Page 80 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

Madame Geneviève and Rosie held on to each other and wept at the sight of Aramis. Vassily threw in a flower and Hugo poured a little of his génépy onto the lion’s body. ‘See you on your way, my lad,’ he said.

‘Fill it now,’ Werner said. ‘Fill it and then tonight we drink to Aramis, our loyal friend, our beautiful…’ He trailed off and began to sob. Frieda placed her arm around his shoulders and led him back to the farmhouse.

No one offered to help Michel, and he did not ask for any. He shovelled the dirt onto Aramis and thought of his mother and the day of her funeral. He sent a prayer to her and wiped away a tear, realising he had been crying as he covered the grave.

‘I didn’t realise that you were so fond of him, Michel.’

He looked up to see Odélie standing in front of him, wrapped in a shawl against the chill in the air.

‘It’s sad,’ he said simply.

‘It is. You know, I loved Aramis – I did. I fed him at night, and I think he liked me the best. When his teeth fell out and he couldn’t chew the meat, I chopped it up small for him, just so he would still eat. I think he knew that I loved him – do you think animals know that?’

He looked at her, her eyes spilling over with tears. He dropped the spade and took her in an embrace. ‘I’m sure they do, Odélie.’

She moved her face from where it was buried in his shoulder and tried to kiss him. He pushed her away gently. ‘I can’t – I’m sorry, Odélie, I can’t.’

‘What is it with you, Michel?’ she spat. ‘One minute you want me, then suddenly you ignore me as if I did something wrong.’

‘I know. And I’m sorry. My behaviour towards you was not right, Odélie. But it was because I knew you deserved better than me… someone who could give you everything you want—’

‘Spare me the apology, Michel. I know I deserve better than you. You were just something to pass the time with, a toy.’

She turned and stalked away, but despite her harsh words, Michel was pleased to see a small smile on her lips. Her place was righted – No one rejects Odélie; she rejects them.

As afternoon made its way into evening, the troupe sat with Lucien and Isabelle around a makeshift campfire and drank some of Lucien’s most precious bottles of red.

‘I can’t believe you gave up your finest,’ Michel said.

‘It’s just wine, Michel. Just wine.’ Lucien raised a glass.

‘He’s drunk – he must be, because he wouldn’t say that unless he was!’ Isabelle grinned. ‘Come on, you old fool, inside with you.’

Kacper stood and followed the pair inside the house, as did Vassily, who would share the spare bedroom with Kacper.

‘You can sleep on the couch again, Michel.’ Isabelle turned to him. ‘Or there’s the barn?’

‘I might take the barn tonight.’ Michel smiled. ‘The sofa was a little short for my legs.’

‘If you won’t take the sofa then I will,’ Serge said, hurrying after them. ‘I don’t care if my legs fall on the floor, I’m sick of that tent.’

Madame Rosie helped Geneviève to their caravan and Odélie herded the triplets to their beds – the three of them paler and skinnier than ever.

‘They’re not doing so well since we lost the train,’ Jean said. ‘Odélie says they hardly ever leave the caravan and won’t even talk to her anymore – just when she thought they were coming out of their shell.’

‘They’ve been through much,’ Werner said, his voice thick with drink, his eyes set on the flames as they danced.

‘Come now, we should go to bed.’ Frieda took hold of his arm.

‘You go. You go. I want to sit. Jean, Giordano, you’ll stay with me, won’t you? And you, Michel? Thank you for digging the grave. I don’t say it often, so you need to take the thanks now.’

‘That’s all right, Werner.’

‘We’ll stay with him. You go and get some rest,’ Jean assured her.

Frieda smiled then yawned. ‘It’s been a lot, today and last night with Aramis. Goodnight, all.’

‘Goodnight, my dear. Sleep well. I shall be there soon enough.’ Werner waved in her general direction. ‘Do you know, Michel, I loved that lion, I really did. I tried my best to keep him safe. I rescued him, did you know that? He was being treated badly, so badly – beaten, starved. I took him, cared for him. I never made him perform much – not much at all – and the way I got him to perform was to have meat in my pocket, just like a dog… he could be trained with kindness.’