Ephemia Rimaldi, page 11
Phineas Rimaldi sat on his cot and hunched over the ledger, pouring over numbers. He wore a gold silk vest and had a chain dangling from his vest pocket. A white rabbit’s foot was fastened to it.
For good luck, thought Effy. He’s as superstitious as Aunt Ada and the other Rimaldis. Poor little rabbit, she couldn’t help thinking.
Phineas squinted at the pages. “Profit,” he mumbled. “This circus needs to make a bigger profit. Maybe if I held on longer to their wages, the interest rate will rise. And that elephant is operating at a loss. We only have tonight’s and tomorrow’s performance. So far, the elephant has eaten more than ticket sales.”
Phineas scratched his neck. “We need . . . we need to think of another attraction instead of that large beast. In fact, we need a new form of entertainment that doesn’t have such a high overhead.”
Effy cleared her throat. Phineas spun around. “Consternation! You’re not Jefferson.”
“I was told you summoned me.”
Phineas gave his head a slight shake. As if he’s trying to shake the very thought of me loose, Effy decided.
“Only because when I’d sent a plate of food to your caravan, you were not there. Vexation, child, what did I tell you. Stay in your wagon.”
Not one to beat around the bush, Effy burst out with, “Don’t sell Cuthbert’s elephant.” She would beg, if need be.
Phineas rose and took a step toward her. “You came here to be lectured to, not the other way around. This circus is my business. I don’t want to hear one more word about elephants or anything else from you.”
“Please don’t sell Cuthbert’s elephant,” she begged.
Phineas slammed his fist on the table. The hurricane lamp teetered, and he had to quickly set the tipping glass shade upright. “What did I say? Spare me your caterwauling about that elephant.”
Effy opened her mouth to speak, but Phineas shouted first.
“And I don’t want to hear another word about your ambition to swing from a trapeze. One more word on either subject and I will whip you soundly.”
Effy’s eyebrows shot up. Even her mother’s people, strict and grim as they were, did not resort to whippings.
She bit her lip but refused back away.
Phineas’s eyes softened for a moment, but he waved his arm. “Go to your wagon. Mark me—I need no more trouble from you. If we don’t see a profit soon, we will lose our shirts and be sent to the poorhouse. That’s a bottom fact. The elephant must be sold. Have enough wherewithal to see that business comes before friends, before everything.”
Effy wanted to tell him how that was not true. Lots of things were more important than money. Balally, for one.
The circus hostler hovered at the door.
“You are needed in the stables. A horse has gone lame.”
“Of course it has,” complained Phineas. Without a backward glance, he brushed past Effy.
Effy was about to leave, and that was the truth, but she decided she’d glance at the circus ledger. Perhaps Phineas has forgotten about adding in his compound interest, she thought.”I’ll just check to see if he’s calculated interest over rate and time. She’d learned from Aunt Ada how that would improve his profit.
Effy couldn’t take her eyes off the ledger, even as she wished she could look away. She’d been mistaken. Phineas hadn’t been adding numbers in his ledger.
The telegram sat on top of the open pages. She stared at the inkwell, at the pen, at the sheet of paper addressed to that walrus, Uncle Edgar. A cold draft snaked up her spine.
Edgar you old chiseler Stop
Forward me the trust fund Stop
Or I will release the hounds of hell Stop
Signed Phineas Rimaldi LEGAL guardian Stop
Chapter 20: A Most Cunning Plan
Effy wanted to burn the telegram in the flame of the hurricane lamp and stomp on its ashes. Instead, she clutched her hands to her heart and read the telegram one more time. The words took their time sinking in.
Effy knew Phineas Rimaldi didn’t care a whit about her. She’d held out a flicker of hope because he’d kept her in his legal guardianship. She also held out hope that while he said he was no father, she might convince him otherwise. Except it was all here in black and white.
Effy meant only one thing to her scoundrel father—a source of money for the circus.
Phineas planned to keep her trust money for himself, just as her other relatives had meant to. She could almost live with that. What she couldn’t bear was that Aunt Ada’s dream was about to come to nothing.
Aunt Ada had held the hope that women could become equal. Girls could be educated and take their place in the world. This dream had been Effy’s . . .
. . . And Effy had failed. She’d failed everyone on all ac counts.
She slowly made her way back to her caravan. When had her boots become so heavy? Why did her limbs ache so? She decided she’d allow her new friend a night of blissful sleep. In the morning she’d tell Cuthbert she would never win her flimflamming, so-called poppa’s affection, and that Cuthbert and his uncle were going to lose their elephant.
Oh, Balally, Effy thought. Her heart squeezed tight.
Effy crawled under the blanket on her bunk as an autumn chill settled outside. The wagon hissed as wind snaked through the window gap and under the door. Effy lit the kerosene lamp beside her, and the tiny flame guttered in the darkening gloom. To ease her mind, Effy stuck her nose into her poetry book. Despite the poem giving her nightmares the previous night, she decided any horror in the “Ancient Mariner” would be preferable to the horrors of her day.
One line at the end of the poem shot through her heart like an arrow hitting its mark. “Bless all creatures great and small.” Like Balally and the tiger, she thought. They mattered. We all matter.
In the story, when the mariner accepted this, the curse finally broke. The albatross fell off his neck, and he sailed home. Effy placed the slim volume of Samuel Taylor Coleridge down on her blanket.
“That might be the best poem ever written,” Effy said out loud.
Inspired, a plan commenced in her mind and grew like compound interest. “After all,” Effy said to the stuffed monkey, “there is still one performance left.”
When Effy at last laid her head on the pillow, she slept soundly. No nightmares crept into her sleep this time. Her only bad moment occurred, just as it had each morning, in that space between sleep and wakening. That’s when she forgot for a second that she wasn’t in her own bedroom and living with Aunt Ada. But then she remembered her plan and bounced out of bed.
The breakfast gong sounded. No one brought her a plate of food, so Effy decided that it was unlikely Phineas expected her to stay in her wagon. It was unlikely that he remembered her at all.
She dressed quickly, shot out of her caravan, and raced along the midway. A current of excitement travelled through the circus. Tonight would be the grand finale. Even the birds chirped a little louder.
The air was sharp, and dew beaded on the awning of the striped big top. When Effy joined Cuthbert and Madelene under the breakfast tent, the scent of apple and pumpkin fritters filled the air.
“At least it’s not beans,” Madelene said, forking a slice of fritter. Cuthbert spooned a mouthful of apple sauce and nodded.
Effy grabbed her tin plate and sat across from them at the table. “I’ve figured a way to convince your uncle to sell the sapphire and rescue Balally.”
Madelene looked puzzled but held her sharp tongue—for once.
“Then you are a magician,” said Cuthbert. “I told you, there’s a curse. It doesn’t matter whether or not we believe in it. My uncle does.”
Effy held up her hand. “You’re right. A curse is always true if you believe in it, just as . . . ” Effy’s gaze darted at Mad am Vadoma, who hurried through her breakfast so she could meet with clients.
“Just as there are people who believe Madam Vadoma can speak to spirits. So, that’s why they think they hear from their loved ones. It’s their heart’s desire.”
“I do not see how that will make my uncle sell his sapphire,” said Cuthbert between mouthfuls of fritter.
“Hear me out,” said Effy. “I read a poem by a brilliant poet, Samuel Taylor Coleridge.”
Madelene rolled her eyes.
Effy ignored her and continued. “The ancient mariner in the poem broke the curse when he cared about ‘ . . . all things both great and small.’ Beasts, too, not just men,” Effy added for final clarity.
Madelene shrugged but Cuthbert slammed his fist on the table, almost knocking over Effy’s cup of cider.
“My uncle said the curse of the star sapphire was that no man can profit. If he sold the gem, he wouldn’t profit, Balally would. That’s the way my uncle could break the curse.”
Effy nodded. “Because Balally’s not a man, she’s an elepha . . . ”
Madelene held up her hand. “I’m not daft; I get it now. Save the beast and break the curse.” Then she turned to Cuthbert. “I didn’t know you had a star sapphire. Those are very valuable. Do you think you can convince your uncle that he’ll break the curse?”
Cuthbert rubbed his temples. When he smiled and looked back up, his expression sent hope flushing though Effy.
“He might,” said Cuthbert. “It is his heart’s desire to save Balally and retire to Ceylon.”
Then a cloud passed over Cuthbert’s sunny smile. “We still need Phineas to give us Balally’s paper of ownership. How do we convince him not to auction her to the highest bidder? There might not be enough time to sell the sapphire, and even then, we won’t have enough money to buy her back and book three passages to Ceylon.”
“Did I hear you say you want to sell a sapphire?” Mr Jefferson scraped his stool closer and leaned forward. “A widow is selling off her estate jewellery, so there’s a jeweller in town. That’s how 1 bought this” He winked and called Miss Mabel to the table.
Miss Mabel waltzed over as if she was waltzing down an aisle. She flashed a ring right under Elly’s nose. The gold hand held six tiny gemstones. With a graceful finger, Miss Mabel pointed to each gem. “Ruby, emerald, garnet, amethyst, ruby, diamond—that spells out regard.” She beamed.
Mr. Jefferson cleared his throat and, with a twinge of embarrassment, said, “Effy, thank you.”
Effy grinned. “Congratulations,”
Mr. Jefferson stood and took Miss Mabel’s hand. Then they wandered out of the cook tent, oblivious to anyone else.
“You leave Phineas to me,” Effy said to Cuthbert. “I have another circus performance planned. You work on your uncle.” After Cuthbert raced away, Effy turned to Madelene.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” said Madelene. “I want to help, truly, but I cannot convince Mama to let you swing from the trapeze. She won’t allow it. You have to find another way to worm into the ringmaster’s black heart. Try convincing one of the clowns to let you join them.”
Effy doubted wearing floppy shoes and throwing popped corn into the audience would convince Phineas she was a worthy performer. She needed to think up a much more amazing act, so in turn, he’d be convinced he could be a better poppa. She left Madelene and walked toward the clown tent. She spotted a man in white face paint, pushing a large wooden bicycle.
“Is that bicycle part of your circus act?” asked Effy.
“What’s a bicycle?” the clown asked as he pushed the bicycle. The pedals pumped in the air as if a ghost rode it.
“ . . . That’s a bicycle,” said Effy, wondering if he was joking.
The man leaned the big wooden two-wheeler against the tent canvas. His giant lips twitched into what might have been a smile . . . or a frown. It was hard to tell under the paint.
“This is a velocipede; I call it a waste of money.” He shrugged his shoulders. “The ringmaster paid a lot of coin for this newfangled invention. Money he could have used to buy meat for our suppers. He thought I could ride it around and entertain the audience. Only 1 don’t know how to ride this devil’s contraption.”
“I can,” Effy piped up.
“You can what?” The clown’s lips twitched again.
“Ride the bicycle,” Rile smiled. He used the same old-fashioned word for it as Aunt Ada. “I mean . . . the velocip . . . “
“Girls can’t ride velocipedes, “ he laughed,
“Of course, they can.” Effy shot back, “If I take this devil’s contraption off your hands, could you put me in tonight’s show to ride in your place?”
“Consider it done,” The clown handed over the bicycle, and with a short bow, retreated into the tent.
Effy recalled when she’d first seen such a riding con traption. She’d discovered one in her aunt’s carriage house. When she’d showed Aunt Ada, a wistful smile had spread across her aunt’s face,
“It was once my heart’s desire to ride that thing.” Aunt Ada had said. *I believed riding about on a bicycle was a sure way to set a woman free.”
Effy had lifted the wooden bicycle from the wall. She remembered telling her aunt, “It’s heavy, and the wheels are so large, and the seat is so high off the ground. How did you manage?”
“I didn’t. I fell and gave it up at once.” Aunt Ada had looked rueful. “How would me breaking my neck serve the suffragists?” She’d winked at Effy. “It’s up to some daring younger girl.”
Effy took her aunt up on that challenge. After a few bloody knees and badly bruised elbows, she’d conquered the contraption.
Effy pushed the velocipede away from the clown’s tent. She’d never actually ridden a bicycle beyond Aunt Ada’s carriage house, so she spent the rest of the morning practising in a field behind the woods.
*
After a lunch of cold fritters, Effy retreated to her caravan. Reaching under her bunk, she took out her embroidered bag. Tugging out her prized green dress, she took the pair of scissors she’d not yet returned to Miss Mabel and began snipping.
It did not hurt her heart a whit to shorten the dress until it fell just below her knees. The silk wasn’t holding up well in circus life, anyway. She cut pale green strips from the discarded end of her skirt and took out her embroidery kit.
Effy threaded her needle and sewed a tight green cuff on the end of each leg of her frilliest, best, pantaloons. Next, Effy took out her gold suffragist sash, and sewed on the final leftover patches of green silk.
She embroidered the sash until her fingers ached.
“Let the show begin,” she declared to the stuffed monkey on the shelf.
Chapter 21: A True Calamity
A massive flock of birds flew across the sky and blacked out the setting sun. When the raucous bird calls faded, the townspeople came. Effy waited near the caravans and watched their approach. The townsfolk carried lanterns in a ghostly procession, winding down the grass-trampled trail and through the carnival grounds.
Farmers with bent backs, their faces and hands wizened with hard work, had donned clean shirts and straw hats. Stoop-shouldered women in plain brown dresses wore bonnets on their heads, shading their creased faces. Boys wore woollen shirts and belted trousers, and girls had on dark dresses that fell to their ankles, their hair tightly braided and pinned under their bonnets.
Everyone’s face wore an expectant look, and a thirst for adventure shone in their eyes. Effy wondered why she’d ever thought circuses didn’t matter.
As the townsfolk purchased their tickets and entered the tent, Effy slipped from the caravan rows and made her own way into the big top. She hovered at the back in clown alley.
The steam calliope pumped out a trilling racket as Effy paced outside the performers’ entrance. Worry gnawed her stomach. Inside the big top, she heard Balally trumpet and the audience gasp. Someone was shouting. Effy lifted the tent flap and peered inside. Things weren’t going well for Cuthbert.
Balally arced her trunk and stomped her very large elephant foot. Sawdust flew as Balally trumpeted again. The crowd roared in fear. Cuthbert tried settling Balally, and then he tried hushing the audience. No one listened to him.
“Please, girl, stand,” Cuthbert commanded. Instead, Balally stepped off the giant balancing stool and trotted toward the audience. Effy thought she took dainty footsteps for an elephant. The audience disagreed.
Balally stepped over the ring and leaned into the audience. As people shrieked and fled the front row, the elephant helped herself to spilled popcorn. Phineas, dressed in his ringmaster tailcoat and top hat, shouted, “Rein in your elephant!”
“Balally, come back.” Cuthbert tugged his elephant’s lead.
When Balally ignored Cuthbert, Phineas walked over and snapped his whip beside Balally’s bandaged leg. Effy gasped as Balally slammed her trunk down and knocked off the ringmaster’s hat. Phineas double-stepped backward and almost toppled over.
Nervous laughter rattled around the audience. They weren’t sure if this was part of the act. Cuthbert’s uncle flew from the shadows, holding his hand to his chest. Effy could hear his harsh breathing. In gasps, the uncle coaxed Balally from the ring.
Effy felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around. Mad elene had broken away from the Great Yolandas and whispered, “Cuthbert’s uncle was too sick to perform. Cuthbert’s not himself, either. Balally knows something’s wrong. That’s why she’s acting up.”
“Do you think Cuthbert couldn’t convince his uncle to sell the sapphire?” Worry tugged Effy’s heart.
