edge away a little—but Cleo had daisies now, and her own personal person and she wasn’t about to tear away in fright. ‘Nothing dire happened,’ he said more gently. ‘Pharaoh and Caesar are safe, no one’s hurt and this wound on Cleo’s side seems like superficial grazing. Air pellets sting, but unless they hit an eye they don’t do lasting damage. I’ll call the vet now.’
‘The cop would have shot Cleo if you hadn’t been here,’ she said, just as dully. ‘I should say thank you.’ Then she seemed to haul herself together. She leaned into Cleo’s long, soft neck and sighed. ‘I do thank you. I’m so grateful.’
‘It’s all been a bit much to take in over twenty-four hours,’ he said softly. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Me, too, for all sorts of reasons.’ She closed her eyes for a moment, leaned against the camel and let the warmth of the morning sun rest on her face. It was as if she was gathering strength, he thought, for when she opened her eyes again she looked different.
Moving on.
‘How did you know how I found Cleo?’ she demanded. ‘And how did you know her mother was killed?’
He’d known because Jenny had told him while they were waiting in the wings last night, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. He needed to make her smile.
‘Spies,’ he told her and she glanced sharply at him and saw he was trying to tease. She even managed a lopsided smile in return.
‘You have spies? Bugs on the dogs?’
‘On Tinkerbelle,’ he said promptly. ‘The tiny spot under her left ear isn’t a spot at all. If you ever use flea powder we’re doomed. It muffles reception no end.’
She grinned. ‘Whoa, what a traitor.’
But then her smile died. It was a weird time. They were standing in the schoolyard waiting for the trailer. The sun was warm on their faces, the camel was settling, the cop was on cop duty at the gate, making sure no wild animals got out or came in, and Bernie was making sure the cop’s gun stayed exactly where it belonged.
In a moment the trailer would arrive, there’d be the vet to arrange, and the circus was due to start in an hour.
In an hour this woman would be back in pink spangles, in charge of her world, but for now … she seemed bereft and alone, and once again he felt that urge to reach out and touch her.
Protect her from all-comers?
Whoa, that was a primeval urge if ever he’d felt one. This woman didn’t want a knight on a white charger even if he wanted to be one.
But …
What if he saved her whole circus?
The thought was suddenly out there, front and centre. He was wealthy by anyone’s standards. He could pay off debts, fund those dratted animal retirees, keep Sparkles going into perpetuity.
‘Don’t even think it,’ she said into the stillness.
‘Think what?’
‘What you’re thinking.’
‘What am I thinking?’
‘The same as I was thinking all night,’ she told him. ‘I’m looking at you right now and I’m seeing sympathy. I read about you on the web last night. You’re not a minion in Bond’s Bank—you are Bond’s Bank. You could fund us a thousand times over. Last night I read about you and I thought this morning I’d head back to Margot’s and throw myself on her neck, then get her to bully you into extending the loan.’
‘She might do it, too.’ He was unsure where to go with this. This wasn’t your normal business discussion. This was intensely personal—and he didn’t do personal. Or did he?
‘I know she might,’ Allie agreed. ‘So I lay in bed all night and thought about it and decided I have an ageing circus with an ancient ringmaster with a heart condition. I have Bella who’ll break her heart when she has to move away from the circus but she already struggles to get up and down the caravan steps and the caravans are ancient themselves. I have geriatric clowns. They’re my great-uncles but I can see past that. I can see they need to retire. We have a couple of great acts but most of the circus is failing. Your news is appalling, but how much more appalling if I drag this out longer? If I plead for an extension, then it’s on my head, and I can’t wear it. I … can’t.’
For a moment he thought she might cry, but she didn’t. Instead she bit her lip, then tilted her chin and met his gaze straight on.
‘The goodwill you get for selling this place, our booking rights, our name, will probably get you enough to cover our debts—apart from the animal refuge debt but I’ll worry about that later. I’ve insisted Grandpa pay into superannuation for everyone—I assume that fund’s safe?’
‘It is.’
‘Well, then,’ she said. ‘That’s that. You’ve given us two weeks and I don’t want more. You’re calling in the loan and you have every right. For the next two weeks we might need you as our ringmaster—and our friend—but after that … Thank you, Mr Bond, but that’s all.’
BY THE TIME they had Cleo back at the circus, the vet was waiting. All three camels had pellet wounds. The injuries were superficial but the vet was grim-faced.
‘It’s a wonder these guys didn’t kill themselves with fear. Someone shooting these into their flanks … I’ll talk to the police. If we could find out who, we could lay charges, but I’m betting it’ll be a bored teenager with a new air gun.’
But what about the fencing? Mathew thought. The bolts between the fencing had been cut with speed and precision. Surely a kid would simply aim an air gun through the wire?
Bolt cutters took strength. Adult strength. And someone must have aimed the gun from the direction of the truck, so the camels couldn’t retreat.
He wanted to talk to the cop, but his experience with the town’s constable wasn’t encouraging.
He glanced at Allie, who was helping wash Cleo’s side with disinfectant. He wasn’t about to share worries about thugs with bolt cutters with Allie. She had more than enough to worry about.
But assets needed to be protected. That was a rule ingrained into his banker mind since time immemorial. These were the bank’s assets, he thought, though as he looked over the wounded camels and watched the geriatric circus crew fuss around them, he thought the word asset hardly applied.
Still, he took himself out of earshot, made a couple of phone calls and felt happier. He’d have security guards here by tonight.
He turned and Allie was approaching him. She looked businesslike, and he wondered how much effort it was costing to keep herself calm in the face of the future before her. What was she proposing? To spend the rest of her life paying for the keep of geriatric animals?
‘There’ll be no camel show today,’ she said. ‘They’ll need time to settle
