Carol Birch - Orphans of the Carnival

‘You wouldn’t need to.’ Barnum drained his glass. ‘Come and see me in New York when you get back from Europe.’ She wasn’t sure if this last bit was for her or Theo so she said nothing.

‘Who knows when we’ll be back in New York,’ said Theo genially. ‘If business turns out as good elsewhere as it is here… Now— gentlemen. Miss Pastrana needs some rest before tonight’s event.’

I end the viewing, he thought. Not you, Barnum. I do.

When they’d gone, he poured them both another drink.

‘Now that I have so much money,’ she said, ‘I think I should give some of it away. I’d like to do that, Theo. It’s a nice thing to do when you’ve got such a lot of money. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.’

Hasn’t got a clue about money, he thought. Only knows she’s got it. No idea. Good thing she’s with me. Some of these vultures—

‘Can you get me an atlas, Theo?’

‘Of course.’

‘So that I can mark out all the places I’ve seen.’

‘Good idea.’ He was scarcely listening. ‘Funny Van Hare mentioning Old Bet,’ he said. ‘I was just thinking about her only the other day. Did you ever hear of Old Bet, Julia?’

‘Not till now.’

He stood with his legs apart on the rug, rocking on the balls of his feet. ‘My Uncle Ben took me to see her in the American Theatre. No higher than this.’ He patted the air. ‘Can’t have been more than six but I’ve never forgotten it because my Uncle Ben burst into tears when he saw her.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, by this time she’d been dead ten years or so, you see.’

‘Oh!’

‘And they’d had her stuffed. And he’d been very fond of her, you see.’ He smiled. His eyes were far away. ‘“Marvellous beast!” he used to say,’ imitating his uncle: ‘“Should’ve seen Old Bet drink a bottle of beer. Sucked the cork right out and tossed it away, then up with it and down in one. Marvellous!”’ He laughed.

‘Did she get drunk?’

‘I don’t think so.’ He shook his head and focused. ‘Oh yes, Old Bet. She was by all accounts a very clever animal.’

Clear as day. Standing with his uncle in front of the beautiful stuffed beast. They were all down for his mother’s funeral, because he remembered that she’d not been long gone. He didn’t know she’d drunk poison then. It’s only stuff, he thought, trying to put this dead thing together with the images of his mother so recently here, cooking in the kitchen with his Aunt Losey, hiding in corners, giggling behind her hands, asking if he could see the man with purple eyes who stood in the corner.

‘Oh yes,’ he said, ‘a legend, Old Bet.’

‘Let’s go out tomorrow night,’ she said. ‘Isn’t there anything we can go and see?’

‘Won’t you be tired?’

‘Not at all.’

‘There’s a horse show,’ he said, ‘as it happens.’

‘Ooh, a horse show! Oh, let’s go!’

‘Well, I’ll see what I can do. But all the best seats may have gone by now, and I’m not having you down with the mob.’

‘Of course not. I wouldn’t be able to see a thing.’

‘It’s not that, but it can get rough. What if you lost your veil?’

‘I wouldn’t.’

She was trembling very slightly, he thought, but maybe it was his imagination. Not a full shivering, more of an unseen taut humming within the bone. It struck him that he had it too.

‘Are you feeling all right?’ he asked.

‘I feel excited.’

‘Well, that’s good.’

‘Sometimes,’ she said, ‘when you’re excited, it feels like fear.’

He got them a box for the second performance. Someone he knew. It was always the way; he knew many many people, mostly on first-name terms, but no one close and no one for very long. She was beginning to see that he had no real friends. But he could usually pull a string, call in a favour. They went to the show, and she wore bangles that jangled up and down and attracted far too much attention, he thought. But no one cottoned on and they had a good time. A man rode four horses at once, standing up as if in a chariot, and a beautiful girl danced and leaped back and forth between eight black stallions as they cantered round the ring.

Going home in the carriage, Julia said, ‘Mr Barnum thought I should ride.’

‘So he did.’ Theo rubbed the window. ‘It’s an idea.’

‘I need to practise more,’ she said. ‘It’s important.’

He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘If you really want to ride a horse, I’m sure I could arrange it,’ he said.

‘Really?’

‘Why not? Not now, but soon. I know people in Berlin.’

‘You know people everywhere!’

‘Lent the Almighty,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’ll buy an atlas tomorrow. You know what I’m thinking, Julia? Russia.’

‘Russia!’

‘We’ll go east. Your Russians are some of the best horsemen in the world.’

‘You’ve been there, haven’t you, Theo?’

‘Twice.’

‘Really? What’s it like?’

He gazed out of the window. ‘Spring and summer are beautiful. Winter’s freezing.’

‘Horses,’ she said happily. ‘Russia.’ As if these words were charmed. Again he noticed the barely perceptible trembling. ‘Get me a nice Russian novel to read,’ she said, ‘please.’

Theo laughed. ‘If you like.’

When they got back, someone had pushed a copy of a French theatre rag under his door, folded open at a particular page, on which someone had circled a particular item. It was accompanied by a note: ‘Lent — if you are considering Paris, you should be aware of this. Pays to be prepared — Van Hare.’ He saw Julia’s name, but couldn’t understand a word so took it to her room and asked her to read it for him.

‘Curiosities From London,’ she read. ‘It’s a review. Let me see. It’s—’ she frowned and read on. As she read, her face changed.

‘What’s the matter?’

After a moment she looked up at him but he couldn’t read her eyes.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘What a horrible thing to say.’ She looked away.

‘What? What does it say?’

Her strange eyes filled with tears, which made them shine and grow enormous. For a second, he was afraid of her. He’d never seen her cry. All this time. With all that, carrying that face around with her through life, and he’d never seen her cry. But she blinked, one great swipe of those spiky lashes, and glazed over. She looked down and read: ‘ for one thing is certain — that — au lieu de — instead of displaying this — this — this creature, this creature — who is an insult to all bien… bien… bienséance — to all good standards — and decency—’

She laughed and shook the paper.

‘— this creature who — oh look, Theo, look! — who creates revulsion in all who see her— ’

‘Oh Julia, don’t take this kind of thing to heart.’

‘ She should instead be protected from all public view. ’

Shouldn’t be allowed out, said a pale unpleasant boy with a bulby face.

‘Hah!’ Theo snatched the paper from her. ‘Because they say so.’

‘That’s nasty.’ She sat down.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it is.’

‘An insult to decency!’ she said wonderingly. ‘Why am I?’

‘You’re not. Julia…’

‘Why do they say that?’

‘Because they’re…’

Child-scarer.

‘ Why am I an insult to decency?’ She got up, grabbed the paper back from him and walked about the room, holding it open. ‘I know I’m ugly,’ she said. ‘Revulsion though. Revulsion! What have I done?’

‘You haven’t done anything, Julia.’ He followed her.

‘What do they mean?’

‘They’re stupid. They don’t know what they’re talking about. Anyway, they don’t mean you .’