Precious Things (10 page)

Francesca let out a shaky breath and smoothed her hand down the front of her elegant black palazzo pants. ‘I would be so grateful if you could. It would mean a lot to me.'

‘Of course,' said Maggie, taking the woman's arm. Maggie could feel the woman shaking through the tips of her fingers. ‘Zac . . . Zac?' she called, wondering if she needed help. She led Francesca through to the kitchenette and placed her upon a carved gilt Louis XV side chair. The woman looked so at home, sitting on that chair, that Maggie marvelled at how two beauties could be put together like that and just sing. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea? Strong and sweet, I think . . .'

‘Here, boss!' said Zac, lumbering into the kitchenette, but she gently pushed him outside so they could give Francesca a moment – she was looking very pale, Maggie thought.

‘There was someone else to see you just a moment ago, too,' Zac said. ‘But he left – Michael something or other.'

‘Masterson?' Maggie asked, noting the butterflies starting up in her belly. What was he doing here?

‘Said he was passing by and wondered if he could take you to lunch, but I told him you have that meeting with Bonningham. Who is he, then?' Zac asked, and Maggie hoped he hadn't noticed the flush creeping up her cheeks.

‘Oh, potential client – I'm meeting him next week,' Maggie said quickly. ‘Must be urgent, although I can't quite think why.'

Maggie pushed her hair back from her face and smiled brightly, her mind racing. So Michael was stopping by for a visit, was he? That was very strange.

What an odd, unsettling sort of day.

LEXI: Paris, 1926

Lexi flung back her head, spine arching like a bow, arms open to the heavens. Luminescent in the searing heat of the spotlights, the sweep of gold-dust along her eyelids glittered. Tendons quivered. She closed her eyes to the canvas big top, and waited.

There was a moment of silence. Then the roar. The applause fell on her like a monsoon, violent and warm.

A wave of relief washed over her. Addictive, as always. Tension leached through her soles into the packed earth, and Lexi felt herself become engulfed by the catcalls and wolf whistles. The orchestra started up again. She relaxed her pose, ever so slightly.

I still have it in me
.

Her best days weren't behind her. Not yet.

Folding gracefully in two, Lexi took a low, languid bow. Her thigh muscles shuddered in warning. Registering the front row on her way down, a palm brushed her foot as the other arced up above her head.
Several women eyed her, looking hard to impress. The children, some as young as three, proved less difficult, their mouths forming a perfect ‘o' of surprise. The men watched her as well, but with something akin to hunger. One threw a single-stemmed rose at her feet.
Only because he can't see me up close
, Lexi thought, backing away towards the far end of the ring, towards the slit in the folds of the velvet curtain.

The ground shook, rumbling with the stomping of several thousand pairs of feet. Lexi waved her hand above her head and gifted the audience with her brightest smile yet, perspiration stinging her eyes. Rutherford swept the curtain aside and entered the ring, standing next to her.

‘Mesdames et messieurs, I think you'll agree that was simply astounding. Our star of the show!' Even with a megaphone, Rutherford shouted to be heard above the noise of the crowd and the building drum roll. His cheeks flushed red. ‘Lexi Dömötör – trapeze artist extraordinaire, our Soaring Angel. And her team of
saltimbanchi
!'

Ha
, Lexi thought, as the drum sounded and cymbals clashed.
An angel for my sins, perhaps.

Taking her cue, Lexi cast out a gracious arm, acknowledging the troupe of silver-clad acrobats. Companions to her act while she spun through the air, wearing her risqué Icarus suit, the sixteen performers were there to enhance the frenetic energy of her show. Tumbling, rolling, like mice in a wheel, drawing the eyes of the audience as she paused for breath, preparing to swoop, Lexi forever surprising them . . .

The wire wings of snow-white feathers strapped to her back bit cruelly into her shoulders. But nothing could spoil this moment. She was the queen of the world. How she would miss it, after the final curtain call. Lexi wondered how many shows she had left in her. How long could her body hold out before it collapsed, or worse? Banishing the dark thoughts to the back of her mind, Lexi held her smile. The muscles in her jaw ached with the dazzling effort. When she judged the noise of the audience and the drums to be at their crescendo, she slipped through the curtains.

The moment she stepped backstage, Dariusz was there. They embraced behind the scarlet drapes, Dariusz clasping her close. He tenderly removed the wings. ‘You were brilliant, my darling,' he said, and clasped her to him to kiss her deeply, the hard muscles of his chest pressing against her costume. She knew she'd have red welts there tonight, where whalebone nipped flesh. Her slight frame melted into his embrace, their tongues entwined. Dariusz pushed her against the marquee, sliding a hand along her sequin-studded leotard. For a moment, Lexi forgot herself.

‘Please!' cried Maxmillian. ‘Spare us.' Shoving past them towards the stage, his red shoes flapped on the ground. He pushed a tiny dog forwards on a wheel. Oversized tears rolled down his painted cheeks, the clown's face a tragic rictus.

Dariusz broke away and grinned. ‘
Szeretlek,
' he murmured in his native Hungarian, leaning down to brush a stray curl from her face with scarred fingers. Her platinum-blonde hair shone with lacquer, sweat and glitter.

‘I love you, too,' Lexi said, looking up into his dark eyes. She wondered why he hadn't simply waited for her in their dressing room. Love was a constant surprise to her, and Dariusz's was so steadfast and true. Taking his fist in her hand, she kissed the gnarled knuckles tenderly, one by one. Dariusz watched her, then suddenly twisted open his fist to grab at her arm.

‘Come. I've something to show you.' Leading the way through the rabbit warren of connecting tents and walkways, he passed a scattering of performers waiting in the wings. Lexi felt a little flutter in her chest – his enthusiasm was infectious.

Just then, Samuel let out a burst of flame, illuminating the sharp planes of his face. An acrid burning filled the air. ‘Hey, watch where you're breathing fire!' roared Bertha, stepping back, almost crushing the dwarf juggling so close to her pendulous behind. Rutherford would be calling them onstage soon, the Sideshow Alley performers, to remind people about the events being held outside the main tent.

Samuel jumped back in surprise. ‘S-s-sorry, Bertha,' he said, turning away and catching the gaze of a young woman. Covered entirely in long, silky black fur, Hirsutia eyed him nervously. Lexi saw her astonishment at having captured Samuel's attention. Even as the wiry Swede turned back to focus on his petrol-soaked batons, Hirsutia stared longingly after him.

This was what the audience should really see, she thought. The real-life drama of this strange world they inhabited. Hirsutia had been pining after Samuel from the day she'd first joined them. Everyone in the troupe knew of course, but it was politely left unsaid. This was part of the performers' code: let outsiders ridicule you, let the world at large think they had you picked. But inside the circus, they were all outcasts. Strange brothers and sisters united as one, using wonder and skill – their tricks of the trade – against an ordinary world.

Still clutching her wrist, Dariusz guided her past the peeling illustration of The Astounding Mercurio tacked against the wall of the tent. Lexi felt the familiar knot of anxiety, never very far away, tighten inside her. Despite Rutherford's commitment to the circus ‘family', money was still their king;
star today, gone tomorrow
, and Mercurio was no more. Swallowing away the sudden, acidic taste in her mouth, Lexi let Dariusz pull her forward.

As had been happening far too often lately, an impresario had swept through town the week before they'd arrived in Turin last month. Despite their route being a secret carefully guarded by Rutherford himself, the impresario always seemed to know where they would appear next, and he arrived beforehand, satiating the locals' appetite for escapology. Performing in twelve more towns before the eighty-strong carriages rolled in, Rutherford eventually called it quits on Mercurio's act. The writing was on the wall for all of them then – they needed to watch themselves. The Great Renzini Circus Troupe was a tightly held bill. No one ever stayed at the top for too long. Lexi thought of all the performers she'd seen come and go. Sorry as she felt for the escape artist, she was grateful she and Dariusz had been spared.

Lexi felt the soreness in her legs as they hurried along across the grassy field, and longed for the comfort of her dressing room. They were camped in fairgrounds at the edge of the nineteenth arrondissement off the Boulevards des Maréchaux, not far from Porte de la Villette station or the Seine to the south. Nearing the carriage now, Lexi could see there was still one obstacle yet to pass. Suki. Sitting on an upturned crate, the contortionist was drinking a large glass of absinthe.

‘Well done,' she said, holding up the glass. ‘Salut.' She tipped the bright green liquid down her throat in one gulp, slamming the glass on the makeshift table. She started pouring herself another.

Lexi wondered whether she should stop to say a few words. Suki had been her warm-up act, once. But now that Lexi's aerial performance had reached top billing, it seemed there was no room for old friendships, and she'd slipped further down the bill . . . Lexi averted her gaze. She and Suki had once been close and Lexi had confided in her . . . she wished now she hadn't.

Dariusz tightened his grip. ‘Don't bother,' he said from the corner of his mouth, squeezing her fist. ‘It's not worth it.' But how could he understand? He didn't know the half of it. Lexi dropped her eyes and kept going, unable to rid herself of the bitter but also sly expression on Suki's face.

Finally they were there. The curtains of their private carriage were drawn, hiding its interior. Dariusz stood on the grass outside, teams of burly men streaming past, carrying various props back and forth from the stage and checking the huge metal stays of the tent while the big top glowed behind them in the starless night sky. They paid them no attention, but Lexi sensed Dariusz's hesitation. ‘What? What is it?' she asked. ‘Why aren't we going in?' A wave of tiredness suddenly threatened to overwhelm her – God, she was done for this evening. Whatever it was, surely it could wait? Lexi felt the muscles in her shoulders seizing up. No sooner had she finished her routine than the pain started up again. It was getting impossible lately.
I'm growing old
, Lexi thought.
I'll need my massage soon – and quickly.

Dariusz looked preoccupied. Spinning her around to face him, he pulled a white silk scarf from his pocket and wrapped it around her head, blinding her. ‘Just a moment. I promise,' he whispered.

She heard the door squeak on its hinges, then felt his arm around her waist, guiding her up the steps.

‘Dariusz!' she pleaded, losing patience with him. ‘Enough. Please stop it now.'

‘Look,' he said, pulling away the silk scarf with a flourish, a warm hand on her shoulder. Lexi opened her eyes. She could see white flowers covering every available inch of the room's surface, boxes of chocolates, tokens from fans . . . Then, suddenly, she understood why Dariusz had been coy . . . Roses and lilies and freesias of every description, her favourites, their scents mingling together but all sharing the same colour – or its absence – in pure, pristine white. Like her angel wings. Unlike her black heart. Trays of delicate pastries sat propped beside sealed envelopes and burning candles. Lexi's hands flew to her mouth, knowing she didn't deserve it. A gasp escaped her. It was too much.

‘They love you, darling!' Dariusz cried, laughing now. ‘My wife, the star. Didn't I tell you?'

Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her from the floor and crushed her to his chest. Lexi felt the breath leave her as she closed her eyes, weak and dazzled. He was such a mountain of a man, sometimes he forgot his own strength. It had only been a week, but news of her act must have spread quickly. She should enjoy this while it lasted, she told herself. A pleasant tingling overtook her whole body, tricking it out of its tiredness for a second. Lexi leaned into her husband's strong chest and felt his heart beating.

‘Here, I was going to give you this after the tour, but I couldn't wait.' Dariusz let her go and leaned over to retrieve a small package from beneath the bench, skirting the flickering votives. It was wrapped within layers of white tissue paper and encircled by a pretty satin ribbon the shade of a wren's egg. ‘I bought this in the Marché aux Puces, from a funny little fellow who swore it came from
a woman of means – someone aristocratic, maybe royalty even,' Dariusz said. ‘It reminded me of you. My Queen.'

Lexi took the offering, gazing up into his face, which was so open. ‘What is it, my love? You mustn't always be buying me things. We're meant to be saving.' Still, she was eager to see what lay beneath the whispery layers – Dariusz was always so good at choosing gifts for her. Whereas she never knew what to give him, because Dariusz said he never wanted anything. Except her. And the one thing she wasn't willing to give.

‘It wasn't much. I couldn't resist. What do you think?'

Unfolding the tissue-thin sheets, Lexi caught the glint of diamantes in the candlelight. The beading and burnished pearls glowed like silver and gold, showing just a few loose threads at its centre. ‘But – it's wonderful,' she breathed. She caressed the silky finish of organza beneath the collar and felt a strange sensation ripple through her.
Where have you been?
she wondered.
And whose were you before you became mine?
The crown glittered and winked at her, seeming to dance in her hands. It looked like some jewel had been wrenched from it, from the very middle, but she knew she could fix it. Lexi's blood quickened and seemed to change direction. This was . . . special. Unlike anything she'd ever seen before, and Lexi had seen many a good deal of pretty trinkets in her time, even if she'd never been able to afford them. However had her husband been able to find such a treasure? Who cared if it was damaged? The fraying was only slight. She would be able to restore it.

Dariusz took the fine beaded piece from her hand and began to wrap it around her head. ‘I thought you could incorporate it into one of your outfits somehow. As a coronet, perhaps, or an armband in one of your conjurings? Maybe you could channel Artemis, Goddess of the Moon?' He let the sparkling object fall to her neck, and she saw that it was missing a few beads at one edge as well. A moment's work would repair it. Pulling it away now, he placed the coronet back inside her palm, and closed it within his. ‘I would be your Apollo, just to share every waking breath with you from the moment of birth, you know,'
he said, drawing her close and caressing her softly. But her shoulders started throbbing, and she eased away with a small hand against his chest, feeling unworthy again.