A Fool and His Money Read Free Page A

when I was five, for my birthday?’
    â€˜Yes, as a matter of fact, I do remember.’
    The family reached the entrance to the circus. Violet Trevarthen put her hands to her ears.
    â€˜It’s very noisy, Charles.’
    â€˜Oh, no it’s not, dear. Come on, you’ll enjoy it when it starts.’

Chapter Two
    The Big Top fell silent. The lights were dimmed. Nothing was happening. Everyone waited.
    â€˜CLICK. CLICK’.
    A beam of light pooled in the centre of the circus ring and there stood a solitary clown. As he walked to the edge of the ring, his shoes could clearly be heard. ‘CLICK. CLICK.’
    Peter laughed loudly.
    â€˜Oh, Daddy – it’s Clicker … the clown on the poster. He’s so funny.’
    The boy’s father smiled and looked at Violet. He winked, pleased that Peter was happy – at least for now.
    Two more clowns joined Clicker, one of them driving a small car which promptly ran the other two over. Now even May was laughing – May who had said clowns were “childish and not in the least bit funny”. As the evening wore on, more and more acts came out to entertain including the juggling sisters, the trick ponies, dogs, lions, elephants. By the end of the show, most children there were exhausted.
    â€˜Come along, you two – it’s very late.’
    Violet Trevarthen gathered up the children’s coats and the family made for the exit. Peter ran on ahead, taming lions with a stick he had pulled from a hedge.
    â€˜May, I’m going to be a lion tamer when I grow up.’
    â€˜No you’re not – that would be stupid.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Because it would.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Mummy, tell Peter to stop saying “why”.’
    â€˜I think you’re both very tired – you’re usually in bed by now. Did you enjoy yourselves, dears?’
    Both children expressed their delight at having spent the evening at the circus and both begged to go again next time. By the time they reached the house, Peter was asleep in his father’s arms.
    George Bartlett poured himself a cup of tea and lit his pipe.
    â€˜Cuppa, Boase?’
    â€˜Just had one, sir, thanks.’
    Archibald Boase sat behind his desk and drew out a paper bag from his desk drawer. He carefully unwrapped it to reveal the contents, a large saffron bun.
    â€˜Want a piece of bun with that, sir?’
    Bartlett looked over the top of his glasses at the younger man.
    â€˜No thanks, Boase – wouldn’t want to take food from a starving man. My word, no – you might waste away to nothing!’
    â€˜All right, sir, no need to be sarcastic – I didn’t have much breakfast this morning … and I only had time for one cup of tea before I left.’
    â€˜Well, I just offered you another. Here you are, pass your cup.’
    Bartlett walked over to Boase’s desk with the teapot and filled the cup.
    â€˜I think we’ll ask Penhaligon for some more, I’m rather thirsty myself this morning. Now, talk to me about the theft at the church.’
    Boase took a small notebook from his pocket.
    â€˜Well, sir, I was thinking about this Mr McCarthy – you know, the organist.’
    â€˜Go on.’
    â€˜What he said about the circus … do you think there’s anything in that?’
    â€˜I don’t know, but I suppose we shouldn’t overlook it. When I was growing up in London we often had the circus coming to town – no one trusted them. I always thought they were a nice bunch of people on the whole, didn’t seem to cause much trouble, although …’
    â€˜Although what, sir?’
    â€˜Well. People did say the crime rate went up when they were in town – just petty thievery really, nothing, what you might call dangerous.’
    â€˜Well, thievery is what we’re looking at here, sir, and in the absence of anything else, I think the circus might be a good place