Return to the Fold

The sudden, strident clang of the bell plucked Mathieu from what had been a very pleasant dream. Looking round, he found that, as usual, all the beds held one single occupant, the women having returned to their own tent before sunrise. This was for the benefit of any bible-bashing fanatics who might, by chance, pass by and witness both male and female exiting the same dormitory; the idea of gawping at these strange specimens of humanity was in no way disturbing to them, indeed it reinforced their beliefs that adherence to the letter of the scriptures was the only way to avoid the damnation and suffering that was the reward of those who led a life of sin, but the idea that these creatures, obviously sculpted in the image of Satan himself, should indulge in the act of fornication would have had them reaching for the nearest shotgun.

He rose and made his way barefoot towards the rickety table on which were now standing a handful of wash-bowls and a jug of steaming hot water. These were supplied for anyone who wished to wash or shave, though few had any need for one or the other. Passing them by, he approached what had seemingly been a hat-stand in a previous incarnation and looked into the mirror which hung from one of its pegs.

"Bordel de merde," he cursed quietly to himself and stuck out his furry, black tongue; it looked normal but his mouth tasted as if he had been drinking raw sewage from a septic pit; he must be coming down with something, though banal illnesses were not a common occurrence amongst those inflicted with the plagues of hell. The face which stared back at him was one which terrified onlookers and had instilled a sense of loathing in him when he was younger but now it left him indifferent; it was his face, for better or for worse, and no amount of disgust or regret would alter the fact that it would remain with him until the end of his days.

He was born in a small village in Lorraine in eastern France but what should have been an ordinary birth soon turned to drama. The midwife could not work out what was wrong with his hair and skin and the local doctor, who was called in, could not elucidate on the matter. He was as totally in the dark as the mother herself. To tell the truth, it was to be a number of years before medical science itself was able to give a name to the unusual condition from which he suffered. It was in the late 30s that the term Ichthyosis was coined to cover a number of skin diseases which came under the general description of 'scaly skin' or 'fish skin'. Mathieu's condition was rarer than most and led to his epithet of "Snake Boy". Though doctors could give no reason for his illness, it appeared that the keratin in his skin and hair fused to create platelets or "scales" which dropped off as the hair grew, causing natural replacement of the plates. His early life had been hell as the local children were terrified of this strange creature who sat in their class in school. Shortly, under protests from the parents of other pupils, who claimed that their offspring were suffering from nightmares, his parents were forced to keep him at home and conduct his education as best they could. As poor peasants who could barely read, this was no easy matter and they were lucky to find a goodly soul who was willing to give him a basic education.

At the age of 12, he saw an announcement for a traveling circus of freaks which was to appear in the nearby town of Sarrebourg and he ran away, leaving a barely comprehensible message for his parents, begging them not to look for him. Though the term "Circus" usually conjures up images of lions, tigers, clowns and acrobats, the "Circus Fantasia" contained none of these; it was, instead, a collection of the most hideous specimens of humanity which existed on the planet.

He was eagerly welcomed by the owner and was put into the care of Marie who was also French. As opposed to Mathieu, Marie had had an ordinary childhood. However, when she reached puberty, an overproduction of testosterone had caused a profuse growth of hair over her whole body. At first, she was able to keep it in check by shaving twice a day, but soon it became too much for her and she had left her family, friends and job in Clermont Ferrand in the Massif Central and joined the circus.

They rapidly took to one another and lay together in bed, he stroking her abundant hair and she gently rubbing his scaly skin, the Snake Boy and the Bear Girl. Everyone in the group was happy for them and it seemed that nothing could go wrong.

The circus traveled all round Europe, occasionally coming up against prejudice where locals in regions such as Transylvania considered them to be the offspring of demons, but generally they were well accepted. However, by the end of the decade it became apparent that their future was anything but secure. Hitler had invaded Poland and war was inevitable. Besides, his proclamations about the Aryan race made it plain to all that they would be the first of those to be eliminated in his desire to create the master race. The group therefore made its way to Brest and awaited a ship to take them to the New World.

Those who had imagined a crossing on a luxury Cunard ship were soon to be disillusioned. They took their place on a tramp steamer and most had to sleep on deck. The seven-day crossing was horrendous as they had to make do with storms but it cemented the relationship between Mathieu and Marie. It was during the crossing that the two made love for the first time. It wasn't the earth-shattering experience that Mathieu had been expecting but, for him, it meant that they were now a couple that nothing could ever pull apart.

They had no difficulty proving their ability to support themselves when they arrived in New York. One of the first surprises was to find that their previous horse-drawn transport was now mechanical. The early years were spent in the north-east but their first foray into the deep south found them depicted as the spawn of the Devil himself; they barely escaped with their lives.

Mathieu snapped back to reality and returned to the table where others were already seated. After breakfast they would have to take down the tents and load them into the trucks before they moved the 20 miles to the next town where they would have to set it all up again. They all hated their lives but none could see anything better on the horizon. Late that evening, Marie slipped into Mathieu's bed.

"Marie. Je veux te faire un bébé," he whispered to her as he stroked the hair on her back.

They had often discussed the possibility of having a baby together but had always held back, unsure of the legacy they would leave the child.

"Mais, Mathieu, ce n'est pas possible. Je t'ai déjà dit que je ne veux pas porter un monstre."

They made love but the passion was not there. Was this to be his destiny? He loved this woman but she was afraid to give him offspring for fear that they might be deformed.

He woke the next morning and found that the usual two scales had dropped off during the night. They would be replaced in the next 3 days. It soon became evident, however, that the platelets were not being replaced and pink skin was taking their place. At first this was no great deal but shortly bare patches began to show on his head and chin. Nothing like this had ever happened in the group and soon the owner began to get involved. He loved Mathieu, after all he was one of the stars of the circus, but without scales, he just wasn't "Snake Boy". To make matters worse, Mathieu couldn't even drive one of the trucks. The day finally arrived when the boss had to lay him off. He gave him all the spiel about him being like a son but it didn't make their parting any easier.

Mathieu spent his final night with Marie. They didn't make love but just lay together holding one another. Mathieu cried as he realised he would never again be able to caress his beloved teddy bear. Marie whispered to him all night long that she loved him, she would look after him, give him half of her food if only he would stay but he refused to be swayed by her arguments. He had now become a freak of a totally different kind and he would have to make his way alone in the big wide world.

Morning came all too soon and Mathieu made his way out of the tent for the last time to be met by the whole cast of the spectacle. All wished him well for the future as he hugged each in turn. It was a sad moment for everyone as never before had a valued member of their family left of his own volition; death was the only way out generally accorded to those of their sort. Last in the line was Marie; they kissed tenderly and held each other tightly, whispering quiet words of love to each other. When they parted, they looked longingly into each others eyes but Mathieu knew that the longer he waited, the harder it would be to leave and so he bent down to pick up the small, well-worn case which held his few personal belongings and turned to leave. As he moved away, he looked back several times to see everyone waving, with the exception of Marie, who had her face posed against the shoulder of the web-fingered girl; she had no desire to hold onto her final memory of him, firstly a young brother and then a husband, as a remote figure disappearing into the distance.

The only thing in Mathieu's favour was that he now found himself within a short train ride of New York with a couple of hundred bucks in his pocket. Unsure of his future, he took a room in the cheapest hotel he could find but, even then, the owner was reluctant to give him change for a dollar bill. He was savvy enough to realize that the money he had in his pocket would not last forever and he would have to find a job. That night was a nightmare for him, as the bedbugs seemed to find his pink skin particularly succulent.

The next day he decided that, if he wanted to find a job, he should have some decent clothes to wear and so he stopped off at a tailor's shop which was selling suits for 5 dollars. He found himself face-to-face with a small Jewish man who had left his native Strasbourg when it became apparent that war was going to break out.

"Huh, les complets à $5, c'est de la merde. Donne-moi $10 et je t'en ferai le meilleur de toute la ville, mon gamin."

He returned two days later to find that the man had been true to his word and the suit he had produced was truly wonderful. Mathieu thanked him profusely and made his way back to his dingy room to put it on. Proud as a peacock and eager to show off his new-found elegance, he made his way to Manhattan. It took him some time to comprehend that the looks he was attracting from passers-by were probably due more to his bald head than his fashion finery but he was happy to be someone, an ordinary young man, that people looked at for reasons other than his previous snake-like appearance. He was walking along Park Avenue and when he saw a car, the most beautiful he had ever seen, pull up outside the Astoria Hotel, he ran to get a closer look before it moved off and he was closely inspecting it when the chauffeur opened the door and an elegantly dressed lady made her way inside. She looked at him for a moment and smiled before the car pulled away but she shouted to the driver to stop and looked back at the youth.

"Tell me, young man, what is your name?" she cried out to him.

"Is Mathieu, madame," he replied, running towards the car.

She looked him over as he approached. His pinkish skin would have made him look like a piglet, had his face been fuller, but it did not seem out of place on his finely-shaped, almost-reptilian features. He was handsome and she, unconsciously, found herself inviting him into the car.

The two passengers now found themselves face-to-face, unsure why they were together, but wishing to know more about the other.

"Do you like my car?" she asked him, producing a smile which would melt the heart of any man.

"Is the most beautiful I ever see," he replied, totally under her spell. She was somewhat older than him but her skin was perfect and her clothes, though plain, were evidently of quality. During his time at the Circus, he had seen women whom he had found beautiful but she was obviously of a much higher class. He had often listened to the women as they spoke to their children, treating the specimens on show as lesser beings, but she appeared to take a real interest in him.

"It's a 1925 Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost, one of the last ones they made, and the most beautiful car ever built," she replied. He looked round at the luxurious interior and the smell of the leather interior just about made it through the overwhelming scent of her perfume. Not since the last time he had slept with Marie had he experienced such a moment but, now, the pungent animal spoor gave way to a fragrance which was totally feminine. He gasped for breath but this merely made things worse and he gave a deep sigh.

"Are you all right, Mathieu?" she inquired.

"I never be so happy," he replied. "Beautiful car, beautiful lady. I, Mathieu, I nothing. Not normal. You make me feel like king. I go now."

She stretched out her arm and held his shoulder as he moved his hand towards the handle.

"Tell me about yourself," she told him, stroking his hairless head.

"I nobody," he answered. "I French, no work, nobody. I freak, but no more. No more work."

"Would you like to work for me, Mathieu?," she asked.

"Know nothing. Me freak," he replied but she pulled his head towards her and kissed his forehead.

"You shall be my escort from now on," she told him.

She told the driver to continue and the car set off, taking them out of the city. During the drive she told him a little about herself. Her maternal grandfather had been part of the Schneider family which had set up an engineering empire in Le Creusot in Burgundy in France. He had emigrated to the United States and had set up a factory in Pittsburgh, becoming very rich in the process. Now a very wealthy lady and, having spent many summers in France as a child, it was because of her love of that country that she took an interest in the young Frenchman seated beside her. She asked him to tell her a bit about himself, talking to him in his native language, but she saw that he was extremely reticent about it. Never mind, she thought to herself, he will speak when he is ready.

She had married young and had a son, now in his 20s. It didn't take long to find out that her husband had married her for her money rather than her feminine charms and she had quickly divorced him, paying him handsomely to stay out of her life and her son's. It soon became apparent that the males in her social circle were out for one thing only and she had wisely left them at arm's length. Her social entourage now consisted entirely of women and married couples and, though her heart told her that she ought to seek companionship, her head told her to leave matters of the heart well alone.

They left the city and the 20 mile drive brought them to the village of Brookville where Mathieu discovered a host of mansions, each trying to outdo the other in its immensity and splendour. Aline, for such was her name, pointed out the various properties, the names of whose owners sounding extremely impressive, though they meant nothing to him. Eventually the car turned into a driveway which meandered through luscious gardens and finally pulled up before a palatial building, less grandiose than some Mathieu had seen from a distance but worthy, in his eyes, of royalty.

Stepping out of the car, Aline steered him up a flight of granite steps, at the top of which stood a pair of enormous doors, surrounded by marble columns, leading to a gargantuan hallway. Mathieu's head and eyes darted from side to side, trying to take in all the luxury of the surroundings before his brain told him to wake up, only to find himself lying in his flea-ridden bed, but the illusion carried on. They carried on into a salon full off elegant furniture and she invited him to sit, before ringing for a maid to bring them refreshments.

"Welcome to your new home. That is if you want it to be," she said to him.

He looked around and tears came to his eyes. There was a lump in his throat and he was unable to say what he wished, though it was probably for the better. The maid returned with tea, biscuits and cake and Aline sat in silence as he downed the food. She was totally intrigued by this young man; a freak, he had said, and yet there seemed nothing odd about him despite his poverty and insecurity. His head might be bald but this could easily be explained away by a simple illness like alopecia. Why would he call himself a freak?

Later, she took him up the winding staircase and led him to a room.

"This is your bedroom, Mathieu. Later, the car will take you back to your hotel to pick up your luggage," she said and left him alone to take in the immensity of it.

It really was enormous in his eyes, far bigger than the tent he shared with the other men in the circus. He walked slowly towards the large bed and flopped back onto it; it was so soft and, rolling over, he breathed in the smell of the blankets. He couldn't put a name to it but it suggested cleanliness. That was it; it smelled clean.

He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. Visions of his past flashed through his brain but, most of all, Marie's face came back to haunt him. He loved her but he knew she was now gone forever. Only his grip on the covers kept him in touch with reality. He was suddenly drawn out of his stupor by a knock on the door and he rose to discover a maid who informed him that the car was waiting to take him into the city to recover his affairs.

They drove back into the city, people turning their head to watch them drive past. For the first time in his life, Mathieu found himself being watched, not because he was a freak but because his means of transport represented the pinnacle of wealth and success. As the limo approached its destination he discovered a sense of self-respect he had never felt before and asked the chauffeur to stop a couple of blocks from the tawdry street in which was situated his rundown home. Walking slowly away, he turned a corner and broke into a run, fearful that he might return to find the car gone and his hopes for the future destroyed. He quickly ascended to his room and threw his few possessions into his battered case and went to tell the owner that he was leaving. The latter, having been paid a week's rent in advance, was in no way sorry to see him go; cheap rooms were in great demand and he would have no difficulty in finding a new tenant.

He quickly left the hotel and made his way back towards the avenue where the Rolls was, hopefully, still waiting for him. His mind debated whether he should spend some of his funds on a new case, as he had no desire to expose his relative poverty to the servants at the mansion, but his impatience to find himself ensconced once more in the luxury of the limousine took control and he made his way quickly back, breathing a sigh of relief when he turned the corner and saw the car still parked. Declining the driver's offer to place the case in the trunk, he took his seat in the rear of the vehicle and returned to his dream world.

As the car pulled up before the front door of the house, he thanked the driver and, without waiting, opened the door and ran up the steps, the case hugged against his chest to try to hide its condition from any staff he might meet, making his way up to his own private paradise.

Later that evening, he went down to the magnificent dining room to eat dinner alone with Aline. She had cancelled an invitation to a dinner party given by some friends as she wished to remain with her guest on his first evening in his unfamiliar surroundings. Unsure of his tastes in food, she had asked the chef to prepare a simple meal consisting of 'crudités', 'quiche lorraine' and 'truite meunière' followed by a raspberry sorbet, washed down with an Alsace Gewürztraminer. The choice was perfect and brought back memories to him of his mother's simple but tasteful peasant food. Unaccustomed as he was to wine, he soon found himself yawning and made his way up to bed.