The Puppeteer

Mr.Gregory and the puppeteer do not meet in the manner of companions clandestinely meant to collide, but instead in a fortunate coincidence.

Mr.Gregory has departed his flat, after depositing the card with the circus proprietor’s name on it in the breast pocket of his coat, and holds an umbrella over himself to ward off the rain.

There are only the most ardent lovers of the circus migrating of out the city proper through on the almost empty street. Their umbrellas sprout like mushrooms beneath the nubivigant sky.

Mr.Gregory only pauses to wonder at the figure, huddled in-part in the rain, glancing at the sky as though it shows signs of stopping.

The girl is young, certainly barely more than a teenager. She seeks shelter from the rain under an awning that is too small to protect her shoes and the bottom of her dress, which are both soaked through.

“Excuse me,” he shouts over the howling wind. “Do you need some assistance?”

The girl startles, clutching the flap of her coat as she locates the stranger addressing her in the downpour. She meets his eyes and offers a small grin.

“My umbrella has unfortunately broken at the worst of times,” the girl replies, in a lower pitch than he would have expected. She shakes the umbrella, which Mr.Gregory has not noticed until now, at her side for emphasis, the spokes askew and poking her coat.

“Would you like to share my umbrella?” he offers. The girl visibly startles again.

“I am headed for the circus,” Mr.Gregory says over the din of the rain. “But I do not mind taking a detour.”

The girl smiles, clutching her hat as another gust of wind blows the rain sideways and it dapples the side of her gown with dark spots. “You need not take a detour. I am going in the same direction.”

“All the more reason to accompany me,” he reasons.

He approaches her quickly; holding his elbow out once he reaches the protection of the awning.

He watches her hesitating, likely thinking better than to accept offers from strange gentlemen in the rain on largely abandoned streets approaching nightfall. To his surprise, she nods.

She rests her hand tentatively in his elbow, and follows closely to keep under the umbrella. They emerge from the awning, the shop immediately obscured by the rain. It fades to a blur in the grayness as they exit the city.

“I did not think it would be open in the rain,” the girl remarks as they walk, falling easily into pace beside him.

“Perhaps they have cast a spell over the circus,” Mr Gregory says in a serious tone. “And it will only rain beyond the gates.”

His companion laughs, the sound all but lost in the rain and their meager protection under the canopy of black silk.

“I do not think even that is possible for our crew, or our illusionist. It is more likely the rain will let up.”

“In the space between now and the sunset? I do doubt it. But one must stay positive.” He pauses as his rain catches up with his ears, turning to stare perplexedly at the girl. “Your crew? May I take it then that you are a part of the circus?”

The girl smiles again, cat-like and with mirth. “I am indeed.”

The gates are in sight, nacreous and shining despite the inclement weather. There is no indication of life beyond it but there is no forewarning closure sign clattering over the gates. The shapes and shadows slowly distinguish themselves until they are recognizable as people and circus tents.

“I am honoured to be introduced to a performer of such renown,” Mr.Gregory says.

“Thank you.”

They pause before the gates, where the ground is not muddy despite the lack of cover, and a small line has already formed around a section of the gates, patrons eagerly watching the sun disappear over the horizon.

The rain has lessened, the tempest beginning to end.

“I rather enjoy the rain. If you don’t mind, I think the worst has passed, and I’d like to close my umbrella,” Mr.Gregory says.

“Not at all.” His companion relinquishes her hold on his elbow as he pulls the umbrella closed.

Mr.Gregory gently shakes his umbrella before closing it, scattering droplets of water that sparkles like diamonds.

“I must go,” the girl says, glancing inside the gates, eyes searching the labyrinth of canvas.

“Of course. Thank you for accompanying me. I do hope to see you again.”

“It you are in the mood for puppetry, then I will see you again. And thank you for sharing your umbrella.”

“It was a pleasure miss…”

“Una,” she responds, holding out a gloved hand to shake.

Mr.Gregory grasps it firmly in his own. They shake briefly before the puppeteer turns and strides not toward the gate, but around the side of it, disappearing behind caged canvas.

Mr.Gregory watches the space she occupied, searching for an opening in the gate, but between the oncoming twilight and the lengthening line of patrons waiting for the circus to open, he sees nothing out of the order. Mr.Gregory tucks his umbrella under his arm and takes his place in line.

Art by Katie DeSousa

Text by Lucie MacAulay