The Orphan's Tale(77)

In the end, it was Herr Neuhoff’s health that had killed him. His heart condition had been worsening right before us, although he’d done his best to hide it so we would not worry. The stress of keeping the circus going could not have helped. We had all been too caught up in our own concerns to notice. Then the struggle with the police had simply been the final straw. Or so we thought. We would never really know.

We stand uncertainly around the coffin. Someone should say something about the benefactor who meant so much to us. But we have no minister; Peter is gone, and Astrid is in no shape. At the front, close to the gravesite, Emmet stands alone, tears streaming down his fat cheeks. The rest of the circus folk keep their distance, and I cannot help but feel sorry for him.

As the gravediggers lower the coffin, I stifle a cry. I want to reach out and touch it one more time, as if doing so could turn back time to just a few days earlier when everything was all right. Astrid steps forward and throws a handful of dirt into the hole in the ground. I follow her example, breathing in the deep earthy smell, feeling the darkness below. Though I have never been to a funeral before, the ritual feels somehow familiar. I stare down into the dark hole. Thank you, I say silently to Herr Neuhoff. For saving Theo and me. For all of it. In my whole life, there has never been anyone who has done more. I step back and brush the dirt off my hands, then lace my fingers with Astrid’s.

Swallowing back the lump that has formed in my throat, I study Astrid’s face out of the corner of my eye. Her skin is pale and her eyes hollow. But she has not cried. How is that possible? A few days ago, she was beginning her life with Peter. Now all of it is gone. She shudders, and I put my arm around her, our grief pressing silently together. My eyes burn and I blink back the tears. Astrid has done so much to care for and protect me; it is my turn to be strong for her now. I wrap my arm more tightly around her shoulders.

Then the funeral is over and we start the long, slow walk back to the fairgrounds. In the distance, bells peal eleven. I take a last look over my shoulder at the gravesite.

As we skirt the edge of town, I can see wagons and lorries climbing the steep road to the market square, children walking to school more quietly than they once had. Where is Luc? I wonder. Even now, I can’t help but think of him and his proposal that we run away together. For a minute, even as I said no, I could see a glimmer of hope, a life that we might have had together. Now that, like everything else, seems gone.

I have not seen him since the night of Peter’s arrest, and there was no note in the belly box when I checked the past two mornings. I half expected him to turn up at the funeral and pay respects, but he hadn’t. Maybe he sensed that he would not be welcome, or that Astrid might blame him yet again for all that had happened.

When we reach the fairgrounds, we do not return to the train, but mill around the backyard like parentless children. “We should rehearse for the show,” Gerda says. I had nearly forgotten: it is Tuesday, with a performance tonight. Tickets have been sold and crowds will come.

“But we have no ringmaster,” one of the horseback riders points out. Heads nod. Performing without Herr Neuhoff is hard to imagine. Once Peter might have filled in, but he is gone, too.

“I can do it,” Emmet says. All eyes travel warily in his direction. He does not have the personality to engage the crowd. I’ve never even seen him set foot in the ring. But there is no other choice. “It’s only for one day before we leave,” he adds. “We can figure out something else after that.”

“One day?” Helmut, the animal trainer, asks. “What do you mean? We aren’t supposed to move on to the next village until Friday.” I recall Astrid telling me we would stay in Thiers for three weeks before moving on to the next town and we are still days short of that.

“We pack after tonight’s show,” Emmet replies. “Tear everything down. And we aren’t going to the next town.” My skin prickles. “We’re turning back to a site near Strasbourg, in Alsace-Lorraine.” He delivers the bad news like it is some sort of trump card.

There is a collective gasp. Tonight. The word bounces around in my brain. Emmet had told us the circus would be sent back, but I never expected it to actually happen so soon. I turn back toward Astrid, seeking her help, but she stands numbly, as if she hasn’t heard.

“Alsace,” one of the acrobats murmurs. “That might as well be Germany.”

I remember what Astrid had told me about Herr Neuhoff fighting to find us a way to stay in France. “Can we appeal?” I dare to ask.

Emmet shakes his head. “My father tried to get the order changed before all of this happened. Our request was rejected.” With Peter’s arrest and everything that happened, there would be no reprieve. And Emmet is not a fighter; he would always choose the course of least resistance. We can’t count on him to ask again. “So we will perform in Alsace.”

I tense, flooded with fear. I can’t go back so close to Germany with Theo. It would be far too dangerous. I look southeast toward the hills and imagine what it would be like to take Theo and run. But I couldn’t possibly abandon Astrid, especially now.

“What about the cities in France we’ve booked?” I ask. Heads turn in my direction. “If we start canceling, we won’t be invited back next year. Think of the money we will lose.”

“Next year?” Emmet sneers, gesturing behind him. “The circus is dying, Noa. There is no money. We’ve lost our ringmaster and the Germans have just taken one of our star performers.” A choking noise, not quite a sob, catches in Astrid’s throat. Emmet continues, “They’ve humored us to a point. But whether it is now or a few months from now, this is the end. How much longer did you think this could go on?”