by Janet Gover
‘We can cut across the front paddock and see if there’s anything near the house. Maybe there’ll be elephants in the yards.’
‘They don’t have elephants in circuses any more, idiot.’ Kate didn’t like Billy much, and didn’t bother trying to hide it.
‘Shh! If you start fighting, they’ll hear us.’ Jenny was the first to duck through the fence, the others following where she led as always.
The three of them made their way through the trees, slowing down as the buildings came into view. They found a hiding place behind some small wattle trees. From there, it was clear work was underway on the property. Trees had been cleared and there were signs of repairs on the outbuildings, but there were no people, and certainly no elephants, to be seen.
‘There’s nothing here. It looks just like it did before.’ Billy shrugged and turned away.
‘Wait. There’s someone.’ Kate gestured in the direction of the yards. The three of them moved cautiously in that direction.
‘It’s just some old woman and a horse.’ Billy was still unimpressed.
They waited for a few minutes as the woman stood outside a railed yard, obviously talking to the grey mare and feeding her treats.
‘Come on, Jenny.’ Kate too had lost interest.
‘No. Hang on.’ The woman had opened the gate and walked into the yard. What was she doing? She moved to the centre of the yard and the grey mare followed. The horse wasn’t wearing any harness. Not even a halter. The woman turned to the horse and stroked her nose. Then she made a sweeping gesture with one hand. The mare tossed her head and began to circle the woman at a slow, steady trot. The mare was no youngster either, but when she arched her neck, Jenny could see that she had once been beautiful. The woman made another gesture, and the horse curved into a graceful turn, still maintaining the steady trot.
‘This is boring. It’s just a horse.’ Billy shrugged and turned away.
Jenny barely heard him as another gesture sent the mare into a canter, widening the circle.
‘Arrêtez. Venez ici.’ The old woman wasn’t shouting. Her voice simply carried in the silence around her.
‘What’s she saying?’ Kate was getting interested now.
‘It’s French.’ There were no French lessons at their school, but Jenny watched a lot of TV.
The mare walked to the old woman, lowering her head for a pat and to reach for a treat that she must have known would be there. After a pause, the woman tapped the horse on the shoulder. Slowly, the mare knelt on both front legs.
‘Wow! Look at that.’ Jenny prodded Billy with an elbow, but he barely glanced over his shoulder, his face set in a sullen expression.
Slowly the old woman swung one leg over the horse’s back, settling her long dress around her knees. She wound her fingers in the mare’s snow white mane and spoke again.
With the utmost care not to unseat her rider, the mare rose to her feet and walked in a circle. The old woman was stiff and tense at first, but as the mare continued her steady pace, her rider seemed to relax, unwinding her fingers from the horse’s mane. Jenny was entranced as the years seemed to drop away from both horse and rider. The old woman moved her arms in a graceful arc and bowed her head first one way, then the other, as if accepting applause. At some unseen command from her rider, the mare changed direction, circling back the way she had come, before stopping. The mare stretched one foreleg and lowered her head to her knees, bowing as her rider spread both arms wide to acknowledge the silent cheers. Jenny could almost believe the mare was a unicorn and the woman a fairy from some mythical tale.
‘Look out.’ Billy grabbed her arm, breaking the spell. ‘There’s someone coming.’
Jenny saw the vehicle coming down the track towards the homestead. It was the same car with the circus logo that people had been seeing in town for the last couple of weeks. Billy and Kate tugged at her arm.
‘Come on. We’ve got to get out of here,’ Billy whispered urgently. ‘If they find us and find out that I’ve taken Mum’s car, I’ll be in deep trouble.’
‘All right. I’m coming.’
The three of them ran back to the road and piled into the car.
As Billy turned into the street near his house, he slammed on the brakes. ‘Shit! Mum’s back early. I’m dead. It’s all your fault, and that stupid old woman and her horse.’
Jenny saw the car parked in his driveway. Then she glanced at the clock on the dashboard. ‘Look at the time! I’m late for Aunt Alice. I’m going to be in so much trouble. I’m getting out here. I can’t handle being yelled at by your mum and Aunt Alice in the same day. See you later.’
She slid out of the car and started to jog towards her great-aunt’s house, her mind searching for excuses she hadn’t used for a while.
CHAPTER
8
‘Grand-mère, I thought we agreed you wouldn’t do anything too risky while you were here on your own. That you would wait for me.’
From her position on the horse’s back, Lucienne looked down at Simon’s creased brow. ‘This is not dangereux. I am riding my Coco. She would never do harm to me.’
‘And if there is an accident?’
‘I am always careful.’
‘So was I—’ Simon’s voice broke and he turned away.
Silence fell; there was only the sound of the wind in the trees. Lucienne knew what he was thinking. What he was seeing. She knew that grief well. She felt it every day too. One day that grief would fade and no longer rule their lives. Today wasn’t that day, but perhaps it was a day to take at least one small step forward.
‘Non. There will be no more talk of accidents. If I do not ride, I do not live. I am old, but not ready to step away from life. I will ride if I wish.’
Lucienne tapped Coco smartly on the shoulder. Once more the mare gently knelt. Simon walked into the yard and took Lucienne’s arm as she stepped off the horse’s back.
The mare got back to her feet and Lucienne fetched a treat out of her pocket.
‘I would be happier if you rode when I was here.’
Lucienne gave him a stern look.
‘I just worry, Grand-mère,’ Simon said as they walked to the stables. ‘And about Coco too. Neither of you are as young as you once were.’
‘Pah.’ Lucienne glanced at her grandson’s face. He was so handsome with that dark hair and those chocolate eyes. She saw something of her own beloved Jean-Luc in his face. But the creases between his eyes were new. Grief was a part of life, it always had been, but for a young man to grieve so hard was not a good thing. Simon still had a life to live. He must find his way and she would help him, even if it meant a small white lie.
‘Very well,’ she said as she rubbed Coco’s face and slipped her one last piece of liquorice. ‘I will not ride unless someone is here with me.’
‘Thank you, Grand-mère.’
‘The troupe will arrive soon and they will not find me sitting in a rocking chair like an old woman. And you, chéri? How will they find you?’
‘They will find me, as always, buried in paperwork as I pay them, and the tax, and plan the year ahead.’
Lucienne did not care for paperwork. ‘Did you see the children from the town watching?’
‘No. Where?’
‘In the trees. They were watching me with my Coco. They are gone now. Perhaps when the troupe arrives, we will do for them a show. That would be good.’
‘We could. It would be a good way to get to know people.’
Lucienne stopped walking and turned to face her grandson. ‘Exactly. If I am to live here, I must have friends. We must meet people. This we will begin tomorrow.’ Coco nudged her in the back and she laughed. ‘I think I shall let you care for Coco now. I shall rest before dinner.’
Lucienne wouldn’t admit to Simon how much even that short ride had taxed her. She hadn’t ridden Coco since the accident, but this morning she had decided it was time. That decision hadn’t been just for her own benefit; she was thinking of Simon too. She had to co
nvince him that she had recovered before the troupe arrived. And before they left. She would not have him chained to an ageing woman instead of living the life he was born for. If she was going to convince him to rejoin the circus, she first had to convince him that she would be fine left alone in this town. And that meant she needed friends.
Next morning, while Simon was out for his morning run, Lucienne made a shopping list.
‘What’s all this for?’ Simon asked when she presented him with it.
‘It is for me. You will see. Go.’
When he returned, laden with sugar and flour and cream and eggs, Lucienne shooed him away to his office and set to work.
It wasn’t long before Simon was back, sniffing appreciatively at the smells emanating from the kitchen.
‘What are you cooking, Grand-mère?’
‘The cake you brought me from the town bakery, it was so-so. I will make proper French pastries and give them to the baker to try. Perhaps I shall teach them how to cook better.’
‘They might not like—’
‘Go away. I will call you when it is time.’
At last she was finished. In the centre of the table, several large plates displayed an assortment of small cakes and pastries. Lucienne nodded in approval and made coffee before calling Simon.
‘What do you think?’
‘It all looks wonderful. As always. I trust at least some of those are for us?’
‘Bien sûr.’
Over coffee they agreed the cakes were very good. Lucienne carefully placed everything that remained into cake tins.
‘Now we go to the bakery,’ she announced, sounding far more confident than she felt.
Simon drove her into town and carried the tins as she walked into the bakery and looked around. The shop was as far from the Parisian pâtisseries of her youth as she could ever have imagined. The wooden walls were painted cream. The tables had red and white checked plastic tablecloths. There was no fine china or white linen serviettes, just metal chairs and a metal container of paper napkins on each table.
Behind the counter, a chubby woman in her early thirties was putting a tray of lamingtons into the glass display case. She glanced up. ‘Can I help you?’
‘You are the owner? The chef?’
‘I’m not so sure I’d use the word chef, but yes, I’m the owner and I do the baking.’ The woman closed the glass case and wiped her hands on the cloth draped over her shoulder. ‘I’m Karen.’
‘I am Lucienne Chevalier. And this is my grandson, Simon. Simon, please put those on the counter.’
Simon did as instructed.
‘My grandson brought me some of those … what do you call them—lamingtons? They were very nice.’
‘Well, thank you, Lucy. I am very proud of my lammies. These are just baked fresh. Would you like some more?’
‘I am Lucienne. Thank you, but non. I would like to make a proposition. But first …’ One by one, she removed the lids of the cake tins to reveal the delights inside.
‘Oh, my.’ Karen bent for a closer look. ‘They do look pretty.’
‘Ma mère—my mother—was a pastry chef. She taught me her secrets. Please, try them.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Please.’
Lucienne held her breath as Karen went to fetch a knife and a small plate. The cakes were good, but would they be the sort of thing the baker in a country town might like? Had she overstepped? She really wasn’t sure how one made a home for oneself in a place like this.
Karen sliced off small sections of the cakes, then helped herself to a whole mille-feuille. She carried the plate to a table and gestured for Lucienne and Simon to join her. Simon stayed where he was, leaning against the wall, but Lucienne lowered herself onto a chair. She watched as Karen sampled each pastry. The woman closed her eyes as she took in the wonderful flavours. Lucienne smiled.
‘They are good, no?’
‘They are very good. Yes.’ Karen wiped a trace of cream from her lips. ‘But I don’t understand.’
‘I was wondering if perhaps you would like the recipes. And to learn to make them? My daughter, she cannot boil an egg. I do not want these recipes to die when I die.’
‘Oh. No. Don’t think like that.’ Karen leaned forward to pat Lucienne’s hand. No stranger had ever taken that sort of liberty with her before. It was unusual, but not unpleasant.
‘But yes,’ Karen continued after her next bite, ‘I would love to steal your recipes. My customers would just snap these up. They’d be a nice change from carrot cake and lammies.’
The shop door was pushed open and a teenage girl came into the shop. ‘Hi, Karen. I’ve come to get cakes for Aunt Alice.’
‘Hi, Jenny. Of course. While I get them, tell me what you think of these.’ She offered the remaining treats on the small plate.
‘Oh, they look nice.’ The girl took one and gobbled it up in two bites, before licking her fingers. ‘OMG! That was amazing! Are you going to be making these now?’
‘I may just do that. Thanks to Mrs Lucy there.’
Lucienne found herself being studied by a pair of blue eyes in a pretty face that glowed with curiosity and good humour.
‘You’re the woman from the circus.’
‘I am.’
‘Are you going to have wild animals at your place? That would be pretty awesome.’
Behind Lucienne, Simon chuckled.
‘No, child. All I have is one horse who, like me, is no longer young.’
The girl’s smile faded, then she shrugged with deliberate nonchalance.
‘But when my circus friends visit, they may be more interesting. Perhaps. We shall see.’
The girl considered that for a moment and her smile returned.
‘Here you go, Jenny.’ Karen had returned with a cake box. ‘Would you like to take her some of these new treats to try? If that’s all right with Lucy.’
Lucienne nodded. ‘Of course, child. Take some for yourself as well.’
‘I’m already in Aunt Alice’s bad books for being late the other day.’ Jenny cast a sideways glance at Simon as she spoke. ‘So I’ll just take her the lamingtons. Aunt Alice doesn’t like surprises. But …’ The girl took another small treat from the plate and ate it, an appreciative smile breaking out on her face. ‘They’re good and really pretty and so fancy. Did you make them?’
Lucienne inclined her head.
‘Wow. Okay. I gotta go. Don’t want to be late again. But I’ll be back for more of these some other time.’ She darted out of the shop.
With promises to return with her recipes soon, Lucienne also made her departure.
As she walked out the door, Simon offered her his arm. She took it, a little worn out by the past few hours.
‘Lucienne, you are a wonder.’ His voice was full of affection.
She smiled and nodded. Of course she was. She would not let herself forget that again.
CHAPTER
9
‘What do you mean you can’t come? It’s an emergency.’ Alice glared at the handset of her landline as if it was responsible for what she was hearing.
‘I’m sorry, Aunt Alice. I’m out at the old Connelly place. I’m in the middle of work on a new shower block for them.’ The voice was that of Nyringa’s only plumber.
‘But I need someone to look at my washing machine. It’s leaking.’
‘How badly? Is the laundry flooded?’
‘Well, no but—’
‘That’s good. I can’t leave here just now. I’ll come around when we finish here. Maybe sevenish?’
‘All right then. Just make sure you get here as soon as you can.’
Alice put the handset back on its holder. Like her great-nephew, it seemed everyone was too busy right now for her. Half the town was working for that circus woman. When she’d needed someone to help with a broken cupboard door last week, the carpenter who had married her youngest brother’s second youngest daughter had also been out at the Connelly place. Not that any of
her requests had been urgent, she’d just started to feel as if she was taking second place to those circus people. It was a feeling she didn’t like.
She wandered back into the kitchen. A nice cup of tea would be just the thing. And a lamington. She smoothed her dress, pleased that she’d never had to worry about her weight, even at her age. When they were first married, Charles used to joke that he would have wed someone else if he’d realised how much she ate. He stopped joking about it as the years passed, and they both came to realise that perhaps marrying someone else might have been better for both of them. Their life together hadn’t been bad, just disappointing. As the years passed without children, Charles had started spending more time with their nieces and nephews, helping them whenever he could. He was always a kind man. At times, he’d accidentally rubbed salt into the wound of her longing for motherhood, but he’d never blamed her. And he’d certainly never made her feel neglected, as she did right now.
While the kettle boiled, she reached for the cake tin. When she opened it, it was empty. Of course—yesterday she’d eaten the last of the lamingtons Jenny had brought. She frowned. Her next afternoon tea offering was normally delivered by one of the relatives just before the cake tin was emptied. Now, it seemed everyone was too busy to visit her.
It was that circus woman. Everyone was working for her, or talking about her, or lingering in town, hoping to meet her. Well, if she had no afternoon tea, Alice might as well go and talk to the nice new school teacher. She must have settled in by now and it was time Alice got to know her better. Jenny seemed to like her, which was a good thing. Alice was not one to sit here and let the town carry on without her. You never knew what might happen, especially with all those strangers about. So she picked up her cardigan and handbag and set out.
The day was fine; not too warm and not too windy. A few clouds hovered above the horizon, with a promise of rain overnight. They could use some rain now, before the summer heat really settled in. After a few days without leaving the house, Alice found herself enjoying the walk. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone for a walk without someone from the family accompanying her. Today, however, she was enjoying the solitude and beginning to think that going out on her own wasn’t exactly a bad thing. She reached the corner of the street and turned towards the teacher’s house just in time to see Miss Walker running in the opposite direction. She was wearing exercise clothes, suggesting she was going on a long run, and not just attempting to escape Alice.