by Janet Gover
‘That’s easy. I’ll drive you.’
‘You? But I did not think you drove. I always see you in a car with one of your family.’
‘Just because I choose to have them drive me, it doesn’t mean I can’t drive myself, if the mood takes me.’ Alice chuckled as she reached for the phone to ring the Hardens with the news.
By the time she was done, Alice could see that Lucienne looked tired and troubled. ‘Come on, let’s go to your place. We can spend some time in your kitchen for a change.’
‘Bien.’
The garage behind Alice’s house was rarely opened. She unlocked the roller door and it slid open effortlessly. The car sitting inside was small and white and had an air of being well maintained. ‘One of my nephews is a mechanic,’ Alice explained as she got behind the wheel. With Lucienne beside her, Alice started the engine. She didn’t drive often. Nor did she drive fast. Certain members of her family were always trying to get her to stop altogether, but she wasn’t ready to do that. Not by a long shot.
Even at Alice’s sedate pace, it didn’t take long to get to the turnoff and the new gateway she’d seen the night of the circus performance. She drove down the gravel track and parked her car near the house. When they got out, she could see the flattened grass and worn paths where the circus had camped. It was empty now, of course, and tidy, with not so much as a discarded cigarette butt to show for the time the troupe had spent there. Alice realised with a sense of shame that she had been expecting damage and rubbish left by the travelling circus. She didn’t know Lucienne well, but she was beginning to understand that any place she owned would be looked after, and the people she employed would be respectful of the places they visited.
‘Come and meet my colibri—my little hummingbird.’
Lucienne led the way to a small, well-kept stable block. Only one of the stalls was occupied. As Lucienne stopped at a feed room, a white face appeared over the door of the stall. Dark eyes gazed at Alice.
‘Well, hello.’ Alice patted the mare’s face. The stable smell and the feel of the horse’s smooth coat brought memories of her youth flashing back. She’d ridden ponies with her friends, even competed in a few shows, but in her teens she’d drifted away from it. A thought struck her for the first time. Had she lost her love of horses after Wayne left to join the circus? She felt the mare’s lips playing gently across her hand, and experienced the strangest sense of loss. What a fool she had been, and her foolishness had followed her all her life.
The mare lost interest in Alice and nickered as Lucienne emerged from the feed room with a bucket.
‘Now, my little one, you mind your manners.’ Lucienne took the bucket into the stall and made sure the mare had everything she needed.
‘She is lovely,’ Alice said.
‘She is the last of her line to perform with le cirque. Her dam and her dam before her were circus performers too. Now we are both too old.’
‘I doubt anyone who saw you the other night would agree.’
‘Perhaps. Come to the house. I shall make you coffee the way we have it in France.’
Alice was a tea drinker, but she accepted the coffee and sipped it. It was very different from the cheap instant coffee she kept in her kitchen for visitors. She didn’t actually hate this rich, creamy brew. ‘It’s very nice,’ she said.
The pastries that accompanied it looked a lot like the ones in Karen’s bakery, but they were lighter and tasted different. They were almost, but not quite, as good as a well-made lamington. Alice wandered around Lucienne’s living room, looking at the framed photographs. Some, she guessed, were of Lucienne in her youth. Mostly black and white, they showed a young woman tumbling and balancing on the backs of white liberty horses. There was one of a beautiful Lucienne arm in arm with—
Alice looked more closely. She turned to Lucienne. ‘Is that really …?’
‘Yes. He was very enamoured of me even though I was a few years older than he. He wanted to marry me, although of course his family would never have permitted it. And I was not born to wear a crown, however wonderful it felt to claim him as my beau.’
‘You have lived a remarkable life, Lucienne.’
‘It has not been without darker moments.’
Alice picked up a photograph of two young performers. This was a more recent image, in colour, and the young man was instantly recognisable. ‘This is Simon and his sister?’
‘Yes.’
The grief in Lucienne’s voice was palpable. There was no wonder it had drained her of her youth and energy. But it wasn’t all gone. Alice had seen it in her face when she performed. Even today, as she had stroked her horse, Alice had seen the light in Lucienne’s eyes.
‘Tell me about her.’ Alice settled herself into a chair opposite Lucienne. ‘Tell me what happened.’
Lucienne’s face softened and Alice caught another glimpse of the woman who had captured a prince’s heart.
‘She was so talented. All she ever wanted was to be an aerialist. And Simon with her. They were twins and that magic that exists between twins was there for them when they performed. To watch them … ahh. It was wonderful. Perfection. The audience loved them both, but mostly they loved Michelle for her grace and her beauty and her bravery.’
‘They lived with you, not their mother?’
‘My daughter, she did not like le cirque. She married an accountant. He is a good man. He is also safe and boring. This was not the life for Michelle, or for Simon. They came to live with me because the circus was in their hearts as it was in mine.’
‘It still is in yours, I think.’
Lucienne nodded.
‘What happened?’ Alice wasn’t afraid to ask. It seemed to her that Lucienne needed a chance to talk about her loss. A chance she might not have taken until now because there had only been Simon, and he was too much a part of it.
Lucienne’s face fell, and the shine left her eyes. ‘She was too brave, my granddaughter. She would never rest. Just one more twist, one more tumble, one more trick. Until that day. A cable broke. Simon caught her with one hand, but struggled to hold her. The movement, you understand. They were swinging so high and so fast. They swung sideways, beyond the safety net. He tried so hard to save her. When she fell, he fell with her. Simon hit the edge of the net and bounced off. That broke his leg, but saved his life. Michelle did not.’
‘She died.’
‘Yes. In some ways we all died, the three of us, that day. Now I wish I had never brought her to live with me. Never encouraged her to perform. Either of them to perform. It is my fault that she is lost to us.’
‘I imagine Simon says the same—and you both know that’s not true. Tell me, Lucienne, would Michelle have been happy if you had sent her away from the circus? Would she have lived her life differently?’
‘Non. Not my Michelle. She would have found some other way to perform. She would not have been as happy as she was with us, but she would have performed. It was in her blood.’
‘If she was anything like her grandmother, she must have been a remarkable girl. And she would tell you and Simon not to blame yourselves. That she lived her life as she wanted to.’
Alice stopped speaking. Had she lived her life as she wanted to, or had she lacked the courage? Perhaps the time had come to change that. It was too late to run away and join the circus … or was it, when the circus was on your doorstep?
But first …
Alice glanced at her watch. ‘They should all be here about lunchtime. Shall we go to my place and get some food in? I have a feeling there’s going to be a lot of talking ahead of us.’
CHAPTER
36
‘Wake up, Jenny. We’re there.’
Jenny heard Finn’s voice through a fog of sleep and emotional exhaustion. She didn’t want to wake up. She wanted to stay exactly where she was, her head cradled on Finn’s shoulder and the world kept at bay by her tightly closed eyes.
‘Jenny?’ A hand gently shook her.
She opened
her eyes to see Finn looking down at her, a small frown creasing his forehead.
‘Hi.’
‘We’re back in Nyringa?’
He nodded. Jenny wanted to wipe that frown away before the consequences they now faced made it worse. Instead, she smiled, hoping that might ease his mind a little.
The driver’s door opened and Simon got out, flexing his neck and shoulders. He bent over to rub his leg, reminding Jenny that by running away, she and Finn had impacted everyone around them.
Speaking of which, she recognised one of the cars parked outside Aunt Alice’s house. ‘My mum and dad are here.’
Finn squeezed her hand in support before they got out of the ute.
‘Tell me again, why are we all meeting here at Alice’s place?’ Meg was stretching cramped limbs as she shut her door.
‘I don’t know,’ Simon said. ‘But it looks like we have a full house.’
There were no unfamiliar cars on the street, but Jenny knew it wouldn’t be long before Finn’s father arrived. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She was safe from Ron, but Finn wasn’t and her heart ached for him.
‘Come on, kids, let’s get this done.’ Simon led the way towards the front door.
Before they got there, the door opened and Jenny’s mother appeared.
‘Jenny. Oh, thank God. We were so worried.’ Barbara flung herself down the stairs and grabbed her, hugging her so tightly she could barely breathe. Her mother had never been one for violent emotional displays, but she was crying now as if Jenny had been gone for years.
Strangely enough, Jenny felt tears on her own face too. ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I didn’t mean to worry you.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I’m just so glad you’re home safely.’
‘Barbara, let the girl come in off the street.’ Her father appeared in the doorway. ‘There’s no need for the whole town to be involved in this.’
Jenny extricated herself from her mother’s hug. She reached for Finn, but he was hanging back, standing close to Simon as the weary group made their way up the stairs into the house.
Aunt Alice’s lounge room became quite crowded as they filed in. Jenny’s instinct was to stay with Finn, but her mother was holding her tightly. Her father too was hovering close to her. He touched her shoulder gently and she knew everything would be all right. She would probably be grounded for the rest of her life, but she deserved that. The important thing was that her parents loved her. How she wished Finn could feel that same comfort.
There was a moment’s silence, as if no-one was sure what to say. Then three people started to speak at once. But before more than a word or two was spoken, they heard the sound of a vehicle sliding to a stop outside Alice’s house. Ron had arrived. Jenny saw Finn flinch as heavy footsteps climbed the stairs to Alice’s front door.
‘He must have broken every speed limit on the way,’ Simon muttered as he went to answer the loud knocking.
Ron stormed into the room with his face a mask of fury. Finn sidled away to stand behind the armchair where Lucienne was sitting. Jenny saw the woman quietly pat his arm as if to reassure him, and she took comfort from that too.
Ron ignored everyone in the room, his attention focused on his son. ‘It’s about bloody—’
‘Stop right there.’ Alice’s sharp voice invoked a sudden silence. ‘I’ll have none of that in my house.’
‘Fine.’ Ron almost spat the word. ‘We’ll get going then. The girl’s home safe. I’ll take my son and we’ll be on our way. I’ll deal with him my way.’
‘Now just a minute, you can’t do that.’ Jenny’s father spoke with unusual force. ‘Your son kidnapped my daughter. He put her life at risk riding that bike all that way without a licence. He has to—’
‘Dad, he didn’t kidnap me.’ Jenny wasn’t going to let all the blame fall on Finn. She stepped to his side and took his hand. ‘I went with him willingly. He had to run away because of you,’ she said to Ron. ‘You hit him.’
‘He deserved it. He challenged my authority in the circus with that stunt he pulled. He can’t do that.’
‘But I can.’ Lucienne didn’t speak loudly, yet the whole room fell silent. ‘It is my cirque. I made you ringmaster because there was no-one else to do the job. Simon was injured, and I was too caught up in my grief to see what you were doing. We both were. Well, no more. As of this moment you are no longer ringmaster of Le Cirque Chevalier. When you return to the camp, you take your things and you leave. Today.’
‘And my son will come with me.’
Finn squeezed Jenny’s hand then let it fall. He stepped out from behind Lucienne’s chair to confront his father. ‘No. I will not.’
‘You will bloody well do as you are told.’ Ron’s voice was loud and ugly as he raised his hand. ‘I swear, boy—’
‘No!’ In a flash Meg had taken a half-step forward and placed herself between Finn and his father. ‘Don’t you dare.’
‘Leave him alone.’ Jenny stepped to her teacher’s side.
Ron took a step backwards and lowered his hand. ‘So, you need women to stick up for you, do you?’
Finn gave a harsh laugh. ‘No. But I needed them to teach me about courage. They taught me far more than you ever have.’
‘You will not raise your hand again,’ Aunt Alice said firmly. ‘Leave my home now, or I will throw you out myself.’
Jenny almost smiled at the vision that created in her head, yet she honestly believed Aunt Alice was capable of it. When it came to protecting those she loved, Aunt Alice was the strongest person Jenny knew.
The tension in the room was painful. Ron looked from one face to another, finally turning back to his son. ‘Is that what you want?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you’re no better than your slut of a mother. I wash my hands of you.’ He turned to leave.
‘You hit her too, didn’t you?’ Finn stepped forward. ‘That’s why she left. Connor too—or was he too big for you to hit? You bastard.’
Jenny caught her breath as Ron stopped just inside the door. Please, she begged him silently, please at least tell Finn you’re sorry. Give him something.
A heartbeat later, Ron opened the door and left.
Silence descended on the group. Jenny went to Finn and took his hand. His eyes, when he looked at her, were damp.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, because Finn needed to hear those words from someone.
‘Don’t be. Without you, none of this would have happened, and I’d still be tied to him. Thank you.’
He enveloped her in a hug. He was trying to comfort her, but she knew he was seeking comfort from her as well. His life had changed in the last few minutes, and none of them knew what was next.
At last he let her go and looked around the room. ‘Thank you,’ he said to everyone. ‘And I want to apologise. What I did was wrong. I’m sorry. I hope you all understand, I would never do anything to hurt Jenny. I …’
‘I understand.’ Peter Harden’s voice was choked and he looked shocked by what he had just witnessed. ‘We all do now. But, Jenny, you should have come to us. We would have listened. I hope you know that now.’
She did. She wouldn’t doubt her parents again.
‘We have some thinking to do,’ Aunt Alice announced, taking command as she always did. ‘Make yourselves comfortable while I get us some tea. Then we can decide what to do next. Jenny, you may come and help me.’
Aunt Alice swept out of the room and, with a shrug, Jenny followed her. She walked into the kitchen a few seconds behind her great-aunt, and was surprised to catch Alice wiping her face. Surely she hadn’t been crying?
‘Right, tea for everyone.’ Alice kept her back to Jenny as she filled the kettle at the sink.
‘I’m sorry you were worried, Aunt Alice.’ Jenny meant it.
‘Don’t ever do anything like that again, young lady. Do you hear?’
‘No, Aunt Alice. I mean, yes, Aunt Alice, I hear. And I won’t, I promise.’
&nbs
p; Alice turned and Jenny saw the hint of a smile on her face as she started placing cups and saucers on the tea tray. ‘Don’t tell your parents I said this, but you know, I’m actually quite proud of you. You have far more courage than I did at your age. Well done.’
Jenny felt an unexpected glow of pride, and a wave of affection for the old woman now busily measuring tea into a big enamel pot.
Aunt Alice pointed at a cupboard. ‘In there you’ll find some lamingtons. And there are a couple of those French pastry things in the fridge. Carry those through for me. We’re going to need some sustenance while we sort out what happens next.’
Lucienne took the tea that Jenny offered but put it down on the coffee table without sipping it and looked around the room. Everyone seemed deflated after the tension of just a few minutes ago. Exhausted. Now was the time to clear the air and make some decisions.
‘I am sorry,’ she said to the room in general. ‘I am to blame for much of what has happened here and I apologise.’
‘No.’ Simon was the first to respond, but Finn and the others were also decrying her statement. Even Alice was shaking her head.
‘Non. Non. It is true. Six months ago, when my beloved Michelle fell from the trapeze, I failed my responsibility.’
‘Grand-mère, the fall was not your fault.’
Lucienne felt a great weight lift from her shoulders. Those were the words she had been waiting all this time for Simon to say. Not to ease her own guilt, but to allow her to ease his. ‘You are right, of course, it was not my fault. And nor was it your fault, mon cher.’ She waited for Simon to argue. He didn’t. In thoughtful silence, he looked down at his clenched hands. Then Lucienne saw Meg reach out and lay her hands on Simon’s. When her grandson looked up, she saw the beginning of something new in his face. ‘Simon, it was an accident. Such is the life of le cirque. You know that as well as I.’
He nodded and to Lucienne it seemed that his shoulders straightened properly for the first time in months. He looked like her Simon again.
‘But what happened after, while you were healing, that was my fault. I let Ron Whelan take the circus. I did not go. I did not watch or listen. I let him do as he did.’ Lucienne turned to Finn. The boy was shaking his head, but stopped when she held up a hand. ‘You, Finn, you suffered because I did not see what he did to you. Will you forgive me?’
