The lonely clown

The lonely clown

On an early spring evening it was a good crowd for Thursday. I had positioned myself outside the station. It was late afternoon. I was entertaining the people coming from work. They needed a few minutes of amusement to decompress themselves before opening their front doors and being faced with all the emotional baggage of family life. Through my face mask I could see the people were enjoying the show. I saw numerous people throwing notes and coins into my bowler hat. My act today was the result of three years of working the streets in the fine spring and summer weathers; my secret was finding the right tone of voice, a captivating text, the right emplacement. I knew by experience getting all three right meant my bowler hat would be satisfied. About eighteen months ago I felt my act needed more depth, more excitement so I introduced a puppet character I called Charlie. I was the clown, he was my youthful help mate. I learnt how to be a ventriloquist. Not such a difficult task as my face movement, lips and lower chin were completely covered by a mask. Charlie was characterized as a young boy dressed in jeans and a t-shirt; he had ginger hair and freckles on the nose. He had a pale skin face with large blue eyes. I gave him a slight cockney accent.

This evening's act consisted of two parts of about half an hour with a five minute interval. The first part was a humorous sketch with me talking to Charlie, the second part was the story. The act required Charlie to end the show reciting a few lines of sad verse. The act generally moved the audience and resulted in excellent contributions. I usually waited for about ten minutes to allow the crowd to disperse, before I put Charlie into his case and covered myself with a large overcoat to disguise my clown’s costume..

The evening crowd would have been very surprised to see me enter a large house surrounded by pristine lawns in an area of the town known for its desirable residential properties. As I entered I heard my mother call out.

“Ah! Henry, you are back. Dearest, did you have a good afternoon?”

As I mounted the stairs to go to my room I called back in answer to her question.

“Yes, it was a very good Thursday’s evening. I am just going to my room to change.”

I went into the bathroom and carefully removed my all-encompassing face mask. On the back wall of the bathroom, hanging in regimental formation was a selection of face masks. I carefully selected one and turned back to the mirror. The skin on my face, chin, ears and upper neck skin had been completely destroyed. The deteriorated was to such an extent leaving a crude and revolting semblance of a face. It was horrifying to look upon. I quickly strapped on the face mask I had selected.

I had just left the university with a degree in English, Drama and Creative studies. I was at home deciding what I was going to do. I remember it was a particularly hot morning. I woke up with my face covered in sweat. I jumped out of bed and went straight to the bathroom to look in the mirror. To my horror I found my facial skin, nose, ears, forehead, and upper neck had started to disintegrate into mussy substance. I fell back screaming for my mother. She rushed into the bathroom only to stop dead in her tracks.

“Oh! My God what have you done?”

“Mother, I woke up like this.”

“ Quick, I will call the doctor. Go down stairs and show your father.”

This resulted in a year of tests, injections, and being sent to Switzerland for four months. The outcome of numerous specialists and doctors was that my facial skin slowly stabilized leaving a hideously damaged visage. It meant being condemned to always wearing a face mask. I remember sitting alone in my room dejected, depressed and unwanted. I suspected my parents felt deeply disappointed that their only son would spend the rest of his life hidden behind a mask. My father owned the two theaters and the four cinemas in the town. Family talk generally revolved around entertainment. I sat there wondering what I was going to do. I decided to go and talk to my father.

His first questions were where do you think your talent lies? Where do you think you would be most happy?

Without a second thought I said my passion and interest was in the entertainment sector. As my father and I talked it dawned on me that for a period I should try being a busker. It would allow me to create a character and have a stage all to myself, even though it was only the street. At first my father was a little reticent as I was known in the town. This was true but since my misfortune, in agreement with me, the family had put out a story that I had been offered a job in America. My mother thought busking was a good idea to get me out of the house and force me to use my creative abilities. I would be a clown. After a serious discussion both parents approved and mother agreed to design a costume. She thought I would look good in a white jumpsuit with a white face mask. The costume had three large red pom poms hiding the buttons. Around the neck was a large ruffle of white silk trimmed in red. The mask was white with the eyes enlarged by black circles. The mouth hole had turned down red lips denoting a feeling of sadness. On the top of my head I wore a small bowler position at a slight tilt. On my feet I wore a large pair of shoes. When I looked into the mirror I saw an elegant, melancholy character.

I was now ready and decided to perform for half an hour to an hour in the park every morning and in the evening in front of the station. I left the house the back way so that I could go and come unrecognized. I would go on my bike well covered. How should I perform? Should I tell a story, maybe a little song, I had an acceptable voice, or some poetry, and occasional dance. After much soul searching I decided on a medley of singing, poetry, storytelling and dance. At first it was difficult, small crowds. I was continually adapting my act to find the ideal pitch. I found singing caught peoples’ attention, and also reciting small lines of poetry seem to have an effect on people.

Hurt and pain

Suffered in silence

Peace and love

Is it all the same?

My guardian angel was careless and free

She flew into the clouds and lost touch with me

In the morning session I found after a few tries children came for a story, so I developed a series about princes and princesses, about witches and evil spirits, about knights and fair ladies. Soon the park was a regular meeting place for mothers with their children. When I finally introduced Charlie the crowd became almost too large to handle. I often end my act on a note of sadness.

Who am I?

You think you know

But behind this mask There is a smile

But there is also

A lonely heart

Now we come to the present day. Thursday with a healthy crowd. About a year ago I started to make a reasonable living. There had been a couple of articles in the local paper that certainly helped.

On the Friday after the good day on Thursday I woke feeling relaxed. I arrived a little early to see that a crowd of children had already gathered impatiently for the morning story. As I took off my coat and placed my small bowler at a jaunty angle I thought it would be a good idea if Charlie gave the story. Charlie was a great favourite with the children. The story was about a prince who fell in love with a beautiful milk maiden. Charlie made it very exciting, not only with his accent, but at times he cried and laughed with such conviction the children were continually screaming and clapping.

Then I saw her, it was as if I had been struck by a bolt of lightning, it traveled down my back and completely disorientated my nervous system. I made Charlie laugh to cover up my emotional distress. I have never seen her before and in my eyes she was remarkably beautiful. She had a lush main of auburn hair with mysterious grey eyes. She was standing behind two adorable young children that were deeply immersed in the show, clapping and screaming continually. After about two seconds I recovered and allowed Charlie to continue his story. I could not keep my eyes from glancing at her. After the act I generally sat down on a park bench and allowed those children interested to come up and talk to Charlie for a few minutes. It was a relaxing time before I disappeared on my bike. Among today’s children were the two adorable children chaperoned by my heart’s desire. From the look on their faces the two children seemed highly excited by Charlie’s story. Then I heard her speak.

“You are highly talented, my sister's children loved the story. Will you come here again tomorrow?”

I was enchanted by her voice, gentle, musical, like a breeze disturbing a wheat field. I allowed Charlie in a croaked voice to say yes.

“We will see you tomorrow.” With that remark she left.

That night at dinner I told my parents I thought I had met the woman I would like to spend my life with. My mother said, “How do you know”?

“Mother when I saw her I had this extraordinary feeling in my body that sent shock waves to my nervous system. I thought my soul was finally at peace. For the first time I didn't feel alone.”

“Are you going to see her again?”

“She said she would come to the park tomorrow”.

That night I slept well, something I had not been able to achieve for many months. I arrived the next morning five minutes earlier. She was already there and introduced her sister. I felt quite weak at the knees. She appeared to be a greater attraction to me than yesterday. She asked me what the program today

“Oh! I will start with a song, followed by a story from Charlie and a few lines of poetry, finishing up with a story from me. Maybe a quick question and answer moment with Charlie.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

I started with a song. As I finished Charlie felt obliged to ask me where I had found this remarkable voice. As the extensive clapping ceased I replied. Maybe it is because there is someone special in the audience. Charlie's story followed. It was about the fairies’ cooking for a great party at the palace. The children loved Charlie telling them how they baked a cake and their troubles in the kitchen. There were many screams of laughter. I then recited a few lines of poetry.

She is with a smile, I with tears

She is vivacious, I am shy

She can love, I just worship

She is amazing, I am unknown

This was followed by my story about pirates rescuing a princess.

We then had a small question and answer moment with Charlie. I noticed the sister’s children had a few questions. Then out of the blue my heart's delight asked what the clown meant by a special person in the audience.

I replied. “I just felt a strong emotional experience that somebody was not only really enjoying themselves but feeling a deep sympathetic warmth towards the entertainer.”

As I was packing up I heard her voice. “Will you have coffee with me as I am only visiting my sister for a week”

“Yes, I will bring the coffee, let’s say this afternoon before my evening performance at the station. Can we meet at the bench just inside the park’s entrance?”

“ Sounds fine, don’t be late, otherwise I might be picked up by somebody else.” As she turned her back I heard a peel of laughter.

I arrived in the park a couple of minutes earlier with two flasks of hot coffee. She was on time looking extremely pretty in black trousers and a white shirt with a multicolored waistband. Her hair was worn loose that had the effect of highlighting her grey eyes. As she walked towards the bench I admired the control of her muscles and the elegance of her walk.

As she sat down I gave her one of the flasks.

She turned to me. “ Please take off your mask, so that I can see you.”

“I am sorry but I can't, I have an act in half an hour's time. To take it off would ruin all my makeup.”

“Well in that case I will just have to talk to the masked man. Apart from clown, do you have a name?”

“Yes, it’s Henry and yours?”

“I am Emma, are you a local boy?”

“Yes, apart from going away to the university I have lived here all my life.”

“I am up here from London visiting my older sister. I like it here, it is peaceful and it is surrounded by beautiful countryside.”

I found out she was a medical student living at home. Her father was a well-known skin specialist of India birth with her mother being English from a well-known family. I told her I was the only child and that my father was well known in the town as he was owner of the two theaters and the cinemas. I added that from these activities I inherited the love of entertaining.

“Why, with all your talent do you spend your time as a busker”.

Before answering I looked at my watch. “I must leave you in five minutes. To answer your question I will not have the time to tell you the reasons. May I suggest we meet again? Say Sunday for a picnic lunch in the park. I will provide something special. If the weather is fine we could even hire a boat and go out on the lake. Do you mind if I bring Charlie he so loves picnics.

“It sounds like a wonderful idea, let me ask my sister

That evening when I arrived home my mother told me a delightful young woman's voice announced she would love a picnic and would meet him at the park’s entrance at midday.

At twelve o’clock sharp I saw her walk into the park looking gorgeous. She was wearing a short skirt with a colorful flower pattern. Above the waist she had on a colored shirt that matched beautifully the colors on the skirt. The shirt was dominated by an open waistcoat in the same pattern as the skirt. On her waist she had a large belt made in silk of a unified color that matched the dominant color of the skirt and waistcoat. This picture of elegance and beauty was set off by a large straw hat.

“You look gorgeous”

“Thank you, I nearly did not recognize you in your sports coat. But why the mask? Are you in disguise? It is truly magnificent, may I touch it. Gosh it is made of feathers, so soft, so smooth and the coloring is exquisite.”

“Before we talk any more about why I am wearing a mask, let's first hire a boat.”

I rowed out to the other side of the lake where we found a secluded spot to have a picnic. As I laid out the picnic she was amazed by its appealing fare. As we started to eat I told her about the mask.

“Emma, for me this is going to be a very difficult conversation as for the last four years I have shunned any close contact with people, except for my immediate family. I have lived alone with myself hidden behind a mask. My only reason for living is to entertain people and see joy on their faces. When I saw your face I was instantly attached to you. I can’t thank you enough for spending this moment with me. I left university with hopes of a promising career in the entertainment world. Three weeks later I was struck with some unknown disease that completely disfigured my face and upper neck and ears. This resulted in a year of doctors, specialists, and four months in Switzerland. They stabilized the infection but could not find a cure.. So what you see before you is a wounded animal destined to live a life hidden by his mask.

Emma reached out to take my hand. I felt an electric shot down my back. It was the first time in years of my misery that a stranger had reached out to me.

“May I see the damage; don’t forget I am a third year medical student about to qualify.”

Slowly I remove the mask

“Oh! Poor Henry, your skin is seriously damaged.” Then she did an extraordinary thing. She took my head in both her hands and kissed me tenderly on the lips.

“Emma I have no words for what you have just done for me. Can we just lie together for a while wrapped in each other’s arms and let our souls touch?”

David Nutt April 2025