Read Online The Vanishing Act by Mette Jakobsen - Free Book Online Page B

branches heavy with snow. Two rabbits crossed the path, but No Name didn’t have time for them. He kept getting up on his hind legs, waving his front paws at the falling snow.
    No Name was good at tricks—so good that Boxman was sure that he had performed before coming to the island. Boxman had written a letter to his old circus in Berlin, asking if they knew a dog with brown eyes and marvellous circus skills.
    ‘It’s very far to Berlin,’ I said sceptically.
    ‘Crazier things have happened,’ said Boxman. ‘No Name is a really special dog.’
    Boxman asked me to do a drawing of No Name to accompany his letter and I drew him, daringly jumping through a burning hoop. It was the best picture I had ever done, and I wrote my name in the corner with a note politely asking the circus to return it.
    No Name liked a lot of things. But he was especially fond of church on Sundays. He would bark when I brought him back, as if he were telling Boxman about all the exciting things that Priest had said.
    Sometimes I wanted to tell Boxman about Priest’s sermon too. Boxman liked everything to do with space. He had to keep up with all the new information, he said, in case Cosmina decided to come back from the Himalayas.
    ‘When you love someone,’ he said, ‘it’s important to be able to talk to her.’
    One day, while Boxman was preparing tea in the corner, I read him the notes I had taken during the sermon, ‘God made two good lights. The great light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern thenight. He also made the stars.’
    Boxman liked that, and wanted to know if Priest had said anything else about the stars. I shook my head and asked instead why he never came to church. Boxman answered that Priest’s origami reminded him of Cosmina, and that sitting in church made him sad. She too had fidgety hands, he explained, and was always pulling apart pieces of paper.
    ‘Bits and pieces would whirl around the house,’ he said. ‘Like snow and hail and rain. Later we would find paper in our tea, in the paint and in the honey.’
    No Name took off when we got closer to the barn. He sprinted down the path and by the time I arrived he was already sitting next to Boxman, greeting me with a happy bark, as if he was surprised and delighted that I had come to visit.
    Boxman was sandpapering the lid of a dark blue box, and the barn smelled deliciously of sawdust and paint. On the table sat the open box. A naked woman with large breasts was painted along the side. She had a whip in her mouth and smiled in a sort of uncomfortable way. ‘La Luna’ was written in large curly letters just above her breasts.
    ‘Is that La Luna?’ I asked, feeling the dry paint with my fingertips.
    Boxman nodded, drawing his cape tighter against the cold.
    ‘She looks brave.’
    Boxman stepped back and looked at La Luna. ‘She is not afraid of anything,’ he said. ‘You could take her to the darkest room at the end of the world and she still wouldn’t be scared.’
    Then Boxman asked me if I wanted to star in a trick. I nodded, but then felt nervous. I wasn’t brave like La Luna.
    ‘Take off your shoes,’ he said. ‘And lie still.’
    I climbed into La Luna’s box, notebook in hand.
    ‘Sawing a woman in half is no funny business.’ He paused at the lid. ‘Do you need the notebook?’ he asked.
    I nodded.
    ‘Right,’ he said, ‘let’s get started.’ Boxman took a deep breath, then called out in his circus voice, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen! You are about to see a trick never before accomplished quite like this. Be prepared, be warned, watch every step, this is real, this is frightening, this is,’ he declared, ‘Minou, the Fearless!’
    Boxman closed the lid with a flourish and Icould no longer hear his voice. Darkness took over and I thought of God creating the world and the thin layer covering the deep. I held my breath and tried to act like Minou the Fearless, but felt instead that I was sinking deeper and deeper into a dark