of black Mercedes pulled up, small flags waving above the headlights bearing the swastika, heralding danger.