Entwined

Chapter 3

Ruda Kellerman stepped down from her trailer. The sky was overcast, with rain falling lightly. Ruda drew up her raincoat collar and tightened her belt. Her black boots barely showed beneath the long trench coat. She wore a man's old cloth cap and her long hair was braided. She carried a small riding crop and was tapping it against her leg as she strode toward the Grimaldi cages.

There were sixteen tigers, four lionesses, five lions, and one black panther. The animals were three or four to a cage, except for one lion, Mamon, and the panther, Wanton, who each had his own. Ruda had, as always, supervised their unloading from the circus train. Now she was making her second inspection of the morning, her eyes noting each animal with a piercing stare of her wide amber-colored eyes.

The tigers were very vocal now; occasionally, she stopped as one or the other called to her. She pressed her face to the bars, blowing a kiss.

The purring sound was so loud it was like a rumble, but there was no sound from the smallest cage in the semicircle, the cage that housed Wanton, her young panther. Ruda called out to him, but kept at arm's length as he sliced his paw through the bars, his sharp claws always ready to lash out against anyone passing close. Wanton was the smallest cat, but one of the most dangerous, and Ruda glanced upward to check that the tarpaulin over the top of his cage was well battened down. She checked to make sure that there was no loose rope for Wanton to leap at, and possibly hurt himself.

Ruda moved on to her babies, her lionesses. The rain was heavier, and she snapped orders for her helpers to keep the tarpaulins on all the cages until it was time to move the cats into their sheltered quarters. Hearing her voice, the lionesses pressed their massive bodies to the bars, and each one received a rub on the nose. Ruda spoke softly, knowing they would be restless for some time. They always were when they arrived at a new site.

Ruda ran her crop along the bars of the next to last cage, and three of her prize babies, the fully grown male lions, loped toward her, their massive heads bent low, their paws too large to reach through. These lions with their full manes never ceased to touch a chord inside her; they were kings, magnificent killers, and she admired the sheer force and power of their muscular bodies. Their straw needed changing. She turned angrily to one of her helpers, snapping out the order to prepare the clean straw.

A young man, who had been with Ruda for only six months, muttered for her to give him a break, he had just arrived himself. In two quick strides Ruda was at his side.

"Do it now! No back talk!"

The boy hurried toward the trailer, where four helpers were pitchforking the new hay and sawdust. Ruda made sure every bale was checked out for dampness, and every sack of sawdust was checked for poison, often laid by farmers to get rid of rats. Ruda insisted that the sawdust be sifted by hand.

Turning to the last cage, she quickened her step. She gave a soft whistle, and then leaned by the side of the cage. Mamon was in solitary confinement, a state he seemed to prefer. Ruda often wondered if he acted up to ensure he was solo; and could do so like none of the others, but then, even his name was unique. He had it when Ruda purchased him. Mamon was moody, uncooperative, a bully, but he could also be playful and sweet-natured. Lions on the whole are family oriented, they like each other's company, but Mamon was a loner, and he constantly tested her. She liked that.

As soon as he heard her soft whistle, Mamon swung his head toward Ruda; then he loped slowly to the side of the cage. When she whistled for the second time, he bent down onto his haunches, his nose pressed to the bars, his massive black mane protruding through the rails. As Ruda peered around to him, his jaws opened and snapped shut.

"How you doing, eh? Want to say hello to your mama?... Eh?"

Mamon rolled onto his back, and Ruda reached in and tickled his underbelly, but she never stopped talking to him, soothing him, always aware that even in play he could bite her arm off.

The high-pitched voice that interrupted this scene was like that of a pubescent boy, slightly hoarse, half low, half falsetto.

"So you got what you wanted after all..."

Mamon sprang to his feet, all four hundred and ten pounds of him ready to attack. The cage rattled as he lunged at the bars.

Ruda gripped the riding crop tighter. The voice was unmistakable.

"You got even taller, Ruda."

Ruda turned and snapped. "I wish I could say the same for you, Tommy. What rock have you crawled from under?"

Tommy Kellerman gave a mirthless, twisted smile. "You're doing all right for yourself. That's some trailer parked up front! How much does a trailer that size set you back?"

Ruda relaxed her grip on the riding crop, forced a smile. This was something that she had expected after all. Ruda had to look down to waist level to meet his eyes. Tommy Kellerman looked very spruce; his gray suit and red shirt had to have been custom made, as was his red and gray striped tie. She was familiar with the white trench coat, he wore it as he had always done, slung round his shoulders; he also sported a leather trilby, a hat being the only normal garment Tommy could buy outside of a children's wear department. Kellerman was a dwarf.

"That raincoat's seen some wear!" She tried to sound casual, but her heart was hammering, and she glanced around furtively to see if there was anyone she knew close by.

"We got to talk, Ruda."

"I've got nothing to say to you, Tommy, and I'm busy right now."

Kellerman inched his leather hat up a fraction. "You didn't change your name. How come?"

"I paid enough to use it; beside, I like it."

Ruda walked a few steps to the side of the cage, out of sight of passersby. She leaned against the cage, gestured for him to come to her. After a moment, Kellerman joined her. His sweet-smelling cologne wafted up, mixing with the smell of the cats' urine.

"Like I said, Ruda, we need to talk. I just got in from Paris, I got a room in the Hotel Berlin."

Kellerman had a small leather bag; he dropped it by his tiny feet. Then he leaned against the wheel of the cage, his square hands stuffed into the small pockets, his polished child's shoes and red socks scuffed with mud.

"Have you been to my trailer?... asked for me there?"

He laughed his high-pitched laugh, and shook his head. "No, I came straight from the station. I've been following you, I keep on seeing your posters, your face. You are the star attraction. You got what you wanted, eh?"

"What do you want, Tommy?" Her voice was flat and emotionless.

He looked up at her, and inched his hat further up his domed forehead, scratching his head. Then he removed the hat and ran his stubby fingers through thick curly hair flecked with gray. The last time Ruda had seen him, it had been coal black. It was the nicest thing about him, his curly hair. She noticed it was dirty now, sweaty from the hat.

"I said, what do you want, Tommy? You're not here for a job are you? Not after what happened — they wouldn't touch you. I'm surprised you can still find circuses that'll employ you."

Kellerman spat into the mud.

"Isn't there someplace we can discuss this comfortably? It's raining, and I could do with a bite to eat..."

"I'm real busy, Tommy, it's feeding time, maybe we can meet someplace later."

He stared up at her, and his eyes searched hers before he spoke.

"You owe me, Ruda: All I want is my fair share. I can't get work, good work. I'm broke, I've had to sell most of my props and, well, I reckon you can give me a cut."

"Cut of what?"

"Well, there's a few ways to look at it. I'm still your legal husband, and I bet any dough your old man doesn't know that!

Now you are rollin' in it, and you're on the number one circuit, this must be one hell of a contract... and all I want is a part of it, you either get me in on the act..."

"They'd fucking eat you, Tommy... no way!"

One of the helpers passed the small alleyway between the cages. He paused. "Excuse me, Mrs. Grimaldi, but the freezers are open. You want to come over and sign for the meat?"

Ruda nodded. "Be right with you, Mike."

Ruda hid Tommy by standing in front of him, and she remained there until Mike had left.

"Ruda, I need money, I'm broke."

She turned on him, snapping angrily. "When have you not needed money, Tommy? If it moves, you'll slap a bet on it. You owed me, remember? I paid you off years ago, I owe you nothing."

Kellerman's face twisted with anger. "You had no thin', not even a fucking passport, I got you out of Berlin. Me! I put food in your mouth, clothes on your back. Don't give me this bullshit, you owe me a lot, Ruda, and if Grimaldi were to know you are still married, he'd hit the fuckin' roof... I keep my ears to the ground, bitch, I know you took over his act, and I know he's relegated to watchin' outside the ring like a prick! And I hear he hates it, he's still screwing everythin' in a skirt, so how do you think he'd feel if he knew you never got divorced? I reckon he'd be a happy man, Ruda. Now you tell me how much you owe me? I am your husband, and I got the marriage license to prove it. You got the divorce papers? Huh?... Well?"

Ruda pawed at the ground with the toe of her boot.

"Don't mess me around, Tommy, how much do you want?"

"Well, you got two options, sweetheart. Make me a part of the act, cut me in, or — I know what they pay top acts, so I don't think it's too much — just give me one hundred thousand dollars."

"Are you crazy? I don't have that kind of money, everything I earn goes into the act. I swear I don't have..."

Kellerman ran to the front of Mamon's cage. He pointed with his stubby finger. "Well, sell this bastard, they're worth a lot of dough, aren't they? Or sell your trailer, I know how much that's worth, and I know Grimaldi must be set up. I need dough, I got to pay some heavy guys off, and I got no one else. What you want from me, want me to beg? Fuck you! You owe me!"

Ruda remained in the narrow alley between the cages. It took all her willpower to contain her anger. "Tommy, don't stand in front of the cages, they don't like it. I'll get you as much as I can, but not dollars, not here."

Kellerman leered at her. "That's not good enough, Ruda. You want me to go over and have a chat with Grimaldi? You can get the cash from the head cashier. You think I dunno how much dough you're getting paid per show? It was the talk of Paris, so don't give me any bullshit."

"I'll see what I can do, and I'll come to your hotel tonight after I fix the night feed. But only on condition you don't work here. I also want our marriage license. Is it a deal?"

Kellerman looked at his watch. "Okay, I'll go grab a bite. You get me the dough, I'll give you the license. We got a deal, my love."

"Then leave now, I don't want you yapping to anyone!"

Kellerman grinned. "Eh! There's guys here that'd cut my throat if they saw me, so I'm gone... but you'd better turn up, you got until midnight." He scrawled on a card the hotel and phone number, tucking it into her pocket, smiling. Then he perched his hat at a jaunty angle and departed.

Mike was already sorting out the meat for the midday feed. He used a hatchet to slice the meat from the bone, and a carpenter's sledgehammer with a short handle to crack open the carcass. Ruda collected the large trays, carefully tagged for each cat. They weighed the feeds, placing the trays in readiness for the cages. She wore a rubber apron; blood covered her hands and arms. Like Mike, she wielded the knives and hatchets like a professional.

After they washed off the blood, Ruda said, "You can grab a coffee, Mike, I'll do the next feed. What time have they allocated the arena for us?"

Mike handed her a carefully worked-out schedule showing when the main rings would be available for her to rehearse the act.

Ruda looked over the sheet, frowning. "Have the new plinths I ordered arrived yet?"

"I think so, but until everyone's settled, I can't get to the delivery trucks. They're all parked out at the rear."

She swore under her breath and snapped, "Go and check, I'll need them tonight, we've no time to mess around!"

Ruda fed the cats herself, as she always did. That way she could monitor their diet and see if they had any problems. After the feed, she helped the boys sweep and wash down the boards.

It had been a long journey. Ruda's helpers retired to their trailers exhausted. None of them had ever been able to keep up with her; she seemed to have unending energy and stamina; she was stronger than most men, and had high expectations. Anyone not prepared to give one hundred percent was fired on the spot.

Until now she had not allowed herself to concentrate on the Kellerman problem. She was so engrossed in her thoughts, desperately trying to think what she should do about her first husband, that she virtually moved on automatic pilot. She had been so anxious to leave Kellerman that she had never considered divorce, but she had always consoled herself that no one would ever know because when she married Grimaldi, Kellerman was in jail. He wouldn't know, and Luis would have had no reason to suspect she wasn't divorced. Now she knew what a stupid mistake she had made. For Luis Grimaldi to find out now that they were not legally married would be very dangerous, especially since Ruda was poised to make her move and take over the act. Ruda and Grimaldi were partners, everything split fifty-fifty, but they were at loggerheads. Only the act tied Ruda to Grimaldi; the act that she had built up. Ruda was planning to draw up new contracts to increase her share to 70 percent of the proceeds. After months of bitter quarrels, she felt Grimaldi was ready to sign. But what if he were to discover she wasn't legally married to him and had no legal hold over him at all? The act was still in Grimaldi's name; every contract she signed was in his name, it didn't matter that everyone knew she had taken over. The act was still his.

Ruda dragged her boots over the iron grill outside the trailer steps, inched them off and stepped onto the portable steps in her stocking feet, and opened the door. She carefully placed her boots just inside, and then hung up her raincoat.

The trailer was spacious. Her large bedroom was off the central sitting room, while her husband's was off the far end by the kitchen. Ruda showered and washed her hair. Wrapped in a robe with a towel around her head she went into the kitchen. The coffee pot was still warm, and she poured herself a cup of the thick black liquid, then sat down with the mug in her hands.

The walls of the trailer were hung with framed photographs of herself, of Grimaldi, and of the various animals and circuits. Her eyes rested on the large picture of herself. It was the new poster, the first time Ruda was the main attraction of a circus. The fame of Schmidt's was worldwide; she was at the pinnacle of her career.

The coffee tasted good, bitter, and she clicked her tongue against her teeth. Her big, mannish hands were red raw, the skin rough, the nails cut square. She wore no wedding ring, no jewelry. Slowly she removed the damp towel, and her hair uncoiled in a wet dark twist. When it was combed back from her strong, raw-boned face, strange deep red scars were evident on her temples. They looked like burn scars, as if someone had held a red-hot poker to either side of her head.

Ruda often aggravated the scars, because she had a habit, when she was thinking, of rubbing her forefinger over them, as if the feel of the smooth scarred skin comforted her. She began to do that now, worrying about Kellerman, wondering what she should do — what she could do — all the while staring at the picture of herself. In the photograph, surrounded by her lions, she looked powerful, invincible. At stake were not only her career and her partnership, but also her life. And no one was going to take it from her. No one had a right to take it away.

Ruda rinsed out her mug and placed it on the draining board by the small sink, and she suddenly realized she was not alone in the trailer. She moved silently toward Luis's bedroom; a low orgasmic moan make her step back. Then she heard her husband gasping, his moan louder, louder until he sighed deeply.

Ruda remained standing by the bedroom door, wondering which of the young girls was being serviced — it was more often than not one of the eager starstruck grooms. Grimaldi earmarked these young girls virtually on arrival at the site. In his heyday he wouldn't have looked in their direction, but now he fucked what he could still dazzle.

Ruda sat down on one of the comfortable cushioned benches and lit a cigarette. She inhaled deeply, letting the smoke drift into rings above her head. She heard a soft girlish laugh, and looked in the direction of the bedroom, wondering if they were about to start over again, but then the clink of glasses and the low voice of her husband asking for a refill made her think she should remove herself since they could both be coming out. She half rose to her feet.

"I love you."

Ruda raised her eyebrows; poor little whore.

"When will you tell her?"

Ruda sighed; the stupid little girl didn't know that she was more than aware of these affairs. She thought to herself, "Well? Answer her!"

"I'll discuss it tonight, after the show, she'll be too busy beforehand." Ruda could tell by the slight slur in Luis's voice that he had been drinking.

The girl's voice rose to a whine: "You said that days ago, you promised me... if she doesn't care about you, why wait? You promised me, Luis, you promised."

"I'll discuss it tonight, sweetheart, I give you my word..."

Ruda decided she had heard enough. She was about to open the main door of the trailer and slam it hard, so they would know she was there, when she was stopped in her tracks.

"The baby won't wait — I want you to promise me you'll tell her tonight, ask for a divorce tonight, promise me?"

"Shit!" Ruda pursed her lips. The bloody tart was pregnant!

Grimaldi's voice grew a little louder. "Come here, look at me, Tina, I promise you we'll talk tonight, okay? But it's feeding time now, I can't talk it over until tonight, she's gonna have to rehearse, it's not the right time."

Ruda walked out of the trailer, stuffing her feet into her old boots. What was another bloody Grimaldi brat? But could this one turn his head? He was over sixty. Could this one make his warped, drink-befuddled mind take some kind of responsible action? The timing could not have been worse. If Grimaldi was to discover he was not legally married, maybe he would, out of sheer perverseness, think about marrying this tart.

Ruda's mind began to spin. Grimaldi was old, he was feeling bitter and jealous of her success, he had been relegated to nothing more than an observer of the act. A child coming now could give Grimaldi a sense of power. Would this bitch give her husband the strength to confront her?

Shoulders hunched, Ruda sloshed through the mud, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Rage made her whole body stiffen, and the cats picked up on it. As soon as she reached the perimeter of their cages, they began to growl, pacing up and down, heads low.

The cages had to be driven undercover. The rain was pelting down, and the big animal tent had been erected; all the animal trailers were being moved into the covered arena, each having a delineated site within the tent. Ruda climbed on board the tractor with the first caged wagon ready and Mike gave her the signal to drive it in.

Ruda wheeled the tractor around, hitching and unhitching each cage, her arms straining.

Not until all the cages were secured and positioned in their allocated space did she relax. The large heaters were on full blast to ensure that the tent and grounds were kept dry and warm. All the tarpaulins from the tops of the cages were removed, laid out flat, and rolled up in readiness for the next journey.

When she at last returned the tractor to the parking lot, she started checking the equipment trucks to make sure that all her props had arrived. Then she had to check out the show cages: Each one weighed a ton, but they had to be carried and stacked. She lifted and stacked along with her boys until the sweat ran down her face.

Time was now short. She had to be ready for her rehearsal period; each act had its specific rehearsal time, and if she was not ready she would lose hers. The new plinths and pedestals were still in their wrappers. Ruda helped the workers heave them down from the truck and roll them into the practice ring. They were reinforced steel-framed leather-based seats and stools for the cats, ranging in height with reinforced interlocking frames; some were barrel shaped, some used under the ends of the planks. Each section had to be stacked for easy access and quick setup. They ranged from three feet to forty feet high, and they were very heavy.

Ruda was stripped down to a T-shirt. Sweat glistened on her face and under her armpits as she drove herself to work harder than any man. Her boots were caked in mud, her big hands covered in old leather gloves as she used wire clippers to uncover the first plinth. Standing back to view it, she swore loudly, then ripped off the second and third covers. The plinths were correct in measurement, and exceptionally well made, but she swore and cursed louder than any of the men as she pointed to the leather seat base. She had given the specific colors to be used: red, green, and blue. They were as she had instructed — but they were too bright, too primal, and the gold braid too yellow.

Ruda had just completed unwrapping the last plinth — stacking them side by side, all the covers and wires removed — and was standing hands on hips in a fury, when Grimaldi made his appearance.

He stood over six feet tall, and had thick black curly hair, very black since he dyed it regularly. His once exceptionally handsome face was bloated now from age and excessive drinking, his dark eyes red-rimmed, but he could still turn heads. He was wearing high black polished boots over cords, and a Russian-style shirt, belted at the waist. He reeked of eau de cologne; Ruda could smell him before she saw him.

"We got a problem?"

Ruda snapped that indeed they had, and it was all his fault.

"All you had to do, Luis, was give the colors for the plinths and you fouled that up — look at them, they're far too bright, I'm gonna have to use the old ones when I link up the pyramid formation. Look at the fucking colors, too bright. I want our old ones."

Grimaldi shrugged. "You can't have them. I sold them in Paris. These are okay, they'll get used to them. What's the panic? A few rehearsals, they'll get used to them."

Ruda turned on him. "It's not you in the ring with them, Luis, it's me — and I'm telling you, those colors are too fucking bright!"

Ruda's face was flushed with fury. Luis knew, probably better than anyone else, the danger new equipment always presented. Even a different-colored shirt worn in the show could disturb the cats; they hated change of any kind. Although they accepted Ruda's old rehearsal clothes, they seemed to know instinctively when she wore a different stage costume and they could act up. They had to be given time to accept the changes, and two days, Ruda knew, was not long enough.

Ruda glared at her husband.

"Get the old ones back, Luis, and get them by tonight!"

His eyes became shifty; he hated to be spoken to in that way in front of the workers. "I said I sold them. Just work through the act, they'll get used to them. I can't get them back from Paris in time for the opening."

Ruda kicked one of the plinths in fury. "Just do what I ask, Jesus Christ! It was the only thing you had to do and you fouled it up!"

Luis began to pick his teeth with a matchstick. "I'll call around. What time do you rehearse?"

Ruda was walking out of the tent. Over her shoulder she shouted for him to check the board. Luis noted they were not on until later that afternoon, so he joined a group of men going off to the canteen.

Alone in the trailer, Ruda paced up and down. She opened the safe, counted the money kept for emergencies, and noted that Luis must have been dipping into it. She slammed the safe closed. There were about fifteen thousand dollars left. She then checked her own bank balance. In her private account she had fifty-two thousand dollars. She rubbed her scar until it pained her, then began to open drawers in her dressing table, feeling under her clothes for the small bundles of dollars she kept for minor emergencies. Like a squirrel she hid small stacks of notes in various currencies and denominations, but no matter how she searched and calculated, she did not have one hundred thousand. The more she mentally added up the amount, the more her fury built. This was hers, every single hard-earned cent was hers, and that little bastard felt he had a right to it.

The cashiers said they could give Ruda an advance on her salary, but not until after lunch when they would go to the bank. Grimaldi would have to sign the release form, but if she came back at three they would have the money in dollars as she had requested. Ruda smiled, and shrugged, then said she'd changed her mind. She was smarting with the thought that she needed Grimaldi's signature for an advance on her own wages.

Ruda fixed herself a salad in the trailer, and then changed into her practice clothes. She was just about to leave when Luis returned. He shook his head, his hair soaked. "It's really coming down, maybe going to be a storm. The forecast isn't good."

"Did you try and sort out the pedestals?"

Luis had totally forgotten. He nodded, and then lied, saying he expected a return call at the main box office. She watched him in moody silence as he unlocked the wooden bench seat and checked over his guns; he rarely had a gun when watching out for her, but it was a habit from the past when his watchers had always been armed. Out of habit he checked his rifles, but never took them out of the box.

"I'll need you in the arena. Can you get the boys ready? We're due to start in an hour."

Luis sat on the bench, picked up the towel Ruda had used to dry her hair and rubbed his head. "Ruda, we need to talk, maybe after rehearsal."

Ruda was already at the trailer door.

"Which tart was it today?"

Luis laughed, tossing the towel aside. "It's been the same one for months and you know it — it's Tina, she's one of the bareback riders."

"You'll be screwing them in their diapers soon, you old goat."

Luis laughed again; he had a lovely rumbling laugh, and it relieved her: Maybe it wasn't as serious as she had thought.

"See you in the ring then! After, we can go out for dinner someplace."

Ruda paused by the door. "Maybe, but I've got a lot to do, we'll see."

He gave a rueful smile. "I'm sorry about the mixup with the plinths, I'll get onto them and see you in the ring."

The door clicked shut after her, and Luis lifted his feet up onto the bench, his elbows behind his head, and stared at the photographs along the top of the wall. Some of them were brown with age. They were of him in his prime, standing with his lions, smiling to the camera; there was such a powerful look to him, such youthfulness... Slowly his eyes drifted down, he watched himself age from one poster to the next; it was as if his entire life was pasted up in front of him. He stared at the central poster, Ruda's face where his had always been. The side wall was filled with Ruda. He eased his feet down and stood, slowly moving toward the pictures that showed he was a has-been.

He opened a bottle of scotch, drank from the bottle, and looked at a photograph brown and curling with age. The Grimaldi family. There was the old man, the grandfather, his own father, with Luis beside him no more than ten years old. Luis's father had taught him everything he knew, just as his father had done before him. Three generations of big game trainers.

Luis downed more scotch as he stripped to shower. He bent to look at himself in the bathroom mirror, staring at the scars across his arms — warrior scars his papa used to call them — scars from breaking up the tiger fights. But there was one, deeper than the others, a jagged line from the nape of his neck to his groin. His fingers traced it, and he started to sweat, as his mouth dried up. He could never go back into the ring. She had done that to him. Ruda had made him feel inadequate, but it had been Mamon, her favorite baby, that had almost killed him.

The cold shower eased the feverish sweats, and he soaped his chest. He had been mauled so many times; how often had he stepped between two massive tigers, more afraid they would hurt themselves than him? Only the terrible scar on his chest made the fear rise up from his belly.

Mamon had lunged at him, dragged him like a rag doll around the practice ring, and Luis had been overcome with a terror he had not believed himself capable of. It had frozen him. He had no memory of how he had been dragged from the arena, no memory of anything until he woke in the hospital, with the wound already filling with poison, a nightmare wound that opened with pus every time he moved. The anguish and the pain had kept him feverish for weeks. In his dreams the scar opened and oozed and suffocated him.

Luis Grimaldi had almost died. To be incapacitated physically was hard enough for him to deal with, but harder still was the relentless fear. A fear that he could tell to no one. At first he had tried hiding it, making excuses, so many excuses, why months after he was healed, he had still not been near his cats. It was during those months that Ruda had begun working solo. He had said that he wasn't fit enough, that he needed more time to regain his strength. But Ruda knew he was afraid. Ruda had encouraged him — half-heartedly, he realized now — because she didn't want him back in the ring, she wanted the act for herself.

The bottle was almost empty, and the drunker he became, the more embittered he felt. He did not consider to what lengths Ruda had gone to salvage the act, how she had worked herself to exhaustion, keeping him and his cats at their winter quarters. Luis had forgotten that he never lifted a hand to help her, never asked how she had managed to finance them. All he could recall was her humiliation of him.

It was all Mamon's fault, he had decided. He could not get back into training with a cat that had mauled him, a cat that no longer showed him respect. Luis had entered the arena, and a cold sweat had drenched his body. He felt it as if it were yesterday, the terrible fear as Mamon's cage was drawn closer to the gate. A number of people at the winter quarters had gathered to watch. They came to see the famous man face his attempted killer, and they stood in silence as the cage drew closer and closer.

Mamon was motionless, his head lowered, staring at Grimaldi. Ruda had spoken calmly, softly, asking Grimaldi when she should release the cat. Grimaldi took another gulp of scotch as the heat of his humiliation made him shake.

Alone in the arena, he could not stop his legs from trembling, his breath felt tight in his chest. He looked from Mamon to Ruda. He wanted more than anything to give her the signal. But he froze, and she kept on watching him, her eyes like the cat's, and she was smiling. It was her mocking smile that finished him. The great Grimaldi walked out of the arena and back to their quarters. That moment finished his career.

He began to cry as he remembered the way she had held him close, later that night. He recalled every word she had said.

"It's not the scar on your body, Luis, but the ones inside; they are always worse. I understand more than anyone else, I understand."

Luis had pushed her away from him then, shouting that she did not understand, there was nothing wrong with his mind, and he had pulled his shirt open to display the raw, ragged scar. Mamon, he said, was dangerous, should be shot. He had then tried to get his gun, pushing Ruda out of his way. Ruda's physical strength had stunned him, she had almost lifted him off his feet with a backhanded slap that sent him sprawling. Standing over him, her eyes as crazy as a wild cat's, she had virtually spat out the words.

"You touch Mamon, and I swear to God I'll kill you!"

Luis had dragged himself to his feet. "You shoot him then, it's him or me, Ruda."

Ruda had taken his whip, the whip Luis's grandfather had used, and, for a second, he thought she was going to use it on him. Instead, she laughed in his face.

"Watch me! Just watch me, Luis."

From the trailer window, he had seen her stride to the practice arena. Luis heard her shrill voice instruct the old hand who had been with Grimaldi for thirty years, heard her give the order for Mamon to be released into the arena.

Ruda had wheeled the old, well-worn plinths into the center of the ring, and then stood waiting, hands on her hips. The massive lion moved slowly and cautiously through the makeshift barrier tunnel from his open cage. Luis inched open the window to hear her. Her voice rang out, a high pitched call: "Mamawwwwwwwwww, Mamawwwww UP... YUP YUP... Mamon... come on, angel... good boy mama's angel."

Mamon swung his massive black-maned head from side to side and then, to Luis's astonishment, reared up onto his hind legs and walked toward Ruda, his front paws swung toward her. He kept on walking toward her and then, as she called out to the animal, he turned, as if dancing for her. Her high-pitched voice called out a rolling 'Rr' sound — "REH! rey, REH... REH..." — and then Mamon jumped onto the red plinth. After steadying himself, he cautiously tested the plank, a thick wooden board balanced between the two plinths. Carefully, cautiously, right front paw patting the plank, he still balanced himself, and she now called: "HUPPPPPPPPPPPP! BLUE... BLUE... M'angel!"

The animal trod the narrow board toward the blue-based plinth. He eased himself into a sitting position, his thick tail trailing the ground as he perched.

Ruda moved closer and closer to the blue plinth, until she was close enough to be within the lion's territory. Only another trainer would know this was, in actual fact, reasonably safe. The animal sitting on the plinth, needing all four paws to give him balance, is unlikely or unable to attack, his hind quarters overhanging due to the position of his tail. If he attacked from a seated position, he would automatically lose his balance.

Luis couldn't take his eyes off Ruda as she moved in close, and then audaciously turned — leaving her back within a half foot of the animal. She never stopped talking, whispering encouragement, as she then knelt down on one knee, her head beneath the massive cat's.

Ruda gave a high-pitched command: "UP... UP... GREEeee GREEEE..." The green-based plinth was five feet in front of her.

She was encouraging him to leap from one pedestal to another, from the red to the green.

Mamon lifted his front paws and balanced himself on his hind legs on the pedestal. All his muscles strained as he made a flying jump, right over Ruda's head, onto the green pedestal.

She ran to him and gave him a tidbit, rubbing his nose. She then looked to the trailer window with a small, tight smile on her face. Finally she lifted both her arms, giving the final command for Mamon to head out of the arena.

Ruda gave a mocking bow to the small group of onlookers who applauded her, as Luis slunk away from the trailer window.

The word spread fast that the great Luis Grimaldi had lost his nerve. They joked that his wife had taken it from him.

Grimaldi staggered slightly as he left the trailer now. The rain had not ceased and the ground was muddy. He made his way toward the rehearsal tent. The cashier who had talked with Ruda earlier that morning called out to him. He turned bleary-eyed toward her large brown umbrella.

"I can give you the advance, Mr. Grimaldi, if you come over and sign for it." Luis had not the slightest idea what she was talking about, and stumbled over to her.

"Your wife wanted an advance on your salary. If you need it, I've come back from the bank, I just require your signature."

Grimaldi mumbled incoherently, and she passed on, turning to see him slither and slide against one of the trailers. The cashier shrugged, disinterested; his drinking problem was well known.

The big man mumbled to himself. Not content with taking over his act, Ruda was trying to steal his money! He was going to face her, and nothing was going to stop him.

Ruda had made the boys dismantle the cage arena twice, and re-erect it. She timed them to the last second, and even bolted and heaved two of the walls herself; the whole operation was to take less than two minutes. This was tough going, the arena cage was very heavy and unwieldy, the tunnel sections even heavier. As they took it all apart for the third time, they moaned and muttered to one another, out of "Madame Grimaldi's" earshot.

Mike asked if they were to use the new pedestals, stacked outside the ring. Ruda pursed her lips and shook her head. "No, I'll do that first thing in the morning when I'm fresh. Let's just do the easy routine today, give them some exercise, and tomorrow we'll have a real crack at it. So for now, it's the herd, then the leap, followed by the roller roll."

Ruda called up to the electrician. "Can you give me a few spotlights, in the usual places, just to keep them on their toes, red, green, and blue formation?"

A voice answered that he would rather have it be on her toes than his! A few spots came on and off. Ruda shaded her eyes, calling out to the technician again.

"The most important one is directly after the leap, Joe. Last time it was a fraction late."

Ruda paced up and down, her head shaking from side to side as she relaxed her shoulders. There was to be no music, this was simply a warm-up to get the cats used to the new place. It also kept the animals on their mettle after a long night's traveling; it would calm them.

The cages were now lined up, ready to herd in the animals. Ruda gave a look around the ring and did not see Luis, but two of the boys had already placed their chairs at either side of the arena, to watch over the act. They carried no guns; they could, if needed, break up trouble by creating noise and yelling.

"Okay, Mike, let's go for it!" she ordered at the top of her voice.

Ruda used the small trapdoor at the side and entered the arena, then turned back to head into the animals' entrance tunnel. When the act was live, she always entered from the tunnel itself, straight into the ring, as if she were one of the cats.

As she headed down the tunnel, she double-checked that the sections were bolted, bending her head slightly where the bars joined at the top. Midway she signaled to Mike to release the cats on the count of ten, to coincide with the opening music bars. She tightened her thick leather gloves, her voice hissed... one... two... three... As she reached nine, she spun around, running into the arena, back down the tunnel into the wide caged arena. She carried only her short practice stick. She wore old trousers, a shirt knotted at the waist, and the used black leather boots, caked with mud and excreta. They had not seen a lick of polish since Luis had given them to her.

The cats were now released; any second they'd be heading in. Ruda paced herself; she bowed to the empty auditorium — she practiced every move to be performed in front of the live audience. Arms raised, she could feel the ground shudder as the animals charged down the tunnel. She felt a rush of adrenaline. She loved this moment, when the sixteen tigers hurtled into the main ring, as though frighteningly out of control, because she knew the cats understood who was their leader, which place each was to take. Ruda backed to the wall of the arena and picked up a heavy double-sided weighted ladder. The cats whirled around, forming a wide circle around her, as she stood in apparent nonchalance next to a small ladder plinth. They were loping, moving faster and faster...

The circle tightened as she yelped a command. Her second command, hardly detectable, was a lift of her right hand to the lead tiger; she never took her eyes off him. Roja was the number one cat, and it was Roja who split the circle by breaking to his right. Now the cats gathered into two groups on either side of her. A third command, and the animals began to weave around each other.

The circle became tighter and tighter, closing in around her. Ruda became more vocal, now calling each tiger by name. They were high-pitched calls. Then, on a signal to Roja, the cats touched, pressing their bodies hard against one another. Ruda, her back to the small ladder, slowly eased herself up the steps one by one, as the cats kept circling, like a Catherine wheel, turning and turning.

Ruda reached the top rung of the three-foot ladder. There was total silence as off-duty circus performers watched the rehearsal. Luis entered the arena, lifting the flap aside, and stood for a moment before he began to thread his way through the seats.

Ruda bellowed: "Down... R-OHja, down... Jajajadown!"

Tigers are instinctive fighters; the crossing of each other's body territory was very dangerous, accompanied by snarls and teeth-baring. But one by one they lay down side by side, until all sixteen tigers formed a wondrous carpet. Twice Ruda reprimanded two females for having a go at each other by banging the flat of her hand on the top rung of the ladder.

Those watching were uneasy now, aware of the danger. If a tiger accidentally knocked over the ladder by brushing too close, they could all attack.

More and more performers had slipped into the arena. But Ruda saw nothing, no one, her attention was riveted on the carpet of cats. Satisfied they were in place, she lifted both arms above her head, never stopping talking to them. Then she issued the command: "UPO... UPAHHHHHHHH."

Sixteen tigers rose — all in almost perfect formation — then lowered their heads. It was a magnificent sight — as the glorious carpet of gold and black stripes lifted magically into the air.

Ruda called out again, made it onto the top rung of the ladder and then flung herself forward, facedown, to lie spread-eagled across the cats. They began to move, carrying her around in a terrifying wheel. She then dropped to her feet, arms above her head, at the center of the seething mass. She flicked Roja with her stick and he broke the circle and spread wide at a run; the others followed, spreading wider, running around her as she gave a low bow. She held the bow for three long beats, then turned back toward the tigers who formed two lines facing her. Her voice cut through the air, high pitched, and up they reared to sit on their hindquarters. They clawed the air, Helga and Roja in a snarling match; Ruda pushed Helga aside and flicked her hand at Roja, stepping back. Facing them, she spread her arms wide, giving a small signal to Sasha, one of her females, leading the second section of the lineup.

They were ready, and she gave the command. "HUP... HUPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP."

From their squatting position they all reared up to stand on their hind legs. Their growls and swiping paws denoted their displeasure. They were perfectly poised to attack — for tigers always attack from the front, never the rear. Shouting, she urged them back into a chorus line...

Grimaldi wanted to weep. She was spectacular. Even at the zenith of his career he had never attained such perfection. Her face shone, her eyes were brilliant in the spotlight, as though risking her life was an exhilaration. Her radiance humbled him and, drunk as he was, he bowed his head, trying to steady himself on the seat in front of him. The seats had not been battened down yet; the chair was loose and it fell forward, and Luis came down with it onto the second row of seats. The bang was as loud as a shot.

Ruda turned and saw him, and at the same time Sasha and Roja lost concentration, coming down onto all fours. Ruda gave the command to move out, and signaled for the watchers to get the trapdoor open — fast. One of the boys hurried to Grimaldi's side and helped him to his feet.

Ruda turned all her attention on Roja, dominated him, knowing that if he went into the tunnel the others would follow. As he hesitated she never took her eyes off him, then he wheeled around to head back down the tunnel. After a moment, the others followed him out. Ruda clamped down the trapdoor, shouting for Mike to hold the rest of the act.

She moved like a cat, but she didn't go for Grimaldi; instead she went for the boy who had helped him to his feet and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? You watch out for me. Were this place to go up like an inferno, you watch out for me!" She swiped him with the back of her hand, so hard that he fell to his knees.

Still ignoring Grimaldi, Ruda turned to the watcher to her left, and snapped for him to put the rest of the act on hold.

"Now. Do it right now, get to Mike, tell him to keep the cages shut!"

The boys ran, leaving the drunken man alone, his face flushed a deep red. Then slowly she removed her thick leather gloves and spoke to her husband, her voice low.

"Get out of here, Luis, get out before I have you thrown out."

Grimaldi held his own. Swaying slightly, he glared at her.

"I'm sorry, I fell, you know I'd never..."

Ruda snapped the glove in his face. "Get out of my sight, you drunken bum!"

Luis touched his cheek. "I want a divorce, you hear me, bitch? I want a divorce... I want you out of my life!'"

The show continued for those performers still hanging around. Ruda gripped her husband by his shirt and hauled him to the exit.

She pushed him out, and he fell facedown in the mud. She turned on her heels and strode back into the tent. Seeing a sweeper standing with a wide long-handled broom, she ordered him to get the drunk out of there, and not to let him near the arena until she was through.

By the time she had finished the rehearsal, got the cats back into their cages and fed, it was after six. She hoped Luis had passed out so she wouldn't have to confront him, but when she returned to the trailer he was remarkably sober, and waiting for her.

The windows of the trailer were thick with condensation from the steaming coffee pot. She switched on the air conditioner. Without saying a word, Luis handed her a mug.

"I'm sorry, I should never have done that, I was drunk, I am ashamed, I'm sorry."

Ruda threw her coat over the heater and began to unbutton her shirt. "You know how dangerous it was. You don't need me to tell you that, dangerous and stupid, and from you of all people."

Grimaldi nodded glumly and held out his hand, but Ruda didn't take it. She unzipped her trousers, and kicked them off. He picked them and her shirt from where she tossed them, and took them to the laundry basket. She wore a silk one-piece bodysuit with dark green stains under the armpits. She didn't strip completely; after all the years they had been together, she was still self-conscious about her body. She put on an old robe, and wrapped it around her before she took a sip of the coffee. She uncoiled her hair, the nape of her neck still damp from the workout.

"Did you mean it, Luis? About the divorce?"

Grimaldi looked at her sheepishly and sat down. He held his big hands between his knees.

"I guess so, I've been wanting to talk to you about it for a while now, but..."

"But what?"

"Well, why not? We don't have a marriage, we haven't ever really had one, you know that... and she's, Tina's, going to have a baby."

"You've got kids all over Europe, what's one more? Anyway, knowing that little tart, how can you be sure it's yours!"

Grimaldi cocked his head. "It's mine, I may be worn out and past it, but my dick works, it's about the only thing that never lets me down."

"What about the act?" She tried to keep her voice casual, but she was shaking. He still wouldn't look at her. "Luis, what about the act? We're partners — if we divorce do you still want me to run the show?"

He turned to her then. "You can do what you like with it, it's not mine anyway, but... I'll still retain my fifty percent — half the animals are mine."

Ruda felt drained. "I see... so my money, all the money I've earned and poured into it, everything, all the new cats that I've trained, my cats, it's all split fifty-fifty, is that right?"

Luis nodded. "That's only fair, you had nothing when we met, everything you have is from me. I mean, if you want, you can pay me what the act is worth, what the animals are worth, and then, do whatever you want, but you can't use my name."

Ruda snatched the poster off the wall. "Look at it, Luis — it's not your name, it's mine! I've not used your name for the past two years, I don't want your name!"

"Just my act! You think nobody knows? My name is still a crowd-puller, may not be on the fucking headlines, but it's the Grimaldi Cats."

"It's not your act anymore!"

Grimaldi shook his head and half smiled. "All I want is my fair share, my cut. Anyone can take over an act. I can work in someone else."

"You can what? What did you say?"

"I said, I can train another girl to replace you. If you want to take the act as it stands, then pay me — it's as simple as that."

Grimaldi opened the trailer door. She snapped at him: "Where are you going?"

"I'm going out, okay? And while I'm gone, Ruda, just sit down and remember, remember where you came from, what you were before you met me. Sit on what you made your living on and tell me how much you fucking owe me...!"

The trailer rocked as he slammed the door. She gripped her head in her hands, wanting to rip her hair out. What did he know about pain? What could he know? She felt a burning sensation in her temples. He couldn't stand pain, but she could. She kicked the trailer wall, punched the doors, the walls, with all her strength until she gasped for breath. It was then that she shouted, "I was tested. He tested me, I was Papa's favorite!"

She began to pace the confined space, clenching and unclenching her hands. First Kellerman, now Luis, both wanting to take from her everything she had fought to get. She wouldn't let them, either of them. As she showered and changed, she tried to contain the blinding fury boiling up inside her. She forced herself to think what to do.

Ruda checked the cats one last time, staying a moment longer with Mamon than with the others. He was restless, as though he felt her anxiety, and he pressed himself close to the bars, then lay down, submissive. She reached to touch him. Ruda let his rough tongue lick her hand. She whispered to him. "You know, you know, I won't be kicked, I won't take it, nobody kicks me, yes? Yes?" She loved this creature more than any other living thing. It was Mamon, her angel, who had elicited from her a love she had believed herself incapable of feeling.

She clung to the bars. "I'm ready for him, I can deal with him, I am strong, I am strong."

The metal felt cold to her brow as she pressed closer and closer. The voice whispered to her, soft, persuasive, "You can do it, fight through the pain... that's my little girl, that's Papa's girl. You can do it, pain is sweet, pain is beautiful, come on Ruda... give your Papa what he wants, you love me, prove it!"

She was ready, ready to face Kellerman, ready to go to East Berlin. She pushed herself away from Mamon. "I'll be back!"

Ruda passed by the trailer, and through the window saw Luis take out a fresh bottle of brandy. She walked on. She caught the bus into the city center; first, she had gone to the taxi stand, but then changed her mind. She waited for a bus to take her into East Berlin.

It was a strange experience crossing the shabby Kreuzberg district, which in the old days hugged the wall, but now was home to a large Turkish population. She was shocked to see anti-Semitic slogans spray-painted on the walls of the rundown houses: "Auslander Raus" "Foreigners... get out!" Bricks were thrown at the bus as it passed through the area. The mostly women and children passengers cowered in their seats. More anti-Semitic slogans were smeared on the sites of former synagogues and on the walls of the Jewish schools. Ruda began to sweat as a group of young skinheads spat at the bus, their hands lifted, their voices screaming "Sieg Heil!" Their shouts made Ruda bow her head. She hissed under her breath, "Bastards... bastards!"

A woman seated in front of Ruda shook her fist at the skinheads, then turned to her companion, and they began talking to the rest of the occupants of the bus. "If your skin is the wrong color, if it isn't pale enough, if your hair is too dark, too curly, these pigs will attack. Something must be done! Why has this hatred been allowed to continue and fester? Turn the machine guns on them, fascist pigs!"

When Ruda got off she was engulfed in a strange fear. Two yards from the bus stop, she saw a huge poster of herself. The incongruity made her gasp, but the image calmed her, comforted her.

She took out her map, and looked for the direction to Keller-man's hotel. She hesitated, checked the dwarf's scrawled note, and headed down a dimly lit street to a small bed and breakfast establishment that could hardly be described as a hotel.

It was almost ten when Ruda walked into the dingy reception. There was no one around; she then turned to what looked like a guest register, scrawled all over with memos and messages. "T. Kellerman" was listed in Room 40. She waited another minute before heading to the elevator. On the fourth floor, she stood outside Kellerman's room listening to the sound of a television, the volume turned up loud. She tapped and waited, tapped louder, then the door inched open.

"They should have called from reception," he said petulantly as he opened the door wider. He was in his shirt, tie loosened, and he was wearing suspenders, wide, red suspenders. Ruda closed the door and looked around the small room, dominated by the TV set.

"Jesus, Tommy, what made you choose this dump?"

"It's cheap, nobody asks questions, and nobody's likely to come looking for me, that answer enough?"

"Yeah, I suppose so, but I'm surprised you haven't had a brick thrown through the window, or found a turd in your bed!"

"Got scared, did you?"

Ruda shrugged, then after a moment: "More like sickened."

She put her large leather bag on the edge of the bed. As she turned, Kellerman suddenly clasped her tightly around the thighs, and buried his head in her crotch. She didn't resist.

"Still working the same foreplay game, are we?" she asked sarcastically.

He chuckled, and stepped back. "Lemme tell you, that's turned on more women then I can count, they love it, hot breath steaming through their panties. Just a taste of what is to come, because when I ease the skirt down, really get into it, no woman can resist me, not when I've got my tongue working overtime."

Ruda laughed and unbuttoned her coat, tossing it over her bag.

"You disgusting little parasite, I thought you'd have grown up by now, but then I suppose it's tough — not ever growing, I mean."

Kellerman hitched up his trousers and crossed to the mini bar. "Want a miniature drinkie? From your own miniature lover?"

He peered at the rows of bottles in the fridge and chose a vodka for himself.

"I won't have anything."

"Suit yourself," Kellerman said as he opened some tonic and found a glass. His stubby hands could reach only halfway around the tumbler.

Ruda sat on the bed watching him as he fixed his drink, dragged a chair from the small desk by the fridge, moved it closer to the bed, then waddled back to get his glass, handing it to her as he gripped the chair by the arms to haul himself into it.

Sitting, his feet hung just over the edge of the chair, small child's feet encased in red socks to match his suspenders, his scuffed shoes on the floor.

"Cheers!"

Kellerman drank almost half the contents of the glass, burped, and wrinkled his nose.

"So! You came. I was half expecting you not to turn up."

Ruda opened her bag and took out her cigarettes. Kellerman delved into his pockets for a lighter.

"Did you go to the cashier?" he asked, looking at the large leather bag.

"Yes."

He flashed a cheeky grin. "Good. I'm glad we understand each other. The license, all our papers, are in that drawer over there. They still look good... guy was an artist!"

Kellerman eased himself off the chair. "You may not believe this, but I don't like asking for the money."

Ruda laughed. "Asking? Blackmailing is the word I would use."

"You have to do what you have to do. I'm flat broke, and in debt to two guys in the U.S. It's been tough for me ever since you left."

Ruda smiled. "It was tough before I left. I'm surprised they employed you in Paris. Those folks worked hard for their dough. Way I heard it you were blacklisted, you'd steal from a kid's piggy bank, you have never given a shit for anyone but yourself. How long did you get?"

Kellerman shrugged. "Five years. It was okay, I survived, the cons treated me okay... the guards were the worst, bastards every one of them, called me monkey or chimpy."

"You must be used to nicknames by now..."

"Yeah, haw haw... sticks and stones may break my bones but..."

He leaned forward, a frown on his face. "I'm shrinking, Ruda, do you notice? Prison doc said it was something to do with the curvature of my spine. I said to him, Jesus Christ, Doc, I can't get any smaller, can I? I said to him, if this goes on I'll be the incredible shrinking man, and he said..."

Kellerman shook his head as he chortled with laughter. "He said, that was done with mirrors! They built giant chairs and tables, then... fuck it! How could he know, eh? How could he know!"

Kellerman was referring to his obsession, a fun-house mirror he used to haul everywhere he went. The mirror distorted a normal human being, but it made Kellerman look tall and slender — normal. One night in a fit of rage he had smashed it to pieces, and wept like a child at his broken dream image. He turned now to peer at himself in the dressing table mirror, his head just reaching the top of the table. The effect was comical, even funny, but Kellerman was not a clown. He was a man filled with self-hatred, and convinced of the fact that if he had grown, he could have been recognized as handsome as a movie star, a Robert Redford, a Clint Eastwood.

He cocked his head, grinning. "You know they got drugs now to prevent dwarfism? If they detect it early enough, they pump you with steroids, and you grow. Ain't that something?"

Kellerman loathed his deformity; when drunk he was always ready to attack anyone he caught staring at him. The circus was his only employment, his short body rushing around the ring, being chased and thrown around. He opened another vodka and drank it neat from the small bottle.

"Did you work with the Frazer brothers in Paris?"

Ruda asked the question without really wanting a reply; her heart was hammering inside her chest. She had to get him into a good mood, she didn't have the money.

Kellerman nodded. "Yeah, the Frazers had bought my electric car just before I went to jail. So when I turned up and told them I needed a few dollars they put me in the act. My timing was right — you know little Frankie Godfrey? He had joined the act about four years ago. Well, he's been really sick, water on the brain maybe, I dunno. Some crazy woman a few years back got up from her seat and attacked him, she just hurtled into the ring and began knocking him around. The audience thought it was all part of the show, but she was a nut case. Ever since the poor sod's had these blinding headaches; still they paved the way for me to earn a few bucks. Then the management found out about me — gave me my walking papers, they told the Frazers to get rid of me. Cunts all of them."

"Serves you right, if you steal from the people who employ you, and virtually kill a cashier, what else do you expect?... I did that show, Monte Carlo, wasn't it?"

"I borrowed the dough, I was gonna pay it back. Yeah, Monte fuckin' Carlo, I only went there to date Princess Stephanie!.. haw haw!"

Ruda laughed. "Oh yeah, where were you going to find two hundred thousand dollars? From Prince Rainier?"

Kellerman chortled, and pointed to her handbag. "I'm looking right at half that amount now! You know something, we made a good team, we could do it again, I'm good with animals."

"Fuck off... you hate anything with four legs."

He shrugged. "No, I'm serious. You hear what that high-wire act got paid for a stint in Vegas? I mean the real dough is in cabaret. And there's a double act with big cats, you know, mixed with magic — they make their panthers disappear. I dunno how the fuck they do it, but it's got to be a con. You ever thought of trying the Vegas circuit? I got contacts there, I mean maybe to have me in the act might not be a good thing, but I could manage you. I mean Grimaldi's washed up, or filled up with booze, I hear, and you were shit hot with that magic stuff."

"The day I need you to manage me, Tommy, I'll be washed up."

Kellerman continued talking about acts he had managed, and she let him carry on, only half listening. There had been a time when Ruda had felt deeply sorry for him, because she had been in the same dark place. In retrospect, she had made herself believe that that was the reason she had married him, it united them. Earlier, he had been the only connection to this past, now he was the reminder.

When they met, Kellerman was not as grotesque as he was now. He seemed boyish, innocent, his full-lipped mouth and exceptionally white even teeth always ready to break into a big smile. But as he aged, the anguish inside him, his self-loathing, not only seemed to have deformed his body, but was etched on his face.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that Kellerman startled her when he suddenly hopped onto the bed beside her.

"You aren't listening to me!"

"I'm sorry, I was miles away."

Kellerman rested his head back against the pillows; his small feet in their red socks pushed at her back and irritated Ruda, so she got up and sat in the chair he had vacated. She was tense, her hands were clenched, but she told herself to be patient, to be nice to him. She mustn't antagonize him.

"Strange coming back after all these years, isn't it?"

She made no reply. He tucked his short arms behind his head, and closed his eyes. "You think it's all stored away, all hidden and then — back it comes. I've had a long time to think about the past, in prison, but being here, I dunno, it makes me uneasy, it's like a secret drawer keeps inching open."

Ruda was trying to figure out how to tell him that she did not have the money. She racked her brain for a deal she could offer him. She was surprised by the softness, the sadness in his voice; he spoke so quietly she had to lean forward to hear him.

"When my mama handed me over, there were these two women, skeletons, I can remember them, their faces, almost as clearly as my mama's. Maybe even clearer. One woman was wearing a strange green satin top, and a torn brown skirt... filthy, she was filthy dirty, her head shaved, her face was like a skull. She hissed at Mama through her toothless gums. 'Tell them he's twelve years old, tell the guards he's twelve.' My mama held on to me tightly. She was so confused and said, 'He's fourteen, he's fourteen but he's small, he's just small.' The woman couldn't hear because one of the guards hit her, then I saw her sprawled on the ground. I still remember her shoes, she had one broken red high-heeled shoe, and a wooden clog on her other foot."

"I've heard all this! Come on, why don't we go someplace for a meal." She had to get him out, stop him drinking, talk to him, reason with him.

Kellerman ignored her. "The next moment Mama and me were pushed and shoved into a long line. Eva, my little sister, was crying, terrified, and then the second woman whispered to Mama: 'Twins... say your children are twins.'

Ruda arched her back. "Shut up!" Her heart began to beat rapidly, as if she were being dragged under water. She felt the damp darkness, smelled the stench, and she clenched her teeth, not wanting to remember.

"Don't, Tommy, stop... I don't want to listen!" But she could hear the voice: "Twin... twins... TWINS," and she got to her feet, hugging herself tightly. She moved as far away from the bed as possible, to stand by the window. She could feel the hair on the nape of her neck stand up, her mouth felt dry, and the terror came back. The rats were scurrying across her. In the gloom, the white faces of the frightened, and the gaunt faces of the starving glowered at her. The stinking sewer water rose up, inch by inch, and they held her up by her coat collar so that she wouldn't drown. A blue woolen coat with a dark blue velvet collar. Hers had been blue, her sister's red.

"Don't, Tommy, please don't..."

But he wasn't hearing her, he was too wrapped up in his own memories. He gave a soft heart-breaking laugh. Eva was almost as tall as he, with the same curly black hair: She was only ten years old. Eva had always been so protective of him, so caring. How he had adored her!

Ruda moved closer to the bed determined to calm him, but it was as if he were unaware of her presence. He stared at the ceiling and began to cry.

" 'My son is fourteen,' Mama shouted, and all around us was mayhem, but all I did, all I could do, was keep staring at the second woman who had approached us. She was wearing a pink see-through blouse. It was too small, you could see her breasts, her ribs, she was covered in sores. She had on a blue skirt, it had sequins on it, some hanging off by their threads. The skirt must have been part of a ball gown, because it had a weird train. It was gathered up and tied in a knot, a big knot between her legs. Like the other skinny woman, she had one high sling-backed gold evening shoe and what looked like a man's boot. I was so fascinated by these two skeleton women that I couldn't catch what was going on. But the next moment, a guard dragged Eva away; he kicked Mama, kicked her so hard she screamed in agony. She was screaming, screeching like a bird: 'He's fourteen, but he's a dwarf, he's a dwarf, please don't hurt him, he's strong, he can work, but don't hurt him, don't kick him in his back, please.

He sobbed.

"She said it, my mama said it, for the first time I heard her say what I was..."

Ruda sat on the bed, she reached out to touch Kellerman's foot, to stop him talking, but he withdrew his leg, curling up like a child. His voice was no longer a whimper, but deeply angry. "He took me then, pointed with his white glove, first to me, and then to a lineup of children on the far side of the station yard. That was the first time I saw him, that was the first time. I've never told you, I have never told you that, have I?"

Ruda's nails dug into her own arms. She was pushing shut her own memories with every inch of willpower she possessed. She forced herself to move closer to him. "Stop it, Tommy, I won't hear. I won't listen to you."

"Yes, you will," he snapped. "You will listen, because I want you to know, you more than anyone else. I want you to know."

She wanted to slap him, but she forced herself to contain her mounting, blinding anger. "I know, you've told me all this before, and we made a promise..."

He was like a child, his red-socked feet kicking at the bedspread. "Well fuck you! I won't keep the promise — I want you to know!"

He clenched his hands, punching the bed. "I was dragged away from Mama, and still she screamed, first for Eva and then for me, but no one took any notice, everyone was crying and shouting, but I heard her clearly call out to me... 'Wait for me at the station, I'll be at the station.' "

Ruda snatched one of the pillows and held it over his face. "Stop it! I know this, I don't want to hear any more!"

She pressed the pillow down hard on his face, and he made no attempt to fend her off or push the pillow aside. After a moment she withdrew it and looked down at his face. His beautiful, haunted, pain-wracked eyes looked up at her.

"No more, Tommy. Please..."

He nodded, and turned away, his cheek still red from the pressure of the pillow. "Oh, Ruda... she never said which station. She never said which station."

Ruda lay beside him, not touching, simply at his side. He was calmer now, and she heard him sigh, once, twice.

"You know, Ruda, no matter how many years have passed, how long ago it was, I still hear her calling me. Every station, in every town I have ever been to, there is a moment... it comes and goes so fast, but no matter where I am, here or in America, in Europe, whatever station, I say to myself: 'Which station, Mama, where did you wait for me? Did Eva find you? Why didn't you tell me which station?' It's strange, I know they're dead, long, long ago, but there is this hope that some day, some time I'll be at a station and my mama will be there, with Eva. Walking the streets, at every corner I think maybe, just maybe I'll see Eva. I never give up hope, I never give up."

Ruda whispered she was sorry, and he turned to face her.

"Is it the same for you?"

He searched her eyes, wanting and needing confirmation that he was not alone in his pitiful hope. The amber light in her cruel eyes startled him. With a bitter half-smile she said: "It is not the same for me. It never was."

With some satisfaction she felt the chains, the locks tighten on her secrets. Kellerman leaned up on his elbow, touching her cheek with his index finger.

"I'll tell you something else my mama said. She said never tell a secret to anyone, a secret is a secret, and if you tell it, it is no longer a secret. You are the only person I have ever told what they made me do, and what I have done since. I mean, I admit I have stolen, I am a thief, I know I did wrong. I stole from the circus, from my people, but they are not me, they don't know who I am."

Ruda sat up, took a sneaking glance at his alarm clock. It was almost ten-thirty, she knew she had to discuss the money, and the fact that she didn't have it.

"I'm not blackmailing you, Ruda. All I want is my fair share."

It was as if he had read her mind. He rubbed the small of her back. "You don't hate me, do you? You know I've no one else but you."

His touch made her cringe inside. He rested his hands on her shoulders and stood up behind her, planting a wet kiss on the nape of her neck.

"If you do that again, I'll throw you off the bed!" She pushed him away. "Get off me!"

Kellerman began to jump up and down as if the bed were a trampoline. "Oh you liked it once. You couldn't get enough of me once!"

He slipped his arms around her neck, she could feel his erect penis pressing into the small of her back.

"Let me have you one last time, please, Ruda, the way you liked it, let me do it!"

Ruda didn't push him away this time. There was no anger in her voice, just revulsion.

"I never liked it. I loathed it so much I used to get physically sick. Now take your hands off me or I'll elbow you in the balls. They are about the only normal-sized thing about you, as I recall — and I will make your voice even higher."

He released his hold, but remained standing behind her. "Did you mean that? Did you mean what you just said?"

She sighed, angry with herself. She had to be nice, she had to be calm. "Oh come on, Tommy, we both know why I married you, so why pretend otherwise. Sit down and have another drink."

"Physically sick, I made you vomit?"

She couldn't stop herself as she snapped back: "Yes, as in puke."

Again, she could have slapped herself; never mind him, why was she getting into this? She could so easily have laughed it off, teased him into a good mood, but it was as if she were caught on a roller coaster, and out came words, her face twisted in a vicious grimace.

"Sick, you made me sick! Have you any idea what it felt like? To have you clasped at my back, shoving your dick up my arse? It was like I had some animal clinging to me. All I did was grit my teeth and pray for you to get it over with. I hated it, hated every second you touched me with those squat square hands, pawing me like a dog, rough hands, hideous rough hands like dog's paws."

Kellerman was stricken. He backed away from her, treading the mattress as if on water. Ruda glared. Her eyes frightened him because he knew what she was going to say next.

"But then you, Tommy, you must really know what it felt like, what it really felt like... because you know, don't you, Tommy?"

His small hands clenched into fists. "You fucking bitch. Whatever I have done, for you to throw that in my face..."

"I warned you to shut up, but no — you kept on and on. I warned you."

Kellerman slithered off the bed, and punched Ruda hard in the groin, then he reached for her bag, shouting at her.

"Give me my money, and get out, I never want to see you again — you whore, you two-faced bitch!"

Ruda snatched her bag back, hugging it tightly to her chest. He made a grab for the handle, and again she stepped back but he had the handle gripped in his hand, and he tugged. Kellerman was very strong and they struggled. Suddenly he released his hold and Ruda fell backward.

"You haven't got it, have you? You lied, you haven't got my money."

Ruda was shaking, she fumbled with the bag, lying. "Yes, I have, but I want our marriage license before you get it."

Kellerman crossed to the wardrobe and opened a drawer, his back to Ruda. He delved around, and then threw the envelope at her.

"Take it — and you owe me more than one hundred thousand. I saved your skin, I gave you a life, you bitch. If it wasn't for me you'd still be on the streets, you'd still be a whore, a cheap disease-riddled whore... taking it up the arse like a dog."

She spat at him, and he spat back, then kicked out at her again. "Whore!"

She swung the bag and it hit him in the face, he dived away from her and picked up the chair. "Come on, lion tamer, try me, try and tame me, come on."

Kellerman pushed at her with the chair, she thrust it away, and he crashed it against her thigh. She stumbled against a coffee table, tripped and fell backward. He came at her, the chair above his head. "You can't fight me, Ruda, I'll fucking beat the living daylights out of you!"

She rolled to one side as the chair crashed down onto the table. The heavy green ashtray slid to the floor. Ruda grabbed it, and as Kellerman came forward to hit her again, she held one chair leg with her left hand, and with her right hit him with the ashtray.

Kellerman seemed stunned for a moment. He touched his temple, saw the blood on his hand. "You asked for it now!"

He started to shriek, jumping up and down like a chimpanzee, then threw the chair aside and grabbed the bedspread, a bright red candlewick bedspread, holding it up and out in front of him like a matador. "Come on... come on, Ruda. Try, try and hit me!"

Ruda lunged at him, and he dodged aside, laughing, tossing the bedspread this way and that. The red blurred, like a red-hot fire in her brain. "Stop it, Tommy... just stop it!"

"Ohhhhhhhhhh, you never used to say that to me, you used to say, 'More, more, I love it.' That's what you used to say. You loved it from the dog in heat... come on, bitch!"

The swirling bedspread swished this way and that, and the next minute she was on top of him, throwing the bedspread over his head, and the heavy ashtray came down, again and again. The bedspread swamped him, he struggled frantically. She heard him laughing, shrieking that she had missed him and it drove her into a frenzy. Ruda hit him, over and over again. She could feel his head — at one point she held it firmly in her left hand, pressing it down as she struck him. She could feel the blows finding his face, again and again.

She didn't know how many times she had struck him, but at last he was still and she sat back on her heels.

"Tommy?... Tommy? Get up!"

He lay still, and she pulled at the coverlet, and drew it away from his head. His face was a mass of blood, bloody bubbles frothed at his mouth and nose. She pulled herself away from him.

"Oh God... Tommy, get up!.. Get up!"

He was motionless, his body swathed in the coverlet. She felt for his pulse, could find no heartbeat. She backed away, terrified, and sat leaning against the wall, her legs stretched out in front of her. She could feel every muscle tensing, then giving way as she slithered down the wall to sit like a rag doll.

"Oh God, now what do I do... tell me what to do?"

The television screen flickered, and she crawled over and turned up the volume, afraid someone could hear. Slowly, she began to think logically, and to calm down.

"Get out fast, save yourself, Ruda... get out, be careful, no one must know you came here. You never came here..."

Ruda picked up the envelope and looked for the marriage license. She then took all his papers and stuffed them into her bag. His passport, his diary, his address book. She dragged him by his feet to the side of the bed, then attempted to lift him, and it was then that the terrible realization dawned. Cradled in her arms was the only link to her past. Only Kellerman knew, he was the only person she had ever told, and now she had killed him. She sobbed because she remembered what it had meant to be able to tell someone, someone who had shared the same darkness. She hugged him tightly. Hard, dry, tearless sobs shook her body as she recalled how, shortly after they had arrived in the United States, Tommy had tried to purge the past that clung to each of them.

In their small trailer he slammed down two tumblers on the table and opened a bottle of bourbon, hitching himself up onto a chair opposite Ruda. He had filled a glass almost to the rim before he pushed it toward her.

"Right. You and me are gonna get loaded, and we're gonna let the ghosts free, because I think we'll both go crazy if we don't. We got a new life. Now we open and close the old. So, cheers!"

It had been one long, memorable night as they tried to exorcise the terrors that haunted them. The more they had drunk, the more horrors they had whispered. They had cried, they had comforted one another, and they had promised to keep these terrible revelations secret.

Now Ruda rocked him gently. She had broken the pact, she had hurt him more than any living soul could have done. She had thrown back in his face what he had been forced to do in shame. "I'm sorry, Tommy, forgive me..."

His blood stained her face, clung to her hair, but she held him close in a last embrace. Eventually her gentle rocking stopped. Only Tommy knew she had killed before; no one must know she had killed again.

She began to gasp with panic, unable to get her breath. She felt dizzy and filled the glass he had used with water. She gulped it down, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

She saw her reflection in the mirror, the bloodstains, her frightened eyes staring back at her.

"It was different for me, Tommy. For you, every station, every corner. For me, every mirror." She put her hands over her ears as if to block out those words: "Twins... twins... twins..."

Ruda shouted, "I know she is alive... I know, I know!"

The fury rose up within her, the fury which had kept her alive in the early years, a fury which now gave her the inner strength to survive. With a forced calmness, she began to erase all trace of her presence in the room.

Ruda packed all of Kellerman's belongings in his case; she emptied every drawer, checked the bathroom and collected his shaving equipment. They would find out who he was soon enough, but they would also find out something else. Ruda took Kellerman's toilet bag in her hand and rifled through it, and found the razor. She hurried to his side, rolled up his left sleeve until she found what she was looking for.

The razor slit deep into his arm... She cut a square, and began to slice deep, cutting away the tattoo, but then fell back. As she sliced the artery his blood spurted over her face, her chest. Kellerman was not dead. Her rage went out of control.

She wanted to be sick, could feel the bile rising from her stomach. But she had to stay calm. She picked up the ashtray and hit him again, and again, her teeth clenched as she used all her strength. Then she waited, knew this time he had to be dead, and she carried the heavy marble ashtray into the bathroom, washed it, dried it, left it wrapped in the stained bloody towel, sure it was clean of prints. Then she washed around the sink, the taps. Suddenly she caught sight of her reflection again. Her eyes were crazy, her face white, blood rivulets now running like tears down her face. She backed out of the bathroom, rubbing frantically at her skin.

She had to face Kellerman again. The force of the last blow had made his head jerk sideways. His top set of dentures had fallen out.

As she tried to drag and push his body under the bed, the heel of her boot ground the dentures into the carpet. She was panting now, but she kept on working. She cleaned the room, the door handles, anything she might have touched. Then she found Kellerman's hat, was about to tuck it into his case, but changed her mind. She turned over the blood-soaked rug he had been lying on, tucking the stained area beneath the bed. She then fetched the do not disturb sign and hung it on the door. Carrying Kellerman's belongings in his case, wearing his hat, she slipped down the stairs. There was still no one in reception; she grabbed the book, and tore out the pages with Kellerman's name.

Ruda was back at her trailer by midnight. She could hear Luis snoring loudly, his door ajar. She slipped out as silently as she had crept in and went over to the freezer trailer. Knowing she wouldn't sleep, Ruda needed to keep herself busy, and she began to prepare the morning's feed for the cats. She was so intent on her work that she didn't hear the door open. When Luis spoke she sprang back in shocked surprise.

"Jesus Christ, what are you doing? Do you know what time it is?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"I saw the lights on, I thought someone was breaking in. What are you doing, it's after midnight..."

Ruda continued cutting the meat. "I couldn't sleep because of your snoring! You left your door open, I've told you to keep it shut!"

Luis grinned sheepishly, and offered to give her a hand. She refused, and he came to her side, "I'm sorry, I know what I did this afternoon was unforgivable..."

He backed away from her then, a look of horror on his face. Her blouse was covered with blood.

"Why haven't you got one of the rubber aprons on? Have you seen your shirt?"

Ruda looked at her shirt covered with Kellerman's blood.

"It doesn't matter, it was falling apart. I'll chuck it out in the morning. You go back to bed, I'll be a while yet."

Again Luis offered to help her, but she ignored him, and after a moment he left. Ruda washed down the tables and cleaned the knives, hammer, and hatchets before she scrubbed her own arms with a wooden brush, paying particular attention to her nails.

She stared at her left wrist, and once more the full impact of what she had done that night dawned on her. But she would not give in to it, she pressed it down further and further inside her, locking it out of sight of her mind.

She took off her blouse and stuffed it into Kellerman's case. When she saw that the inside of her raincoat was stained, she knew she would have to destroy it along with the rest of his belongings.

Ruda returned to her trailer and changed into an old sweater, and an old pair of Luis's trousers. She then carried Kellerman's suitcase, her raincoat, shirt, and trousers to the big garbage barrels. She tossed his case into the huge bins which were waiting for the morning collection. She then carried Kellerman's papers and her marriage license to the main incinerators and eased back the burning-hot lid. She stuffed the papers inside, one by one, making sure each caught fire. She watched the flames slowly lick and eat his treasured green passport, watched the black letters disintegrate. The charred black smoke made her so desperate to replace the lid that she forgot to use the holder, but picked up the red-hot lid of the incinerator in her bare hand. Her burning skin hissed, but she didn't even feel the pain.

There was a low rumble of thunder and the rain became heavier. The ground was still muddy underfoot, and she stumbled over the gangplanks in her haste to get inside. In the vast arena, all the animals were sleeping. The heaters were on full blast, and three night lights gave off a soft pink light. Ruda headed toward her cages as there was a second rumble of thunder. The animals loathed thunder, and lightning made it even worse.

Ruda passed the tigers, who were huddled together; a few raised their heads as they recognized her smell, then returned to sleeping. Only Mamon was awake, his amber eyes bright. Ruda pressed close to the cage and called to him; he crawled on his belly toward the bars and rubbed them with his head. She stayed with Mamon for a while, comforted by him.

By the time she got into bed she was exhausted. She drew the sheet to her naked body, tired but relieved it was over. Kellerman's passport, their marriage license, the hotel guest register sheet, all were charred to a cinder, gone. It was over at last, and there was no witness, no one to threaten her newfound security.

Ruda concentrated hard, just as she had done as a child, waited until she felt the leaden weight creep upward from her toes, to her knees, to her arms, to her heart. She breathed deeply, willing her mind to lose consciousness. Gradually she allowed the weight to cover and spread, from her lungs to her mouth. She slept in a deep, dreamless whiteness, protected, peaceful; no one could break through that whiteness.