Page 72 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

Michel rode Beau ahead and slowed alongside Werner’s caravan, the ringmaster at the reins for a change and Serge nowhere to be seen.

‘I know where we can stay,’ he told Werner.

‘And where is that?’

‘A friend, he has a farm. I will show you.’

Before Werner could disagree, Michel rode out in front, leading them towards Lucien and Isabelle.

Lucien did not seem surprised to see Michel, and as he rode up the drive to the farm, Lucien simply turned from digging in the garden and waved his arm in the air.

‘You came back!’ The old man took Michel into an embrace as he dismounted. ‘I got your letter. Your friend sent some too – come, I’ll show you.’

‘I’ve got a favour to ask, Lucien. You remember the circus I told you about in my letter – the troupe from the train? Well, there’s no train anymore, just a bunch of us in caravans and tents, and we need somewhere to stay. Can you help?’

‘Of course, of course. You can camp where you like! It’s so good to see you, Michel, so good! We needed something to cheer us. The Germans came, you know, just after you left.’

‘They are everywhere.’

Lucien nodded. ‘Like rats. Thankfully, our resident rat is a fat, slovenly man – Oberfeldwebel Gehring. They took over a few buildings to use as lodgings for soldiers on leave, but we have found that as long as Gehring is well fed and his pockets are full, he leaves us be.’

‘You think he would leave us be?’ Michel indicated the caravans and wagons that rattled down the track.

Lucien shrugged. ‘We can only try.’

Isabelle was not convinced that allowing a circus troupe to camp on their land would be as acceptable as Lucien believed. ‘You are a madman!’ she yelled at him as Michel, pretending to be invisible, bent down to pat Coquette in their warm kitchen. ‘You think that everything will be all right – you have no brain in your head, Lucien! Your mother always told me you had no brain – well, I wish she were alive now to see this!’

‘What’s so wrong with a few friends to stay for a while?’ Lucien placated. ‘It is our land – we can still do as we please with it.’

‘And what will happen when the Boche see who our visitors are? They’ll come asking for papers.’

‘I’m sure they have them – all good French folk.’ Lucien nodded at Michel, who smiled at Isabelle.

She slammed a milk jug onto the wooden table, the cream slopping over the edge and dripping down the sides. Suddenly the twin cats appeared, and with a quick glance at Michel and the dog, began to lap up the drops before Isabelle swatted them away with the back of her hand.

‘It’ll just be for one night.’ Lucien took her hands in his and kissed them. ‘One night. And if Gehring is amenable, maybe one more night.’

‘I just don’t know, Lucien. I just don’t know. Maybe they will think they are gypsies? I heard from Madame Foucault that they took that Roma family away from Saint-Vincent. They were told they could not travel anymore – forbidden, she says. They were sent to a camp to stay. What if they do the same to Michel – to his friends?’

‘They’re a circus!’ Lucien cried. ‘Not Roma.’

Isabelle looked out of the window at the caravans – Jean and Giordano were trying to coax Bisou outside. ‘Doesn’t look like much of a circus to me – looks like gypsies. And I dare say Gehring will see the same thing.’

‘He sees what we make him see. You know that. Why else do we still have our food, our farm? We will make it OK with him, I promise you. Hand on heart, see?’ Lucien pressed his right hand against his heart.

‘And how will you make him amenable, Lucien? You are already plying him with some of our best wine, duck and pork. What next? Me?’

‘My dear, I could never, would never, turn you over to him!’ Lucien kneeled down on the flagstone floor as if seeking penance.

‘Get up, you old fool.’ Isabelle looked at Michel, who fidgeted with his hands in his pockets like a small child. ‘Fine, one night. If there are any problems, you, my friend, are gone, and you say we had nothing to do with it. Understood?’ She raised her eyebrows.

‘Madame, absolutely.’

‘Absolument!’ Lucien stood and hugged her. ‘But think, if it is OK, and they stay, then we can see a circus, my love! A real-life circus! Think, a night of food and wine and dancing and tricks! It is what we need. It is what the whole town needs.’

Michel saw Isabelle smile despite herself, and her eyes widened like they had months before when Michel had told her of the sights of Paris.

‘Merci, Lucien, Isabelle.’ Michel kissed her on both cheeks and went out to tell the others they had a home for the night, at least.