Gripping the handle, Clopin yanked open the cathedral door and held it for his mother. "Remember to be inconspicuous," he whispered as she walked past. Had his mother not insisted on coming to the service, Clopin would have simply made himself scarce all day and let his family believe he was attending the memorial. But turning her down would have only made Gudule suspicious. Sighing quietly, Clopin followed his mother into the sanctuary. Why did telling lies have to be so bloody complicated? Well, maybe the family wouldn't notice the two of them if they kept quiet.
Clopin deliberately guided his mother to a pew over in a dark corner. Well ahead of him, a family of blondes sat up in the center of the front row. That must be the relatives. Thankfully, all of them were looking directly forward.
Two knotty, arthritic fingers jabbed him in the ribs so suddenly he nearly broke his silence. "Where's Esmeralda?" Gudule asked.
"I don't know," Clopin replied immediately. Oops. "Maybe…uh…" he blurted out the first words that came to mind "…maybe she fell down and scraped her knee or something."
Pathetic. Absolutely and inexcusably pathetic. Clopin winced at his stupid alibi.
"Maybe she's already here and she's sitting somewhere else." Grabbing the back of the pew in front of them for support, Gudule pulled herself to her feet. "I'll look."
"No, Mom." Keeping his frustrated voice at whisper level was not easy. "Don't draw attention to us. You can look from where you are sitting."
"My eyes aren't that good—"
"MOM," Clopin whispered loudly. Ugh. Not going well. How to calm her before the family turned around? "Mom…Actually, I don't think Es is coming today. She wasn't feeling well. Um… er… ah… pregnancy stuff. You know."
"Oh dear," Gudule sighed. "How terrible that she feels so bad that she's missing her own husband's memorial service!"
"Yes, too bad," Clopin bobbed his head too eagerly in agreement.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier that she wasn't coming because she was sick?"
Because I was apparently too stupid to think that far ahead. "Um…well…she…um…left before we did. She wanted to, yeah, she wanted to give herself more time to travel because she didn't feel well. But now as late as it is, I don't think she'll show up at all."
"Oh, too bad," Gudule sighed a little too loudly. Clopin shushed her and silently begged that she wouldn't ask any more questions. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on the pew ahead of them, hoping that his pounding headache would ease up. Please, dear God, if you're even listening, please don't let the family hear us! I promise that I'll never, ever, tell a lie EVER again!
Clopin wasn't sure how many minutes passed before his mother piped up again, but his stomach lurched all the same. "Who's that in the back? Is that…oh, it is! Esmeralda! Over here!"
Clopin turned around to see what poor stranger that his mother's failing eyes had mistaken for his sister, but his own eyes grew wide in shock when he recognized the form.
"Esmeralda?" he hissed as loudly as he dared.
She barely shot him a glance. "Gotta pee!" she hissed over her shoulder.
His brain was still trying to figure out what his sister was up to when she returned to the door.
"Over here!" Gudule waved her arms wildly. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you! Are you alright? Goodness, you look awful! Like you just rolled out of bed! Why, is that a robe?"
"Yes," Esmeralda replied, a bit confused. Protectively she tucked the bathrobe a bit tighter around herself, but not before Clopin caught a glance of her very gauzy, lacey pajamas. What in the world…?
"Why are you attending the captain's memorial service in your pajamas?" Gudule asked.
Very quickly, Clopin shot Es a stern glance, warning her that she needed to play along. "Like I told you, Es wasn't feeling well," Clopin repeated to his mother. "Her pajamas were comfortable."
"I'm so happy you were able to come," Gudule chattered happily.
"But why are you here?" Esmeralda asked, confused.
"We wanted to come to your husband's memorial service. To support you." Clopin spoke before his mother had a chance to say anything. He repeated the warning stare.
"Oh…okay. Well then…I'm glad you made it!" she added. Clopin visibly sighed in relief. Es hadn't blown his cover.
The three of them sat in the pew as Quasimodo walked to the altar, speech in hand. Laying his notes on the table, he began: "Dear friends, we have as…as…mmm…"Even from a distance, Clopin could tell that the boy was pointing to the long word with his finger, trying to sound it out. "Assembled," Quasi decided.
"Assembled here today in rem…meb...eber…remember…remembrance of our late and dear friend, Captain Puhoo…uhh…err…Pehobe…uhh…" Quasi's whole body wilted in defeat. "I'm so sorry! Master was supposed to do this!" Big tears rolled down both of his cheeks.
"Who is that?" Gudule asked, pointing to Quasi. "He looks funny."
"He's our bellringer," Es clarified. "Yes, he looks different. He's also one of the sweetest people I know."
One of the family up front—a tall man, his blonde hair shot through with white—stood and walked to the altar. Addressing Quasimodo, the man said, "Someone else was supposed to read this, yes? You got the job at the last minute and had no time to prepare, did you."
Quasi nodded. "I'm so sorry!" he squeaked. "Master had it but…but…"
"I'll take over for you." As a relieved Quasimodo sat down, the blonde man picked up the papers and began to read. "Dear friends, we have assembled here today in remembrance of our late and dear friend, Captain Phoebus. A plain and simple man, his three greatest desires were beer, beer, and beer." The tall man scowled. "What the heck…Who wrote this?"
"My Master did," Quasi piped up helpfully. "Master liked big words, but they confuse me."
"I see." The older blonde man raised the paper again to his face. "Phoebus surprised me with his success, as I could always count on him to do the right thing after he had tried everything else. After every single conversation we shared, I left feeling exceptionally intelligent."
Esmeralda giggled too close to her brother's ear. "Shh!" he hissed. "You shouldn't be giggling at your husband's funeral!"
"But the eulogy…it's so funny!" Esmeralda gasped, sides heaving. "Oh, Claude, you're a mess!"
"Do what?" her brother interrupted her laughter.
"Dom Frollo wrote the thing," she squeaked. "He's so witty."
"And very unkind!" Clopin elbowed his sister meaningfully. "Wasn't it so unfortunate that Phoebus got sent to work for that awful man?"
His intended cue backfired. "Stop dissing Minister Frollo!" she snapped at him.
Clopin panicked. "Keep your voice—"
"Who's that in the back?" one of the blonde family interrupted, turning around.
"No," Clopin whimpered. "No." The gypsy hung his head in defeat as the captain's family left the pew to approach him.
Clopin dared a glance at the blonde family's faces. None of them looked very friendly.
"I'm terribly sorry for disturbing you," Clopin squeaked.
"As you should be!" The tall white-and-blonde haired man—Phoebus' father, Clopin guessed—growled back at him. "Why are you here?"
"To pay my respects, sir." Clopin's voice remained an embarrassing squeak.
"We're the in-laws," Gudule explained helpfully. "This is his wife Esmeralda and her brother Clopin. I'm their mother."
"Do what? His wife?" With an angry stop of the hard sole of her boots, a blonde young woman stepped forward. She was leading a toddler by the hand.
Never in her life was Gudule able to take a cue to shut up. "You must be the captain's sister," she said.
"Mom," Clopin interrupted hastily, "don't…"
The blonde woman's angry voice completely drowned out Clopin's hurried warning. "I'm his wife of the past three years! Do you mean to tell me…"
Eyes wide, Clopin chewed his bottom lip. Gesturing with a sweaty, clammy hand between the two women, he squeaked out: "Es? Did you know about this?"
"No," Esmeralda growled, hands clenching. "You mean to tell me that Phoebus had a wife back home? And he never told me?"
The young woman broke into sobs. One of the other family members wrapped an arm around her and patted her soothingly on the head. "There, there, Fleur darling, we tried to warn you. These soldiers, they are all like that. Got a wife in every city, they do."
"It's not fair!" Pouting, Fleur shoved away her family member. Her puffy, red eyes sullenly scanned over the three gypsies before stopping on Esmeralda. "Wait…are you pregnant?"
Es opened her mouth but had no chance to speak before Fleur's nails scratched her across the face. Es responded with a slap of her own. Seconds later the two women were screaming in the floor. Esmeralda quickly dominated the spoiled aristocratic girl, pounding her fists so angrily that she snapped a whalebone in Fleur's corset. "I'll…teach…you…to…attack…me…in…a…church!" Esmeralda snarled.
"Help me!" Fleur wailed.
This situation was deteriorating more rapidly than Clopin had ever dreamed possible. "Es, I suggest that you lay off…"
"Leemealone!" Es snarled without giving him so much as a look.
"No, Es, I'm serious. Someone is going to go find the police…"
*0*0*0*0*
Several minutes later, four handcuffed people were shoved roughly into a holding cell and the door was locked behind them.
"You will pay for this corset you broke," Fleur pouted without looking as Es as she fingered an exposed broken whalebone.
"I'm dreadfully sorry I broke it. I had no idea how badly you needed that corset to cure your pitiful lack of a waist," Es replied coolly, eyeing the aristocrat up and down.
Fleur angrily raised her manacled hands to strike, but Clopin stepped between the two women. "Stop it," he pleaded. "Both of you, just please stop fighting."
"It's all her fault," Fleur pouted. "She's been sleeping with my husband. I saw him first."
"I never slept with Phoebus!" Es snapped back. "Never got the chance. My other suitor stabbed him."
"What?" Gudule interrupted, raising her shackled hands. "What other suitor?"
"Our late minister of justice," she answered simply. "Dom Claude Frollo."
