And This One's For You (Moulin Rouge)

3. Journey

I get on the boat that sails directly to a French port. It is packed with people. I try searching for a seat so that I can rest my sore, achy feet after a few hours of walking to the London docks. My body aches all over fro carrying my heavy luggage. I see that there are no empty seats available for me, so begin to lean against one of the poles and I close my eyes to try and rest for a few moments. 

A older gentleman rises from his seat and approaches me, tapping me on the shoulder to wake me up. 

"You can have my seat" the older gentleman offers his seat to me. 

"It is ok, I am fine standing here. Thank you for the kind offer though." I say appreciatively. The man shakes his head at he. 

"No, I insist, you look tired. Please, I have been sitting down for a while, take me seat." I look at the man, knowing he would not back down so I move closer to his seat, putting my bags down beside my feet and sitting down. The relief sitting down brings me feels amazing. I look up at the older man, he is quite plump and wears a red jacket, he has messy ginger hair with a small beard and a ginger moustache that curves outwards and stops at a point. He has a gentle face amongst all the chaos of his hair and his clothes. I can tell that he once lived a very lavish lifestyle. 

"Thank you, I really do appreciate it." I say with gratitude. He gives me a warm and friendly smile. 

"Have you ever been to France miss?" he asks me, trying to make conversation between us. 

"I have never been before. I live in London and have remained in the same house where I was born. But I now want to change, I'm seeking the Montmartre district. I am looking for the Moulin Rouge. I heard about it from a friend a few years back" I begin explained to the gentlemen. He looks away, breaking our eye contact and shifting sightly looking uncomfortable. "Have you heard of it before?" I ask him. 

He hesitates before taking a deep breathe, "I knew about it many years ago. I visited it myself. Such a wonderful place with wonderful people." I looked up at the gentleman in amazement and awe. 

"Wow! Somebody in my town had moved from France, from the Moulin Rouge, and began creating her own Moulin Rouge nearby by home. I joined her and few other women and became a London courtesan. But it is such a small business, and I want to grow myself. I come from a very poor background so there isn't much for me out there, but I believe the Moulin Rouge will give me a future."

"I hope it all works out for you miss." 

"I really hope so too." I pause. "I didn't get your name, that is so rude of me I apologise." I say to the gentleman, "I am Violet." I hold my hand out to him, waiting for him to shake my hand. 

"I am Harold." he says simply, taking my hand and planting a small kiss on my knuckles with great care. "It is a pleasure to meet you"

"Do you know who owns the Moulin Rouge? I need to know who to seek once I arrive there," I ask the kind Harold. 

"I think I remember his name was Harold Zidler. But I haven't been there for so long that I don't know if it has changed or if he still owns it." I hear an element of sadness in his voice. Perhaps he has meant to go back and feels guilty that he hasn't visited his old friends for a long time. 

The rest of the journey, myself and the gentleman continue to talk. He shares his experiences working at the Moulin Rouge, what everyone was like, who he can remember working there. I ask him about the music and the dances and in return I share my experiences as a courtesan in London. I talk about how I can sew my own dresses and how I am a very independent woman. He gives me many tips of what to do and not to do as a courtesan for the Moulin Rouge. Everything he tells me I find of such help to me, I now feel less nervous to arrive at such an important place.