Natasha would have expressed her awe to Maya, but they had reached Bill’s cabin.
“Uncle," she said knocking on the cabin door, “Mr. Cockney is here, he has some questions regarding his payment.”
Maya noticed that it took Bill at least a couple of minutes to make an appearance at his door in which time she had clearly heard the trunk being opened and then closed.
Bill reserved a smile for Mr. Cockney, and he pretended to not see Maya at all.
“How are you Mr. Cockney,” he said inviting him and Natasha inside. Maya sneaked in wordlessly behind them. She contemplated punching Bill in the face. Since she had already been asked to leave, it wouldn’t make much of a difference if she had some fun before leaving.
“Mr. Cockney is here to seek payment for his guards,” Natasha said, “I thought you had told father that he had already been paid. That too at the revised rate of 7 Cowries per unarmed guard but Mr. Cockney says that he did not receive the money, nor has he revised the rates.”
There was an unmistakable hint of panic in Bill’s eyes.
“Umm… I don’t remember telling you that,” he said flatly, “We haven’t paid Mr. Cockney yet. You must be mistaking him for some other person.”
Natasha didn’t look convinced but did not push it.
“If all the doubts are clear,” said Mr. Cockney, “can I have my money.”
“Oh yes certainly,” said Bill. He went over to his trunk took out a leather folder that hadn’t been there when Maya had broken into his room last night and pulled out a wad of money.
“1,575 Cowries,” he said, also handing him a receipt. You can see the details here about the guards and the days.”
“I don’t need to see your receipt, I know the amount I owe you,” said Mr. Cockney counting the notes. Satisfied, he signed the receipt and gave a curt nod to both Natasha and Bill, careful not to meet Maya’s eyes, and took his leave. Once he was out of sight, Natasha turned once more to Bill.
“Can I see the accounts book, uncle,” she said, “I would like to know how many people we owe money to so that the next time someone comes I can handle him better.”
Bill eyed her with distaste.
“Why don’t you say straight away that you don’t trust me and want to check the account book.”
“No, uncle,” said Natasha, “I have no such intention, I merely want to be up to date.”
“I don’t know where the book is. Harold took it to study a couple of days ago and he did not return it to me. I presume it must be in his cabin.”
He then looked at Maya for the first time this morning.
“I don’t think that you have taken my warning seriously,” he said, “If I see this girl one more time, I will leave immediately.”
“I have already talked to Nadia,” Natasha said, “she will leave today.”
Natasha turned abruptly and pulled Maya out of the room. Probably she had realized that Maya was perilously close to beating Bill to a pulp.
“Let’s look into father’s cabin for the account book,” she said.
“No use,” Maya told her, “there is nothing in his room. I already checked it.”
“But then where is it?”
Maya did not know. What she did know, however, was that the reason why Bill had broken into Harold’s room was to find the account book. Probably the fight that Harold and he’d had earlier that day was also because of the account book. It was possible that he was embezzling circus funds and Harold had found out about it.
But she couldn’t prove it without the account book. If it wasn’t in Harold’s room before Bill had broken in, then where was it?
Had someone else stolen it before even Maya had entered the room? But who?
Maya and Natasha went to the kitchen to have another cup of tea. It was now quite empty and only Helena remained pouring tea.
“I am sure Bill is hiding something,” Maya told Natasha as a visibly tired Helena poured into her cup, “if we could get the account book somehow, I am sure we can find out more.”
“I still find it hard to believe that Uncle Bill would do anything to harm the circus and his family,” Natasha said taking a sip from the cup.
“You obviously don’t know him then,” said Maya.
TWENTY-THREE
Happy Clown's Dirty Act
16-year-old Natasha stepped on the top of a 10 feet high step ladder, her hands wide, and took a deep breath. She looked at the tightrope extending a dozen yards in front of her with eyes half-closed so that the ground beneath her was not visible.
“Good,” came Harold’s voice who stood along with Nadia under the tightrope holding a safety net, “Now put your right feet on the rope, gently, like you are stepping on water. And let it go down, glide on it, like a boat…”
“You are not making this any easier by using water metaphors, father,” said Natasha angrily, “you know I am afraid of water.”
Nadia chuckled. Being adept at the act herself she felt her sister’s apprehension amusing.
The two had started learning some circus tricks together when they had turned 15 (an age Harold felt was suitable for girls to start being a part of the circus shows.) And now, a year later, while Nadia was already an expert in walking on a tightrope, juggling, throwing knives accurately, and riding two horses at once, Natasha had only managed to learn to be an assistant to the circus magician, which, in all fairness, only entailed knowing when and how to fold her legs inside a box as the magician was sawing it.
“Just put your damn foot on the rope,” said Harold louder than before.
Natasha shuddered at her father’s booming voice and pulled her one airborne foot back on the ladder. Harold wasn’t cut out for training artists. Being a circus director used to dealing with trained performers, he lacked the patience necessary to teach novices like Natasha. His short temper didn’t make him any more suitable for the job. Nadia, who had stopped grinning at the first sign of her uncle’s rising temper, knew that if Natasha did not hasten her progress down the rope, it wasn’t long before Harold would lose his head completely, throw the safety net down, and start reviling his daughter for her incompetence. That’s what had happened yesterday and that’s what had been happening for the last 5 days since he had taken to teaching Natasha after the other artists of the circus had given up.
Though Harold had a soft heart and loved both Natasha and Nadia dearly, he struggled to keep his anger in check. Natasha usually was at the receiving end of her father’s rage for not being as good as he expected her to be. In academic lessons earlier during her childhood and now in learning circus tricks.
Nadia saw her cousin shivering on the platform. She had a foreboding feeling that today would be a failure as well.
“Will you at least put your foot on the rope,” said Harold again, clearly annoyed.
Natasha gulped hard, took a deep breath, and placed her right foot on the rope but did not put any weight on it.
“Good,” said Harold, “Now the other foot.”
Natasha nodded and put some weight on the rope which tensed slightly.
“Go on,” goaded Harold.
She took another deep breath and put her other foot on the rope as well. For a moment Nadia thought she had managed to balance herself on the rope. But as soon as Nadia opened her mouth to encourage her sister, she saw her legs quiver violently as if caught in a furious draft of air, and, with a shrill scream, Natasha toppled on the safety net.
Harold threw the net in disgust once Natasha had rolled away from it.
“I cannot do it,” Natasha said not looking at Harold.
“You can, if you try,” said Harold, “and if you remember what I tell you. You fell because you pulled your hands too close to your body and bent your neck forward. I’ve told you a thousand times not to do it.”
Natasha sulked but did not say anything.
“But I will not leave you today,” Harold continued, “you will have to walk all the way down the rope or you are not getting
food. Nadia, go and show your sister how it’s done. Spread your hands wide and keep your neck straight.”
Nadia nodded and clambered up the platform. She was so adept at the act that Harold didn’t even bother for the safety net.
“Don’t snivel,” Harold said to Natasha, “look at your sister and observe.”
Natasha turned reluctantly and looked at Nadia spread her hands wide then drift elegantly upon the rope like a ballerina.
“Bravo,” roared Harold, “You see how it’s done, Natasha. Wait, Nadia, hold your position so that Natasha can observe your posture.”
Nadia knew that Natasha, close to tears now from her humiliation, was in no position to learn anything, but she obeyed her uncle nonetheless, balancing herself on the rope.
There was some movement at the entrance to the tent that they were practicing in, and a tall lean man with long brown hair, a square chin, and a beaming smile walked in.
“Billy!” exclaimed Harold, “You are back finally. I was growing worried about you.”
“About me or your horse?” Billy said still smiling.
“Well, the horse was obviously my first priority.”
“Then you’d be glad to know that he’s outside. His leg is still plastered but I have been told that in a few days he can tap dance on ice. I have put him in the stable.”
Harold beamed, visibly elated, and rushed out.
“Why are you looking like someone has snatched your breakfast, dear,” he asked Natasha who had now begun to sob.
“I don’t want to walk on the rope,” she said miserably.
“You don’t have to,” said Bill wiping her tears lovingly, “You are made to dance not walk. And dance in a ballroom, in the arms of a prince charming with the whole town looking enviously at you.”
Natasha smiled.
“Here,” said Bill producing a pair of sparkling ballroom dance shoes from a bag that he was carrying, “I found these in the city. Go on and practice.”
Natasha took the shoes gleefully and, the misery of the last half an hour behind her, ran out of the tent.
“I also have something for you, girl,” Bill chucked a snow globe towards Nadia who caught it while still balancing herself on the rope. It was a beautiful little glass globe with a small red house inside and a reindeer tethered to the door. When she moved it, powdery snow shimmered all around the house.
“You like it?” asked Bill sporting the same smug expression that Nadia so despised, “I saw it on the window of a shop, and the reindeer inside reminded me of you.”
Nadia did not answer him. She reasoned that if she kept quiet he might leave her alone.
Uncle Bill had been joined his elder brother’s circus two weeks ago after a decade working with another circus troupe. Though he was quite popular among the circus artists as well as the audience with his charming manners and his wit, Maya did not have a favorable opinion of him. She avoided him in the circus, kept an eye on him in the kitchen while having her food, and did not mingle with a group that he was a part of.
He bothered her. Greatly.
The way he leered at her at times or the way he spoke to her which felt so inappropriate. Even his hands, how he brushed past her intentionally touching her hips or waist. Nadia was wary of his intentions. She had thought about complaining to Harold but had stopped short. He was her uncle after all.
She was confused, though, why he had brought her this small present. Was this to make up for his unlikeable behavior earlier. Nadia hoped so.
She turned the globe around in her hand and watched the snow drift insouciantly around the house. Though she did not like pretty ornaments, this one was surprisingly beautiful and likable. She watched the snow settle upon the small antlers of the reindeer and at the door of the house. It was peaceful. Nadia felt like going to the place, live in the house, play in the snow...
She felt something crawl upon the calf of her left leg under her loose pajamas. She looked down to find Bill’s hand going up her legs.
Nadia jerked her leg angrily to push him back without realizing that she was on a tightrope. The sudden motion left her out of balance. The globe fell first and shattered into numerous tiny pieces upon the ground. Then on the cottony snow, Nadia came tumbling. First, her hand touched the ground and she heard it snap, then her whole body rolled onto the broken shards. She screamed loudly as the shards pierced her skin.
But it wasn’t the pain that made her scream, it was her anger towards Bill.
He had gone too far this time, Nadia decided, he would have to pay for it.
*****
Nadia heard steps outside her tent and sat up straight. She vowed that if it was Uncle Harold, she would tell him how his brother’s perversion had caused the injury which had now confined Nadia to a month with her hand in a sling.
Her cries upon falling from the tightrope had been answered by Harold and a few other performers who then took her to a local physician. He had tied her hand in a sling and ordered her to not move it for a month. She had been seething at Bill all this time but could not get a private moment with Harold to disclose his perverted intentions to him. But she resolved to do it now. Nadia had earlier planned to take her own sweet revenge, probably by poisoning her uncle’s coffee or pushing him from the back of an elephant during one of the clown acts, but she had decided against anything which could damage the circus’s reputation. Telling Harold, she figured, would be the best course forward.
But it wasn’t Harold at the door. It was his brother.
Bill entered her tent holding a lamp and a large box of chocolates which he kept at the foot of Nadia’s bed.
“I brought these for you,” he said smiling, “I hope you like them.”
“Take these and get out of my tent,” Nadia barked.
“Ooh… Angry are we” Bill’s smile broadened and he picked up the box of chocolate and ate one, “I like how your jaw tenses up when you are angry. It gives you a singular look, like an angry fox. I think I know that look from before. Now, where did I see it before? Oh, yes… On your mother's face, of course.”
Nadia clenched her one good hand in a fist. If her uncle did not stop talking she would revert back to her plan of taking her own revenge.
“Go away,” she said as a final warning.
“Why are you acting so rudely,” said Bill drifting closer to Nadia, “Did you not like the feel of my hand on your leg.”
“I will shout right now for Uncle Harold and he would kick you out.”
“Now, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You see, you aren’t the only one who wants to tell Harold something. I have things to tell him as well. Things you wouldn’t want him to know.”
Bill sat down at Nadia’s feet and played with the sheet that covered her.
“You wouldn’t want to lose all this that you have here, would you?” said he, “A loving uncle and a cousin sister and this circus where you are safe and happy. I can take it all away unless of course, you decide to cooperate.”
His hand moved towards Nadia’s legs. She angrily kicked it away.
Bill grinned insolently.
“Ferocious,” he said, “just like your mother. But I see that you are yet to develop other qualities of hers. She had a great talent with men.”
That was enough.
“Nobody talks like that about my mother,” she said throwing the sheet away and flinging herself feet first onto Bill, who, taken aback by the ferocity of Nadia’s attack, sat rooted upon the bed. He took the full brunt of Nadia’s feet upon his face and toppled on the ground, his nose broken and his lips bleeding. But Nadia was not done. She got to her feet and kicked Billy in the stomach and the groin to leave him rolling out of the tent and into the mud. The bleeding man got up with great effort and stared at her, half scared and half shocked.
“You would regret this,” he said hurrying away, “You think I am bluffing? You will know now who has things to say to Harold.”
Nadia sat back on her bed, blood rushing back to her fac
e. She felt much better now, as if some boulder had fallen off her chest. As for Bill’s warning, she thought nothing about it.
It took her an hour to decide otherwise.
*****
Natasha came into the tent out of breath, as if she had run all the way here. She closed the flap and kneeled down near Nadia’s head.
“What did you say to father?” she asked in a scandalous tone, “he is boiling with rage. Asked me to pack my things right now and shift to Helena’s tent.
Nadia pretended she had no knowledge of the sudden change in Harold’s behavior but she had a foreboding feeling that Bill’s warning had something to do with it.
The Mystic's Miracle Page 10