Repost of a story previously withdrawn.

RETURN TO THE FOLD


By Wee Hector


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 te 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 hear 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 tie 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 be take a real interest in him.


“It’s a 1925 Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost, one of the last one’s 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. She was now a very wealthy lady. She had spent many summers in France as a child and 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 sounded 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 an enormous doorway, 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 splendour 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. 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 enormity 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 eyed. 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 place 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.


The next morning, she took him into the city and they spent the morning furnishing him with a wardrobe fit for a prince. If he was to accompany her in society, she told him, then he would have to dress to the highest standards. The morning totally wore him out and, on returning to the mansion, Aline suggested that he take a warm soothing bath to relax. He had never had a bath before, partly due to his particular condition and partly because of his lifestyle. His daily ablutions consisted generally of sponging himself down with cold or, at best, lukewarm water but the idea of immersing himself in a tub of hot water appealed to him and he instantly accepted the offer.


In his room, he unpacked the silk dressing gown the mistress had bought for him and hung it in the bathroom. There was a full length mirror on one wall and he was able to see his naked body for the first time in his life; apart from a couple of platelets which still clung on, he was entirely normal, just like other people, though his skin was incredibly smooth and totally devoid of hair. The bath itself was big, as befitted its place in the house and he realized that he would be able to stretch out in its vastness. As he lowered himself into the warm water he felt a stinging sensation like he had never felt before but it was not unpleasant. Fully immersed, he breathed in the fragrance of the bath oils and swished his hands around, producing bubbles on the surface. He felt better than he had ever felt before but it soon turned to one of discomfort and he felt as though his entire body was being weighed down. Panic began to take over and he lifted himself out and stood before the mirror. He raised his eyes from the horrific sight of his lower limbs and saw himself in the mirror. A scream of anguish erupted from his throat.


A chamber maid who was passing, fearing the worst, made her way into his room and opened the bathroom door. The cry of horror, which she emitted before fainting, was heard throughout the house and, within moments, Aline was witnessing Mathieu's distressful condition; the previous smooth, pink skin now resembled a mass of white blubber. She quickly threw the dressing gown around his shoulders and led him towards the bed before looking after the chamber maid who was now regaining her senses. A quiet word ensured that her silence would be maintained.


Instructions were given for a doctor to be called and Aline returned to the bathroom to fetch a towel to dry Mathieu and, in passing, pulled the plug to empty the bath tub. The young man was now in a state of shock and shivering, so she gently eased him under the bed clothes to keep him warm. With nothing more to be done until the doctor arrived, she returned to the bathroom with the towel only to discover the two remaining platelets lying in the now empty bathtub. Unsure of what they were but suspecting that they might have something to do with the present situation, she took out her handkerchief and wrapped them up.


The doctor, though admitting he had never witnessed such a condition before, diagnosed a keratin deficiency which meant that Mathieu's skin was not watertight and his fatty tissue had absorbed the warm water. He recommended that absorbent towels should be wrapped around him and he should recover in a couple of days. Furthermore, it would be best to avoid warm baths and use a shower instead. As he was about to leave, Aline showed him the platelets she had recovered from the bath and asked him if they could be related to the problem.


“Can you leave these with me?” he replied. “I have a friend who specializes in skin conditions and I'd like to ask his opinion on this.”


“Certainly,” she said, handing the handkerchief over to him. “ I have the feeling there is more to our young man than meets the eye.”


A couple of days later Mathieu, now fully recovered and dressed in a tuxedo, accompanied Aline to a concert at the Carnegie Hall. The new beau was now the sole subject of discussion. Everyone wanted to meet him and all were amazed at his simplicity and honesty. He was in no way a gigolo, an attention seeker, a gold-digger, and everyone wanted to know more about him. During the interval, Aline introduced him to her good friend Mrs Godbar and her daughter Amelia, an extremely beautiful but demure young woman who blushed when he spoke to her.


“Perhaps I could borrow your young man to help Amy with her French conversation?” asked Mrs Godbar. “I think she could use the help with her studies.”


“Oh, most certainly,” replied Aline,” that is if Mathieu is in agreement.”


“J'en serais ravi. I be very happy to help mademoiselle with her studies,” Mathieu agreed and as Aline had little need of his services during the afternoon it was decided that he should spend a couple of hours each day with the young woman.


The first two afternoons passed by quickly. He discovered that she was 19, was studying French and history at university and that she had an older brother, John, who a cadet at West Point. It also turned out that her French was much better than her mother imagined and merely required a little help with pronunciation. On his third afternoon, however, things took a turn in a direction he was not sure he wanted to take.


“What is 'rapport sexuel'?” she asked him. He blushed and thought for a moment.


“Is not something young lady should discuss,” he answered.


“Oh please, “ she pleaded. “I found it in a book and need to know what it means.”


“Is when man and woman want make baby. They make 'rapport sexuel'” he replied, somewhat embarrassed by the turn of the conversation.


“And what is 'bite'”, she asked. He rose to his feet, obviously upset.


“Is not word for young lady. I go now.”


She threw herself on her knees before him and looked up into his eyes.


“I'm so sorry, Mathieu. I have upset you. Please don't go.”


He looked down at her and saw a look of despair in her eyes. At least he thought it was despair, as at that moment, her right hand moved forward and began to rub his manhood through the fabric of his trousers. Totally shocked, he made to take a step backwards but her left hand shot out and gripped his testicles. He stopped and took a deep breath.


“Mademoiselle!” he cried but got no further. She carried on rubbing him and noting the reaction moved her hand and began to unbutton his trousers. Much as he hated what was happening, he had no control over what was happening and his penis soon reached full erection. He tried to think of Marie but the image of her face now eluded him as though departed with the last remaining platelets. He was now a normal man, faced with an uncomfortable situation with an extremely desirable young woman.


His clothing now free, she pulled his trousers and pants down around his knees, his manhood, now liberated from its confinement, springing to attention. As the fingers of her left hand jostled the testes contained within the glabrous scrotum, her right hand retracted the foreskin, enabling the tip of her tongue to work its way around the extremity of his penis with an expertise unbefitting her years. Her lips parted and she absorbed him into her mouth with a relentless to-and-fro motion as though trying to suck the very soul from his body. He lost all inhibition and placed his hands on her head, pulling her towards him as he thrust his hips forward, forcing himself deeper each time into her mouth. As she felt his body stiffen, she pulled her head away and stood up.


“I want you inside me, Mathieu,” she said and kissed him on the lips, thrusting her tongue between his lips to meet his own. She pulled away, breathing deeply, her lips apart and her teeth clenched, a look of desire on her face and her eyes ablaze with passion.

“Je veux que tu me baise,” she gasped, arching her back onto the table and lifting up her skirt to reveal her sex. She was wearing no underwear and had obviously planned this from the start. “Baise-moi, Mathieu,” she cried “Fuck me!”


Now reduced to the state of a wild animal, he shuffled towards her and, with no thought of foreplay, thrust himself deep within her. He held her hips, his fingers stroking the soft female flesh which he had never felt before. He moved his hands higher, under her dress, discovering the exquisite sensuality of her body under his fingertips.


“Fais-moi mal”, she cried to him. “Plus fort! Hurt me. Fuck me harder!”


He pumped harder and deeper into her, drawing gasps of pain and delight from her until, as an enraged bull, he gasped and bellowed, pumping his seed deep within her. His legs went weak and , with nowhere else to go, he dropped down to the floor and lay there gasping for breath, his heart pounding fast. She lay down beside him, kissing him and gently stroking his cheek with her elegant hand.


“Oh, Mathieu. Je t'aime,” she whispered in his ear.


That evening, Aline noticed a change in his demeanour. He seemed happier than he had been since he arrived and when she asked him about it he merely replied that he was, indeed, happy. Perhaps it might not last but, God willing, his life might get better. The words came out without thought and he had never spoken of God since his days in school. Indeed, he had always considered that he and people like him were totally ignored by God. Hadn't the people who visited the circus said that he and the other freaks were the spawn of Satan? Perhaps he had unknowingly repented for some sin he had committed and was now redeemed. Whatever it was, he could not get Amelia out of his mind.


Over the next few days they spent their conversation time in bed together, making love more gently than the first time, somewhat to Amelia's disappointment, while she suggested things they could do together, some of which Mathieu found totally abhorrent. He tried his best to inflict pain on her while she was tied up but he could not bring himself to sodomize her. Why would two human beings undertake such an unnatural activity when the whole point of making love was about producing children. Putting it down to her young age, he decided she would soon grow out of it. He arrived one afternoon to discover her in a state of extreme excitement, as her brother John was due home that evening on holiday. For some reason he could not put his finger on, she appeared somewhat sedate in bed, as though lost in thought, and he lay beside her, stroking her silky hair and caressing her immaculate body. One day, he told himself, when his future was more secure, he would ask her to marry him and they would have children, free from any fears of producing monstrosities.


He walked home; 'home' he thought to himself, how extraordinary that, in the space of a few days, he now considered that enormous and opulent mansion to be his 'home'. On arrival, he discovered that Aline was feeling unwell, nothing very serious, she told him, just a head cold. She went to bed early and left him to dine alone, leaving him with a sense of frustration as he wanted to give her the good news about his love for Amelia. The next morning he woke to discover that the doctor had been called as Aline's condition had worsened during the night. Coming face to face with the doctor he asked for news about her condition, only to be informed that she was merely suffering from influenza and she would be as right as rain within a few days.


“However, “ began the doctor, “ I'm glad I have met you, eh...”


“Mathieu, monsieur le docteur.”


“...Mathieu, I've had a reply from my colleague about your condition and he would like to meet you. Would it be convenient if we visited you tomorrow? Shall we say at 10 am?”


“Certainly, monsieur. I await your visit.”


As it was now obvious that madame would not be taking him off to the city that morning, he decided to head off early to visit his darling Amelia and make the acquaintance of her brother John. He was shown into the house and met Mrs Godbar who was apparently on her way out.


“Mathieu, darling. I'm so glad to see you. Amelia never stops talking about you. I seems she is coming on in leaps and bounds with your training. I believe she is upstairs in her room with John. They will be delighted to see you. Must dash!”


She strode out of the front door, leaving Mathieu speechless, as he had understood little of what she had said but he understood that Amelia was in her room. He made his way upstairs and was about to knock on her bedroom door when he heard a cry from an adjoining room. He tiptoed towards the door and listened attentively. Beyond any doubt, it was her voice and the gasps, groans and shouts precluded any possibility that she was holding a normal conversation, while repetitive cries of her brother's name made it clear that they were indulging in abnormal activity between two siblings. His heart told him that he should throw open the door and confront the two of them, no matter what scene of iniquity he might discover, but his head took control and his self-esteem refused to permit himself to be the target of their attacks; he was on foreign ground, the language was not his own and he would find it hard to defend his position, correct though it may be. Worse still might be any attempt by Amelia to justify what was happening and her trying to win back his confidence. In an instant, all of his dreams of happiness had been extinguished and he preferred to abandon Amelia to the past. He walked away from the door, trying to shut out the continuing sounds of ecstasy emerging from the room, and slowly made his way back to the house, a desolate journey in stark contrast to that which he had made less than 24 hours previously.


At lunch, he had little appetite for food but drank a bottle of wine, which did little to raise his spirits and, instead, left a dark cloud of misery hanging over his head. He was totally unprepared for what had just happened and the only person who could help him in his present situation was unwell. He found himself thinking about Marie once again but he could not focus on her face and she seemed no more real than a hairy dog he might have stroked in time of depression. A further bottle of wine consumed that evening ensured that he required the help of the butler to make his way to his room and into bed. Whatever he dreamed about that night disappeared from his mind as soon as he opened his eyes and he woke up the next morning to his first, and monumental, hangover. He would gladly have spent the rest of the bay in bed but he was reminded that the doctors would be arriving at 10 and so he made an effort to appear respectable, despite the continual pounding in his head.


He was shown along to Aline's room and was delighted to discover that she was feeling somewhat better than the day before. Dr Green, whom he had met before, was present with his colleague whom he introduced as Dr Cummings. To simplify linguistic matters, Aline suggested that she act as translator. Cummings began by explaining that he had had Green's description of the situation and had inspected the platelets which Aline had recovered and, though initially reticent, Mathieu finally gave them the details of his life. Cummings then exposed the details of the disease, which was untreatable, and explained that Mathieu seemed to suffer from an extreme and very rare form of it. What was to follow was not good news.


Cases of milder forms had disappeared in sufferers but this was not due to some miracle cure or remedy but rather the interaction of another disease. Ichthyosis, or fish skin, could go into remission due to the effects of certain types of malignant cancer which severely reduced the production of keratin in the body. Aline gasped in shock when she heard the word, though Mathieu remained unmoved, unaware of what it meant.


“To put it mildly, Mathieu,” Cummings continued, “we want you to go into hospital for medical tests.”


He spent the next few days undergoing tests during which time it was diagnosed that he was suffering from a tumour on one of his kidneys. Amelia tried to see him but was extremely upset when he refused her visit. The prognosis was extremely favourable and he should make a total recovery but a doubt remained in Aline's mind.


“You did say his condition had gone into remission?” she asked Cummings on the phone. “Does that mean that when the cancer is gone there is a chance his condition may return?”


“I'm afraid it is highly likely it will,” he replied.


Mathieu returned to the mansion and spent long days enjoying the gardens? Aline no longer took him out in public to be inflicted with the prejudices of a social class which she found increasingly unsavoury. Soon it became evident that his skin was beginning to harden and crackle and he became a virtual prisoner, secluded in his room. Aline had a table installed so they could continue to eat together but logic told her that this was not a situation which could continue indefinitely. She made a number of phone calls, setting the wheels of a plan in motion and it was one evening that she sat opposite Mathieu, now fully returned to his Snake Boy appearance, and announced to him that she had discovered that the Circus Fantasia would soon be performing just a relatively short distance away. She had been in contact with the owner and he was willing to take Mathieu back.


He broke down and cried like a baby at the news, though whether it was from joy or despair he could not tell. He loved Aline; he had never met anyone so generous and caring in his entire life and the idea of leaving her made him sad but he knew that this place was not for him. He would always be an outcast in the normal world. His place was with the freaks, the monsters, the abominations of this world. Perhaps this had been a dream after all and he would wake up to find himself back in his old camp bed in the tent.


His last week was spent visiting the sights of the region. People looked at the strange character dressed in a suit, wearing gloves and a balaclava, but quickly averted their eyes as the woman who accompanied him was evidently a person of social standing and importance. He could remember no time when he had ever been happier, his moments with Amelia having been confined to the depths of oblivion, but all too soon the time to leave arrived. As though to cast off a shedded skin, he left behind his fine wardrobe of clothes and entered the car carrying only his battered suitcase. During the trip Aline never took her eyes off him.


“Don't you find me hideous?” he asked, “Everyone else does.”


“Why would I do that? No matter what you are on the outside, you are a good person inside. You are going back to people who love you and you will find your own type of happiness. Look at me; I am rich, I have a big house, a beautiful car and yet I am lonely. I despise all the people who surround me. I don't belong there any more than you do. I almost wish I could throw it all away and find a circus to take me in.”


As the car pulled up at the park where the tents were set up, she gave him a hug.


“If you ever need any help, you know where to find me,” she said, handing him an envelop stuffed full of bank notes.


“Merci, Madame,” he replied.


“No, not madame. Please call me Aline, just this once.”


“Merci, Aline,” he said. She planted a kiss on his forehead and tears came to both of them as he opened the door and stepped outside to discover Marie, followed by the rest of the company, forewarned of his return, running towards him. He took her in his arms and spun her around, kissing her passionately before accepting the hugs and welcomes of all the others. Aline looked on for some moments, wiping tears of joy and sadness from her eyes. Mathieu was now back with his own, the prodigal son returned to the family fold and it was with this comforting thought in her mind that she instructed the chauffeur to drive her home.

 

In this season of goodwill, it seems that we are all being dragged from the grave.

 

Very well thought out story. Truly an emotional roller coaster.