Page 51 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

‘I really don’t know… I have no money to get me far anyway.’

‘Good. Stay awhile. Werner will calm down soon enough. He’s just worried about the war, money. These are funny times, Michel, strange funny times. Who knows what will happen? Just live for today. We can worry about the rest later.’

Michel nodded and swung his legs back inside the carriage, then leaned back against the inside of the wooden car. Jean followed suit, and soon the two friends had closed their eyes as the train rocked them to sleep.

The train was slowing, its wheels grinding as it pulled into a station, finally coming to a shuddering stop. Michel awoke and nudged Jean in the ribs.

‘We’ve stopped,’ he said.

Jean yawned and raised his arms above his head in a stretch.

Michel jumped down onto the gravel of the tracks and waited for Jean to follow – but he did not.

Serge emerged first, then Werner and Felix. Steam billowed from under the train and Felix shook his head at it. He spoke with Werner, who shouted something then pointed at the engine. Felix shook his head again.

The tracks ahead were covered with weeds and broken-down carriages, and Michel watched as bulky Serge and stout Werner wandered further up the track, each looking left then right as if trying to understand where they were.

‘What’s happening?’ Jean asked, his voice soft with sleep.

‘Nothing.’

Jean sat on the edge of the carriage whilst Michel walked backwards and forwards as he waited, now and again scuffing at the gravel with the tip of his boot.

Soon, Werner and Serge made their way back towards them, Serge climbing aboard and Werner approaching Michel.

‘We’re staying here tonight,’ he said.

‘On the train?’ Michel asked.

‘Where else? You want to set up camp on disused tracks?’ Werner pulled a slim silver flask from his pocket. He swigged then, uncharacteristically, offered it to Jean and then to Michel.

‘Make sure the horses are fed, take them for a small walk, then come to the seating car, get food and whatnot, then sleep here.’

‘It was hard enough to sleep with all of us sitting up in the seating car last time – how about I stay in here with Michel?’ Jean asked. ‘I’ve long legs, after all.’

Michel tried not to smile at Jean’s dig at Werner.

‘I’ll tell Giordano to join you too then, seeing as you’d rather stay here – I’m sure your partner wouldn’t want to be left out. That way there should be room for all the performers to sleep.’

‘Giordano won’t like that.’

‘He can suffer one night of discomfort.’ Werner turned and walked away.

Michel dragged the wooden ramps onto the gravel and secured them so Beau, Claudette and Bisou could disembark.

Lead ropes in hand, he took the horses to the edge of the tracks, down a small grassy verge and out into the fields.

He took off his shoes, the blades of grass a soft cushion for his bare feet. Only once he reached the middle of the field did he stop. He untied the ropes and set the horses free. They immediately galloped away, running in circles around him, their long tails high and swaying with joy, their ears pricked forward and nostrils flared. Only Bisou remained by his side, content to chomp on the fresh grass. Behind him, Jean led the four workhorses to the field and set them loose.

Michel sat and drew his knees upwards, resting his arms on them as he watched his charges play.

‘They’ve no names, you know, the workhorses,’ Michel said to Jean, who was scanning the horizon.

‘Then give them some. I think I can see a church spire down there.’

Michel shielded his eyes against the lowering sun. ‘I can’t see anything.’

‘You’d be able to if you were my height.’