Rosetta (9 page)

Rosetta, thoughtful, is holding the letter in her Queen Street parlour when her husband walks into the room. He doesn't notice when she puts it to one side, seems to have his own preoccupations on his mind.

‘What is it, William?' she asks. She always calls him that when they are alone. ‘Is all not well?'

‘I have concerns,' he says. ‘They have been building for some time. It is Wonderland. Something is not right. I haven't been able to determine exactly what it is. But have you noticed, when you visit, that the crowds are not what they were at night?'

Rosetta reflects upon what he says. It is true, the queues for the performances no longer snake around the tent. There are fewer eager visitors on rides or taking in the sights. The atmosphere has changed as well. The difference has been subtle, but now that she considers it, she realises that what was once a mood of joyous astonishment has become somehow stale.

That night Rosetta visits Wonderland. While Zeno is busy with his act she wanders the embankment and casts her eyes across the grand amusement park. The thousand lights continue to glitter as before and the Switchback Railway still snakes across the cliffs, but for the first time she sees the peeling paint on Katzenjammer Castle and pools of water from rusting leaks around the skating rink.

It is while gazing at the Imperial Menagerie of Wild Beasts that Rosetta's concern changes to alarm. She has always felt a little sad when visiting the lion and the tigers, the camels, donkeys and the chimpanzees. They are confined in very little space. Now, as she watches the beasts pace restlessly, she is frankly horrified. The tigers' coats are dull and in places the lion's mane is bare. The zebra looks particularly poor. The animal is lying down, listless, and Rosetta can see its ribs. It views her with dull, glassy eyes. The poor beast has about it a look of death.

Those visitors who have come to the Menagerie seem similarly concerned. There is unrest in the small crowd and Rosetta hears one woman say, ‘It shouldn't be allowed.'

Next Rosetta visits the Airem Scarem airship down on the beach. There are few people about here, too, and those who are shake their heads and complain. The airship hangs forlornly, listing in the breeze. As Rosetta is puzzling over the cause of this calamity she sees William Anderson just ahead.

‘Mrs Norman,' he says. Anderson attempts to arrange his features into his customary jaunty smile but the effect is more like a grimace. ‘What a pleasure it is to see you. Will you walk with me for a while?'

They stroll about Anderson's creation, his grand domain, and as they do Rosetta sees behind his usual bombast a worried man. The posturing is all there, the same grandiloquence, but the words come just a shade too quickly. They seem forced. For the first time she notices lines running down the showman's cheeks and grey in his slick, black hair.

‘Why, whatever is the matter, Mr Anderson?' she gently enquires. ‘Please don't tell me all is well. I know that it is not.'

‘Ah, Mrs Norman, you seem to be acquiring some of your husband's mind-reading skills. You are right. Just now I am beset with worries.

‘You think those wild animals in the cages are dangerous? Let me tell you about the public. There is the truly savage beast. Oh, they will allow themselves to be dazzled, let you think you can do no wrong. But be warned. They have no loyalty. Once they turn on you, you're gone.'

Anderson, his shoulders sagging, shares his problems with the sympathetic, beguiling Mrs Norman. He finds it is a relief. By now the two of them are sitting in his office, next to the old Aquarium. He pours them both a brandy, quickly downs his own then pours himself a second. Thus fortified, he explains that for the past eighteen months Wonderland City has been struggling.

‘At first I thought it was because the damned airship – begging your pardon, Mrs Norman – kept breaking down. The papers started saying it was too dangerous and somebody would drown. But then I began to receive complaints about the animals. People claimed I was mistreating them and they were poorly housed – me!' Anderson, much aggrieved, shakes his head in disbelief.

‘But it's those wretched so-called swimmers who have been the last straw. They're just a lot of wealthy, influential businessmen who live around here and don't want their precious sleep disturbed. It's all politics, you know. They went to see James Ashton, the Minister for Lands at the Parliament of New South Wales. Ashton has no spine.

‘So that's it, then.' Anderson groans. ‘Ashton has given them exactly what they want. I have the order here somewhere.' He rummages on his desk.

‘Yes, look, it says “free access for all time to the beach at Tamarama Bay”. It's clear they want to ruin me! I can't stop anyone from coming in without paying now.'

Wonderland's proprietor downs a third brandy, puts his head in his hands and falls silent.

‘What are you saying, Mr Anderson? How bad are things really? Might Wonderland have to close?'

‘It's not come to that, Mrs Norman. No, I'll find a way to fight on.'

Later, when she thinks over this conversation and the things she has observed, Rosetta is less than certain that Anderson is right. Bad publicity and poor crowds is a fatal recipe. Wonderland is teetering and will more than likely fail. Then what will she and William do? Her thoughts return to Lilian's letter waiting in the bureau.

It took Rosetta a full three days to make up her mind. She'd planned to tell Zeno that night when he returned home after his performance, but her husband was in the excitable mood that sometimes came upon him after he'd been on stage, so she said nothing. At moments like these, she knew, he was filled with tensile energy and thought only of erotic pleasure. She was surprised, then, when he joined her in their bed and, instead of reaching for her, said abruptly, ‘Rosetta, what have you been up to? Anderson said you'd been to see him. What is it I should know?'

She sat up, pushed back the tangled strands of her long hair, and began to speak. Rosetta revealed all the sad details of Anderson's current difficulties, the unsafe rides and sick animals, the diminishing financial returns and the machinations of the politicians. ‘The outlook seems hopeless,' she said finally. ‘I think it means the end.'

‘I never suspected things were so bad,' her husband said, a darkening expression on his face. ‘Why on earth didn't you tell me as soon as you found out?'

‘Because of this.' Rosetta slipped out of bed, went over to the bureau and returned bearing Lilian's letter.

Zeno scanned the pages quickly, frowning as he read. ‘I see she's asked us both to come,' he said.

‘I didn't want to say anything until I was sure. But now, considering what Mr Anderson has told me, well, I can't see an alternative. It's a big step, my sweetheart, but don't you remember what the poet Mr Paterson advised? I think he's right. We must go to London and, considering what's going on here, as soon as possible.'

Suddenly, Zeno laughed. ‘What a little minx you are, Rosetta, plotting and planning behind my back. Yes, you're right of course. We'll go. Why ever not?'

 

The reality was that, putting any misgivings they might have had about Anderson's teetering venture to one side, Rosetta and Zeno were both ready for something new. Like Wonderland's audiences, they had grown a little jaded. By now the acts, performances and spectacles were a familiar part of life. As for Zeno, turning local upstarts into ducks or hens held little challenge. A certain fatigue had set in, rather too close to boredom for either's liking. It wasn't merely that the two of them craved excitement, though this was true enough. Each in their own way desired a grander stage.

Then there was the problem of Zeno's race. By night, his exotic appearance worked in his favour; audiences embraced his oriental mystique. But by day, when Zeno the Magnificent was replaced by plain William Norman, life was quite different. That was when he became aware of muttered comments and jostling in queues. Only recently a boy had called out, ‘Hey Chinaman, where's your pigtail?' when he was walking in the street. It was worse when he was out with Rosetta. Men looked at her with admiration, then scowled at him.

 

The next morning Zeno hands in his notice. It is a clear day but so blustery that the windows in Anderson's office rattle mournfully in the wind. Despite the early hour, the ringmaster pours them both a tumbler of apple brandy. Zeno, glancing down, observes the small tremor in his employer's outstretched hand.

‘I'll miss you, William,' the showman says. ‘You're quite sure you won't reconsider?'

‘I am sorry, Mr Anderson, but no. Our minds are made up.'

When it becomes known that Zeno the Magnificent will be at Wonderland City for only another month, there is a surge of visitors anxious for one last session with the seer. A whimsical newspaper correspondent who writes a weekly column entitled
Sydney Gossip: The Idle letter of an Idle Woman
observes that ‘he is being overrun … by all the important barristers, lawyers and doctors'.

Suddenly, it seems that Sydney is filled with people seized with a desire to discover what their future has in store. With few exceptions, Zeno tells them much the same. Love, happiness and good fortune will be showered upon them, he claims. It is what they want to hear, after all. He knows that few would welcome the visions that sometimes come to him; he has seen a woman weeping, a man lying in a grave.

On the final evening, after the last member of the audience has left, Mr Anderson puts away his worries for the night. He is irrepressible by nature and has convinced himself that, somehow, the books will balance and everything will once more be alright. ‘I'm throwing a party in Zeno and Rosetta's honour,' he announces through a megaphone. ‘Everyone, follow me down to the beach.'

At midnight, beneath a star-filled obsidian sky, the showman in his grey frock coat rises unsteadily to his feet. ‘A speech!' the cry goes up. Everybody waits. Anderson is used to occupying centre stage and doesn't disappoint. The great man is eloquent,
his voice magnificent and soaring. Yet, as the showman's address draws to a close, he begins to falter. Finally, a catch in his throat, he can manage only a single, quiet word, ‘Farewell.'

There is a moment's silence, then Anderson appears to rally. He lifts his head, opens his arms wide and, with a sudden joyful return of his familiar verve and energy, cries out, ‘A toast to our guests of honour!

‘To a glorious future,' he says expansively, ‘for two of the most extraordinary people I have ever met. Ladies and gentlemen, would you be so kind as to raise your glasses to our divine Rosetta and the incomparable Zeno the Magnificent!'

Chilled champagne is poured from magnums and a cake in the shape of a dragon appears, iced a brilliant red. As a full, lantern-like moon rises over Tamarama Bay, that strange, eccentric band of souls who work at Wonderland laugh and talk long into the night.

There are jokes, more toasts and promises of undying friendship given and received from Alphonse the High Flyer, the acrobatic duo Wilson and Morris, the three professors, The Tattooed Songstress, mighty Ben Hur the strongman, the reckless Signor Chefalo and Mexican Jack the Card King. Then two handsome Spaniards, better known as The Sharpshooters Carlos and José, produce guitars and start strumming earthy Catalonian melodies.

One of the Eight Sunbeams begins beating on a drum and Signorina Chefalo, her hips and arms swaying, takes up a tambourine. Next Anderson ignites a towering bonfire with the end of his cigar. Orange flames leap and flare; Zeno tears off his shirt, then pulls Rosetta to his side. Her dress is crimson, his skin is golden in the light. As they begin to dance, twisting and turning, twirling and spinning, they seem like spirits conjured by the fire.

 

It is nearly dawn when the revelry comes to an end. As the first pale fingers of apricot light breach Tamarama's cliffs and steal across the sand, Zeno turns to Rosetta.

‘It has all been a grand adventure, hasn't it, my darling?'

Rosetta replies that the adventure has only just begun.