Free The Winter Ground by Catriona McPherson

‘I mean to say, the Prebrezhenskys are a grand spot and Topsy’s a pretty girl and always draws a crowd. And them two clowns was made for each other. But a circus needs animals, see? If she ups and leaves us, we won’t hardly be a circus at all no more.’
    ‘But she’s trouble?’
    ‘I wun’t say that,’ said Mrs Cooke. ‘The poor maid’s troubled in herself and who could blame her? For she’s had a hard life there and come to the circus to make it better but not a scrap of luck since, none at all. Her golden pony died and Tam – I shouldn’t speak ill of my own man – but Tam’s that down on her and just looking for a reason to give her the ghost. Or she might just up and off by her own self, afore we have a chance to get her bound to us for keeps like. And she could have a grand life at Cooke’s, if she’d just bed in. If she’d just … If she wurr one o’ my own, I’d talk to her myself, find out what’s ailing her and talk her round like. But …’
    ‘She’s not a relation then?’
    ‘Josser,’ said Mrs Cooke. ‘Gently born like yourself there, madam. And so I thought you could mebbes talk to her in her own tongue, get close to her and get her told. Only … don’t go talk talk talking until you know what to say there, eh? I’d talk to the rest of ’em first, find out what’s what and who knows it. Them clowns is up to something for starters. And not just them neither. Bill Wolf knows more than he’ll tell me.’
    ‘And I take it Mr Cooke is not to know what I’m about?’ I said.
    ‘Well, my beauty,’ said Mrs Cooke, with a look of great innocence on her face that did not fool me for a minute, ‘where’s the use in telling a man everything, eh? He knows I think there’s trouble coming, but more than that would only fret him.’
    ‘I have had cases before where the diplomacy was as crucial as the detecting,’ I assured her.
    ‘Cases?’ said Mrs Cooke, looking startled. ‘Well, as to “cases”, I can’t be paying you, mind there. Pa and me have to pull in tight winters, but let me see now … We can give them two lads of yours a Christmas they’ll never forget, can Cooke’s Circus. And that’s got be worth gold to a mother. So what d’you say?’
    It did not look much, in prospect, and the briefing was far from full, but Alec and I were without a sniff of any other work and Donald and Teddy would never have forgiven me denying them circus privileges if I had such things in my gift.
    No time like the present, I told myself, and twenty minutes later I had packed Mrs Cooke and Bobbo into the Cowley, although she had been more than ready to return the way she had come – on foot over the hills – and was climbing into the driver’s seat to be waved away by Pallister, both footmen and the hallboy. Gilverton’s servants’ hall would not be lost for conversation today.
    My first sight as we drew up beside the pond and stepped down again was Bill Wolf, the individual I had taken to be a bear, still wearing the shaggy suit and only marginally less alarming now that he was revealed as a man. He was sitting on an upturned barrel, beside his caravan – his living wagon, as Mrs Cooke had taught me to call it – making the most of the weak winter sunlight as he stitched at something in his lap. Mrs Cooke gave me a look and scuttled away. Ah yes, I thought, Bill Wolf is one of those who knows something. I squared my shoulders and began walking towards the giant with my chin high in the air and my teeth only chattering slightly.
    They were stilled as I approached him by my noticing what I had missed before: there was a small child – next to Mr Wolf a very small child – tucked in between his knees, half under his beard and helping to hold taut the length of stuff he was stitching. The child watched me, warily at first, and then with frank interest as Bunty started whining and rearing up: the new little friend from the day before was beckoning from across the ground. I unhooked