Elena Fedorova - The red-haired clown. A novel

“Get out of here before your new pants split apart at the seams,” Matilda said aloud, having pushed Charles in the chest. He staggered and sat down on the floor. She was confused.

“I have touched you with my fingertips, and you…’ she began to laugh loudly.

“Wow! What a surprise! This will be our new number… Da-ad! Dad, come quickly. Look how I have dumped the admirer”

Rudolf Welzer appeared in the doorway as fast as if all this time he was listening behind the door and was waiting for an opportune moment to reveal his radiant face.

“Prostrate Hector,” he grinned, looking at Charles, who was sitting on the floor.

“Matilda, you are a genius. We can show this to the public. You will become the most, most, most famous amazon. We will create a suitable attire for you, and we will dress Hector in the skins. What do you say?’

“I can only shout bravo! Bravissimo, Matilda!’ Charles began to clap his hands.

“Enough,” the Director frowned. “You do not look like Hector. You are a soap bubble filled with arrogance. Plop, and you disappear, and you are gone. And nothing. Get up. Why are you sitting here? Go get dressed in your rags, put on your enormous red nose, whiten your face, and put makeup on your eyes and mouth to make our people laugh. Remember, I do not pay money for nothing. You have already received more than enough from me today. That’s it. Tell Lele not to come for a fee tomorrow. I will not give it.”

“Good night,” Charles said and went out.

The door behind him slammed. He smiled.

“So, the ending of our romance dots. Let’s see how this action, acting will be developing further. We will be laughing afterwards if we feel like… Well, we will forgive fools for their hasty laughter.”

Monday was the day off in the circus. Charles could do whatever he wanted on this day. He was lying in bed for a long time. He was hearing noises outside the window, tinkling of dishes, quiet conversations of Bebe and Lele, but he did not want to get up. He was basking in the soft space of dreaminess and reality, where everything was different. There was everything from birth to today’s Monday. The thought about the girl Simone made him open his eyes.

“Visit me in the boarding house of Madame La Rouge,” her voice began to sound in his mind.

“I wonder what is she like, this Madame La Rouge?” Charles thought and got up. He had breakfast, put on his new suit, and went to the boarding house to visit Simone Stowasser. The road was winding among the green hills, on which the houses with tightly closed shutters appeared like white spots. The absence of people. Ringing silence. Even birds were not singing. Only the sound of footsteps of Charles breaks the silent peace of these places, the quietest silence of the scenery, flooded with sunlight. Charles began to think that the girl had made fun of him, that there was no the boarding house of Madame La Rouge, that it was time to go back to the usual world of polyphonic cacophony. But the road swerved sharply to the right and ran into bronze, wrought gate, behind which there was a house. It was not a house but a tower, covered with ivy. At a little distance, there was a low building with deep night eyes of windows and an open terrace. Someone came out the door to meet Charles a very beautiful, very tall lady with huge brown eyes rimmed in dark lashes on the swarthy face with terracotta blush. Her voice is the sound of the cello: “Good afternoon, Monsieur. Did you come to visit your cousin?”

“I have come to see you,” Charles almost blurted out but bethought in time.

“I would like to see Simone,” he smiled.

“Paula, call miss Stowasser,” the lady said, looking at Charles. He, accustomed to the army of eyes aimed at him, was confused by her gaze, blushed, and looked down.

“I should warn you, Monsieur…”

“Charles,” he introduced himself.

“Monsieur Charles, we do not allow our pupils to leave the boarding house on Mondays,” her voice reached his ears like gentle music.

“Keep talking, keep talking,” Charles mentally begs her, not daring to raise his eyes. He sees a long chocolate dress, from under which sparkling elegant shoes with rounded noses appear.

“On the last Sunday of each month, we allow pupils to go to town. But they must come back by six o’clock. We are responsible for our pupils. They live here until they turn twenty years, and then they marry. But it is early for Simone to think about it… She is still so young,” the lady went to the window. She paused for a moment. She turned.

“I am glad you havecome. Mr. Schtanzer seldom visits Simone,” the lady took Charles by the arm and led him through the long green corridor.

“Simone is my best pupil. She is a very talented girl. She remembers all the works of Shakespeare by heart, plays music beautifully, embroiders, draws, and plays the piano. You should be proud of your cousin, Monsieur Charles. And here she is.”

Charles raised his head. A strange creature, dressed in a floor-length black skirt, black blouse with cuffs that reminded grips, the trap of the collar that was squeezing the thin neck, emerged from the depths of the green room to meet him. Black blunt toes of crude shoes could be seen from under the skirt. Her hair was smoothly combed and tied at the back of her head in a tight knot. It was hard to figure out the colour of her hair, whether it was dark gray, dark brown, or black. The face was pale. Her eyes were frightened. She looked surprised.

“You?” her mouth was half-open. She wanted to add something but changed her mind.

Charles is looking at her without blinking. He does not recognize her. She is not that girl angel with huge cherry bows, rosy face, and clear merry eyes. It is not Simone. This girl looks older. She looks much more serious than that little girl. She looks different. He sees her for the first time. He has not come to visit her. Charles does not have time to say anything, the lady pushes him forward.

“Why are you, Monsieur Charles, so confused? I thought you were a brave man,” she said ironically. “Didn’t you expect to see the girl in such a strange attire? I can’t help, as this is a frightening fashion for the pupils of the boarding house.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Charles Benosh,” the girl slowly pronounces, holding out her hand. The hint of a smile appears on her face. The voice was dull. It sounded strange, distant.

“Simone, you can go for a walk in the garden,” the lady says and leaves, rustling her chocolate skirt.

“Simone, is that really you?” Charles asked in a whisper.

“And is that really you, Charles?” she whispers. He nods. She smiles.

“I did not think you were coming. Or rather, I was thinking about you but I was sure that you would never come. And you arrived…”

“I did not arrive but came,” he smiles. “Where does a poor actor get money for the carriage?”

“You look like a real dandy,” she said.

“I did not recognize you right away. I was waiting for the red-haired clown, and you… At first, I thought that uncle Schwartz sent one of his clerks. I got confused. I got angry. Why did he do this? Why are strangers here? What will I do with a stranger? What can we talk about? I wanted to send you away, that is, that another clerk, but I did not manage to do this when Madame La Rouge called your name. I felt relieved. Can I hug you?”

He did not manage to answer when she pressed herself against him with the whole body, froze, pushed him away, and whispered:

she smiled, took Charles by the hand, and led the way. The path, on which they were walking, led to the mountain. A delicate summerhouse was hiding there, in the foliage of lush willow greenery.