I met him on a pier. Usual aging conjuror... He sat there on the bench and thought about something. There was sadness on his face – so unusual thing for everhappy children’s magician.
“I believe such a constructive thinking does not do you a lot of good, sir.” I said.
He turned his head and looked at me. I’d even say he was gazing out over me as if wanting to remember where we had met before if ever had. Then – just a grin: he didn’t manage to. And I had to reveal my identity. I sat down on the bench and smiled to him.
“It’s no use to guess. You don’t remember me. It happened about 15 years ago – our first meeting. I was just a child. You came to my birthday.”
He said nothing. Only gave me one more glance and then started to gaze at his boots pretending on no noticing me. I looked at his boots too. Rather tired but in style. Black trousers and old tweed jacket of grey were tastefully combined. And his shirt open at the neck made him look quite respectable middle-aged man. His black hair touched with grey a bit was tousled as if there was wind though there wasn’t. I had scrutinized him for some seconds – from the boots up to the head – he was sitting quietly without moving deeply involved in his studying of something maybe really interesting in his boots... I saw his hands. Aristocratic fingers with short delicate nails. It was the hands of a real master of tricks.
“My parents invited you.” I continued.
“Good job you told me!” he cried suddenly. “Can you imagine, young lady, how many families invited me in those days? All of them wanted me to enjoy their little children. And all of these children were really nice. How can I remember you?” He turned up his head and looked in my eyes. But all of a sudden he started to breath deeper and – oh, no! – The tears appeared in his eyes!
“Your eyes... I saw alike only once in my life... It can’t be true...” he gasped.
His tears... He recognized me even through all these years! I was only 3 when my mother left him. She thought she would never be happy with an ordinary circus actor. Some years later she married a successful businessman. They invited my father as a clown to my birthday in order him to say good-bye to me. And then we left our little home in a small city near Manchester and moved to London.
15 years I heard nothing about my father. Only old photos didn’t give me to forget him. But one day I saw an announcement. The Manchester’s circus came to London. I knew my father was there, because he had already become the manager of that circus with a proper stuff under him...
“It is true.” I could hardly pronounce. “I am your daughter.” And I burst into tears accompanying him.
Nobody noticed the water on our faces. All these throngs of people walking to and fro on the pier – no one even looked at us as if we were only the part of the package. Figuratively speaking we were. All our life is something like a big stage. And ordinary people work there as decorations to the great events, they spend all their lives in service at the Fate’s Hall.