Just a Travelling Girl

by Chrissie Wren

  “Come on, lad,” called one of the policemen, “If you want to help.” He put his arm round Dan’s shoulder. “We did find something interesting.” He pointed to a piece of denim stuck on a branch.

  “Oh no,” cried Dan, “That means she has fallen!”

  “Not necessarily,” he replied, “There are signs of a struggle on the top of the cliff and something heavy being dragged onto the grass. The dogs have picked up a scent. It seems she went this way.”

  Dan stood gazing out to sea. He stared, mesmerised by a seagull floating, diving, then soaring into the sky. He knew Jenny was all right. He could feel she was alive―alive, and free just like the gull.

  “Come on now, Dan,” the constable called, interrupting Dan’s train of thought, “We’re going to work our way across there, beyond the gorse bushes, towards the gypsy camp.”

  Jenny’s dreams were interrupted by the sound of neighing horses, and the chopping and splitting of wood to make the first fires of the day. The sun was trying to peep through a gap in the curtains. She yawned and glanced at her watch; it was only6:30 am. Groaning, she snuggled back down under the blankets.

  “Come on, sleepy head, everyone else is up; it will soon be time for breakfast.”

  “It’s very early,” she said to the head that popped over the half door. She swung her legs over the side of the bunk and noticed that the little latticed doors underneath her were open.

  “It’s not early,” said Kate, “What time are you used to getting up?” Jenny’s thoughts raced back to the matron saying, “I’ll not call you again, Jenny, it’s 8:30 and you will miss the school bus if you don’t hurry.”

  “Usually, about 7:30,” said Jenny with her fingers crossed behind her back, “Are my jeans dry?”

  “Not quite,” said Kate, “But there are some clothes in the drawer that should fit you.”

  Jenny climbed sleepily from her bunk and opened the drawer; her face fell as she looked at the clothes: flowered elasticised waist skirts and woollen jumpers.

  “I can’t wear these,” she said ungratefully, “Haven’t you got any track suit bottoms or sweatshirts?”

  “Women and girls don’t wear trousers,” replied Kate, “When you are dressed, come and join us outside.” She disappeared down the steps.

  “B-But―” Jenny started to protest but realised she could not follow Kate outside without getting dressed; she would have to put the hideous clothes on.

  The camp fire was lit in the centre of the caravan ring. A large black cauldron was hanging over it on an iron tripod. A young girl was ladling out something into the waiting bowls. Sam passed one to Jenny with a spoon.

  “Look after your bowl,” he said, “And only use it for food.” Jenny was puzzled; what else would she use it for, she thought.

  “Come and sit by me,” said Kate, patting a little wooden stool by the side of her, “I think we ought to have a chat.”

  Here it comes, thought Jenny; where do I come from? What was I doing on the cliff path in the dark? Desperately, she tried to think of a story. She took a spoonful of what she thought was porridge―it was, and it was awful.

  “Have you got any sugar?” Jenny asked innocently.

  She could almost feel the silence; everyone was looking at her.

  “D…did I say something wrong?”

  “Listen, Jenny,” said Kate firmly, “You should be grateful for the food you are given. Children do not question or ask for anything else.”

  “But, I don’t like porridge,” replied Jenny sulkily.

  Sam stood up, his face was red and angry. Jenny felt frightened. One little girl cried and ran behind her mother, even the sun hid behind a cloud.

  “She’ll bring a curse on us now,” a woman wailed.

  Jenny felt very uncomfortable and felt like running, but she couldn’t move. Suddenly, Peter broke the silence and came to her rescue.

  “Calm down, everyone,” he said, “She’s not one of us. The rules don’t apply to outsiders. We haven’t refused food, have we?” The camp murmured in agreement and people started to eat again.

  Peter grabbed Jenny’s arm and roughly dragged her behind the caravan.

  “If you are going to stay with us,” he said angrily, “You will have to learn to behave in the proper manner. Forget the rules you have lived by up to now, although, I suspect you broke them otherwise you wouldn’t be here, you have no choice but to live by ours.”

  “Let me go, you have no right to talk to me like this!” shouted Jenny. She tried to pull away but he held her tighter. Then, without warning, he let her go. She was off-balance and went sprawling on to the wet dew-covered grass. Peter laughed and held out his hand to help her up, but she did not take it and his face clouded over again.

  “As my mother said,” he glowered, “You eat what you are given, there will be times when we don’t have any food, so we don’t turn it down when we have some. We rarely have money to go into shops and buy it, and a lot of time, work and effort goes in to every meal. You are part of my family now, so you will do as you are told. You will bring the whole family into disgrace if you do something wrong.”

  "If," he added sarcastically, “You do something good, the whole family will be praised, do you understand?”

  “Y-yes, I think so,” said Jenny, too shaken to disagree.

  “Now the bowls,” he said, looking at Jenny. She had still managed to keep hold of it and the stodgy porridge was still intact.

  “There is one for washing and one for food, keep them separate. It’s a great sin to eat out of a washing bowl and you will be labelled unclean if you do.”

  Jenny and Pete returned to the others, and she dutifully finished her porridge. A large cauldron of steaming hot water was now hanging over the fire and there was a young girl of about eight years who was washing the bowls. The gypsies handed them to her., Jenny joined the end of the queue, carefully watching exactly what the others were doing; she didn’t want to make any more mistakes.

  It suddenly occurred to her as she wriggled uncomfortably that there were not any toilets; she looked around to see if Kate was nearby but the only person she recognised was Peter and she didn’t want to ask him.

  “Wh-where is the toilet?” she asked, blushing. Peter gave her a wry smile.

  “Wait here,” he soon returned with a small spade and with a wave of his arm, he pointed, “Twenty paces from the camp. I’ll leave you to it.”

  Jenny walked off feeling very embarrassed, but nobody took any notice of her.

  When she came back into the camp, she found Peter with an armful of driftwood talking to one of the elders.

  “Jenny,” he said, “There are police and dogs coming this way. Are they looking for you?”

  “Y-yes, I expect so,” she stammered.

  “What do you want to do? Go back with them or stay here?”

  Jenny was surprised at the question; she didn’t think Peter would want her to stay after the way he had spoken to her earlier.

  Then she remembered, he had said she was part of his family. These strange people had accepted her as no one else had. They had nothing to gain, unlike foster parents, who Jenny was convinced only looked after children for the money, or the children’s home, who were obliged by law to look after her. Even though she had already made mistakes and caused trouble, they were still willing to stand by her.

  “I would like to stay,” she replied, “If you will let me.”

  Peter smiled and Jenny felt a churning in her stomach; never had she met anyone like him who could make her so angry one minute and make her feel like she would die for him the next.

  The dogs started barking, alerted by the strangers creeping towards the camp. “Quick, Pete,” said Sam, “Take her to Rebecca’s van, hide her.”

  Jenny followed Peter to the red and gold caravan that stood apart from the rest. Respectfully, he knocked on the door. It opened and an old woman with piercing green eyes appeared. Without speaking a word, she beckoned them in. Pete lifted t
he rug and removed four planks to reveal a false floor.

  “Get in and keep quiet,” he said. Jenny gasped; she had never liked small spaces.

  “Do I have to? It looks like a grave, couldn’t I sit here behind this curtain?” she pleaded.

  “No one but myself sits there,” said Rebecca with a hint of menace in her voice. Jenny noticed the round table with the crystal ball sat in the middle of it.

  As she looked more closely at the old woman, something stirred inside Jenny that she had seen this woman before.

  There was a commotion outside; angry voices, horses neighing, and dogs barking. “Quick,” said Pete urgently, “Get in.”

  Jenny obediently slipped into the hole; she laid down on her back with her arms folded across her chest. The boards and carpet enclosed her in darkness. Rebecca sprinkled some pepper onto the carpet to put the dogs off the scent.

  “Now off you go, Peter,” she said in her croaky voice, “Go quiet our lurchers that should put the police dogs off coming near you.” Pete smiled; She really was a crafty old woman, he thought to himself, she has probably hidden hundreds of people in her van so she should know what she was doing.

  “We haven’t seen anyone,” said Sam.

  “No, of course you haven’t,” replied the policeman sarcastically, “Do you mind if we search the camp?”

  Sam shrugged his shoulders, “You will anyway.” He lit his pipe and sat down on the steps of his van.

  The women and children huddled together, the men leaned, and watched as their homes were invaded. Disappointed at not being able to find any trace of Jenny, the constable in charge asked if Sam had permission to camp here. Sam shook his head. “We come here every year and have not had any complaints.”

  “Well, the law says no permit, no camping,” said the policeman, pleased with himself, “I want you gone from here in 24 hours.” Sam knew it would do no good to argue and watched despondently as the police strutted out of the camp.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Jenny when she heard what had happened, “It’s all my fault. I didn’t want to get you into trouble with the police.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Sam, “We’re used to being moved on.”

  “But where will you go?” she asked

  “That is not your concern,” he replied, not unkindly.

  “What is all this about you being a runaway?” said a loud rough voice.

  The gypsies gathered round and Jenny began to feel scared; it felt as if she was on trial. “I had to run away,” she said, “Matron made me do all the work in the children’s home, no one cared about me, she was so strict, I never had any fun.”

  Jenny felt ashamed and didn’t want to tell them her mother had abandoned her in favour of her latest boyfriend. The gypsies listened in silence. She expected them to be sympathetic, but they said nothing.

  “You can stay with us,” said Sam, “Until you feel able to return.”

  “I’ll never go back,” said Jenny. Sam emptied his pipe by knocking it on the wooden steps.

  “Well, we’ll see,” he said thoughtfully, “We’ll see.”

  “She will take us all back.” The gypsies turned towards the sound of the voice; it was Rebecca the fortune teller, “She is our destiny.”

  “What does she mean?” asked Jenny.

  “I don’t know,” said Kate, “But she’s never wrong. You were obviously sent to us for a reason.”

  “But nobody sent me,” said Jenny, “You found me, remember?”

  Kate smiled, “Don’t worry about it, Jenny, everything will become clear in time.”

  “Come on,” said Sam, “We have work to do if we are to move on in 24 hours.”

  “Children,” he shouted, “Go down to the beach and pick up all the driftwood you can find. Pete, take Jenny and get and get the horses.”

  “Do you know anything about horses, Jenny?” asked Pete doubtfully.

  “Only that I love them,” she replied, “I used to sneak down to the local riding school when I could and watch them. Sometimes, I got on and rode bareback but they just used to go where they liked. I didn’t have a rope or anything to steer them with. There was one pony though,” she continued wistfully, “A chestnut mare. I found, if I leaned to the right or left, she would go in that direction, especially if I leaned on to her mane and whispered to her. I used to feel so sorry when I saw her being used for lessons when some child would be pulling on the reins and kicking her in her side. I wanted to tell them, just ask her nicely and she would go where ever they wanted her to.” She looked at Pete who was smiling and realised she had been chattering on almost to herself as she remembered those treasured moments. That was when she felt as free as the horses when they were turned out into their paddock after a hard day’s work. Pete laughed. “Don’t make fun of me,” she said crossly.

  “I wasn’t,” he replied, “Do you know that is the longest conversation we have had since you arrived?” He playfully ruffled her hair. “Come on, I’ll race you.” He ran off, leaving Jenny standing, the simple affection gesture bought tears to her eyes but she quickly came to her senses and ran after him, not quite able to catch him before he reached the tethered horses.

  “What kept you?” he said teasingly.

  “It’s this stupid skirt,” she said crossly, “You ought to try running in one, especially over the gorse bushes.”

  They both started to laugh, having the same image in their minds of Peter in a flowing floral skirt, leaping the bushes like a hurdler, holding it up round his waist.

  One of the horses whinnied and stamped his foot impatiently, and Peter turned his attention back to them.

  “Come here, Jenny,” he said, holding out his hand, “I’ll introduce you to our transport!”

  Jenny gingerly took his hand, anticipating the feeling she knew would curse though her body the moment she did. What was the matter with her, she thought, blushing and turning away slightly so Peter couldn’t see her face. She had never had this feeling with Dan back at the children’s home. In fact, they had kissed and that was nothing like the feeling she had now. She found her thoughts wondering what it would be like to kiss Peter but quickly dismissed them; what was she thinking about, they were here to lead the horses back to the camp. Peter was oblivious to Jennie’s thoughts but he also was enjoying the feeling of her hand in his.

  “This is Merlin, Rebecca’s horse.”

  Jenny scratched him on his neck and reached up to do the same to his withers; she knew horses liked this as she had watched them do it to each other in the field. Merlin snorted and turned his big brown and white head round to sniff her. Mainly to see who this new person was, but also to see if she had any tit-bits in her skirt pocket. Peter could see what he was up to.

  “No, she hasn’t got anything for you, old boy,” he said as he unhooked his tethering chain, “You’ve got work to do. We are moving out.” Merlin pricked up his ears as if he had understood.

  “Here Jenny, you hold him while I roll up the chain then I’ll get Tommy over there and we’ll take them back. First, we’ll get the other three later.” Jenny watched as Peter expertly unhooked the other horse and swung the chains over his shoulder. She led Merlin back to the camp.

  “There you are, Peter,” shouted Sam, “What took you so long?” He didn’t wait for a reply, just shouted to one of the other gypsies to get the two black and white cobs and the grey mare.

  “We have decided to go today so I’ll harness up Tommy and you and Jenny can do Merlin for Rebecca.”

  “Okay,” replied Peter, “Come on, Jen, I’ll show you what to do.”

  Jenny was surprised at how heavy the harness was. She watched as Peter placed the huge collar over Merlin’s head, turning it upside down so the widest part went over his eyes easily; he then turned it back and sat it firmly against Merlin’s shoulders. He fastened the highly polished brass hames around the collar. Jenny passed him the pad which fitted like a saddle and Peter did up the girth. He put Merlin’s tail through the
crupper and finally he put the bridle on with its big square blinkers.

  “Can you thread the reins through the hames and pad, Jenny?” he asked, “And then lead him over to Rebecca’s van.” Jenny was glad to be of some use and pleased that Peter trusted her with the horse. She held Merlin’s head while Pete manoeuvred the van into position.

  “Just ask him to go back,” he shouted. The horse took three steps back into the shafts. “Now you attach the trace your side, Jen, like this.” Jenny hooked the chain on the end of the long leather strap to the caravan.

  “That’s right,” he said, “Now go and tell Rebecca we are ready to roll I think she is talking to Mother.”

  “Do I have to?” asked Jenny, “She frightens me.”

  “Who, Mother?” replied Peter.

  “Oh, you know who I mean.”

  “Rebecca’s all right,” he replied more seriously, “But don’t ever lie to her. She seems to be able to read your mind.”

  Jenny took a deep breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach. The mere mention of the fortune tellers name made her nervous and she had already lied to all of them.

  Kate and Rebecca saw Jenny walking towards them and guessed what she wanted. “So we are ready to go?” said Kate. Jenny nodded shyly.

  She smiled at Rebecca. “Peter is holding Merlin for you,” she said, blushing slightly. The old lady nodded briefly to Jenny and, placing her walking stick carefully on the uneven ground, made her way to her caravan.

  Chapter 3

  The Fairground

  Big wheel reaching for the stars, candy floss and bumper cars.

  The five caravans, twenty people, four dogs and a cow with her calf, moved slowly along the narrow country lanes. Everyone was walking except old Rebecca and Naomi, who was pregnant; they sat in the vans while the men led the horses.

  After about an hour, Jenny was beginning to tire of the slow plodding walk. The men had all the interesting jobs to do like stopping the traffic at road junctions, and waving cars by. Jenny glanced at her watch.

  “When are we going to stop?” she asked Kate in a bored tone, “We’ve been walking for nearly an hour and a half.”