the red-haired clown said.
“No, no,” Charles cried. “I am an orphan. I am homeless, living under the fence.”
“Perfect,” the red-haired clown tapped him on the shoulder and, having held out his hand, introduced himself:
“I am Bebe.”
“I am Lele,” the white-haired clown said.
“Are you a woman?” Charles exclaimed enthusiastically. “Wow!”
“Yes, wow!” she mimicked him. Then she hugged him by the shoulders and asked: “Do you really live under the fence?”
“Well, it is not always under the fence,” he smiled. “Sometimes it is possible to spend the night at the station, or at the museum, or in the park, near some statue, which is not very scary.”
Lele began to laugh resonantly, disarranged his hair, and said:
“If so, then we are ready to allow you to participate in our number. We will call you Benosh. Okay?”
“Okay!” Charles exclaimed, not believing his luck. He not only stays in the circus Chapiteau but becomes a clown with a sonorous name Benosh, and Bebe and Lele will be his parents!
Charles was ten years old at that moment. Now he was twenty-three. He is not the little boy Benosh but the red-haired clown Benosh – an idol of a public, who has just been scolded by the gentleman in eyeglasses and praised by the girl Simone.
“What happened?” Bebe asked, having got into the show-booth past Charles, sitting on the steps. “Why did you freeze like a terrible statue?”
“What did the gray gentleman need from the little boy Benosh?” Lele asked, trying to look Charles in the eye. He handed her a note and said:
“The girl Simone wants me to congratulate her on her birthday.”
“Wonderful!” Bebe exclaimed. “We will seat ourselves on our the circus bicycles, arm with whistles of all sorts, and…”
“Wait, Bebe,” Lele cried. “We need a different approach here. You have seen this snow-white phenomenon. You first said that she looked like an angel, descended from heaven, and our Benosh looked like a bewildered waif, who can disrupt the performance.”
“Ye-e-es,” having leaned out of the door, Bebe said. He made a funny face, having portrayed the confused Benosh.
“Did I really look so stupid?” Charles exclaimed.
“Really,” having tapped him on the shoulder, Lele said. “But that’s in the past. Forget about it. Get up, we are going to do great things.”
Charles got up and trudged after Lele. He did not ask her any questions. He knew that Lele is a unique woman. He loved her like a mother. Thirteen years, not once she has raised her voice at him, has got mad at him. Although, there were enough occasions. How she had managed to be soft, gentle, kind, still remained a mystery for Charles.
“Do as I say,” Lele whispered him, hiding behind the door to the office of the Director of the circus.
A minute later, her big red nose, then her eyes, and her hand leaned out the door, and only then the mysterious whisper began to sound: “Come in.”
Charles looked around. No one. He whisked into the open door.
“Hey, it has been a while,” the Director of the circus Rudolf Welzer said. He was sitting at his polished desk and was condescendingly smiling. “Matilda is upset with you. She sheds tears. Good thing you had the sense to come before I called you. Well done. I value brave people. I forgive you and…” he got up.
“I allow you to take Matilda to the cinema.”
“Oh, we are so honoured!” Lele exclaimed, having pressed her arms to her bosom. “It is an honour, a great honour. But… Benosh will not be able to go to the cinema.”
“Why?” the Director frowned.
“He had nothing to wear,” she said in a tragic voice. “He will not dare to take your daughter by the arm if he wears a such a clownish attire.” Lele ordered Charles to turn around several
times.
“Ye-e-es,” having sat at the table again, the Director said. “Yes, that’s not right.”
“You should not be upset because of the trifles,” Lele smiled and said in her clownish voice:
“If you, Mr. Director, give us a fee we will be able to dress up the boy.”
“Okay,” the director nodded, wrote a check, and handed it Lele, saying:
“Buy the boy something nice for Matilda would have a worthy boyfriend.”
“Certainly, Mr. Director,” Lele bowed.
“Our Benosh will look better than that gray gentleman in a bowler.”
“We-e-ell, that’s a strong comparison,” the Director grinned. “Nobody can look better than the banker Schtanzer.”
“We will try,” having winked at him, Lele said. “Besides, we have one little, tiny advantage it is youth.”
“Bravo, Lele!” the Director began to laugh. “You are the smartest woman I have ever met in my life. If it weren’t for your Bebe and my…” he began to whisper. “Gilda…”
The Director came out from behind the table, hugged Lele, kissed her on the neck, the only spot with no makeup. She stared wide-eyed, pressed a finger to her lips, and shook her head.
“Ah, I have forgotten that we match Matilda,” the Director exclaimed, releasing Lele out of his embrace. He looked at Charles and said in a stern voice:
“Today, at half past five, Matilda will be ready to go with you to the cinema.”
“But the boy has absolutely nothing to pay for the tickets in the cinema,” the ingratiating whisper of Lele sounded behind him. “Benosh wanted to outdo the banker so much that…”
“Okay, okay, I got it,” the Director grinned, having written another check. “Lele, you can turn me round your finger.”
“I use this gift extremely rare, Rudolf,” she said coquettishly.
“I appreciate this, dear,” he smiled, having handed her another check. “This is for Bebe.”
“Thank you,” she sang and pushed Charles towards the door.
“We are fabulously rich,” she exclaimed when the teller gave her cash. “We can leave everything and run to the end of the world. But…” she became very serious. “We will never do this because we are people of honour, though, we wear a clownish attire. We have no right to let Rudolf Welzer down. He is a very good fellow and a very, very unhappy man,” Lele sighed. “Okay, let’s go. Today, I am not going to tell you heartbreaking stories because you have to take Matilda to the cinema.”
“And can we do without this?” Charles hopefully asked, anticipating the answer of Lele in advance.
“No,” she stated in a categorical tone.
“Lele, you know that I do not like this fat Matilda,” Charles began to whimper.
“People will point their fingers at us and will
giggle.”
“Haven’t you gotten used to people laughing at you?” she asked, having frowned.
“You should consider yourself a hero of the scene, a king of the circus arena. Be above the crowd. Remember, darling, everything that happens outside of Chapiteau is the same circus. You just do not know the sequence of numbers and the number of artists, involved in the program, so you should be prepared to perform your favourite