Disclaimer: Tom and the world of Harry Potter are the property of J. K. Rowling. Cora, Joseph and the folks of the Majestic Circus belong to me. No money is being made from this story and no copyright infringements were intended in its creation.
A/N: Playing hookey from work tomorrow! Hows about an update to celebrate! Thanks to all of my readers out there in the ether, I hope you are enjoying! Special thanks to Sachita, your reviews always bring a smile to my face. I'm glad you liked Cora's desire to travel the world-I had you in mind, actually! Blah, Blah, Blah, (Sorry about the extra Blah last chapter!) I am thrilled that you are liking it that much! My characters have become special to me and it's nice to get praise for them. Now, on with the show!
The Illusionist's Daughter
Chapter Thirteen
Hard Candy
Swindon, November 1944
The roar of the crowd sounded in her ears, pleasantly muted by the distance to the gentle shushing roll of surf on the sand. The whistles were gulls playing on the warm ocean breezes. She closed her eyes and pictured herself on a tropical island somewhere in a nameless sea, almost tasting the salt of the air and sun on her face. When she opened her eyes she was back in the train yard, standing next to the faded and weathered boxcars of the circus train, the big top reaching up to the sky before her. The chill November wind wound fingers through her carefully rolled and curled hair and she gave a shiver. She would pick a cozier place to Disapperate to next time.
Walking back to the giant tent, she could hear the Baron striving to get the audience quiet enough to introduce the next act. But they continued to cheer wildly. All for her. She smiled, quite proud of herself. After Tom had shown her how to do it, her disappearing act became the main event of the Majestic, and she was the undisputed star attraction.
Slipping unseen into the folds of canvas, she waited off to the side hidden in shadows to watch the rest of the show. Daisy and Darla were climbing the wobbly rope ladder that snaked high into the air above the audience. The girls resembled two glitzy and glamourous spiders ascending their silken threads. Already on his perch, Joseph waved to the crowd. He had assumed a regular role in the girls' act as catcher. With his added strength Daisy and Darla dreamed up even more daring and, in Cora's estimation, dangerous stunts.
Daisy took to the swing first, working it higher and higher. Joseph called "Hup," and Daisy let go, turning summersaults in the air before catching his wrists easily. The crowd gasped then cheered. Darla topped her sister with a more complicated twist and flip. Cora's stomach mimicked the motion. The girls continued to do each other one better, each trick becoming more fearsome and impossible. The audience was hypnotized by the wingless blonde angels.
Darla and Daisy balanced once again onto the tiny platform, each grasping the swing and jumping into the air in tandem. Together they coaxed the swing into ever-widening arcs. Daisy let go of the trapeze first. Joseph reached out and grabbed her ankles, swinging her back toward her sister. Darla released her hold and flipped once, her arms extended above her head toward Daisy. Cora held her breath. Darla grasped at her sister's fingers but missed. She fell and the audience gasped as one. Darla bounced once on the safety net and struck a playful pose for the crowd, letting them know that she was unharmed. Darla smiled and waved to the crowd, but as she looked up to Joseph and Daisy hanging above her she sent a look of harsh rebuke. Daisy stared back blankly. Joseph swung Daisy back onto her swing and they finished the performance without further incident. Cora knew, however, that one mistake was enough. The Baron's expression was thunderous.
After the night's crowd had gone, Cora returned to the boxcar she shared with Mag and the twins, hoping to find the girls changing out of their costumes. When she entered, chased by the cold wind, she found only Mag sitting in front of the chipped mirror, dusting powder over her soft round face.
"Daisy and Darla back yet?" she asked Mag, stripping off her own sequinned and bejeweled black frock.
Mag patted on a cloud of dusty white powder. "Haven't seen 'em." She patted the puff over her wide expanse of cleavage. Before rising, she fluffed her curly red hair into a halo around her head and inspected the result. "An' I won't be seein' em til mornin'. Ol Mag's got a hot date tonight, Duckie!" As the robust woman slid through the door into the cold, she laid a reassuring hand on Cora's shoulder. "No need to be worrying about those two. They always come out on top, they do." She smiled warmly at the girl and disappeared into the night.
Cora took Mag's place at the mirror and slid her warmest sweater over her head and wiped off the rouge and lipstick. In an instant she was no longer belle of the ball. She was just Cora. She pulled on her worn overalls and shoved her stockinged feet into her old boots. Stepping out into the chill night wind again, she headed off in search of her friends, a dull throb of worry making her head ache with each step.
As Cora rounded the corner, she heard the low murmur of voices speaking softly but insistently. She froze. She knew those voices well. Daisy and Joseph were talking, huddled in the shadows of the rail cars. Cora saw Daisy wiping repeatedly at her eyes. Joseph reached in his pocket, retrieving a handkerchief and handing it chivalrously to the girl. She tried to smile in thanks as she took it only to bury her whole face in it, sobbing harder. Joseph said something too low for Cora to hear and pulled Daisy into his chest, resting his cheek against her blonde curls. They remained huddled together, holding on to each other and Cora felt a burning blush enter her cold cheeks. She quietly retreated, ashamed to have spied on her friends in such an obviously private moment.
In the mess tent a lively ruckus had already begun. Cora shoved aside the canvas flap and ducked inside the warmth of the shelter. Men leaned on the scarred wooden plank table, calling bets and raising stakes with borrowed money. A hot bubble of anger rose in her chest as she noted Frank among them, shouting and cursing as he lost more of her wages. Leave it, she ordered herself. She didn't want to fight with him tonight. Instead she made her way through the tangle of bodies dancing to the off key scratching of a violin, aiming for the corner and an out of the way bench. Her mind was a crazy jumble, her stomach tight with a sick combination of emotions-worry for Daisy and Darla, anger at her father and something sharp that she couldn't quite name when she thought of Joseph. The bench was still several paces ahead and her head was swimming in the swirl of color and activity.
"Dance with me, Darling!" a shrill voice called right next to her ear and she was instantly seized, shoved into the frenzy of dancing. Darla scooped her up and twirled her along with her as she spun to the frantic scraping of the violinist's bow. At arms' length Darla wheeled her around and around, laughing hysterically. Cora felt as if she would be sick if she didn't sit right away. When she stopped, Darla frowned pathetically.
"You're no fun tonight," Darla pouted. Cora could smell the gin on her breath. Darla was drunk.
Cora studied the girl. Darla was still in her flying costume, blue sparkles winking in the soft lantern light, feathers sticking out from her golden halo of curls. Her eye khol was smudged under her eyes as if she, too, had been crying. "Are you alright?" Cora asked as she led Darla to the bench.
Darla shrugged Cora off as soon as she realized where she was being shepherded. "I'm fine!" she crowed brightly. "So fine I feel like dancing!" She tried to pull Cora to her feet again. Cora shook her head and Darla pouted again.
"Darla, what's gotten into you?" Cora asked with more volumn than she would have liked but the noise inside the tent was preventing discretion.
Darla shook her head dismissively. "Nothing, darling!" She stepped and twirled in place with her hands in the air like a ballerina in a music box. "Nothing at all!" Cora opened her mouth to say something more but Darla spun into the wheeling crowd, grabbing blindly for a dance partner. Her smile faltered and faded altogether when she pulled Joseph into her arms. She stopped dancing and let her hands fall limply to her sides, her bright red lips turning down into a disappointed frown. Joseph put a hand solidly on her shoulder to steady her as she weaved against him but she brushed it off abruptly and stalked off into the crowd. Cora watched the exchange with a growing tension. She wished Tom were here.
A newspaper lay in a sad lump on the bench, discarded maybe a day or two ago. Cora snatched it up and hid her face behind it, hoping she had not been spotted staring. The bench creaked as someone sat next to her. A sigh, barely audible above the rowdy crowd, let her know that she had indeed been spotted.
"What are you reading?" Joseph asked, not really interested in the answer. Cora stole a quick glance at him. His eyes followed Darla, his expression weary but devoid of any other emotion.
Cora lowered the paper to her lap, abandoning the ruse. "I don't know," she confessed. Turning to look fully on him, she felt a wave of shame for having been selfish. He had been a good friend to her and she should return the favor. "What's going on?" she asked, putting a small, cold hand on his arm. She steeled herself to listen to whatever he needed to tell her, whether she wanted to hear it or not.
The hand resting on his arm pulled his gaze away from Darla. He stared at her white fingers for a long moment before answering. "I don't know if it is my place to tell you." It wasn't said meanly and he looked truly sorry for not confiding in her. "But ask Daisy or Darla," he urged her. "They could both use a friend now. A friend who's a girl," he added with a lopsided grin, pushing a few long black locks out of his eyes. "I've been a pretty poor stand in for one."
Cora straightened, concerned. "I don't follow," she said. "Joseph, what am I supposed to do?" Her voice pitched higher in alarm.
He stretched his long legs out in front of him and closed his eyes. Faint blue circles shadowed his eyes. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days. "S'okay," he sighed. "You don't have to do anything. Just be there and listen. That's what a friend does, you know." He cracked on eye open and glanced sideways at her. He smiled, softening the rebuke.
Cora felt stung a little, but could not deny that he was right. She had been so wrapped up in her Tom that she had spared little time for anyone else. She knew something had been brewing between the sisters. Her suspicion was that it had something to do with the boy sitting next to her. Was she consumed with Tom, or was she afraid of having her suspicion confirmed? Joseph was her closest friend and she should be happy for him if he loved Daisy. Still she couldn't help but feel a crazy jealousy at the thought of them together. Selfish, she chided herself. She had Tom. Wasn't that enough?
Cora shoved the paper aside and stood. Joseph opened both eyes and frowned. "Where are you going?" he asked in confusion.
"To talk to the girls. You're right," she answered dully. "I have been a terrible friend."
Joseph reached out and took her cold hand in his warm and roughly calloused one. "Leave it for the night," he said with a small laugh. "Daisy went to bed. And Darla," he added, glancing at the girl jumping and bouncing to a lively jig, looking for anything like a sparkling and derranged finch, "I don't think she's in the mood to talk just now." Darla grabbed Peter and draped her long limbs over his shoulders. "Tomorrow," he concluded.
Cora sat back down on the bench next to him, scooping up the paper once more if only for something to do with her hands. As she worried the corner with her fingers, she stared at the picture on the front page. It was a man wearing black and white stripes, his fingers looped through a chain link fence. The eyes stared ahead, dead and dull in a skeletal face. She frowned, sounding out the headline in her head. The words, however, made no sense to her whatsoever.
"Joe," she said with a nudge to his side.
"Hmm," he answered opening his eyes once again and focusing on the paper in her hands.
"What's that say?" she asked, pushing the paper into his hands. Cora stared at him, confusion pulling her smooth, pale forehead into rows of lines and furrows. Joseph's expression changed instantly from tired curiosity to anger and sadness. He rubbed his face roughly with his hands and pushed up to his feet, pulling her along with him.
"You don't want to know," he answered shortly. "There's something I wanted to do tonight. Fancy getting out of here for an hour or two?" The sadness and fury still shone in his eyes like lightning behind the clouds of a dying summer storm. He stared at her, hope chasing a little of the gloom away.
She couldn't say no to him. Her hand, tucked warmly in his, tightened a little, letting him know her answer. A tired smile pulled the corners of his mouth up and he tugged her toward the tent flap and the cold November winds beyond. The paper was once again lying in a forgotten heap on the bench, the dead eyes of the picture staring at nothing and no one. "Discovery Of Brutal Death Camps" was printed in black block lettering above the nameless inmate.
Swindon, November 1944
Tom watched as the couple walked down the road, her hand in his. Rage bubbled up inside him as he watched another man touch what belonged to him. Cora was smiling excitedly up at the boy, her lovely and kind eyes fixed on him. It was the way she had looked at him so many times. The boy didn't deserve those looks, the filthy Muggle.
Pulling his flat cap down low over his eyes, he shrugged his worn wool coat up to his ears, hiding in the upturned collar. Sticking to the shadows, he set off after the couple, careful to keep a good distance between them. He did not want them to know they were being followed. Not yet.
Joseph, leaving her for a brief moment to retrieve something from his boxcar, returned with a sack of rough cloth slung over his shoulder and a brightly colored scarf, which he wound around her neck and ears. He took her hand in his and led her out into the road, deserted by this time of night. Cora lifted her free hand to touch the delicate weaving of the scarf, feeling the silky material. It smelled of exotic spices and faraway places.
"This is beautiful," she said, her words muffled by the scarf.
Joseph smiled. "My mother made it. She would be very disappointed if I let you catch a cold."
"Tell me about her," Cora asked, hoping she wasn't being rude by asking. "Was she very beautiful?"
Joseph nodded. "I don't remember her very well, though. Mr. Mason told me a little about her and my father. They were good people. Kind and generous with what little they had."
"You must miss them terribly," she said, sadness creeping into her voice. Her thoughts turned to her own mother, beautiful and distant. Too weak for life's many disappointments.
"I do. Mr. Mason met my father when he was studying to become a monk. Mr. Mason used to talk about the arguments they had like they were the best moments of his life. They both loved to debate. It's no wonder they got on so well as they did. He was my father's closest friend."
"A monk?" Cora asked, confused. "How did he come to have a wife and child then? Did he stop being a monk after Mr. Mason converted him? Did he get sacked?"
Joseph laughed. "No, he didn't get sacked and Mr. Mason never succeeded in converting him. He died a Buddhist. He left the monastery because he fell in love."
Cora sighed. "How romantic!"
"I guess it was," Joseph agreed reluctantly, "but he lost everything because of it. And my mother was shunned by her family. They left Tibet in disgrace."
"But they had each other. That makes up for it, don't you think?" Cora glanced up at her friend. He seemed far away, his thoughts in another time and place. She wondered if he favored his father or mother more. Or was he the best of both? "They had you. It must have been worth it."
Joseph gave her hand a squeeze. "I hope they would be proud of me, anyway. And," he added, nudging Cora with an elbow, "they would've loved you!"
"Really?" she asked, beaming. "You think so?"
His smile was bright. "I know so." He looked at her with such a curious expression, so kind yet full of longing. It made her chest feel tight, like there wasn't enough room to breathe. "We're here," he said finally, coming to a stop.
Cora blinked and forced herself to look away from his open, handsome face. She focused on the scenery around them and was surprised to find herself in the middle of some kind of shanty town. Instinctually, she pulled in closer to him, gripping his arm with both hands. "Where, exactly?" she questioned nervously.
He laughed quietly and heaved the sack off of his shoulder and onto the ground, bending to pull out a few lumpy shapes. Cora felt naked and exposed without him close by her side. She shifted from foot to foot and glanced around anxiously.
He did not answer her but remained hunched over the sack, rumaging through it busily. She swallowed a lump in her throat, turning on the spot to look behind her. There was movement, she was sure of it.
"Uh, Joseph?" she squeaked as a figure stepped out of the blackness between a sagging lean-to made from scraps of metal and an abandoned flatbed truck, resting on its axles. She moved closer to Joseph, panic growing in her. He looked up in the direction of the shadow but only smiled, pushing something crinkly and hard into her hands.
"Take this," he instructed, turning back to the sack. Cora looked down and realized she was holding a crumpled paper bag full of striped candy, cheerful colors bright even in the gloom of night.
She looked in askance at the sweets in her numb fingers. "What am I supposed to do with it?" she croaked in fright.
"Give it to them," he stated, a little exasperation sharpening his usually gentle voice. He threw a gesture over his shoulder at the shadowy figures approaching Cora warily.
Cora turned back to the ominous shadow people and was utterly shocked to see three wide-eyed and dirty children staring back at her with the very expression she wore. The smallest one clung to a tall girl in a tattered coat and shoes with holes in the toes. Cora took a hesitant step toward the shivering group of children and held out the bag. They didn't move.
"You don't want it?" She was mystified as they shied away from her. Cora turned questioningly back to Joseph, but he was no longer beside her. He was some paces off handing shiny cans to a woman stooped under a filthy shawl. He shrugged out of his brown woolen coat and wrapped it around the woman's shoulders. A few ragged boys, in their teens from the looks of it, rushed forward and took the unguarded sack into one of the hovels of discarded boxes and pallets. "Joseph!" Cora cried out as the boys disappeared with the rest of the goods.
Joseph's head snapped up at Cora's distress, but his look of worry was soon replaced by a smile and a shake of his head. "It's okay, Cora!" he called back to her reassuringly before he turned his attention once more to the woman, who was saying something too low for Cora to hear. She patted Joseph's arm over and over with a gnarled hand, curled from arthritis and hard living. With a frown, Cora turned back to the kids.
The middle child, a boy of about seven or eight, maybe even older, had come within two steps of her. He froze when she turned, an expression of horror on his grimy face. Cora stared at him for a minute, unsure of whether to run away or come closer. Swallowing, her mouth dry from fright, she plucked up her courage and knelt down, coming eye to eye with the little boy. Setting the bag of candy half way between the boy and herself, she drew back and waited, carefully still. The boy watched her with sharp, calculating eyes. Suddenly, he darted quickly out and snatched a peice of candy from the bag and shoved it into his mouth before running to hide behind the oldest girl. He peered from her skirts, his cheecks full of the filched candy. His eyes were still wary, but there was triumph in them as well.
Cora pushed the bag forward and drew back, smiling kindly at the tiny one. When the child burried its face in the oldest girl's leg, Cora looked to her for help. "Please," she implored gently, "they're for you."
The girl tugged the baby along with her as she took a few steps forward. Cora watched her, noting that she was only a few years younger than herself. Brown hair was carefully braided and tucked under a dingy scarf. Her cheeks were pink and she had beautiful blue eyes. She dipped her hand into the bag and pulled out one sweet, a pink and yellow swirled thing and popped it into the baby's waiting mouth. Cora felt a sting in her eyes. The little one had a head of blond curls. The tiny rosebud lips, now slick with sugary drool, were covered in scabs and a few fresh sores. Toddling forward, the little fists shoved deep into the bag, coming out with handfulls of the candies. The baby gurgled, delighted by her discovery.
"Alright, love," the girl said gently as she scraped the candies off of the toddler's fingers, careful to replace them in the bag. "Thank you, miss," she said shyly as she handed the bag back to Cora.
"No," she shook her head, "keep them."
The girl looked at Cora, calculating. "For you, miss." She put her hand into her pocket and pulled out something. Blushing deeply, she held out her gloved fist toward Cora.
Cora hesitated and the girl shoved the item into her hand. In her palm was a beautiful comb with a flower adorning the rusted tines. A few of the rhinestone gems were missing. Cora gasped, understanding that this was precious to the girl. She was speechless. The girl pulled the toddler along, retreating to the rusted lean-to with the candy in one hand and a little fist in the other. The baby strained to turn its chubby face to get one more glimpse of the girl with the candy.
"Wait!" Cora cried after them. "I can't accept this," she stammered as she handed the comb back.
The girl blushed deeper and looked away, embarrassed. Cora shoved the comb at the girl, frustrated that she didn't take it.
"Cora," Joseph said, coming up behind her, "these are the Dooleys. You," he continued, smiling at the girl, "must be Kate." He held out a hand and the girl took it with a shy smile. "I'm Joseph."
"Pleased to meet you," Kate replied. "That's Jimmy." The girl nodded to the boy who had snatched the candy and run. He had a red confection half way to his mouth, frozen, as his sister drew notice to him. He hid in her skirts again, but giggled mischeiviously behind her. "And this wee one is Abby." The toddler raked a hand across her lips, smearing pink drool over her cheeks.
"Pwetty," Abby said wetly, pointing a chubby finger at Cora. The baby girl waddled to Cora's leg and hugged her, leaving a string of pink goo on her trouser leg. "I love you," she cooed. "I love candy!"
"Alright, darling," Kate shushed her and pulled her away from Cora, casting a horrified look at the stain Abby left behind.
Cora looked from Kate's shy smile to the baby's adoring face, back to the comb in her hand. She pulled back a lock of her shiny black waves and pinned it in place with the comb. "It's beautiful. Thank you so very much, Kate." Cora was relieved at the bright smile that spread across the girl's lovely face.
"It suits you, miss," she said, pleased.
"Cora," she corrected. "I'm Cora."
Abby slipped her fist out of Kate's and toddled back over to Cora's side. "Up," she demaded, raising her fists in the air at Cora. Cora looked at Kate, unsure. Kate just smiled. Cora lifted the child up, surprised by how light she was, and rested her on a hip. The child immediately burried her sticky fingers in Cora's hair. Joseph laughed at Cora's repulsed look and put an arm over her shoulder, pulling her close to his side. Cora watched the little girl play happily in her hair and her lips couldn't help but turn up into a smile.
Kate giggled. "Well, Cora, it looks as if you have an admirer," Kate said, amused as she looked from the baby to Joseph. "You two make a hansdome couple."
From the darkest of shadows Tom watched, his anger twisting and knotting in his stomach. She seemed happy even as she was pawed by the dirty little child. A part of his mind said to have pity on them, that he, too, had once been the lowly and downtrodden. He shoved it away violently. They were Muggles. This was where they belonged, he snorted in disgust. They were probably too lazy or stupid, or both, to better their station. Not he. He may have been born into the gutter, but he knew that he was destined for better things. Great things.
So was she. And that boy was filling her head with this do-good, charity nonsense. These filthy brats didn't deserve her smiles. Neither did that slanty-eyed foreign boy. This was a problem he needed to find a solution to. Quickly, before this all got out of hand.
The night was bitter as they walked back to the circus. Cora shivered and Joseph wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his warm chest. She burried her nose into the rich silk of the scarf as the wind picked up, feeling a little guilty. He must be freezing. His coat remained with Ms. Dooley. Cora was sure Joseph would have left without the shirt on his back if she hadn't been there. Her heart ached for the little family. At least they would go to bed with a full belly that night.
She was surprised that this had become Joseph's routine. At every stop, Joseph spent his meager wages on cans of food for the beggars that inevitably turned up as the tents rose over their shanties. She, on the other hand, had barely spared them a second glance, regarding them as so much scenery. A fierce pride filled her as she considered her friend and his big, generous heart.
"Thank you," she said, snuggling into his side.
He smirked. "For what?" he asked in amused confusion.
"For reminding me," she clarified, "how small my problems are."
He hugged her closer. "You're a good person, Cora. Don't forget to do good, that was what Mr. Mason told me every night before I went to sleep. Don't forget to do good, Joseph." Joseph was quiet, thoughtful. "I think most people are good and they just forget. It's easier to look in the other direction, to not see need or injustice."
Cora thought of the man with his dead eyes staring back at her from the paper and Joseph's fury. "Like the picture in the newspaper?" she asked quietly feeling Joseph's easy touch stiffen.
"Yes, exactly," he whispered, his head hanging lower. He was frowning deeply. "Where I come from, we shun people who are different from us. Only recently outsiders were allowed in Lhasa, our holy city. Children are raised to fear the outside world, to fear those who are not like us." He stopped and turned to look at her, suddenly very intense. "Fear is dangerous, though. It's destructive."
Cora swallowed. "Why was that man in prison?" she asked. "What did he do?"
"Nothing," he returned, shaking his head slowly. "He didn't do anything. He was going to be killed for who he is. Not something he did."
"If he was in prison, he must be a threat, though," Cora retorted. "Governments wouldn't kill someone without reason."
"That's just it, though. The reason was that he was not like them. And the government thinks that's dangerous. Am I dangerous because my skin is a different color than yours?"
"No," she answered, "but..."
"Are you dangerous because you have black hair? Or because you can do special things?"
Her heart thudden in her chest. Was she dangerous? She didn't think so. "No," she answered in a small voice.
"People are just people, Cora," Joseph said, pulling her close to him again and shivering in the cold wind. "Don't forget to do good."
Cora nodded, "I promise."
"Cora!"
She jumped a little at the unexpected sound of her name and her heart fluttered at the voice. It was Tom! Her Tom! Her frown instantly changed into a radiant smile as he stepped from the shadows, devilishly handsome in dark trousers and coat. His pale and beautiful face, beaming at the sight of her. She shrugged out from under Joseph's arm and ran to him. Reaching out to her, he pulled her into his chest tightly. His eyes flashed dangerously at Joseph.
"I've been looking all over for you," he said into her hair. Blech! He'd forgotten the sticky-fingered child. Black strands clung to his face, sickeningly sweet against his lips. He pulled away, brushing them off.
"Well," she chirpped brightly. "Here I am!"
Tom tugged Cora along under one arm. "I'll take her from here, mate!" he called over his shoulder to Joseph, relishing the look of defeat on the other boy's face.
"Oh," Cora said suddenly, ducking out from under Tom's arm. His face fell in confusion as he watched her jog back to him. She unwound a gaudy scarf from her neck and pushed it into his hand. "Thanks again, Joseph!" She ran back and lifted Tom's arm, replacing it happily across her shoulders. A satisfied grin spread across Tom's face from ear to ear. Without looking back, he threw a parting wave over his shoulder and walked away with Cora pressed tightly to his side.