Entwined

Chapter 18

Luis had let Ruda sleep, sitting by her at first, almost as if guarding her. He kept an eye on the clock; she had already missed the chance to have a pre-show rehearsal. He had explained her absence by saying she had a migraine. Would she be capable of doing the show that evening? Her first spot was eight-forty-five, and he knew that if she did not feel any better, he would have to withdraw the act.

"Luis? What time is it?" She stood in the doorway, her face very pale. She was shaking badly. He rushed to her and helped her sit down. "You've missed the rehearsal, sweetheart, but don't worry..."

"Oh God!"

She let her head droop as he slipped an arm around her shoulders. "They've been fed, and after last night's workout they won't need a run today. You just rest, I've made you a hot chocolate."

She closed her eyes, leaning on the bench cushions. He held out the steaming mug. She smiled, and pushed it aside with her finger. "You always burn the milk."

He crouched down in front of her. "What happened?"

She sipped the chocolate, and gave a wan smile. "Ghosts."

"You want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. He went and sat opposite her. "Will you be fit enough for the show tonight?"

"Try and stop me!"

He chuckled, but he was very concerned; she seemed to have no energy, her body was listless, her eyes heavy.

"Is it about the box? The tin box? I wasn't prying, I was looking for my old albums. I found it, I know maybe I shouldn't have opened it, but to be honest I didn't think you'd find out."

"You shouldn't have opened it, but you did, so that is that." She put the mug down. "I'd better check on the cats."

"No, I've done it, there's no need, and the boys are there. You just rest, gather all your strength for the show."

She nodded. He was disconcerted; it was unlike her to agree to anything he ever suggested. He snatched a look at his watch; there was still time. She stared through him, beyond him, her eyes vacant.

"I found you all curled up in the shower, I carried you in my arms like a baby. Bet you haven't let anybody do that to you for a long time, huh?" He was trying to make light of it, attempting to draw her out.

"Nobody ever held me when I was a baby, Luis, nobody, only... only my..."

He waited but she bowed her head. "Sister?" he interjected. "You said you wanted your sister. I've never even heard you talk about a sister before. I mean, were you dreaming?"

Ruda shuddered, and she clasped her arms around herself, staring at the floor, her voice so soft he had to strain to hear her.

"You know when we went to the Grand Hotel, after we'd been to the morgue? Something happened inside me. I had a feeling... so many years, Luis, I've tried, tried to find her, but — she was called Rebecca. We were taken in a train, hours and hours on a big dark train. Rebecca slept, but I kept guard over her, I watched out for her, she... she didn't talk too well, I used to talk for her."

She leaned back with her eyes closed, remembering the noise of the iron wheels on the rails. She could hear the rat-tat-tat of the wheels and everyone crying, howling, screaming... they were crushed and pushed and trodden on as the big doors were inched back. Had it been days or hours? She lost count, but at last the rat-tat-tat had stopped.

Rebecca was crying because she had messed her panties, done it in her panties, she cried for Mama, but they had no Mama, she was gone, and then they heard the voices, screaming.

"Women to the left, men to the right, women and children to the left, men to the right. Neither of us knew right from left."

"Any twins... twins over here, twins here, dwarfs, giants... twins..."

Ruda was picked up and thrown into a group of shrieking women. Rebecca fought and shouted to her sister, and the guard had picked Rebecca up by her hair and tossed her across to another group. The screaming went on and on. Pushed and kicked, they were herded toward a long path, at the end of which were gates, big high gates. Fences, with barbed wire as high as the sky, surrounded hundreds and hundreds of huts.

Ruda dodged between legs, squeezed under the weeping women and screeching children. At the gates she caught up with Rebecca, holding a strange woman's hand. A guard started shouting orders, Ruda tugged at his sleeve.

"My sister, my sister!"

The guard looked from one to the other, then grabbed them and hauled them into the back of a truck, just inside the perimeter of the gates. "Twins... Twins!"

The truck rumbled and swayed over potholes and ditches, a truck filled with children, boys, girls, all shapes and sizes, identical faces clinging in terror to each other.

Luis sat next to her, he wanted to hold her, comfort her, but she kept leaning back with her eyes closed. He heard only part of what she was saying; she lapsed into silences, and then odd words came out, some in Polish, Russian, Czech, and German. She was seeing with her adult's eyes what she had seen as a tiny child: the carts of skeletons, the strange eerie women with their shaven heads... the screaming women giving birth on a stone slab, and the babies snatched away, the afterbirth still covering their tiny bodies, thrown onto a seething mass of dying babies... the weeping and wailing never ceased, and the cold icy wind never stopped, the snow and ice freezing the memories like crystals.

They clung to each other, slept together, and played together. They had no mother, no father, no brothers, no religion, no surname; all they knew was that they were sisters, Ruda and Rebecca. Protected by being a pair, they fought as one.

In comparison to the other inmates, the twins were fed well. They were given not only clean clothes but toys, and their childish laughter tore into the tortured minds of the rest of the inmates. Men and women clung to the wire meshing that segregated these special children and screamed abuse at them. They hated them because they were playing. Some mothers clung on in desperation to see the faces of their children, and some crept out into the freezing night, and twisted their rags into ropes to hang themselves with.

But the twins who were old enough to understand knew it would only be a short time before the innocent laughter stopped. They knew what was to come. They had seen the twins carried back to their bunks in the dead of night from the hospital. They had seen the tiny, broken bodies lifted from the stretchers, disoriented by the drugs and chemicals that had been pumped into their young veins. Those who knew wept in silence, because they knew that one day it would be their turn.

Gradually even the new inmates, the fresh arrivals, the ones as young as Ruda and Rebecca, began to understand. When the nurse called out the numbers to go to the experiment wing, they trembled in fear.

Papa Mengele had a particular liking for the two tiny girls; he singled them out regularly, to the jealousy of the other children. They had sweets, occasionally even chocolate.

Mengele was fascinated by the way they interacted. Rebecca, slow to talk, began a sentence and Ruda completed it. They often spoke and moved in unison. Their closeness absorbed him, and for many weeks he simply watched them play together.

Ruda reached out and held Luis's hand, clenching it tightly, as the words and sentences were dragged painfully from her memory. At times her voice was so low he had to bend over to hear her.

"She was always smiling. He even let her play with his precious white gloves; she would sit on his knee and hug and kiss him, and he said she could call him 'Papa.' But his eyes, Luis, his eyes were like the Devil's, and he would stare at me...I was afraid of him, I tried to warn her, I didn't trust him, and he knew it, too. I was always afraid of him, but Rebecca had no fear, and then, one day, he said he was going to show her something pretty. I tried to stop her, and she slapped me, said to leave her alone, she was going with her papa to see something nice, and she held his hand, and left me..."

Ruda got up, went to the window and stared out, her hands hanging limply at her sides. "She didn't come back for three days. For three days my body burned, my head ached, I screamed with pain. I knew... I felt every single injection they gave her. They were hurting her. Eventually they brought her back, the nurse carried her in, pushed her onto the bunk bed. Her eyes were glazed, she was burning hot, and she just lay there. I didn't know what they had done to her. Her face was bloated, her belly distended, her cheeks were flushed. They didn't call us for a long time. I stole what food I could, slept with her in my arms, warmed her with my body... and just as she was better, able to get up, they came back for her. When they called her number, I took her place. But they knew me, and I was punished for trying to fool them."

Ruda covered her face with her hands, she couldn't tell Luis what they had done to her... but what had been worse was not being with Rebecca, and each day they had promised she would see her soon. They gave her no food, and every day they administered the interminable agonizing X rays, the electrodes attached to her head, the drugs. They burned her insides, kept on asking her questions she didn't understand, the same question over and over: "Tell us what your sister is doing, tell us... if you tell us you will be given sweets."

Ruda sobbed, wringing her hands. "I didn't know what they wanted, I didn't understand. I hurt so much, I was in such terrible, terrible pain, all I did was cry... Luis, they hurt me so much, and then... then they took me to this little room, locked me inside, all alone, nobody came to see me, nobody gave me any food... and then fresh pains began, my head, my arms, my knees were on fire. I screamed, louder and louder, begging them to stop, to stop hurting her."

Luis leaned closer. "I don't understand..."

She almost screamed it, her face purple with rage: "I felt what they were doing to her, I felt every pain. I knew what they were doing to her, because I felt it." She gave a sobbing laugh, and began pacing around the trailer.

"Papa was very pleased with me. They came to me then, and I was carried into another room. They gave me hot milk and cookies, and kept on telling me what a good girl I was."

Ruda stared from the trailer window, then pressed her head against the cold windowpane. "They bandaged my knees, put ointment on my legs and stomach, dressed me in clean clothes. Then they took me into his office, and made me sit in front of him, he had... a—" She turned back to Luis: "telephone, and he was smiling at me. They were playing music on a gramophone. He spoke to someone, told them to begin. Oh, Luis, I screamed out — my head, I said they were hurting my head, then my stomach. The more I cried out in agony, the more agitated he became, shouting into the phone, again... again, until I fell to the floor. Then he replaced the phone, picked me up and sat me on his knee, told me what a good girl I was. Then she came in..."

"Your sister?" asked Luis.

"No. Papa's assistant. She came in, and he said to her: This is the strong one. Say hello, Ruda, say hello to..."

Ruda slumped onto the bench, unable to continue. Luis reached out and drew her into his arms.

"Did you ever see her again?"

She whispered: "Through the glass window... they used to show me Rebecca through the glass. Her face was like a stranger's, she was fatter, more bloated, but she still tried to smile at me. Then they would draw the curtain, and she would be gone. The nurses told me that if I was a good girl, if I could tell them what Rebecca was thinking, they wouldn't hurt her anymore."

Luis held her close, his cheek resting against hers. She kept staring ahead, whispering. "You remember the silk scarves? The old magician? That's where I learned it, Luis, they said they wouldn't hurt her if I could name the colors, and I used to try so hard, try to tell them what they wanted to know, but they would never let me see her..."

"But why, what did any of it prove?"

"They wanted me to read her mind, they showed her all these color charts, cards, and... and I failed, I couldn't get it right. So many, they wanted so many. When I failed they would burn me, make me try again, and I did, because then they didn't hurt her; if they had, I would have known, but she wouldn't concentrate. I'd always been able to think for her, talk for her, but she didn't concentrate hard enough. And then one day I could see them clearly, one color after another. Papa applauded and shouted, and they let me see her. They told me I was a good girl, that I had saved my sister and if I continued to be a good girl she would not be hurt."

"Did they continue to torture you?"

She nodded. "Not so much — but they would not let me hold her. I was kept all by myself, but you know, I knew she was being taken care of, so it was all right. But then, I got so tired I couldn't, I couldn't do it. They took her away, it was my fault." Her voice was hardly audible. "They hurt her... but all I could feel was her terror."

Luis felt so inadequate, he held Ruda tightly. "You listen to me. From now on, when something hurts you, when you remember, you tell me. Because no ghost is going to touch you. I love you, Ruda, do you hear me? You have done no wrong, you have done nothing wrong, you can't blame yourself, you were just a child."

She broke from him, and gave him a strange look. He could feel her mistrust.

"It's true, Ruda, you have done nothing wrong! You have to believe that!"

She reached the door leading to the small hallway. "I had better rest before tonight."

"You sure you will be all right?"

She nodded. "I do care for you, Luis, you know that. I think I always have. Maybe, in my own way, I..."

She couldn't say the word.

"Ruda, maybe it's taken me a long time to realize just how much I need you, that I'm nothing without you... but I understand that you need me too, Ruda, and it makes me feel good."

"Don't tell anyone what I have told you."

"As if I would... but, remember, you have nothing to be ashamed of."

She gave him that look, her eyes slightly downcast. "I didn't tell you all of it, some things you can never tell anybody. You know why? Because nobody could really believe it ever happened."

"May I ask you something? Did you know Kellerman at the camp? Was he at the same place?"

"Yes, Kellerman was also at Birkenau. I didn't know him there... he had it bad, they made him fuck dogs for their entertainment — and you thought it was funny to make jokes about the size of his dick, didn't you? See, look at you, you don't really believe it, do you? Kellerman the clown, haw haw... they degraded him, defiled him, and treated him like an animal, haw haw. Kellerman was not a clown, not in his heart."

"You did see him, here in Berlin. Didn't you?"

She looked at him straight in the eyes, without a flicker of hesitancy to indicate she was lying. "No. I suppose he came to try and squeeze money out of me, but I didn't see him. Look, I'd better go and rest, then I'll check on the animals."

She closed the door of her bedroom. Grimaldi put her half-finished mug of hot chocolate in the sink, then strode across the trailer and rapped on her door. She pulled it open. "What?"

"That little prick of an inspector was here, he wanted to know about the night Kellerman died, something about a pair of boots, the ones he'd seen outside."

She shrugged, gestured to her closet. "He can take whichever ones he likes. Is that all you wanted to say to me? I got a lot to do..."

"I'll go and check the props — and Ruda, if you still have Kellerman's hat, get rid of it. They asked about that, a leather trilby... Mike borrowed it, he said that you had said it was mine. Get rid of it, Ruda." Grimaldi slammed out of the trailer.

Ruda kicked her door shut. "Damn!.. Damn!"

She paced up and down. She had gotten rid of everything, she was safe, they couldn't link her to Kellerman's murder. Then she realized maybe the police had not made the connection, but Grimaldi had. She stood with her hands clenched at her sides. "Damn!" She calmed down, ordered herself to remain calm.

Torsen hovered around the bus station, checking his watch. He had to get back to his apartment, bathe and change, and collect Freda; he wouldn't make it if the bus didn't come soon. There was a sound of a car backfiring, and Torsen looked out. He hurried toward the driver as he slammed the door shut. "Eh, you'd better be careful, slam it too hard and the engine'll fall out."

Torsen smiled. "Could I have just a word?"

The driver nodded, but said he would have to make it quick since he was late. Torsen produced the leaflet. "Can you look at this, it's not a proper photograph, but it's a good likeness of the person we think may have been the passenger on your bus the night the dwarf was murdered. Remember we spoke about it?"

Again the driver nodded. "You know it's been a while now. I dunno if I can remember her, let me see..." He squinted at the picture.

"I'm sure I've seen this before..."

"But is it of the woman on your bus that night?"

"I have definitely seen this woman's face before, but whether it was her or not, I couldn't honestly say. I just took her fare, I didn't have a conversation with her. It could be, but I couldn't say it was."

Torsen slipped the picture back into his wallet. "Thanks for your time. Have a good night!"

He returned to his car, was unlocking it as the bus drove past. On the side of the bus out of Torsen's sight was a large poster — Ruda Kellerman's face about a foot high was posted up on the wall of the bus terminal.

Torsen threw up his hands. So much for a valued eyewitness. He drove back to his apartment. On the way he called in for messages by radio, and stated that he would be using the patrol car that evening. Rieckert radioed back to Torsen asking if he could pick him up. There was just his girlfriend and himself. Torsen snapped that he thought he was giving the tickets to his wife and kid. Rieckert laughed. "Na, they hate the circus... see you about seven, over and out!"

Mama Magda's was empty when Vebekka walked in. She called out and, receiving no reply, descended the dark unlit staircase. She passed through the arch with the beaded curtains, called out again, and walked toward the office. Eric opened the door.

"I came to see Magda."

Eric squinted in the darkness, unable to see her face clearly.

"I want to talk to her."

"That would be very difficult. Who are you?"

Vebekka introduced herself, and Eric opened the door wider.

"Please, it is very important I speak to her."

Eric gestured for her to come in. "You're twenty-four hours too late. She died last night."

Vebekka leaned on the doorframe. "Oh no... no please, no!"

Eric offered her a chair, but she refused.

"Can I be of help? I've taken over the club... sit, please sit."

"She called me Ruda..."

Eric saw how distressed Vebekka was. "Look, I'm sorry I can't help you."

Eric watched her leave, then remembered the purse. If she was who she said she was maybe she could cause trouble. He opened the drawer, picked up her purse and ran after her.

"You left this last night, your purse... no money, there was no money in it, okay?"

She stared at the bag, disinterested. Eric thrust it toward her.

"It's yours, eh, are you okay?"

She took the purse. She seemed close to tears. "It was perhaps just a coincidence, you see... Ruda, Ruda was my sister. The big woman called me Ruda."

"I can ask around for you, what's her last name?"

"I don't know."

Eric backed away; she was a nut. "Well I can't help you then, good-bye. Any time you're passing, drop in..."

He made his way back, and heard a screech of tires. She had walked out into the street and a car had narrowly missed her, but she kept on walking, not even turning to the shocked driver.

Helen turned to see the baron, who was out of breath, having run up from the reception. "She came to the hotel, went up to the suite, and then took a taxi. The driver has just come back. He said Vebekka went to 'Mama Magda's' and he's waiting to take us there now."

When they reached the club, Eric explained that the baroness had been there; he swore he had returned the handbag she left there the previous evening.

"We are not interested in that, all we want to know is where she went."

Eric explained she had come asking about her sister, someone called Ruda, and the next minute she had almost got herself killed walking across the street, straight into the traffic.

Eric followed them out to the sidewalk, and watched them as they, too, ran across the street amid blaring horns. He shook his head. Crazy foreigners, all crazy.

Vebekka walked on, bumping into passersby. She turned into a churchyard, unaware of where she was going. Fragmented pictures kept cropping up in her mind. She walked into the church and sat in a row at the back. Rosa used to take her to church on Sundays, but her adopted father never accompanied them. Vebekka closed her eyes, remembering. She used to call Rosa "the woman" — she didn't know the name of the woman who worked at the hospital where they had taken her after the camp was liberated.

The woman had been very gentle. She had explained she was just examining her, to see if she needed any medication. She asked her if she remembered her name, but Rebecca was too terrified to speak; any moment she expected them to stick needles into her arms. When the needles didn't come, she lived in terror they would bring the electric pads, and she hid beneath the sheets for long periods of time. The woman would come every day with little presents, but Rebecca would refuse to take them. She knew it was a trick. After a few weeks, maybe even months, she began to believe she was safe; until they had taken her to the X-ray department, and she had screamed and screamed.

Rebecca had spent six months in the hospital before she was sent to an orphanage; she had yet to speak a word, but she had begun to get used to the nice woman's visits. The woman had explained to Rebecca that she lived in Berlin with her husband, that she was not a doctor, just helping in any way she could. She had held the frightened girl's hand, saying she wanted to help her, and that she would come to the orphanage to see her, if Rebecca wished. Rebecca had slowly nodded her head.

In the orphanage, the older children would steal her things, and pinch her. She was so fat — they called her a pig, a fat pig. They were too young, too bruised themselves to know she had been injected and tortured, to know that they had all suffered. Rebecca rarely spoke. She missed her sister, cried for her every night. Then, one day, the nice woman arrived with her husband. She asked Rebecca if she would like to live with them.

There were many children to choose from, but Rebecca had touched Rosa deeply; she was also outwardly the most healthy of the children, and Rosa was confident that, in time, Rebecca would be able to overcome her terror.

They had tried to trace Rebecca's family to no avail; she could not remember her last name. They knew her first name only because one of the children told them. Rebecca left with the Goldbergs a year and a half after her release from Birkenau, but it was months before she started to believe they were not going to hurt her.

Rosa made the decision never to speak of Birkenau. What she had heard about the camp was too much for her to accept and she felt it was better for Rebecca to forget the past. They had a plastic surgeon remove her tattoo, and although the doctors and nurses had terrified her, Rebecca recovered remarkably quickly.

Three years after the adoption, Rosa was beginning to despair. Rebecca still hid food, peed on the floor, and wet her bed every night. She remained suspicious and noncommunicative, retreating into sulking silences for so long that Rosa began to despair. And she had suffered from nightmares: Virtually every night Rebecca woke screaming hysterically and would let no one near her.

At school she disrupted classes, had no friends, fought, spat, and kicked. She stole children's toys and lunch boxes.

She alternated between refusing food for days on end and gluttonous horrific binges; Rosa would find her sitting on the kitchen floor eating everything in sight — mustard, jam, raw eggs — anything her hands could reach she would stuff into her mouth.

Rebecca wore Rosa Goldberg down. No care, no love seemed to break through to her. She was as cruel and vicious to pets as to the smaller children at school. The Goldbergs began to think they had adopted a monster.

Therapy sessions followed, and partly helped; through therapy they discovered she had a twin sister.

Rosa had tried to trace Ruda in a desperate bid to help Rebecca, but it was a long, fruitless, financially exhausting search. Ruda, it was presumed, had died in the camp. There was no record of her leaving Birkenau, no record in any orphanage; she had, like thousands of others, perished.

David Goldberg was at his wits' end. Under the strain of caring for Rebecca, Rosa became a nervous wreck. As a last resort, when they arrived in Philadelphia, Rosa arranged a session with a hypnotherapist.

For the first time Rebecca calmed down. Rosa soon read every book she could find on the subject. She trained at a local hypnosis clinic so that she could hypnotize Rebecca at home. Gradually she began to erase from the child's mind the memory of the past.

Rebecca did not change overnight. There were setbacks when she remembered Ruda. But Rosa found a solution: She talked Rebecca into locking her sister away, so she would not come out and would not make her do bad things. She would lock her away and lose the key. From then on Rebecca was able to study and she caught up with the other children.

Vebekka sat back, staring at the altar. She understood now why she had been so afraid for her babies, afraid they would be born with two heads, born twisted, with ropes. She had been too young to know about umbilical cords. She had seen the twisting baby ropes cut with rusty knives. With the fascination of a young child she'd watched the skeletal women deliver. She saw once again the hundreds of rows of jars containing deformed fetuses in the hospital.

In the silence of the church Rebecca remembered, too, the relief and joy she had felt in holding her babies, and in touching their perfect little bodies. Her voice echoed softly around the dark empty church. "I'm so sorry." She had never meant to hurt them, it was beyond her control.

She thought of Sasha, and for a moment was panic-stricken: sweet innocent Sasha. She remembered wanting Sasha to see what she had seen, but then, she had not understood why. She wanted Sasha to see the burning babies in the hidden compartments in her mind. She had wanted Sasha to understand. Rebecca let out a long moan, remembering how she had frightened her daughter, frightened Louis, poor dear Louis. He was such an innocent, how could a man who had led such a pampered, charmed existence be expected to understand? He had only wanted her to love him — but Ruda's pull was stronger.

She sat back, feeling the hard wood of the church pew against her back. The red, green and blue panes of the stained glass window sparkled in front of her. She stared at the colors... she heard his voice, that soft persuasive voice and the music... He played the same Wagner recording over and over, he even whistled it as he walked through the camp, he used to hum it to her when he laid out the cards...

"Clear your mind of everything, look at the cards, red, green... look at the cards, there's a good girl, now more cards..."

The white gloves snapped down the colored cards. At first she had liked the game — it was fun, and Papa Mengele had kissed and cuddled her when she remembered each one. When she could transmit the exact colors to Ruda he rewarded her with chocolate, breaking off pieces, popping them into her mouth.

Then the games had become frightening. She was forced to transmit more and more colors. At first it had begun with just three cards, next day six. She found it hard to concentrate, she was hungry. Once she said she couldn't remember them because she was hungry, then she had been force-fed until she was bloated. Now, he had told her, you are full. Now show me how clever you are. This time there were twenty cards, this time, because she was frightened, she had concentrated as hard as possible. These sessions went on every day and gradually Rebecca was able to transmit telepathically to Ruda up to twenty-five colors.

If Ruda made a mistake, she would be punished. They told Rebecca that it was her fault, that she was hurting her sister. One day Papa displayed fifty cards, and Rebecca started to cry. Papa drew back the curtain then and made her see what she had done to Ruda. Ruda sat on a high chair with things clipped to her head. A nurse held her up.

Vebekka rubbed her temples, staring at the stained glass. It began to blur, her head throbbed. She was trying to reach Ruda, just as she had done as a child. Vebekka started to cry. She could not hope to reach out to her, it was too late. If only Rosa had understood, had not been afraid, if only she had allowed Rebecca to open up the past, then she might have been able to find Ruda. Instead, she had buried Ruda alive.

Ruda double-checked the props. Next she went to the meat trailer and asked if all the cats had eaten. She was on her way to Mamon's cage when she remembered the time. The public would soon be starting to line up. As she started back to the trailer, suddenly her head felt as though it would burst open. She gasped with pain and leaned against the side of a trailer. Ruda forced herself to carry on, telling herself she hadn't eaten. That's what it was, she had to have something to eat.

Torsen arrived at Freda's apartment building, ran his fingers through his hair, and rang the bell. She opened the door before he had finished buzzing. She had her coat over her arm, and her purse in her hand. Freda asked whether his use of the patrol car meant he was on duty. He shook his head. As they drove off he explained they were to pick up his sergeant and a girlfriend.

The two couples talked animatedly, looking forward to the show.

"How was my father today?" Torsen asked Freda.

"Well, he was very well at breakfast, but then it was snowflake time again."

Rieckert asked what she meant, and Freda explained, pulling a little bit of tissue from her purse, licking it and sticking it on the end of her nose, then blowing it off. "He does it for hours until the floor looks like there's been a snowstorm."

Rieckert laughed, nudged Torsen, and said it could be hereditary.

Torsen seethed. He would have to speak to Freda about this snowflake business, it wasn't funny. As Rieckert started to mimic his father in the backseat, Torsen got more and more uptight.

"If it were your father, you wouldn't think it was funny! It is not funny!"

Rieckert blew a fragment of tissue off his nose. "I agree! But it's one hell of a hobby!"

As the baron and Helen continued walking, they passed one of the circus ads. Helen stopped dead and looked at the face surrounded by lions. Louis turned back as she pointed to Ruda Kellerman's name. "Ruda," she repeated, and then ran to hail a passing taxi.

Louis was a step behind her. "Why a taxi? The man said she was walking!"

Helen bent down to the driver. "The circus, please take us to the circus!"

The parking lot was filling up: Crowds walked from the train stations and buses deposited parties near the fenced perimeter. Children waited impatiently to have their photograph taken while they sat on top of the elephant. Clowns passed leaflets and sold balloons. Speakers blasted music, and two majorettes in red sequined costumes paraded up and down banging their drums.

Ruda sat in the bedroom wearing her boots and white trousers. Her body wouldn't stop trembling. She pressed her hands together. They were wet with perspiration. She had never felt this way before, and she was beginning to get frightened. Luis ran into the trailer.

"Standing room only, it's pandemonium out there. Come and see the crowds, they're about to use the laser beams, it's one hell of a sight... come and see!"

"Luis, something's wrong with me, look, I'm shaking, I don't know how to stop it!"

He took her in his arms. "It's just nerves. They are coming to see you, Ruda. Look — your face is on every poster, your face, your act.

Ruda heard the roar of the crowd as Luis opened the trailer door.

"Jesus Christ, Ruda! Look at the laser beams. My God, I've never seen a show like this, that old bastard knows how to draw the crowds!"

High in the sky, in brilliant colors, the lasers wrote:

Rebecca quickened her pace, buffeted along by the crowds heading toward the circus. Even if she wanted to turn back she would find it nearly impossible. She had an overpowering urge to run. Suddenly, the stream of people ahead began pointing upward to the laser beams. They gasped and called out, still surging forward, now with faces tilted skyward. But all Rebecca saw was the name Ruda. She could hear a child's voice calling out, screaming "I'm here, I'm here, I'm over here." Lost among the milling people, a little girl screamed for her mother, but to Rebecca it was a sign, a symbol. She had to get to the front of the crowd. "Let me through, please, please let me pass..."

Ruda stood in the open door of her trailer, staring at the sky. Slowly she looked back to the crowds. Thousands of people were milling around, eating cotton candy, carrying balloons, surging toward the massive triple-ringed tent. There was someone else there, too. She could feel it with every nerve in her body.

Rebecca stood with her face pointed at the sky, her head spinning at the blazing name: Ruda Kellerman! She began to head frantically toward the trailer park. A man at the gate was about to stop her, then waved her through with an apology. He thought she was Ruda Grimaldi.

Luis looked up with a proud smile and turned to Ruda. She stood motionless in the open doorway.

"Are you okay, honey?"

She stared ahead. He asked again if she was all right, but she didn't answer, she couldn't. She didn't hear him, because standing within yards of her was Rebecca.

Rebecca could not move, she could hear no sound, no voices, nothing. All she had eyes for was Ruda, framed in the doorway. The sisters had not seen each other in forty-four years.

Luis was not sure what was happening. He could see the tall elegant woman, but from far away he couldn't really distinguish her features. "Who is it?" he asked, as Ruda stepped down from the trailer. He watched as the woman moved closer and closer. She moved into the lights of the trailer windows.

Shadows played across her face, but he caught a glimpse of her eyes. They were Ruda's eyes, and he knew then. He was dumbstruck. All he could do was stand and look on as Ruda and the woman approached each other, oblivious to everything that surrounded them.

There was one step between them. They were the exact same height, but Ruda was more powerful. Her body blocked Rebecca from Luis's view. He moved sideways, but all he could see was Ruda's back. It was as if she were protecting her other self.

They did not speak as their hands moved to touch each other's face. But they said each other's name in their minds, in unison, as they melted into each other's arms.

Way past their heads, past the parking lot, out on the road leading to an entrance, Luis saw the ominous blue flashing light of a police car. "Please, dear God, no," he thought. "Please don't let them have come for Ruda, not now, not tonight."