Carol Birch - Orphans of the Carnival

‘No no,’ said Barnum, with a wave of the hand.

‘Will you take lemonade, sir?’ asked Julia.

‘Lemonade would be most welcome.’

‘Of course!’ Theo yanked on the bell pull.

She sat very still and straight in her chair with her hands crossed in her lap studying her visitors from beneath the veil. Barnum was a grand sort of man with an air of gravitas, richly dressed, with curly hair receding from his face. Van Hare looked like an artist. She could see him in a smock in front of an easel. A maid appeared, the one who’d screamed.

‘Lemonade please, Sally,’ Theo said. He got on first name terms with everyone, fast. ‘Lemonade for Mr Barnum.’

Sally bobbed an ill-at-ease curtsey, snatching a look at Julia as she backed out of the door.

‘Sherry for you, Julia?’ Theo was already pouring.

‘Yes. Thank you, Theo.’

He set down a small sherry on the table beside her. ‘My dear,’ he said softly, stepping back. She lifted the veil, setting it back over her head with a practised gesture, nodded her head forward gracefully with a gentle smile, then took a sip of sherry. Theo, his high forehead furrowed, looked at Barnum looking at Julia. Then he looked at Julia herself. Now there’s a sight. Her sipping daintily from a small crystal sherry glass with those huge horrible lips. Even now he could be struck anew with amazement when he looked at her, as if she was a ghost, something walking that should not.

‘Tell me, Miss Pastrana,’ said Barnum, ‘how are you enjoying the life of an entertainer?’

‘It suits me very well for now,’ she said. ‘I do like to see all the different places.’

‘And how do you like England?’

They’d been in London a few days and she’d seen very little but the gallery, her room in the hotel and the streets between Covent Garden and Regent Street from a carriage window. England was porridge and geraniums and bacon and those streets rolling by, there and back, avidly studied from behind the veil and the window. ‘I like the porridge,’ she said.

‘Excellent, excellent,’ Barnum chuckled. ‘Well— I’ve heard wonderful things about your talent.’

‘Why don’t you come to one of the shows?’ she said.

‘I for one certainly will,’ said Van Hare enthusiastically.

‘So will I, if I can.’ Barnum shifted heavily about in his chair, the cuffs of his wide black trousers perfectly pressed, a gold chain straining across his stomach. ‘We’re preparing to leave for Paris very shortly,’ he said, ‘but I shall try and make time.’

‘Oh, I’m looking forward to seeing Paris. We’re going to Paris, aren’t we, Theo?’

‘Of course.’ Tough year the old boy’s had, he was thinking. Money troubles. Wonder if he read the piece in the Gazette ? Go see Julia Pastrana and wonder at the ways of God. Or some such. Does he know we’re sold out every night? ‘Paris will be pleasant this time of year,’ he said.

‘Do you think so?’ Barnum looked doubtful. ‘Damn hot and scratchy, I would say.’

‘I like hot weather,’ said Julia, ‘reminds me of home.’

There was a knock on the door, and Sally came in with a huge jug of lemonade and four glasses on a tray.

‘We don’t need all that,’ Theo said.

The girl looked confused. ‘I thought—’

‘If you drink all that, Taylor, you’ll get hell from your bladder all night.’

‘I very well might.’ Barnum appeared unconcerned.

‘I’m sorry,’ said the girl, ‘I thought—’

‘It’s such a warm day,’ said Julia. ‘I’ll have some too. Thank you, Sally. Put it down here on this little table and I’ll pour.’

Sally looked even more confused but set down the tray quickly and left. Julia got up, poured lemonade and handed a glass to Barnum.

‘Thank you, my dear,’ he said. ‘Excellent.’

‘When we go to Paris,’ she said, sitting down again, ‘I want to go to the ballet.’

‘The ballet?’

‘Something grand ,’ she said, ‘something magnificent.’

‘Paris is the place for the ballet,’ said Theo. ‘Paris or Vienna. You’ll see both.’

‘We should whisk you off to Paris!’ Barnum smiled paternally. ‘This very second!’

Theo knocked back his drink. Look at him. All over her with his eyes. And the other one. He poured some more and spoke. ‘Business has been, I think I can say, pretty damn marvellous—’ regretting the sound of his own voice immediately, thinking it high and nervous, but ploughing on as if compelled by a man holding a gun to his head, boasting with eyes downcast and nose turning up, how so-and-so had said, and they’d had to turn away, and everyone’s saying, and the newspapers, as I’m sure you’ve seen, have talked of little else…

‘What you need, Lent, is an elephant,’ said Van Hare.

‘What are you blabbing on about?’ Barnum asked, turning ponderously to his friend.

‘An elephant.’ Van Hare accepted another drink. ‘Walk it round town with a sign saying…’

‘I’m afraid I’m not in the menagerie business,’ Theo said.

‘You should be. Put the lady on a horse.’ Van Hare winked at Julia. ‘That’ll pull ’em in. A horse or an elephant.’

Theo laughed.

‘I’m already pulling ’em in,’ she said.

‘Would you like to work with animals?’ Barnum asked her.

‘I’ve never thought of it.’

‘You enjoy travelling, you say?’

‘Oh yes!’

‘Wish I could say the same.’ Barnum’s brow was shiny and he took out a large white handkerchief to dab at it. ‘I have been far too much upon the road in my lifetime. Do you ever think of Mexico?’

‘Of course I do,’ she said. ‘Sometimes. But Mr Barnum, there’s something I’d like to ask you. What was Jenny Lind like?’

‘Jenny Lind! Oh, a very pleasant woman indeed. Wonderful voice. And shrewd. Very shrewd woman. Nice eyes.’

‘I’d love to have seen her,’ Julia said. ‘I heard she gives a lot away to the poor.’

‘Remember Jenny?’ said Van Hare. ‘Not Jenny Lind, Jenny the elephant. Walked the tightrope. Beautiful creature.’

‘That’s Lalla,’ said Barnum.

‘Aha, but she started out called Jenny Lind. They changed her name three times.’ Van Hare turned to Julia. ‘You ought to have seen that superb elephant walk the tightrope.’

She laughed. Her laugh could be alarming, the protruding crooked confusion of teeth suddenly appearing. But Barnum and Van Hare were pros and never flinched. ‘How does an elephant walk the tightrope?’ she asked.

‘Very carefully, I should imagine,’ said Theo.

‘She could do anything, old Lalla,’ Van Hare said. ‘Stand on her head. Steady as a rock. Marvellous animal and gentle as a babe. Have you ever worked with elephants, Lent?’

‘No.’

Theo was watching Barnum. He’s interested, he thought. If he offers… but no, let him want.

‘Lent, was it your uncle had a share in Old Bet?’ Van Hare persisted. ‘Or your…’

‘Uncle,’ Theo said. ‘Two uncles in fact.’

‘Now,’ said Van Hare, ‘Old Bet you can see to this very day, and she looks just as good as new.’

‘What are you whiffling on about elephants for, Van?’ said Barnum, ‘Miss Pastrana doesn’t want to talk about elephants.’

‘I don’t mind,’ said Julia.

‘Now horses,’ Barnum said. ‘I could see Miss Pastrana on horseback.’

‘Do you ride, Miss Pastrana?’ Van Hare asked.

‘I have ridden,’ she said, ‘but not for a long time.’

‘Imagine,’ Barnum said, ‘Miss Pastrana on a white horse. White plumes, a partner, someone like Tom Neville…’

‘Oh but I couldn’t do all the clever things,’ she said. ‘Standing up, riding two at a time—’