Carol Birch - Orphans of the Carnival

‘Thank you, Mrs Vels. Julia, you should rest.’ He smiled his best gracious smile, first at Berniece then at Ezra. ‘Don’t feel you have to change anything on our account. I wouldn’t have anyone inconvenienced.’

‘Of course,’ said Ezra. ‘You must be tired. You been travelling all day? Look — after the show, I’ll bring some beer. You come to our room.’

Julia left them talking outside, closed the door, took off her boots and looked out of the window, rubbing the toes of one foot wearily against the back of her other leg. The room faced onto the high wall of a farrier’s yard, and a narrow alley that ran between one street and another. It was late afternoon. The sky above the rooftops was dove grey. She lay down as she was, under the covers. The fire in the small grate had not yet warmed the room. She was very tired but it was impossible to sleep because of the talking in the passage, the opening and closing of doors, the footsteps on the stairs.

‘Ever run into Delia and Myrtle?’ Julia asked.

‘I did once,’ said Ezra. ‘Well, Delia anyway. Myrtle’s out of the business. Had a baby. A boy. Got married.’

‘Delia’s on her own?’

‘Last I saw.’

‘You get here now, Cato, I can’t stand it.’ Berniece’s lips were set in a straight line. Cato, doing a ridiculous dance, bony knees akimbo, shrieked and squawked in his nightshirt. Wet-eyed with laughter, leaning together like schoolboys giggling at a prank, Theo and Ezra were drunk, and Cato was wild. Since six o’clock he’d been celebrating Julia’s re-appearance with mad showing-off and hysterical dances that grew ever more deranged and frantic.

‘He should have been in bed an hour ago,’ Berniece said.

‘Look, Cato,’ Julia said, ‘we can have a lovely time tomorrow. We can go and see the horses.’

Berniece made a grab for him, but he skipped away and she stumbled.

‘Woah, girl!’ Ezra grabbed her elbow.

‘ You do something,’ she said, pulling away and sitting down.

Her face went completely blank, as if someone had just passed a hand in front of it, wiping out sentience.

‘Behave, Cato,’ Ezra said, reaching once more for the vodka.

Cato ran round the room drumming on the backs of the chairs, warbling in a reedy falsetto. He stopped, hunch-backed in front of Theo, leaned on his knees and pushed his face up close.

‘Hello there,’ Theo said.

Cato nasalled something.

‘Can’t understand a word you’re saying,’ said Theo, laughing.

Berniece poured a shot of vodka and knocked it back as if it was poison. ‘This room’s not as nice as our old one,’ she said.

‘It’s fine,’ said Ezra expansively.

‘All we’ve got is a wall.’ She looked at Julia. ‘We could see all the people going up and down the street.’

‘You really didn’t have to move on our account,’ Julia said.

‘We could have visited just as well in your old room.’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘But this is nice,’ said Ezra. ‘I mean, think about it. He gets on so well with Julia. They’re great together. Once he’s settled down—’

‘He means he wants you to babysit,’ said Berniece, pouring herself another and twisting one leg behind the other awkwardly.

‘She don’t have to babysit if she don’t want to,’ Ezra said stoutly, ‘I never said no such thing. But Julia never used to mind watching him now and then, did you, Julia?’

‘Not at all.’

‘It’s no big thing,’ said Ezra.

‘Christ, no,’ said Theo. ‘We all help each other out.’

‘See.’

Berniece threw back her head and poured the liquor down her throat.

‘You know,’ said Julia, ‘I don’t mind looking after Cato at all.

He always behaved quite well for me.’

‘Ha!’ said Berniece.

Cato wheeled away from Theo’s knee, landed by Berniece and scrambled messily up onto her lap, pulling up her skirts with his bare feet trampling into her, arms clamping round her neck in urgent stranglehold. ‘Cato…’ she said, desperately trying to cover her legs, the white bloomers bunched at the knees. ‘Oh please…’ He kissed her, jumped down, stood in front of the fire doing funny faces, switching between a frown and a smile, on, off, on, off, getting quicker and quicker till all of them, willing or not, were laughing.

‘Don’t laugh!’ Berniece said, laughing herself, ‘it makes him worse.’

On, off, on, off, past funny to scary.

‘Stop it.’

‘How does he do that?’ Theo offered Ezra a cigar.

Julia got up. ‘Come on now,’ she said, ‘you show me where you sleep.’

‘Naah!’

‘Yes!’

‘Do as you’re told now,’ said Ezra.

‘Show me your bed, Cato. Come on.’ Julia took his hand and led him behind the screen to his cot, which had been made up very cosily with an eiderdown and bolster up against the wall.

‘Dark!’ he said.

‘Nice!’

He threw himself backwards on the bed, just missing banging the long cone of his head on the wall.

‘Well, aren’t you lucky to have such a lovely cosy bed. Get under and I’ll tuck you in.’

‘You should give him a dose of cordial,’ she heard Theo say.

‘Can’t get it down him,’ Ezra replied.

Cato got in and lay down, and she tucked him up and gave him a kiss. He was like a bird that chirped away till you put the cover on the cage. Before long, the darkness in his den had put him out.

‘Niece,’ Ezra was saying, as she emerged from behind the screen, ‘I don’t go out that much.’

‘Yes, you do.’ Berniece lit a match.

Theo winked at Julia, and she smiled. It was nice, as if they were an us like Ezra and Berniece.

‘Is he asleep?’ asked Ezra.

‘Of course he is.’ Berniece blew smoke and clanked the bottle neck on the rim of her glass. ‘She’s got the golden touch. Haven’t you, Missy?’

‘Come and sit here, Julia,’ said Theo, patting the seat beside him. ‘Have a drink. Where’s your glass?’

‘Only one more. And water please.’

‘Oh horrors! Water!’ Berniece said, head wreathed in smoke.

The drink flowed. The men guffawed like boys over stupid things, Berniece scrunched herself up small on her chair and bit her nails, swinging her slippered foot. Julia, sipping, smiled and looked around her, bright-eyed, wondering if this could be a new thing of belonging, like Madame Soulie’s yard, but the more she thought about it, the more she doubted. She thought of Myrtle married, a mother, and looked at Theo, the way when he giggled his grin made a childish slash in his face, the way the greased hair fell loose across his forehead. She could never have him. What a thing to think, even for a second. When she closed her eyes, she saw New Orleans, the carriage taking her to Bayou Road to see John Montanee, the streets sliding by, the moon full and high, a face in the sky. Her hand went into the pocket of her skirt to the little bottle with its few remaining drops of love potion.

‘Shh!’ said Berniece to the men, ‘you’ll wake him up.’

‘He never wakes once he’s gone off.’ Ezra stood up and hovered about with a soft silly look on his face.

‘What are you looking for?’ Berniece kicked him lightly.

‘I thought we had some lemons.’

‘We did. We do.’

‘Have you ever had vodka with hot water and lemon juice, Theo?’

‘Can’t say I have.’

‘Oh let me make it,’ Julia jumped up. ‘I know how to do that.’

She stood by the window watching as Ezra lifted a pan from the hob. ‘Let me squeeze the lemons,’ she said, and when it was all done and she’d run across and taken Theo’s remaining drink from him and poured it into the steaming cup, she turned her back on the room, retrieving the bottle from her pocket and emptying the last three or four drops in with the rest.