Freddie Mole

by Alexander McCall Smith

  As the trapeze artists swung backwards and forwards at the top of the tent, the ringmaster made his way to Freddie’s side.

  “Where’s Harry?” he asked. “Have you seen him this evening?”

  Freddie shook his head. “He told me to meet him here ten minutes before we were due to go on. But he hasn’t turned up yet.”

  The ringmaster glanced at his watch. “It’s too bad,” he complained. “Harry promised me that he would never miss another performance. Now he appears to be doing exactly that.”

  “I’m sure he’ll turn up,” said Freddie.

  “Well, I’m not so sure,” snapped the ringmaster. “I suspect that he’s gone off to Peru or somewhere like that. He’s let us down before.” He looked at his watch again. “He’s got another four minutes—that’s all.”

  Freddie felt a pang of disappointment. He had been looking forward to getting into the ring with lions, and he did not want the show to be cancelled. Without thinking too much about it, he made his offer.

  “I’ll do it,” he said.

  The ringmaster looked at him in astonishment. “By yourself?” he asked.

  Freddie swallowed hard. Was he brave enough? He thought of the lions—they looked fierce, but he understood they were really rather shy. And as for their teeth—he knew they were false and could not really bite. And he knew, too, that their claws were blunt….He made up his mind. “Yes,” he said. “I want to help.”

  The ringmaster was doubtful—but only for a moment. Then he smiled, thumped Freddie on the back in a friendly way, and said, “That’s my boy! That’s the true spirit of the circus! You’re on, Freddie!”

  * * *

  —

  The lions had already been moved into a small pen near the big tent. Together with the ringmaster, Freddie now went there while, inside the tent, their show cage was being assembled. The lions were eager to begin the show, as they always received treats for performing. They were very obedient, sitting down without complaint and opening their mouths widely for the fitting of their false teeth. That took only a few moments, and then they impatiently, but very politely, followed Freddie in a long line back to the circus tent itself.

  Once Lisa and Godfrey finished their act and had taken their final bow, the ringmaster entered the tent. Waving his top hat in the air to show that he was about to make an announcement, he shouted: “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the most thrilling part of this evening’s entertainment—the lions, those four kings of the jungle, Ripper, Roarer, Growler, and Prowler, with their trainer, the world-famous, or soon to be world-famous, Freddie Mole!”

  Hearing this, Freddie blushed to the roots of his hair. He was not world-famous, but then, everything the ringmaster said was a little bit made up, and perhaps that was just the way circuses worked. But there was no time to worry too much about that. Hearing the roars of the crowd inside, the lions themselves gave an answering roar, and in they all bounded, followed by Freddie.

  Freddie really had very little to do. The lions knew their part exactly, and they immediately leapt up onto large metal stools, fixed the crowd with fierce glares, and growled in the most convincing way. As Freddie walked past him, Ripper let out a particularly vicious snarl and took a swipe at him. Many members of the crowd screamed when they saw this, and one girl actually fainted—for a few seconds—but was quickly revived by ice cream. For his part, Freddie knew that Ripper was only acting—and this was confirmed by Ripper himself, who gave Freddie a friendly wink as he passed.

  The lions went through their paces. They roared and growled and slunk their way round the ring, and even had a small lion-fight among themselves. Freddie, of course, could see that this fight was entirely friendly—the lion version of a playful pillow fight—but nobody in the audience was to know that.

  When the lions had done their final tricks, they scampered back to their home cages, leaving Freddie in the ring to take the applause. And that applause was very loud. “Bravo!” some shouted, which means Well done! while others shouted, “Bravissimo!” which means Very, very well done! Freddie bowed very politely to thank everybody for these compliments. Then he took a step back to bow again, and he noticed something that he had missed in his excitement. Sitting in the cheap seats at the back of the tent was his father, and…He stared into the crowd. Could it possibly be? Surely not.

  But it was. There was his father, and there, at his side, was…his mother.

  “Ma!” shouted Freddie, and waved.

  Freddie’s mother stood up in her seat and waved back. Then his father stood up and waved as well. All eyes in the crowd turned to stare at the two standing figures. People were a bit puzzled. Who were these people at the back who were standing up and waving?

  “It’s my father and mother!” shouted Freddie. “It’s them!”

  The crowd loved this, and people immediately began to clap for Freddie’s parents. “I bet they’re brave, too!” shouted a woman sitting nearby. Then a man at the front called out, “They should come and take a bow! After all, they must have brought their son up to be brave—they deserve the credit for that!”

  This suggestion brought a chorus of approval. Although very modest people, Ted and Flora Mole were proud of their son, and this was his moment. So they made their way down the aisle between seats and entered the ring. Freddie rushed forward to meet them, flinging himself into his mother’s arms. This was the signal for the crowd to cheer even more loudly than ever. “There’s a boy who loves his mother!” shouted somebody, and another yelled, “He looks just like his dad—just as handsome!”

  “You didn’t tell me you had become a lion tamer, my darling,” said Freddie’s mother. “I’m so proud of you—standing there like that with those fierce lions.”

  “To tell the truth, Ma,” whispered Freddie, “they’re not fierce at all. They just look it.”

  Ted Mole laughed. “Their teeth were frightening enough.”

  “False,” Freddie muttered. “False teeth, Dad. Just like Granny’s.”

  “Oh well,” said Ted Mole. “We all enjoyed it very much. And I’m so proud of you, son. I’m so proud I could burst.”

  * * *

  —

  After the crowd had left the tent, Freddie and his parents made their way out as well, but were stopped at the entrance by the ringmaster.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked as he stepped out in front of them.

  Freddie was worried. He thought the ringmaster might perhaps feel that he was going to try to escape doing some chore, such as cleaning up after the crowd. He would not dream of doing that, of course, as he was a hardworking boy and would never shirk any task.

  “I was just going to say goodbye to my parents,” said Freddie. “I was going to come back and pick up the rubbish—I promise I was.”

  The ringmaster laughed. “Oh, I didn’t think you were shirking, Freddie—anything but that. No, I just wanted to invite you and your parents”—and here he bowed politely to the Moles—“to join me in the office for a celebration. Champagne for your parents, Freddie, and a fizzy drink for you. Not quite as fizzy as champagne, perhaps, but fizzy nonetheless.”

  They accepted the invitation and accompanied the ringmaster to the van marked OFFICE. There they were invited to sit down while the ringmaster poured the champagne and the other fizzy drink. Then he raised his glass to propose a toast. “To our brave lion tamer,” he said. “To Freddie Mole.”

  Freddie thanked everybody and then took a sip of his soft drink.

  “I’m really glad you’re back, Ma,” he said to his mother.

  “And I’m glad to be back,” Mrs. Mole said. “I only arrived back yesterday—from Cape Horn. It was very rough out there, I’m afraid. We had very high seas.”

  “Well, you’re back safely, Madam,” said the ringmaster. “I always say that dry land is far
drier than the sea, would you not agree?”

  “I do,” said Mrs. Mole. “There are very few people who would disagree with you about that.”

  “The sea is undoubtedly very wet,” said Ted Mole. “And when it’s rough, it’s rather like a great washing machine, I’ve always thought.”

  “I see,” said the ringmaster. “And by that I mean I see rather than I sea.”

  Freddie, being polite, laughed at this, and the ringmaster was very pleased. Now he turned to Freddie’s father and asked him how his washing machine repair business was doing. Ted Mole told him that it scraped along but that it never did all that well. The ringmaster nodded and looked very thoughtful at this, and he frowned when Ted told him that there were times when it was difficult to get customers to pay their bills once he had fixed their washing machine.

  “Very inconsiderate,” he said, shaking his head. “A hardworking man such as yourself, sir, deserves better than that.”

  There was a silence, and then the ringmaster said, “I’ve had an idea.”

  Everybody looked at him, waiting for the idea to be revealed.

  “It’s a very good idea,” the ringmaster went on to say. “If you will permit me to tell you about it, I shall do so.”

  “Of course,” said Ted Mole.

  “Well,” said the ringmaster, “I must tell you what an excellent boy your Freddie is. He’s hardworking, polite, and ten times better than the last boy we had. No, in fact, he’s twenty times better.”

  “Well done, son,” said Ted Mole. “Your ma and I are proud of you.”

  “So you should be,” said the ringmaster. “And here’s my idea: Many people who work in circuses, as you know, work there because their whole family does. So I wondered whether you would all like to join my circus. I have no son, and eventually, when I retire, it will be necessary for the circus to be run by somebody else. I can think of no person more suited for that task—not just yet, of course, but at some date in the future—than young Freddie here. I really cannot think of anybody better.”

  Freddie caught his breath. Had he heard that correctly? Sometimes you hear nice things because you want to hear them and your mind invents them. Had the ringmaster really said all that?

  The ringmaster now turned to Freddie’s mother. “You, Mrs. Mole, would possibly like less…how shall I put it?…a less peripatetic job. Am I right?”

  Freddie looked puzzled. Peripatetic? It sounded such a nice word, but what on earth did it mean?

  Ted Mole saw his son’s puzzled expression. “ ‘Peripatetic’ means ‘traveling around,’ ” he whispered. “It’s a very good word.”

  Mrs. Mole told the ringmaster that he was indeed right. “When we were down at Cape Horn,” she said, “and the ship was being tossed all over the place, I thought there must be easier ways of earning a living.”

  “I would give you a very fine caravan,” said the ringmaster. “There would be plenty of room for you and your children. And Freddie could go to school during the day and do the shows at night. I could put his acts in at the beginning of the program so he would be in bed by his proper bedtime.”

  “Very good,” said Ted Mole. “A regular bedtime is very important—even if you are a lion tamer.”

  “Precisely,” said the ringmaster.

  Freddie looked at his father. It all sounded like such a wonderful chance, but he knew, as all children know, that there are times when grown-ups sometimes just do not see how wonderful a chance may be. “Please say yes,” he whispered, so softly that almost nobody would be able to hear.

  His father did hear, though, and he turned for a quick whispered discussion with his wife. Then he turned back to the ringmaster. “We accept,” he said. “As long as it’s all right with Freddie.”

  “Of course it is,” said Freddie quickly. “It’s the best decision you’ve ever made, Dad.”

  His father shook his head. “No, the best decision I ever made, son,” he said, “was to marry your ma here.”

  That is just the sort of thing wives like their husbands to say, and Mrs. Mole was very pleased. “And the best decision I ever made was to say yes when you asked me,” she said.

  “All very satisfactory,” said the ringmaster. “So, when can you start?”

  “Tomorrow,” said Ted Mole. “I know somebody who wants to buy my washing machine repair business. I shall sell it to him first thing in the morning, and then we can pack up and come over.”

  “Even more satisfactory,” said the ringmaster. “But I haven’t mentioned your wages. This is what I shall pay you at the end of every month.” He scribbled a figure on a piece of paper and handed it to Freddie’s father. Ted Mole looked at it. His eyes opened wide.

  “That’s a lot of money,” he said. “You’re very generous.”

  “Hard work—and talent—deserve their reward,” said the ringmaster.

  * * *

  —

  The Mole family settled into their new life very happily. Ted Mole soon proved to be extremely useful about the place, fixing things and making sure everything worked smoothly. He even invented things that made circus life much easier, such as a way of putting the big tent up in half the normal time by using pulleys and winches. Mrs. Mole took over the performing dogs, as the dog lady had married a famous mountaineer and she wanted to go off and climb mountains in India with him. The dogs loved their new trainer, and together they invented all sorts of new tricks. Even the twins, although still tiny, found something to do. They became quite friendly with a tame wolf that the circus had, so the ringmaster set up a sideshow at the entrance to the tent. This was a cage which had written on it ROMULUS AND REMA, THE TWO WILD BABIES OF ROME. The show consisted of the twins sitting in the cage with the wolf, who nuzzled them and licked their faces in an affectionate way. The twins loved this, and every so often would howl like wolves, to the great amazement of the crowd that gathered around them.

  Now that they had more money, the Mole family were able to buy smart new clothes. Freddie was bought five pairs of socks, so he could change them nearly every day. He also saved a lot, putting his money into a piggy bank that the ringmaster gave him for his birthday. Ted bought a new suit and a red and white car with large headlights. Mrs. Mole bought an armchair, a necklace of real pearls, and a whole shelf of books, as she loved reading stories about the sea. Everybody was much happier—not least because their work in the circus brought excitement and pleasure to so many people, and that was a very good thing. If you can make other people happier, then you become happier yourself. Everybody knows that.

  And what happened to the lions? Well, here’s an extraordinary story. The ringmaster had always wondered whether they would be better off in the wild, and one day he thought they should try to give them their freedom. So they sent the lions off to a game preserve in Africa, where they would be released to live an ordinary lion life.

  The lions did not like it. It was not just their false teeth that were the problem; it was the whole business of being a lion in the wild. The wild, the lions thought, can sometimes be just a bit too wild. So they ran back to the game preserve office every time they were left out on the plains. Eventually the game reserve said that it was clear that the lions would be happier back at the circus, and so they were returned. They were delighted, jumping all over Freddie and licking his face like a pack of playful dogs.

  And here’s another extraordinary story. A few years ago—I think it was last year—I found myself passing through a town I had never visited before. I was on a train, and when the train drew out of the town, I suddenly noticed that we were going past a field in which a circus was camped. I looked out the window—it was raining, and the glass had little rivers of water coursing down it, so I could not see very well. But I did spot a large tent, and I did notice a flag on top of it, and I did see a sign that read FREDDIE MOLE’S CIRCUS.

>   I craned my neck to see more, but the train was gathering speed and the circus was disappearing behind us. After a few moments, the railway line curved away in the opposite direction and the circus was lost to view. But I saw it, and I was not mistaken about the sign and what it said. FREDDIE MOLE’S CIRCUS. Those three words, I thought, told a very big story.

  ALEXANDER McCALL SMITH is the author of the bestselling No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series. He has also written over thirty books for younger readers, including School Ship Tobermory and The Sands of Shark Island, as well as a series featuring the young Precious Ramotswe, one of the world’s most famous fictional private detectives.

  Visit him online at alexandermccallsmith.com and on Facebook, and follow him on Twitter at @McCallSmith.

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