His attention turned to a beautiful woman will long blonde hair, and the ruggedly handsome man beside her. ‘And then we have Miss Veronica Prentice and Mr Wilfred Carney.’ Colonel Dawlish didn’t mention their roles but it was obvious from their appearance that these two were the Fat Lady and the dwarf.
‘Our lead juggler is Mr Hubert Parvin.’ This was a mischievous-looking man in his 20s with a pointed goatee beard.
Next to him was a tiny girl, not yet 20 by the looks of her, who never looked up from her plate, but smiled nervously as Colonel Dawlish said, ‘And here’s Miss Adeline Rosethorn, the contortionist.’
And then all our attention was directed to the most exquisitely beautiful woman I had ever seen. Dark hair, cut and styled with exquisite care, the darkest eyes, and features that looked as though they had been painted by an artist as an example of physical perfection. ‘Mademoiselle Sabine Mathieu, equestrienne extraordinaire,’ said Colonel Dawlish.
‘And then last, and by any measure least,’ he said, ‘we have Mr Mickey O’Bannon, pugilist.’ The curly-haired man with a broken nose and a ready smile waved a greeting.
‘Gracious,’ said Lady Hardcastle, ‘I promise to try my very hardest to remember all that, but please forgive me if I slip up.’
There were shouts of, ‘Don’t worry about it, love,’ and, ‘I can’t remember any of their bloomin’ names myself and I’ve been working with them for five years.’
‘And next to her is Miss Florence Armstrong, Lady Hardcastle’s–’
‘My dear friend,’ interrupted Lady Hardcastle.
‘Indeed,’ said Colonel Dawlish with an approving nod.
He sat down as the welcomes rang out around the table and we tucked in to our delicious food.
The conversation was loud and boisterous and the company, as promised, extremely convivial. The troop were the warmest, most welcoming group I’ve ever met and by the time the meal was drawing to an end I almost felt as though I were part of the circus myself. They had regaled us with stories of their triumphs and disasters, of audiences good and bad, and there was a warmth and comradeship between them that even their incessant teasing didn’t seem to diminish.
As the beer mugs were refilled for the umpteenth time, Lady Hardcastle and I took our turn as the centre of attention as Colonel Dawlish told stories about our time in Calcutta.
‘...and then there’s a flurry of knees and elbows and the robber is lying on the ground, spark out, and Flo here is standing over him with his own knife in her hand.’
‘Well done, girlie,’ said Mickey O’Bannon appreciatively. ‘Where did you learn that? China?’
‘I did, Mr O’Bannon,’ I said. ‘You know the Chinese arts?’
‘Mickey, please,’ he said. ‘I know of them, at least. I met a Chinese sailor once in Cork who fought like that. Placid fella he was, but you wouldn’t want to go picking a barney with him.’
‘Perhaps we should put her in the ring, Mickey,’ said Prudence. ‘Give your poor weary old bones the night off.’
‘I’d certainly like to see you fight, girlie, I truly would,’ said Mickey.
I was about to demur when Veronica suddenly said, ‘Oh!’ and dropped her spoon noisily into her bowl.
Wilfred, who was sitting next to her, jumped in surprise and flung out his arms, knocking Hubert’s beer from his hand.
‘Bravo!’ said Jonas. ‘A new juggling trick for your act, Huey.’
With an ironic bow, Hubert got up and went in search of a cloth to wipe himself and the table.
Veronica was still all of a twitter.
‘Whatever is ze matter?’ asked Sabine.
‘I just counted,’ said Veronica. ‘We’re thirteen at table.’
I expected them to dismiss it as silly superstition but instead a worried murmur ran round the table as they each made their own hasty count. Colonel Dawlish leaned in close and whispered, ‘Superstitious lot, the circus fraternity. Don’t scoff, but don’t let them spook you.’
The fuss quickly died down, but the merry mood had been broken and the conversation became more subdued. At length Colonel Dawlish raised a questioning eyebrow to Lady Hardcastle. She nodded in reply, and he put down his beer mug with a thud.
‘Well, my dears,’ he said, standing up. ‘I promised my friends here a tour of the circus and we still have a few things to see so we’ll take our leave. Don’t stay up too late. I want a safety inspection tomorrow morning at nine o’clock sharp, and a technical rehearsal at eleven. Abe, can you tell the blessed band that that means them as well, please.’
‘Yes, sir!’ they all chorused, saluting sloppily.
‘Scallywags,’ he said, laughing, and we rose to join him as the party said their goodbyes and bade us enjoy the rest of our evening.
As we left, I could hear Veronica saying, ‘Oh. Oh! The colonel was the first to leave the table. Ill will befall him before a year has passed.’
‘Don’t let them spook you,’ said Colonel Dawlish. ‘I left first on purpose so they weren’t stuck there all night.’
‘Actually,’ I said, ‘It was the juggler... Hubert? He got up to get a cloth when he spilt his beer.’
He grimaced. ‘Oh lord, don’t tell them that.’
Outside the mess tent, Lady Hardcastle checked her watch by the light of a lantern hanging from a pole.
‘Actually, it’s getting a little late,’ she said. ‘It’s been the most marvellous evening, George dear, but I feel we mustn’t keep you up, either.’
‘It’s been entirely my pleasure, darling girl. But you’re right, there’s still much to be done. Come on, I’ll show you out.’
He led us back through the flap in the canvas and down the winding path towards the circus entrance. The way was lit with yet more paraffin lanterns making the sideshows seem even more beguiling.
Presently we reached the now empty ticket office and said our farewells.
‘Thank you again,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘Yes, thank you,’ I said. ‘This is quite the most magical place.’
‘It’s been my pleasure to show off for you, ladies,’ he said. ‘You’ll be coming to the show, of course.’
‘Of course we shall,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘Splendid. You’re on the guest list already. Just speak to Milly and Molly when you arrive.’
‘“Guest list”?’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘Of course. You don’t expect I’d let my oldest friend pay for her own tickets, do you?’
‘You’re very kind, George dear. Now off you go and get some sleep. I want you bright of eye and bushy of tail for your safety inspection tomorrow. Nine o’clock sharp.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said, saluting a good deal more snappily than his circus friends.
He kissed us both goodbye and waved us off as we set off back to the house.
I was in the kitchen doing some early morning chores when the doorbell rang. I had put the iron to one side and had my hand on the kitchen door handle when the bell rang again, followed by fierce hammering of the door knocker. I hurried through to the hall, unbolted the door and opened it to find Colonel Dawlish on the doorstep in a state of some agitation, looking up at the upstairs windows.
‘Ah, Flo, thank goodness,’ he said. ‘Is Emily up yet?’