Carol Birch - Orphans of the Carnival

‘Our baby will grow up in the most wonderful world imaginable,’ he said expansively, lying back on the chaise and trying to blow smoke rings, ‘backstage. Born in a trunk. Town to town. The thrill of it all. The smell of sawdust.’

‘Face facts, Theo,’ she said, breaking the thread on something she was sewing. ‘We can’t drag a baby around all over the place. Not when it’s tiny.’

‘Some of the happiest people I’ve ever known have been born into the business,’ he said. ‘Suckled in the wings. Weaned in a circus wagon.’

‘I think we should go back to Vienna,’ she said. ‘After the last show.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘We’ll see.’

To Moscow, where the baby would be born. Ilya Andreyevich Volkov had found them a nice little flat near the Arbat, and was lending them Polina to take care of the place. He sent Tolya to pick them up from the posting stage. The familiar face was reassuring, breathing smoke into the frozen air from deep inside a sheepskin collar. We don’t go back, she thought. Or hardly ever. We move on. And on and on. At night the names of places paraded through her mind as she fell asleep. Moscow, snow, Tolya, Polina, almost a homecoming.

‘My congratulations to you both,’ Tolya said, grinning widely as he hoisted the trunk onto the carriage. Look at the monkey father , Theo thought, shivering. He could see the thought in the boy’s eyes.

‘Oh, it’s so lovely to see you again,’ Julia said, ridiculously excited as if the boy was a lost kinsman home from war.

‘And you, Madame.’

‘Hurry it up, Tolya,’ Theo said, ‘I’m soaking wet out here.’

‘Of course.’

Theo climbed in and huddled himself up, shivering. ‘What a climate,’ he said.

Julia laughed. ‘Look at you, all snowy!’

It was late afternoon, already dark. The shops were open, the streets crowded. She was humming, leaning forward to watch it all go by. It was pelting down, fat flakes falling intently. Tolya carried their trunk up and Polina was there, smiling and flustered, showing them the bread and pies she’d laid out, the rich pickly soup simmering at the back of the stove. The fire blazed. ‘I’ll make tea now,’ she said.

‘Heaven,’ said Julia.

Theo threw himself down in the biggest chair and closed his eyes. Three more months. Oh well, Moscow. Maybe he’d see Liliya Grigorievna. Julia flittered here and there, opening doors. ‘Theo,’ she said, ‘come and look.’

‘In a minute.’

‘Will you eat now or later?’ asked Polina.

‘Now,’ said Theo, ‘I’m starving. Julia!’

‘Wait until you see,’ she said, appearing in the doorway.

The table was already set. Polina served soup and put the bread on the table. ‘I’ll go now,’ she said, ‘if there’s nothing else you want. I’ll come in early and see to the fire. Tolya can give me a lift now.’

‘Of course.’

‘You’re looking so well, Madame,’ Polina said as she put on her coat. ‘We’ve all been so excited about your news.’ I bet you have, thought Theo.

‘Oh stop with all the Madame,’ said Julia. ‘Call me Julia.’

‘Oh!’ said Polina, pausing with her muffler wound half round her neck. ‘That’s so nice.’

‘And you too, Tolya.’ Julia broke a piece of bread in half.

‘Thank you so much, Madame,’ he said, and the three of them laughed.

‘And now,’ said Theo, ‘let’s eat before we expire.’

‘Oh, isn’t this nice?’ she said when they’d finally gone. ‘Aren’t we lucky?’

‘Indeed we are.’

‘And wasn’t it nice to see Tolya again? And Polina.’

‘Absolutely.’

A fog of tiredness was making Theo feel stupid. It was four more days till Christmas and he’d arranged for her to see a doctor the day after tomorrow, get it over with before the holiday. She was well enough, but no harm in making sure. He watched her eat. She was fastidiously clean and dainty, as if to compensate for her appearance. She caught him looking and her eyes smiled.

‘You have lovely eyes, Julia,’ he said.

She did. That wasn’t a lie.

‘He just kicked me,’ she said.

‘The brute.’

She’d put his hand there the other night. That peculiar feeling against his palm, something alive under the skin. Her belly was hard and round. She wore loose gowns now except onstage, where she covered the growing mound with a crinoline.

‘You don’t seem that tired,’ he said.

‘I was,’ she said, ‘but now I feel all excited. Hurry up, Theo. There’s a crib.’ She pushed her bowl away and stood up.

‘Aren’t you going to eat any more?’

‘Later,’ she said. ‘Come and see.’ She went next door, and he heard her struggling with the catches on the trunk. He finished the soup and ate another slice of bread with butter before following her next door. The room was pleasant but not large. The bed filled most of it. A blue and yellow jug filled with dried flowers and grasses stood on the chiffonier. There was a chest of drawers, a pretty armoire painted peasant style, and above the bed a picture of a country lane in a flat landscape of thin spring trees and low sun. She’d changed into her nightgown and was taking all the little dresses and bonnets she’d been making for the baby out of the trunk and laying them on the bed.

‘Look,’ she said. Next to the bed, a hooded cradle with a white blanket.

‘If I die,’ she said in a practical voice, folding things neatly away into the bottom drawer, ‘don’t forget I’ve put his things in this drawer all ready, in sizes look, the smallest at this end, getting bigger over there.’

‘You won’t die.’

‘I know but just in case.’

‘No talk of dying. You’ll have Trettenbacher. He’s the best.’

‘I know.’ She shrugged. ‘No harm in being prepared.’

He lay down on the bed with his hands behind his head watching the snow drifting above the curtain. She closed the drawer. Her nightgown was too long for her and she had to hold it up. ‘And the coverlet,’ she said, reaching once more into the trunk and bringing out a tiny quilt embroidered with flowers. ‘There!’ she said, laying it down on top of the white blanket in the cradle, stroking it gently.

‘I’m glad it’s not Sokolov,’ she said. ‘When am I seeing Dr Trettenbacher?’

‘Day after tomorrow.’ He turned back the covers and started to undress.

‘I wonder what he’s like.’ She got into bed and sat with her knees up watching him.

‘Trettenbacher? I told you. The best.’

‘Yes, but I wonder what he’s like .’

Trettenbacher was a brisk, bluff man with a shiny red face and a heavy thatch of grey hair. ‘She’s very healthy,’ he said, closing the bedroom door after the examination, ‘apart from the fact that she’s coming down with a cold.’

‘Oh good,’ said Theo, standing by the fire, ‘yes, Julia’s always been healthy. Polina!’

Polina appeared.

‘Take her some cocoa, would you, Polina,’ he said. ‘Get her to lie down.’

Trettenbacher waited till she’d left then said, ‘That’s not to say we might not have a problem.’

‘Problem?’

‘Her size.’

‘What’s wrong with her size?’

‘She’s narrow,’ said Trettenbacher, snapping his bag shut.

‘Julia? Narrow?’

‘It’s a big baby.’

‘But she’s quite hefty,’ said Theo.

‘It’s what’s on the inside that counts.’ Trettenbacher looked up, smiling in a meaningless, professional way. ‘But don’t worry,’ he said reassuringly, ‘she’s not the first. Might have a hard time but we’ll get her through. Now, I’ll see her again after…’

‘Tell me the truth,’ Theo said, scared. ‘Is she in any danger?’