Orphans of the Carnival

by Carol Birch

  It took less than a week for Julia to become Circus Ranielli’s main attraction. Every night she rode into the ring on a white horse called Sister who performed so subtly and smoothly at the merest tightening of a knee that soon the spectacle of this wild, black beast woman on what might as well have been a unicorn was pulling in crowds the like of which Ranielli had never known. He upped the money.

  Hermann Otto wrote, Vienna awaited, agog. Miss Gossmann sent her warmest regards, and begged Julia’s presence at a dinner party she intended to give upon their arrival.

  “Now that,” said Theo, “is something. That, I have to say, is not nothing.” He stood in her open doorway, leaning sideways, feet crossed. “Do you know how famous that woman is? She knows everyone. If she’s putting the word about—”

  “Friederike,” Julia said. “She was nice.”

  “She loved you.”

  “She did, didn’t she?”

  “Mad about you.”

  “She was nice. She looked at me as if I was—”

  “The Cricket,” he said. “Never saw it, myself. Wildly successful. Some romantic thing.”

  “A play?”

  “With music. The woman has a voice, but not to match yours.”

  Ezra came up beside him with Cato. “Seen Berniece?”

  “No,” said Theo, standing aside. Cato ambled in, mumbling sleepily to himself, attached himself to Julia’s skirt with his fists and closed his eyes.

  “He’s supposed to be asleep,” said Ezra. “He won’t go off without her.”

  “I heard her go out about midday,” Julia said. She’d heard their voices next door, Ezra’s high and complaining, Berniece’s faintly mocking. Then Berniece had left, slamming the door behind her and whistling her way downstairs.

  It was two o’clock now. The afternoon threatened rain.

  “Can I leave him here for a bit?” said Ezra. “He won’t stay on his own. I’m going down to the showground, see if she’s there.”

  “Of course,” said Julia, prizing Cato’s fingers from her skirt and leading him to the bed. “Lie down here now,” she said. “Here we are, let me move this pillow.”

  He lay down, still mumbling. His fingers were wet and had left marks on her skirt. “Close your eyes now,” she said. Ezra went to get his boots and Theo followed, talking excitedly about the Cricket, Vienna, opportunity. “Goddamn it, he’s moved my boots again,” she heard Ezra say. She sighed. “I need my afternoon sleep too,” she told Cato. Already he was beginning to snore softly. Someone came running up the stairs, much too light to be Mrs. Vels, and Berniece appeared at the door, flushed and cheery.

  “Julia!” she said, leaning in, fanning herself with a couple of letters she was holding. She crossed the room with clumsy, drunken grace. “And here’s my little man!”

  “He’s asleep,” said Julia, raising a finger to her lips.

  They were drinkers, Ezra and Berniece, but she’d never seen either of them this drunk this early in the day before.

  “Oh, sure, sure, I’ll take him off your hands.” Berniece leaned over the bed, an invisible cloud of ale and orris root wafting out from her. “There’s letters for you, Julia.”

  “Letters?”

  She held them out. “Just arrived. Vels gave them to me as I was coming up.”

  Julia looked at them, surprised. “Who are they from?”

  Berniece hiccupped loudly and laughed, squaring her shoulders to lift Cato. “Well, how would I know that, darling? Ez!” Surprisingly strong, she hauled Cato up, and he flopped over her arms, open-mouthed.

  “Here,” she said when Ezra appeared in the doorway, “take him.”

  Julia slipped the letters under her pillow quickly.

  “Where’ve you been?” Ezra looked embarrassed. “I was just about to go and look for you.”

  “Nowhere,” said Berniece, sinking down into a chair and swinging her legs over the side. “Ez!” She pulled pins out of her hair. “Fetch me a drink.”

  “I’m not getting you a drink, Niece,” said Ezra, Cato over his shoulder like a sack. “And Julia doesn’t want you in her room in that condition.”

  “What condition?” Berniece threw a hairpin at him, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come on,” he said, “Give Julia some peace.”

  She trailed after him, hair half up, half down. “You’re a pal for looking after my little beast, Julia,” she said.

  “My pleasure,” said Julia, closing the door gratefully and locking it. She could hear them on the landing with Theo, and knew that Berniece, drunk-silly, would be flirting with Theo. That’s what she did. He never responded, except occasionally to meet Julia’s eyes and smile and raise his eyebrows as if to say, what can I do? And Julia would feel gratified that he did so, but irritated anyway by the slender grace of Berniece as she flopped tipsily around in front of him.

  Julia ripped open the first letter, read it twice in the window’s light, ripped open the second and read that too. Then she read them both again slowly. “I believe your career should move away from vaudeville and into the concert hall…classical training…culture. A more refined audience than perhaps you have been used to.” And this other one. Offers. More money. Numbers.

  I could leave, she thought. These are good offers. I could live in Vienna. Friederike would introduce me to all her friends.

  She closed the shutters and lay down. But I’m with Theo, she thought. What did I sign? I did sign something but it was ages ago. What would Delia and Myrtle say? Got lax, girl. Get it in writing. Know your worth. He’s only a manager. Her eyes filled with tears. Only a manager like Rates or Beach. I could leave him. I’m free.

  She pulled Yatzi from under the pillow. “What shall I do?” she asked him.

  “I’ve had a couple of offers,” she said the next day.

  They were at the circus; she’d just finished a show, and she was still veiled. It was easier veiled.

  “Offers?” Theo had been packing her costume into a case, but he stopped and looked up.

  “Oh, yes,” she said, “one looks quite interesting.”

  “What?” he said. “What offers? Who said? How do you know?”

  “I got a couple of letters,” she said casually.

  “I didn’t see any letters.”

  “Why would you, Theo?”

  “Can I see?”

  “I don’t have them on me.”

  He frowned. “Where are they?”

  “Back in my room, of course.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” He sounded hurt.

  “Didn’t seem important. I haven’t really thought about them yet.”

  “But why didn’t you tell me?” He snapped the case shut. “Didn’t you want me to look them over? I wish you’d tell me these things, Julia.”

  “Oh, well. Sorry, Theo. I just wanted to think about them for a bit.” She turned away, fiddling with her hair. “We’d have to think quite seriously about things if I decide—I mean, I need to see—what was it I signed up to? Am I obliged to work out a certain period of time?”

  Theo groaned.

  “What’s the matter?” she said.

  He closed his eyes. “You’re not seriously…”

  He felt as if she’d thumped him in the stomach. A wriggling clot of emotions tightened his gut, too tangled to unknot.

  “Of course not,” she said as if it were nothing, “Just a possibility, that’s all. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything without a lot of careful thought.”

  But he stood looking stricken. “Oh my God,” he said, and she was sorry, so sorry for him, but turned away.

  “Don’t be silly, Theo,” she said. “You know this business better than anyone. You know everyone moves on all the time. It’s something we have to face.”

  She pushed through a flap into a tented area full of props and ropes and buckets, where Ezra sat playing cards with a couple of men. They looked sideways at her, knowing full well what was under that veil. Berniece was looking on, biting h
er nails, Cato next to her.

  “Damn carriage is late,” Berniece said. She’d been drinking.

  Julia nodded. They sat in silence for a while.

  “I might not stay with Theo much longer,” she said. “I’m considering options.”

  “Really?” Berniece perked up. “You had a fight?”

  “Of course not. Why do you say that?”

  Berniece stuck out her lower lip. “I don’t know. Just seems sudden.”

  “I’ve had an offer. Two, actually.”

  Theo appeared. “Carriage is here,” he said sulkily.

  “Ez!” Berniece threw down the stub of her cigar and stamped on it, staggering sideways.

  Back at the house, Julia watched the other three drink far too much. Cato was in bed. Down the corridor Angelo was entertaining a bunch of raucous acrobats in his room overlooking the street. Berniece lay on the floor.

  “Who’s for craps?” Ezra shook a couple of dice in his fist.

  “Sure,” said Theo, sitting down at the table. Look at him sulk, she thought. It’s not a marriage, is it? What right has he to sulk?

  Ezra said, “Shoot.”

  Theo looked straight at her, as if he could hear her thoughts.

  “Shoot,” said Ezra.

  She looked away.

  “So I hear there may be changes afoot,” Berniece said, sitting up to pour herself another drink.

  “What?”

  “What?” Berniece mimicked Ezra. “Julia is considering her options. Opportunity is knocking.”

  “Oh,” said Ezra, “what’s turned up, Julia?”

  “Nothing definite.”

  “Some flash dandy creeping in sideways to take her away,” said Theo, smiling as if it were all a great joke. “And she’s my bread and butter. What do I do now?”

  “Well,” said Ezra, “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision, Julia. Shoot.”

  Theo lost heavily.

  “If I were you”—Ezra pulled in his winnings—“I’d consider all angles very carefully. I don’t know about all this chopping and changing. Enough that you’re in this business without you going and changing the faces you know all the time for the ones you don’t. That’s what I think. I’m not passing Cato ’round like a parcel.”

  There was a silence.

  Theo rolled the dice.

  “What happens if we have our own baby, Ezra?” asked Berniece.

  “Then we have that too.”

  Berniece jumped up. “I want to go on the roof. Come on, Ezra,” she shook his shoulder, “let’s go up on the roof.”

  “Later.”

  “You’re boring,” she said. He was about to roll the dice when she punched him hard on the side of his arm, and he dropped them on the floor.

  “Christ!” he yelled, giving her a push that wouldn’t have amounted to much under normal circumstances, but she was tottering already and her feet flew out from under her. Down she came, landing awkwardly and catching her back on the sharp edge of a drawer that had been left sticking out. She burst into tears, jerked upright and ran out of the room. They heard her stagger down the corridor, bouncing between the walls.

  “She’s going to the roof,” said Julia. “She’s not safe.”

  Ezra was on his knees, looking for the dice. “One of them’s rolled under the wardrobe,” he said heavily.

  “Aren’t you going after her?” asked Theo.

  “It’s gone right to the back,” Ezra said.

  “You should go after her, Ezra,” said Julia. “She might fall off the roof.”

  “Let her fall,” said Ezra flatly.

  “You’d feel terrible now if she did,” Theo said.

  Ezra stood up, fat lower lip hanging childishly. “I’m not going after her,” he said, tossing the dice onto the table.

  Theo stood with a sigh and a stoic air. “I’ll go,” he said, and walked out.

  An embarrassed air hung in the room.

  “I think she’s too young,” said Ezra bleakly.

  “I’m off to bed,” said Julia, tired of them all. She left Ezra sitting forlornly in front of the abandoned craps game. Half an hour later, he tapped on her door, and she answered in her nightgown. She’d been lying awake trying to imagine Vienna, which she imagined like the pictures of Vauxhall Gardens, with nicely dressed people strolling around in a leafy parkland.

  “What the hell are they doing up there?” Ezra said. “This isn’t fair.”

  “Are they still on the roof?”

  “I’m going up,” said Ezra, “this is a bad way to behave. I put up with a lot.”

  “I know you do.”

  “Shall I go up?” he asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Ezra. Maybe they’ll be down in a minute.”

  “I’m going up. I’ll go quiet and catch them at it.”

  She closed the door. I don’t care, she thought, getting into bed. I’m leaving. He can do whatever he likes. She blew out the candle and closed her eyes but her mind couldn’t rest, and a few minutes later she heard voices on the landing. Theo saying, “Don’t involve me in this,” the sound of his door closing, then Ezra, “It’s really feeble, you know, the way you’ve been throwing yourself at him.”

  Berniece said, “So?”

  Their voices went muffled into their room, and a few minutes later someone knocked on the door. Julia groaned.

  It was Berniece, with white face and bloodshot eyes. “Can I stay here tonight?” she said, trying to push her way into the room.

  “No,” said Julia, pushing back.

  “Leave Julia alone.” Ezra was there, pulling on Berniece’s arm. Julia closed the door but the scuffling about and the voices went on till the sound of someone hammering on Theo’s door brought her out again. She saw Theo’s face, half scared, half amused, peeping through the crack of his door. He’d been listening, you could tell. “Aren’t you making a lot out of very little?” he asked before anything could be said.

  “If you want her you can have her,” Ezra said. “She can do what she wants.”

  “Look,” said Theo in a shaky voice, “you’re jumping to ridiculous conclusions.”

  Ezra marched back to his door. “Go on,” he said, passing Berniece standing tearful on the landing, “there he is.”

  “Ezra!” Berniece cried.

  He started getting all her pathetic things together and putting them out in the passage, stony-faced. Down the hall Angelo’s door opened and faces appeared.

  “Aren’t you overreacting a bit?” asked Theo, trying to sound sensible.

  Mrs. Vels came up and stood at the head of the stairs watching with her arms folded. “Is there trouble in my house?” she asked loudly.

  “Ezra!” screamed Berniece.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Vels,” said Ezra, “really, really sorry. Shut up, Berniece.”

  Berniece gave a little scream, put her hands on either side of her face as if she were holding her head on and flew into Theo’s room, pushing him in and slamming the door.

  “There,” said Ezra, “it’s all sorted out now, Mrs. Vels. Sorry.”

  “I will not have trouble in my house,” said Mrs. Vels.

  “No trouble,” said Ezra, in and out of the room with things.

  “No trouble, sir,” she said, “or you must leave.”

  “No, no trouble, I promise. All over.” Ezra straightened, attempting a smile. Mrs. Vels retreated, Angelo’s door closed and everything was quiet again. Cato appeared, standing in his long nightie, holding on to the doorframe.

  “It’s like having two babies now instead of one,” said Ezra. “What’ll I do?”

  Everything’s breaking up, Julia thought.

  Cato didn’t want to go back to bed. She had to sit with him while Ezra got him a drink. “Tell you what,” he said, “if they go off together and leave us high and dry, you could come with me and Cato. We’d do all right. Me and Cato, we’re going home when all this is over and you could come with us. You could come anyway, if you wanted to. Berniece wou
ldn’t mind.”

  The door opened quietly. Berniece came in and sat down on the chair by the abandoned craps game.

  “I’ll go now,” said Julia.

  Berniece started to sob.

  Cato mewed and ran to Berniece. As Julia left, he was wiping her face with the sleeve of his nightie.

  Theo sat alone in a corner of the tavern watching the comings and goings. It wasn’t yet midday, but he needed the hair of the dog. Last night was crazy. This Berniece thing. Mad. There’d been a horrible moment there when he’d thought he was going to be stuck with her, when she barged into his room and threw herself down in tears on his bed. Christ, it was only a kiss. What the hell. But she’d only wanted to lie there and moan for a bit.

  What now? This morning, with a sense of shame, he’d gotten up and sneaked out without seeing anyone, walked along the banks of the river for an hour to clear his head, stood on a bridge and looked at the sunlight jigging on the water. When he turned away, he’d been near blind and bumbled along blinking till he hit this tavern. He leaned back and smoked, dipping his finger in some spilled beer and making patterns on the surface of the table. Few more shows and they were through here. Julia was leaving him. All this stuff, offers, contracts—all getting out of hand. And if not now, then soon. Off with the highest bidder some starry night, just like he’d said. Or back home to Mexico.

  And me, he thought grimly, back where I started.

  Oh, for God’s sake, come to your senses, Theo. You never had a fortune like her before. Never will again. He thought of himself scrabbling about the Continent looking for the next thing. Wouldn’t be as good as her whatever it was. Should’ve saved more. Oh, come on, what are you thinking? She’s got no one. Neither have I. She’s only a woman when all’s said and done. It wasn’t the hair. That was the least of it. It was the lips. The whole of the mouth. Not like a woman’s mouth, more like an animal’s. Not that he’d looked too closely, but her teeth were appalling. There were too many, almost, it seemed when she smiled, a whole rampart of them crowding in behind the front ones, though it was hard to tell. Who could kiss that mouth? It looked as if it would smell but it didn’t. She was always very fastidious.