Page 56 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

Jean and Michel laughed.

‘Werner hasn’t got rid of you yet, Michel Bonnet? Still here?’ A voice and a scrape of chairs nearby interrupted their merriment.

Serge had sat down at the table next to them, Odélie on the chair opposite. She was dressed now in a flounced red dress, black heels on her feet, her hair pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She looked older. Older and angry.

‘Why shouldn’t he be?’ Giordano asked, pouring himself the last of the first bottle.

‘I just thought he wasn’t needed anymore. Beau is trained, so why is he still here?’

‘I’m taking care of all the horses now,’ Michel said, draining his glass.

There was a pause as Serge and Odélie ordered. Serge waved his hand and shook his head when the Madame insisted that the whisky not be drunk on an empty stomach. Serge patted his well-built midriff, and the Madame smiled.

Odélie sniffed at the glass of white wine handed to her, a crease on her brow, then sipped at it. Serge glugged his whisky back in one go, eyeing Michel as he did so.

‘You like it here, don’t you, Michel?’ Odélie asked, leaning across to their table. She lit a cigarette, the paper almost too white between her red nails.

‘I do, yes, Mademoiselle.’

Odélie laughed. ‘So formal, Michel! Did you hear that, Serge – Mademoiselle!’

Serge laughed loudly and Michel felt his face flame.

‘So serious, so formal…’ Odélie’s laugh trailed away, and she turned from Michel and his friends to speak in hushed tones with Serge.

‘I don’t trust them,’ Giordano said, his voice slurred and a little too loud.

‘Hush,’ Jean said, and passed him some bread.

‘I don’t!’ he whispered. ‘Never have. They came here together, you know. Had a story. Werner believed them. I did not. Not. A. Word. Lies.’ His voice rose again.

‘Hush!’ Jean repeated. Serge looked over, then grinned.

‘When will the next show be?’ Michel asked.

‘Tonight!’ Giordano raised his glass in the air and they laughed. ‘I will open the show. The Great Giordano with his hair and his brain and his handsome face! They shall come from miles around to see me! We must tell everyone. Madame! Madame!’ He waved to her. ‘I am the most handsome man you will ever meet. And, because you are so lovely and your food so great, you will be my guest at our next show!’ He kissed her hand and her husband, who until that moment had busied himself reading a paper behind the bar, now raised his head, and leaned over the bar to listen to what was happening.

‘Monsieur, of course you are,’ the Madame politely said, taking her hand away.

‘Indeed. One more bottle. And some beer! Yes, beer. Michel? Jean? Beer? Yes, three of them and wine too.’

The Madame nodded. ‘Perhaps some more bread? A little cheese?’ She looked to Giordano, then Jean.

‘Yes. Yes. Bread is good. My friend will appreciate that,’ Jean replied.

Michel started to relax again and soon forgot Serge and Odélie, listening instead to Giordano talk of hair, of women, and how he was sad that he had no girlfriend right now – why, he was used to two or three at a time!

‘Maybe the next show will bring you some lovely admirers,’ Michel said.

‘Indeed. Indeed. Yes, Michel. The next show. You are correct.’

‘Michel knows all about admirers, don’t you?’ Odélie had turned her attention once more to him.

‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

‘No?’ Odélie shrugged.

‘It is a hot summer, is it not?’ Serge asked the trio.