by Janet Gover
Never mind, there were other people to visit. Alice decided to walk to the bakery. She could have a cup of tea and a lamington and chat to people who came into the shop. You never knew what news there might be. Alice liked to be certain she knew everything that was happening in her town. Yes, that would pass the afternoon quite nicely.
‘Aunt Alice, come in. Sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?’ Karen hurried out from behind the counter as Alice walked through the door.
‘Thank you, Karen. Tea would be lovely.’ Alice settled herself at the best table. From her seat, she had a good view of the main street and any passers-by. ‘Could I have a lamington to go with the tea, please?’
Karen’s face fell. ‘I’m sorry, Aunt Alice. I don’t have any lamingtons.’
That was both a disappointment and a shock. There were always lamingtons.
‘What I can offer you,’ Karen added, ‘is one of my new range of sweet pastries. I’ve just started cooking them these last few days. The éclairs are very popular. Or a mille-feuille?’
‘A what?’ If Alice hadn’t already been seated, she would have needed to sit down.
‘A mille-feuille.’ Karen went to the counter to place pastries on a plate. ‘I’m doing quite a few new things now. Try some. On the house, of course.’
Alice looked carefully at the plate in front of her. ‘That looks like a fancy vanilla slice.’
Karen laughed. She sat down opposite Alice and poured two cups of tea. ‘It is a fancy vanilla slice. Try it.’
Alice did. The creamy filling flowed along the sides of the pastry and on to her fingers as she bit into it. It wasn’t solid and reassuring like a lamington. And it was nothing like any vanilla slice she had ever tasted. It was light and sweet and …
‘It’s wonderful, isn’t it?’ Karen was watching her with a wide smile.
‘It is very nice,’ Alice said after she had eaten the last morsel. Then she did something she seldom did—and certainly never in public—she licked the remnants off her fingers.
‘Try the macaron.’
Alice wasn’t at all sure if green was an appropriate colour for what was basically a biscuit. But when she tasted it, she forgot all about the colour.
She took a sip of tea. ‘Well, Karen. These are very nice. I won’t say I will give up my lamingtons, but I would definitely have these again. How did you start cooking like this?’
‘That newcomer at the old Connelly place, Mrs Lucy, popped by. She gave me her recipes and some tips. It’s all French baking, apparently. It’s good, isn’t it?’
‘Hmm.’
As Alice sat sipping her tea, a few people came to the bakery. While most bought bread, a lot of those French cakes also made their way out of the door. The glass display case was empty when Alice finally rose.
‘I should be heading home now. Thank you for the tea and cake, Karen.’
‘My pleasure, Aunt Alice. And here, I saved a couple of these for you.’ Karen handed her a bag with a small box of pastries inside. ‘Thank you, Karen. Will you be baking lamingtons tomorrow?’
‘I can do that, Aunt Alice. Just for you.’
That was more to Alice’s liking. She set out for home, the sweet pastries held firmly in her right hand. To be honest, the new treats were very nice, but she had been eating lamingtons all her life. They had substance. They were dependable and she wasn’t about to give them up, although she probably could make way for something else as well.
But it was going to take more than a few fancy cakes to make Alice happy about the arrival of those circus people. At least they were using local labour for their improvements, rather than bringing in fancy tradesmen from Glen Innes or Armidale. Alice was more than happy to have some circus money spent in her town; there wasn’t a lot of money around at the best of times, and a bit more would never go astray. Having some of the family working out there also allowed Alice to find out exactly what was going on. She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of the new ‘facilities’ that were being built. They seemed the sort of thing you’d build if you were expecting a lot of people to set up camp there. A circus would need facilities like that. Not that anyone had spotted anything even remotely like a circus … yet. But Alice wasn’t going to let down her guard. The rest of the town might be looking forward to some excitement, but Alice knew better.
Excitement wasn’t always a good thing.
This was a church weekend. She would wait to see if that woman came to church, so she could get a look at her. Then she’d know where she stood.
‘Are you ready, Grand-mère?’ Simon buttoned the cuffs of his shirt as he waited by the front door.
‘Coming.’ Lucienne appeared, placing a white lace handkerchief into her handbag. She looked Simon up and down. ‘You look very nice.’
‘So do you.’ Simon smiled at the embroidered blue-grey dress that made his grandmother look both elegant and young. It was, he knew, one of her favourites. It had also been one of his sister’s favourites. He hadn’t seen Lucienne wear it in a very long time.
Lucienne ran a hand down the rich fabric of her sleeve and he knew she was thinking the same thing. Then she smiled up at him, and winked. ‘It is good to look nice. It makes us feel good. For you too. Maybe we will see this school teacher at church.’
‘Now, Grand-mère, stop it.’
Lucienne laughed softly. Simon liked to hear her laugh. She hadn’t done it much since the accident. Come to think of it, he seemed to have laughed, or at least smiled, more often lately too. Maybe this was a sign that the move to Nyringa was going to be a good one.
He got Lucienne settled in their car then hopped behind the wheel for the short drive to church. The old gateway at the top of the gravel track was gone, replaced by two tall brick pillars that had been painted white. A graceful curve of wrought iron topped each one. There was a place for a sign declaring the name of the property.
‘Grand-mère, have you thought about the name you’ll give to your new home?’
‘I have. I thought perhaps simply to call it Le Cirque.’
‘That seems fitting.’
‘Perhaps. Of course, so many people would not understand. Or at least would pronounce it incorrectly.’
‘That’s true.’
Lucienne shook her head. ‘I have decided this name is wrong. That is the past. This is now and the future.’ She paused for a very long moment, then spoke so softly he could barely hear her. ‘This will be my last home, mon cher. It needs to have a very special name. I will think further on it.’
They arrived at the church quite early. There were already a few people there, but more vehicles were pulling into the gravel parking area. The building was typical of so many of the small country churches Simon and Lucienne had attended. Travelling with a circus, they had learned to be flexible. Sometimes a town would have a church or service available, sometimes not. His grandmother’s faith was as much a part of her as her love for her family, but she had never been strict about the trappings.
Simon recognised a few of the faces as they moved towards the door. He greeted the tradesmen who had been working for him and most of them tipped their hats to Lucienne. Simon could see that pleased her. The sparkle in her eyes was starting to match the smile on her face.
‘Is that schoolteacher here? If she is, we should speak to her. I would like to meet her.’
‘No, Grand-mère. I don’t see her. Now, stop matchmaking and allow me to escort you into the church. Come on.’
Lucienne took his arm and they climbed the few wooden stairs onto the porch then walked through the open doors. Over the years, Simon had escorted his grandmother to church many times, and in many places. They had visited great cathedrals, historic churches and many a small-town building just like this one. Simon liked the small churches. They had a peaceful air. This one had a stained glass window behind the altar, but little decoration apart from that. The wooden pews showed signs of much care and polishing. And beside the altar, a single brass vase held a collection o
f native flowers.
The pew right in front of the pulpit was vacant.
‘This will be very nice.’ Lucienne settled herself, placing her handbag carefully beside her.
Simon had barely sat next to her when he felt a presence in the aisle, accompanied by what sounded like a gasp of horror. He looked up. Another woman, about the same age as Lucienne, was standing at the end of their pew, a teenage girl at her side. The older woman’s eyes were wide and she was frowning, while her companion seemed to be trying to stifle a giggle.
Simon realised in an instant what was happening. This must be the Aunt Alice he’d heard of so often. And he and his grandmother had taken her seat!
Simon could feel the outrage rolling off Aunt Alice like an outgoing tide. He almost leaped to his feet. If he’d been wearing a hat, he would immediately have doffed it. As it was, he felt himself instinctively give a little bow.
‘I am sorry. I seem to have taken your seat. Please …’ He stepped away and indicated for the woman to take the seat he had vacated, right next to his grandmother.
At last the elderly woman gave a short nod and stepped forward. She lowered herself carefully into the pew, leaving a good distance between herself and Lucienne, who was watching closely.
Lucienne opened her mouth to greet Aunt Alice but before she could utter a word, Alice grabbed the hand of the poor teenager. ‘Jenny. You can sit here, next to me.’ She practically pulled the girl into the pew between herself and Lucienne.
Now would be a good time to perform introductions, Simon thought. However, Alice was staring straight ahead and technically no-one had introduced him to either Alice or her young companion. Simon had a feeling that would matter to the matriarch.
The door in the back corner of the church opened and a figure clad in priest’s robes appeared. The congregation rose to its feet. Simon looked hurriedly around. Halfway down the aisle, he could see an empty space in a pew. With a nod to Lucienne, he hurried to the spot as the priest bowed before the altar and turned to his congregation.
‘May grace, mercy and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ be with you.’
‘And also with you,’ the congregation replied.
The service continued, with more of the congregation watching the front pew than the priest. Simon couldn’t see either woman very clearly, but he could sense the cloud that hung over them. He wondered if the priest could too.
He got his answer when the priest stepped to the pulpit.
‘For my sermon today, I look to Leviticus. “You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself.”’
Simon smiled, deciding he liked this priest. At the end of the service, he made his way back down the aisle to Lucienne, just as she turned to the woman beside her.
‘That was a nice sermon, n’est-ce pas? About friendship and community.’
Simon could see the struggle on Aunt Alice’s face. She must either respond, or be rude to her neighbour in church—and moments after a sermon about welcoming a stranger into your midst.
‘Father Phil always does a lovely service. Now, I must go. My nephew is expecting me for lunch. Come, Jenny.’ Alice got to her feet and the teenage girl accompanied her down the aisle, but not without a cheeky grin and an eye roll in Simon’s general direction.
‘Shall we go, Grand-mère?’
As he walked Lucienne to the church door, Simon noticed Alice in conversation with the priest. Or rather, the priest talking to Alice, who looked as if she would rather be elsewhere.
‘Ah, join us, friends.’ The priest took a step backwards, expanding his conversation to include Simon and Lucienne. ‘Welcome to our community.’
‘Thank you, Father.’ Lucienne inclined her head graciously. ‘It is very nice to be here. I am Lucienne Chevalier.’ She extended a hand with the air of one who would not be surprised had it been kissed instead of shaken. This was the Lucienne of old. Before the accident. Simon was glad to welcome her back.
‘Very pleased to meet you. I’m Father Phil Wilson.’
‘Simon Coates.’ Simon held out his hand.
‘I was just saying to Mrs Dwyer here how nice it is to welcome new members of the congregation. Isn’t that so, Alice?’
Alice, who had taken a step backwards to keep a noticeable distance from Lucienne, looked as if she was about to choke. The look on her face wasn’t just dislike, it was almost venomous. ‘Of course, Father Phil. As the good book says.’
Simon would have found it amusing had it not been for the look of outright hatred on Alice’s face. Why would she feel that way towards his grandmother—a woman she had just met for the first time?
‘I’m sure the two of you will become firm friends, sharing that front pew for every service in the future.’
‘Of course.’ Lucienne inclined her head again. Alice remained ramrod straight, a rigid smile on her face.
‘As it says in Proverbs, a sweet friendship refreshes the soul. And who of us does not, from time to time, need their soul refreshed in this way?’
Father Phil was trying hard to get Alice to bend, but Simon was pretty sure his efforts would be futile. What could possibly have made the woman so unrelenting? It was clear that she was held in much affection by everyone, including the priest, so she was unlikely to be a bad person. But she seemed determined not to accept Lucienne—or Simon himself, for that matter. It couldn’t just be because they were strangers and new to the town. Even a small town like Nyringa must get newcomers. Meg, the school teacher, for one. Surely it wasn’t because Lucienne was French? Or perhaps it was because …
‘The circus! The circus is coming!’ A girl of about six or seven ran over, bouncing up and down with excitement.
‘Not the whole circus,’ Simon explained with a gentle smile. ‘We are expecting some circus friends today. They are a little early.’
‘Will there be elephants? I’ve never seen a real live elephant.’ The little girl’s voice was still quivering with excitement.
‘Non, ma petite.’ Lucienne ran a hand over the girl’s curly brown hair. ‘The circus today has no elephants. Not any more.’
‘Lions then?’
‘No. No lions.’
The girl’s face fell. Lucienne bent down to whisper in her ear, just loud enough for Simon to hear.
‘But we have acrobats, and jugglers and clowns.’
The smile was back in an instant.
‘Look!’ Another young member of the congregation pointed at the road. Sure enough, the big camper van driving through the town was followed by a bright red truck with a circus logo on the door and what looked like a disassembled carnival ride on the back.
‘I’m sorry, please excuse us. We must go and meet our guests.’ Simon shook hands with the priest. Lucienne bathed those nearby in her brilliant smile. Everyone nodded and smiled back, except Alice. She was glaring at the passing vehicles as if they had committed some great crime by entering her town. As if they posed a threat. Her eyes shone, not with tears, but with anger.
Well, thought Simon as he led Lucienne to their car, I guess it’s not personal. Alice appeared to have plenty of dislike and anger to spread around the whole circus. He wondered what could possibly have given rise to such implacable hatred.
CHAPTER
10
Finn stretched his arm through the window of the truck. They weren’t moving that fast, but he could still feel the air passing through his fingers, almost like liquid. He flexed his hand, the strong tendons and muscles visibly moving under his tanned skin. The straight black lines of his tattoo rippled slightly.
Freedom. That was what it was all about. Freedom of the road. Freedom to be who you wanted to be, without fear.
Beside Finn, his father Ron Whelan was driving the big trailer that was both circus box office and ringmaster’s office and his own accommodation. He controlled the huge vehicle easily with one hand, the other hanging out the window, a cigarette between his yellow-st
ained fingers. He looked at the passing buildings as he took another drag on his cigarette, filling the cab with unpleasant smoke. Madame didn’t like her people smoking and it was banned in the big top, but since Ron had become ringmaster, he’d stopped paying much attention to Madame’s rules. She hadn’t been around much since the accident. Things were different now and, as far as Finn was concerned, different meant worse.
‘It’s … small. Boring. I expected Madame to pick a better town than this backwater dump.’ Ron didn’t attempt to hide his feelings. His voice—and his face—told Finn that this town was not going to put his father in a good mood. That was bad news for the whole circus, but especially for him.
‘It’s not much different from all the other towns we see,’ Finn said.
‘We’re going to be stuck here for God knows how long while Simon figures out what he wants to do next year.’
‘Maybe he’ll want to bring in some more modern, more exciting attractions. You know, like—’
‘Don’t say it. I know where this is going and we’ve been through it before. You are not getting in that globe. It’s dangerous and stupid. There’s no real talent in an act like that.’
‘But, Dad—’ Finn’s best friend rode the globe and he knew just how hard it was.
‘No. The Whelans have always been acrobats and jugglers, not suicidal revheads. You were born to be an acrobat and that’s all you will ever be. You’re only sixteen and you’ll do what I tell you to do.’
‘But we’re not just acrobats any more, are we?’ The words were out before Finn could bite them back. He saw his father’s face darken. He hated any reminder of Finn’s older brother Connor, who had left them to become a knife thrower in a rival circus. ‘I mean, you’re ringmaster now. That’s better than just an acrobat or juggler.’
