Page 76 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

‘I’ll get it back from Werner when he’s better,’ Lucien said.

‘You’re ready to go?’ Michel pulled on his coat.

‘I’m sorry but I can’t – you’ll have to go it alone.’

‘He’s got work to do,’ Isabelle explained, her voice flat, as if there had been an argument before Michel had entered.

‘You think he will listen to me?’ Michel asked.

‘He’ll listen to anyone as long as they’ve something in their hand,’ Lucien said. ‘Don’t worry.’

As Michel followed the track to the town square, he heard the tip-tap of light feet behind him, followed by an even lighter footstep. He turned to look, and saw Frieda running towards him, Coquette – her tongue hanging out – at her heel.

‘You did not hear me shout at you?’ she said breathlessly as she reached Michel.

‘Did Coquette follow you or did you follow her?’

‘She followed me. Lucien said to let her come, as she pines when animals die. She’s sensitive.’

‘Werner allowed you?’

‘He wanted to be alone with Aramis…’

‘You shouldn’t be here. What if he finds out?’

‘I can help you. I have learned how Werner charms people to get what he wants. Besides, a woman’s charms will surely be useful now.’

‘If you’re sure…?’

‘I can’t stay there – I can’t watch Aramis die, and I can’t sit in a caravan or listen to the others talk of all those animals they have loved and are now dead. That’s all they are doing – Giordano is lamenting his dead cat from his childhood. I can’t bear it. Please. I promise if Werner says anything, I will tell him I insisted.’

Michel started to walk again, and every few steps bent down to ruffle Coquette’s ears.

‘You love them, don’t you?’ Frieda whispered.

‘Who?’

‘Animals. All of them.’

‘Sometimes they are easier than humans. Kinder. More patient. More loving.’

‘You didn’t even know Aramis, yet you feel pain for him passing.’

‘I do,’ Michel said, then patted Coquette again.

Frieda threaded her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. With the touch of her, he felt his stomach do a somersault and told himself to remember this moment.

They continued quietly to the town square, where a group of four girls had drawn a hopscotch grid in chalk and were singing as they jumped.

Oberfeldwebel Gehring, followed by two of his soldiers, walked towards the café. The girls did not stop their hopping, but they became quieter; an old woman who was making her way down the church steps now turned and walked back inside.

‘Stay here,’ Michel told Frieda. ‘It’s probably better if I try on my own first – just in case it does not go well.’

‘You must be joking.’ She walked towards the café that Gehring had just entered, and Michel quickened his step to catch up with her.

Inside, Gehring stood holding court at the bar – about how things could be, and how things were with him.

‘I am a humble man. A servant to the Reich. But I am aware of where I am. Here, I am in a town – a village, no less – where there is little. Some farms. Some wine. This does not interest the Führer. You have nothing here he could want. So, we live in peace, you and me. I want no trouble. Just peace.’