by Janet Gover
‘Perhaps. You will call them?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t want to risk them running away again if they find out we’re coming. Or worse, Cartwright calling Ron and him getting there before us. It’s only about three hours’ drive, but I think that’s where we need to go.’ He looked at Meg as he said it. She nodded without hesitation. ‘Meg agrees too.’
‘She is a smart girl, that Meg. She goes with you, non?’
‘Yes.’ Simon thought he heard another voice over the phone. ‘Are you still at Alice’s place, Grand-mère? Is everything all right?’
‘I am and all is fine. I will tell Alice your news. Now, go. And bonne chance.’
Simon ended the call.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to ring them?’ Meg asked. ‘Do you know anyone there you can trust?’
She was right. He should call, but he didn’t have a private number for anyone in that circus. He tried the number on the website but it went through to voicemail.
‘We’d better get moving,’ he said. ‘We can try again from the car.’
‘Well?’ Alice didn’t really need to ask. What she’d heard of Lucienne’s call told her Jenny hadn’t been found. Even more telling was the way Lucienne’s shoulders slumped as she hung up.
‘They are not with le cirque.’ Lucienne’s voice was quiet and filled with sadness. She reached for the sherry glass on the table in front of her, but it was empty.
‘So what are they doing now? Calling the police?’
‘Non. Simon spoke to one of Finn’s friends. The boy who owns the motorcycle that Finn and Jenny are using. They think they know where Finn might have been going. There is another circus. Finn may be hoping to join that troupe. Simon and Megan will follow them now. With luck, they will catch up to them in the morning.’
‘And what about Finn’s father?’
‘Simon has not told him where they are going. He is afraid that—’
‘If that man gets anywhere near my niece—’
‘He won’t, Alice. I can promise you that. Simon will protect her.’
‘I see. Well, I guess I’d better call Jenny’s parents and tell them that.’ Alice started to rise then paused, studying Lucienne a little more closely. For the first time since they had met, Lucienne seemed frail. And old. Even older than Alice herself. The graceful performer in the sequins and feathers was gone. Alice understood how that could happen. How in one moment, the world could change. A person could change. And all because of the actions of someone they loved. She reached for the sherry bottle. ‘I’ll just put this away. Tea is what we need. While I call Peter and Barbara, you could make us a cup of tea.’
Alice didn’t stay on the call long; Peter wanted to keep the line free in case Jenny tried to ring her parents. Alice agreed with the sentiment, and had spent much of the early evening telling her relatives not to call her. But she didn’t think Jenny was going to ring.
She went back to the kitchen to find Lucienne standing at the sink.
‘What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like I am doing? I am cleaning up.’
‘You don’t need to do that.’
‘Yes. I do.’
Alice understood. ‘My mother was like that,’ she said almost absently. ‘Whenever she was stressed, she would clean. My mother got stressed a lot. We had the cleanest house in town.’ She stepped forward and picked up a tea towel.
‘What was your mother so stressed about?’ Lucienne put a dripping sherry glass on the draining tray.
‘Me, mostly. I wasn’t what she considered a good girl.’
Lucienne paused for a moment as if surprised to hear such a confession. ‘Why not?’
Alice studied the glass as she picked it up, watching the light glint off the carved crystal. ‘Well, I had a boyfriend when I was fifteen.’
‘I thought you disapproved of Jenny having a boyfriend at fifteen.’
Alice shrugged. ‘It’s not so much that she has a boyfriend. It’s more about who he is.’
‘Because he is with le cirque?’
‘Talk about history repeating itself.’ Alice gave a snort of laughter. ‘Jenny is far more like me than I have ever admitted. I was a bit of a rebel too. For the time, of course. For the time and place.’
Lucienne laughed as she lowered their plates into the soapy water. ‘What did you do?’
‘I wore jeans. Well, trousers. My mother did not approve.’
‘My mother also would not have approved. A girl, she said, should always be feminine and beautiful.’
‘I cannot imagine that you were ever less than beautiful, Madam.’
‘Please. It is Lucienne.’
‘Lucienne.’ The foreign name came more easily to Alice’s tongue than she had imagined it might. ‘When did you come to Australia? From the gossip around town, I hear you were very successful in Europe. A star with a prince courting you, no less. Why come here?’
‘My father brought us here. He had lived through the war and seen what happened to so many of his fellow performers. Circus troupes were called Gypsies, you see. Or Jews. Even if they were not. And such terrible things were done. Years later, he thought he saw a future when the fascists might return. So he brought us here. He said we would be safe here. That in this new country, people would not hate us because of who we were.’
Alice closed her eyes. She had been guilty of just that. ‘I’m sorry. I—’
‘No. No.’ Lucienne’s hand came to rest gently on Alice’s forearm. ‘You did nothing.’
‘I thought it was you.’
‘The girl who stole your lover?’
Alice nodded.
‘I am sorry for what you lost. But if he went without you, he did not deserve you. Pah!’ Lucienne waved her hand. ‘You deserved better than such a feckless boy.’
Alice closed her eyes and felt the weight of her sorrow like a dark cloud. Looking at her past, she saw that the cloud had formed not on the day her lover had failed her, but on the day she had failed herself.
She put down her tea towel and turned away from the sink. In the lounge room, she opened the top drawer of the sideboard. This time, she picked up more than just the poster and photograph. She also collected the bundle of old envelopes with the faded stamps from years past, and the unposted envelope that contained a letter in her own handwriting. She took them all to the kitchen and set them on the table.
‘He was not a feckless boy.’ She indicated that Lucienne should read the letters. The circus matriarch sat down and took the letters, holding the fragile pages carefully as she read the untidy handwriting. One letter then another. And another. Alice could see from the look on Lucienne’s face how well she recognised the way of life described in such eager words in those letters. Lucienne nodded slightly as she turned the pages, which glowed with youth and excitement and joy at life on the road with a community of like-minded souls. Performers all. She caught her breath, and Alice knew she had reached the point where the writer explained that it was the life, not the girl, that had called him away. A new life, away from the hopelessness of a small town with no chance of escape.
Please, Alice. Come with me. You will love this life and we can live it together. People will say we’re too young, but I know this is right for us. Come with me. Or at least write back. All this time and not one letter from you. You are breaking my heart.
Lucienne read on and finally lowered the letter and gently folded it. ‘He asked you to go to him.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why did you not?’
That was the question Alice had asked herself every day for years. She had answered it so many different ways. Because she didn’t believe him. Because her parents would have forced her to come back. Because she had no money. No way to get to him. Because she didn’t love him. So many reasons over so many years.
‘Read the other letter.’
Dear Wayne,
Yes. Yes. A hundred times … a thousand times, yes. I have read every one of your le
tters a hundred times. More than anything else in the world I want to come with you. I was too afraid, but not any more. I’ll find a way to get to Glen Innes when the circus is there. Look for me in the audience. Or, if you don’t see me, I will be waiting by the entrance when the show is over. I love you. I really do …
Lucienne finished reading the letter, folded it and slipped it back inside the envelope. ‘You did not send this letter to him.’
‘I didn’t have the courage to post it.’ As she spoke the words, Alice sank onto her chair and buried her face in her hands.
‘I do not believe that is so. You are a strong woman. You made the decision that was right for you. All of life is decisions. If that boy had meant more to you than your family, you would have gone to him. If life in le cirque had been right for you, you would have found a way to go. I know that for so many, joining le cirque is a dream. A fantasy. But it is not for everyone. You had courage, chère amie. You had the courage to say no to the fantasy and choose what was real. What was right for you. You should not regret that.’
‘I was so bitter. I let it colour my whole life. I married a good man who I should have loved, but I didn’t. Not the way he deserved. All because I was too ashamed to admit I was a coward.’
By the time she had finished speaking, Alice could feel tears in her eyes. That wasn’t right. Great-Aunt Alice was not a crier. At least, not in front of anyone. She looked at the woman sitting opposite her and brushed away her tears. As she did so, it felt as if she was brushing away that dark shadow. Not all of it—it had been with her for too many years, but the first wisps of it were gone.
She nodded slowly and took the letter from Lucienne’s hands. She folded it, ready to put it away. Then she changed her mind. She got to her feet and slowly tore the letter into pieces. She did the same to the poster and the photograph, then took the pieces and the envelope to the kitchen bin, and dropped them in on top of the potato peelings and soggy tea leaves.
‘Lucienne, why don’t you make the tea? I’ll see if I can find some more cakes. It’s going to be a long night.’
CHAPTER
32
A strange noise woke Jenny. She blinked a couple of times as her brain tried to register where she was. It was still dark, although a certain amount of light crept into the room from outside, where it seemed big spotlights were shining. She could hear people talking and laughing. The voices were all strange to her, as was this room and this bed. Only one thing wasn’t strange. Finn lay sleeping next to her. His face was quiet and so very handsome in the light shining through the curtained window. He was holding her hand as he slept, the tattoo on his forearm visible even in the dim light.
Freedom.
Now she understood Finn’s need to be free. Free of his father and his fists. But did she need that same sort of freedom?
Careful not to wake Finn, Jenny slid out of bed and padded over to the couch below the window. Parting the curtains, she looked outside. The crew had the big top almost ready. It sat there under bright lights, the blue and yellow stripes offering a promise of gaiety and fun. She watched the people moving around it. She didn’t know any of them. Not one. She believed Finn when he said she was safe here, but somehow, the thought that no-one out there even knew her name was terrifying. The only person she knew in this place, in this new world, was Finn. And what would happen to her if … She looked over to the bed where he was sleeping, exhausted by their long ride. Her heart still beat more quickly when she looked at him. She still felt that same connection she had felt from the moment their eyes first met.
But was that enough?
Her thoughts strayed to her bedroom at home and all the things she had left there. All the memories. The shells she had found when her mum and dad had taken her on a holiday to the beach when she was small. Pinned to a board above her dresser was a friendship bracelet Kate had made for her. And a baby photo taken before her parents had opened themselves to the digital world. There was a newspaper clipping about the day her team had won the freestyle relay at the interschool swimming event in Armidale. On the top shelf of her bookcase was a battered old teddy bear, missing an eye and an ear. She’d loved that bear as a child and realised that she still loved it—or at least loved what it represented. She had left so many memories behind, and memories were an important part of who she was.
So was family, and she had left them behind too. Not only that, her parents must be worried sick about her by now. Her mum wasn’t beautiful nor exciting like Lucienne and the other women Jenny had met at the circus. But she was Mum. She was always there with a hug when Jenny needed one. She had baked cakes for Jenny’s school events and chauffeured her and her friends a hundred times or more. Her dad was a bit boring and stuffy. He liked to set a few too many rules, but she could still remember running to him when she was small and had fallen off her bicycle and scraped her knee. Jenny hated to think how they were feeling right now. She’d planned to call them in a few days, when this circus had moved on. She hadn’t expected to want to talk to them so much and so soon. Mum and Dad weren’t exciting, but they were home. They loved her and she loved them. And right this moment, staring at those unfamiliar faces in the glare of the big lights, she missed her parents more than she had ever thought possible. Her eyes filled and she blinked back a tear.
‘Jenny? Are you all right?’ Finn was awake.
‘I’m just thinking about home.’
Finn swung his legs off the bed and came to sit next to her. ‘Do you want to go home?’
‘No—maybe. I don’t know.’
‘If you want to, we can. Once it gets light, I’ll take you.’
‘But what about you? Will you go back to your circus? Your father—’
‘No. I’m not going to let him touch me ever again. I can take you home and then come back here, where I can work and be safe.’
‘But we won’t be together.’
Finn took her hands in his. He squeezed them, and Jenny found that both comforting and incredibly sad. ‘I’ll get a phone. We can talk. And I’ll come to see you whenever the circus is in this part of the country …’ His voice trailed off.
The thought of not seeing him was hard. Almost as hard as missing her parents. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
Finn pulled her gently to her feet. ‘You’re tired. Come and get some more sleep. Things will be clearer in the morning. And if you want to go home tomorrow, or the day after, or whenever, that’s fine. I’ll take you. All I want is for you to be happy.’
As she lay in the bed, Finn’s arms around her, Jenny shut her eyes. But sleep wouldn’t come. After a short while she heard Finn’s breathing deepen, but she was wide awake. She opened her eyes and watched the shadows moving against the light from the spotlights. She waited and watched for the first signs of dawn.
Still she didn’t sleep. And still no answer came to her.
Meg looked at glowing numbers on the dashboard clock. ‘How much further?’
‘Another hour. Maybe a bit more. We’ll need to stop somewhere for petrol and we could probably both use some coffee. We’ll get there about dawn.’
‘Are you all right to keep driving? I can take over for a while if you like.’ Simon didn’t sound tired, but she had to offer.
‘Thanks. I’m fine. I—well, I don’t sleep much at the best of times.’
She heard in his voice the same thing she had heard in her own so often since that day. ‘Snap.’
She felt, rather than saw, Simon glance across at her. ‘What do you see when you try to sleep?’
For once, she didn’t pull the sleeve of her top down further. Instead she pushed it up and ran her finger down the jagged scar. She didn’t know if Simon could see it in the dim light, and she didn’t care. This was a moment of calm before the storm. A moment of honesty and perhaps clarity too.
‘His face. His angry, twisted, hate-filled face.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And the knife. Stained red.’ It was time to be honest, not just with Simon, but with hers
elf as well.
‘There was this girl in my senior English class. She was smart and pretty. Jenny reminds me a bit of her. She had a boyfriend. He was a few years older and used to pick her up after school. He didn’t seem dangerous. She even introduced me once. Then one day, she came to school with bruises …’
‘Who did that to you?’
‘It’s nothing, Miss Walker.’
‘No. It’s not nothing. Who hurt you? You have to tell someone. Your parents. The police. You have to stop this.’
‘I can’t.’ It was a desperate cry from the depths of a bruised soul. ‘If I tell anyone, he’ll just get mad. And then …’
‘So you reported him?’
‘Yes. I called the police and he was arrested. But he was out on bail the next day. He came to the school making threats.’
‘You interfering bitch. I’ll get you for this. One day you’ll see me behind you, and you’ll know I’m going to hurt you.’
‘A few days later, I left school late. I was walking to the train station and saw him. I tried to run but he was too fast. In my nightmares I still hear him running after me. He had a knife.’
She paused, waiting for Simon to say what so many others had said. To offer comfort that wasn’t comfort at all. But he said none of those things. He said nothing at all. He just listened.
The words were finally coming, and there was no way she could make them stop.
‘He dragged me to the ground. I tried, I really tried to fight him, but he was too strong. I don’t know what would have happened if someone hadn’t heard me screaming and called the police. They got there fast, but not fast enough to stop this.’ She lifted her arm.
‘Where is he now?’
‘Jail. He’ll be there for a while, but eventually he will get out. And when that happens …’
‘Do you think he’ll try to find you?’