Page 131 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

Michel took Serge’s hand and shook it. ‘Thank you, Serge.’

‘Enough now – go!’

Michel lifted a flap at the back of the tent and turned quickly again to see Serge dragging one of the soldiers towards a stack of crates.

A car was waiting outside, its engine ready. Werner stood, holding on to Bertrand’s arm.

‘Papa…’ Frieda said, tears already rolling down her face.

‘Go. I love you.’ He kissed her.

Michel hugged Bertrand. ‘Quick now, Michel. Be quick.’

‘I can’t leave you here, Bertrand – I can’t,’ Michel said.

‘You’ve no choice. I’ll be fine – I’ll pretend I was watching the show. Madame Rosie and I, we’re going back to Paris. I’ll be fine – it’s time for me to go home.’

‘But Bertrand…’ Michel gripped his friend’s arm. ‘What about the others? I can’t just leave them.’

‘You’re not,’ Werner said. ‘I’m their ringmaster. I’ll see them right. You keep my daughter safe, you hear? You keep her safe.’ His eyes filled with tears.

Frieda did not want to let go of her father, and Michel had to peel her away and place her in the car.

‘Go, Michel,’ Werner said.

Michel climbed in after her and the driver immediately pulled away.

Both Michel and Frieda looked out of the rear window, watching Bertrand and Werner wave a sad goodbye. Then, someone else appeared – Giordano, being led by Henri towards Jean.

‘Henri found him!’ Frieda said, crying and laughing at the same time.

The last thing Michel saw was Jean hugging his friend next to the candy-cane canvas that dipped and blew in the wind.

Part Three: Winter

I’ve lived to bury my desires,

And see my dreams corrode with rust;

Now all that’s left are fruitless fires

That burn my empty heart to dust.

Struck by the storms of cruel fate

My crown of summer bloom is sere;

Alone and sad I watch and wait

And wonder if the end is near.

As conquered by the last cold air,

When winter whistles in the wind

Alone upon a branch that’s bare

A trembling leaf is left behind.