Carol Birch - Orphans of the Carnival

‘I brought her some pansies,’ Theo said blankly.

‘Wonderful. Give them to one of the nurses, and she’ll make sure they’re taken care of. Now Mr Lent, I’m afraid I have to tell you that the child’s chances aren’t good.’

He wasn’t surprised.

‘How is he?’

Trettenbacher sighed. ‘He doesn’t seem to want to breathe for himself,’ he said. ‘That may change. We’re doing everything we can, naturally.’

‘What about her? Does she know?’

‘We had to take him from her when the fever came on. She was upset, of course. But she has no idea how ill he is.’

‘I’m afraid of how she’ll take it.’ Theo looked down at the water drops from the flowers gathering into a small puddle by his foot.

‘Well, it will be hard,’ said Trettenbacher. ‘You know that.’ He stood up. ‘Still, it may not come to that, we’ll have to see.’

Of course it will come to that. He realised half way back that he hadn’t left the flowers. ‘Look at that,’ he said to them. ‘I took you out for a walk,’ and laughed. He thought how pretty they’d look scattered in the street and wanted to cry.

In the morning he was met by Trettenbacher again. ‘He went less than half an hour ago,’ Trettenbacher said. ‘She doesn’t know yet.’

‘How is she?’

‘She’s not feeling well. But we’re doing our best to bring the fever down.’

‘Someone’s got to tell her.’

‘We thought perhaps you would want to.’

‘Oh God,’ said Theo.

He wasn’t surprised the baby was gone, but he was shocked at how ill Julia looked. ‘What’s the matter with her?’ he asked, and the sound of fear in his own voice scared him.

She was breathing as if it hurt, staring strangely. A new nurse was on duty, a raw-boned masculine woman with a clean sick bowl in her hand. ‘A fever,’ she said stoically, setting the bowl down on the table by Julia’s head. ‘The doctor’s treating it.’

‘Theo,’ Julia said, ‘they won’t let me see him. Tell them they’ve got to let me see him.’

‘Not now,’ said the nurse calmly, mixing a drink. ‘You need to rest.’

‘I want to see him,’ she said.

‘Look what I brought you,’ Theo said, the pansies, on their second outing, drooping a little in his hand. Her breath was rank when he leaned over.

‘I want to see him,’ she said.

‘Now you just calm yourself,’ the nurse said, placing a cold cloth on her forehead.

‘Will you take these and put them in water please, nurse,’ Theo said. When she’d gone he sat down beside the bed. The corners of her eyes were sore and red, and she looked at him as if she knew.

‘Has he gone?’ she asked.

‘Yes, Julia,’ he said, ‘he’s gone.’

Her eyes welled up. ‘Why?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Has he gone?’

‘Yes.’

‘What have they done with him?’

‘I don’t know. Shall I go and find out?’

‘Has he gone?’

‘Now Julia, don’t you worry. He’s…’ What? In a better place. At peace now. He said nothing. The nurse came in with the flowers in a jug and put them down on the table next to the sick bowl.

‘I’ve told her,’ Theo said.

‘I want to see him,’ Julia said, and her throat began to convulse. The nurse grabbed the sick bowl and supported her shoulders. He watched in fascinated horror as Julia’s mouth, cavernous, complicated, reshaped itself and spewed forth bright yellow bile. She retched emptily for a few more minutes before the nurse lowered her head back down onto the pillow.

‘There, you’ll feel better now,’ Theo said uselessly, ‘now that’s up.’

‘Tell them to bring him,’ she said.

‘The little one’s gone to the good God, who knows best what to do,’ the nurse said, ‘and it’s your job now to get better. Drink this.’ She slipped a pill between Julia’s lips, pushed it quickly back on her tongue, poured in a little water and stroked her throat as if she was a dog. ‘Probably best if you leave, Mr Lent,’ the nurse said. ‘We’ll send for you if there’s any change.’

There was no change that day. He walked about for a bit then went back to the tavern where they’d drunk the baby’s health. There was no one there that he recognised, and he sat by the wall drinking and wondering what to do. It occurred to him that she might die, and his mind went blank then started turning over and over. The end. The end of backstage, the lights, the crowds, the smell of sawdust. His savings wouldn’t last forever. He should have made good investments but speculation had never been his strong point. He calculated the cost of travel back to the States. His eyes burned. How could he live? He’d go back, find another fortune. Out there somewhere, another. Another.

How could there be another Julia? His heart felt sick.

He drank, pushed the thoughts away, pushed the baby away, tried to push her away. Push away the whole strange interlude in his life. If she was going to die, he couldn’t risk emotion. He remembered he was supposed to be going to Volkov’s tonight for dinner. ‘God damn,’ he whispered. One more, and home to the quiet apartment. I’ll go mad in here, he thought, but there was nowhere else to go and he couldn’t go in the bedroom because all the baby’s things were there. So he passed the time trying to read one of her books but couldn’t keep his eyes on the page. At seven he changed and set off for Volkov’s.

It wasn’t a big affair, just Volkov and his mother and the professor, Sokolov, with his bright, fierce bird’s stare. Somehow they’d all heard the news, and of course everyone asked after her.

‘They’ve taken blood,’ he said.

‘The little one,’ the old mother said, ‘he’s in a better place.’

That was all she said all night. The atmosphere was restrained. These fevers killed, everyone knew.

‘She’s a strong girl,’ Volkov said, ‘she’ll pull through.’

‘She’s strong,’ Theo replied, sounding more hostile than he’d intended, ‘but she’s grieving. That weakens one.’

As he crossed the hall after dinner, Tolya came up to him. ‘Can she have visitors?’ he asked.

‘She’s nowhere near well enough,’ Theo replied. Sokolov was walking behind him.

‘Do let me know when she is well enough,’ Tolya said solemnly as they passed into the drawing room.

Theo nodded.

Sokolov leaned close enough for Theo to smell a sourness on his breath. ‘A word, Lent, if I may?’

‘Of course.’

They sat down. ‘I believe you said you were returning to the hospital later this evening?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Please,’ said Sokolov, ‘allow me to put my carriage at your disposal.’

‘There’s really no need. Thank you for the offer, but the walk does me good.’

‘No no, I insist. It’s going to be a very cold night.’

The evening dragged on. When the time came, Theo, dreading whatever he’d find at the hospital, found himself rattling through the streets in Sokolov’s carriage, the professor beside him. The day had been long, and he’d drunk a lot. Now I am coping very well with this, he was saying to himself in his mind. The baby, poor little nothing, he didn’t even exist. Couldn’t call that an existence. Julia now, strong as an ox, she’ll pull through. Back to how we were before. Odd, yes, but we were getting by. It was working. Never before stayed in places like we did, those grand beds and expensive rooms. Everyone wanted to know us. She’ll get over it. They do. Look at Aunt Losey. Three in a row. Lots of women do.

‘I would like to be very frank and I hope you will not take it amiss,’ said Sokolov. ‘I would like to put a proposition to you.’