“When the little ones are tired,” replied Kate.
Jenny felt ashamed. She looked at the children, some were not more than five or six years old, they were not complaining. Just then, a red BMW came speeding round the bend, the wheels screeched as the driver braked, trying hard to avoid the horses. “Look out,” shouted Jenny, she ran forward and scooped up a little dark-haired boy just as the wooden wheel of Naomi’s caravan mounted the bank. The van tilted.
“It’s going to turn over,” a woman screamed. Sam jumped up and snatched the reins from Naomi.
“Whoa, boy, whoa,” he calmed the horse, and with some skilful manoeuvring, righted the van before it tipped over.
“Thank you, thank you, Jenny,” said the boy’s mother, “You’ve saved his life!”
“I was just the one who was nearest,” said Jenny shyly.
“You were very brave,” said Sam.
The other gypsies murmured in agreement. Jenny blushed, surprised at how their approval made her feel good inside.
“Good for nothing layabouts.”
They turned towards the driver of the car.
“You could have damaged my paint-work,” he continued. “Why don’t you look where you are going?”
“Us, look where we are going. What about you?” shouted Jenny. Pete put his hand on her arm.
“It will do no good to argue,” he said kindly, “And women do not argue with men.”
“But…” Jenny started to say.
“Come with me, Jenny,” said Kate, leading her towards Rebecca’s van. Rebecca reached out to help Jenny up.
“Sit here with me,” she said in her croaky voice, “I’ll teach you to be useful, here take the reins.”
Jenny was surprised and a little frightened, but she had to concentrate on where Merlin was going, so she did as she was told. The driver of the red car accelerated away from them, waving his fist in the air.
Luckily, the rest of the afternoon was uneventful and as the light started to fade, Sam finally said, “We’ll camp here for the night.”
The caravans bumped up onto the grassy verge, in front of a wood. “Come on, love,” said Kate, “Down you get.”
Jenny was grateful for the ride. It had eased her sore feet but as she let go of the reins, she realised her wrists ached, and her fingers were blistered. Rebecca had hardly spoken except for a few necessary instructions to stop Jenny from wrecking the van. “She doesn’t like me,” said Jenny as she helped Kate unhitch the brown and white cob.
“Oh, it’s just her way,” replied Kate.
“But she keeps staring at me,” said Jenny. “She makes me nervous.”
“Don’t worry so much, come on, we have work to do. The men have gone to get some rabbits for supper, so we must get the fire going and make up the tents.”
They led Merlin and Tommy to some nearby trees and tied long ropes around the trunks so the horses could graze contentedly.
“I didn’t know you had tents,” said Jenny as they walked towards the woods.
“We don’t exactly have them,” replied Kate, “We make them. Here I’ll show you.” Kate pulled a large knife out of her belt and started to cut some long bendy hazel branches. “Put your arms out and follow me; you can carry while I cut.” Jenny followed obediently. After a little while, her arms and shoulders began to ache with the weight, but she was determined not to complain.
“That will do,” said Kate at last.
The camp was bustling with activity as they arrived back. Children were busy piling up the driftwood to make the fire; two women had made a roasting spit and were carefully erecting it over the top.
“Put the sticks down over there,” said Kate, “I’ll get the canvas.”
Jenny could not see how they would be strong enough to hold up a tent.
“Now watch me carefully,” instructed Kate, “Then you can make one on your own.” Jenny watched as Kate pushed one end of the branch firmly into the ground, she then put another in a little further apart from the first. She then bound the two ends together to make a large hoop. As she continued to make more hoops, they got smaller and smaller. Finally, she stretched the canvas over the whole lot and banged the ends in the ground with hooks to secure it. The result was a cosy, cave-like tent. Soon the fire was blazing and the rabbits were roasting on the spit. Jenny queued up with her bowl, Peter was carving the rabbits. Jenny tried not to think that an hour ago they were hopping little bundles of fur.
As they sat down inside the tent, a pretty girl came in carrying a basket full of bread rolls and offered them to everyone in turn.
“Thank you,” said Jenny.
“She can’t hear you,” said one of the other children, “She’s deaf.”
Jenny was shocked. The girl reminded her of Helen back at the children’s home, but Helen had a hearing aid.
“I’m sorry,” said Jenny, feeling embarrassed.
“What’s to be sorry about?” said Sam gruffly, “She is happy and besides god has given her a skill that doesn’t need hearing. Miriam is our basket maker.” He caught hold of Miriam’s arm and spoke directly to her.
“Show Jenny the basket, Miriam.”
Her eyes lit up as she recognised the exaggerated lip movements. She proudly showed Jenny the bread basket.
“It is very good,” she mouthed, copying Sam, “How old are you, Miriam?” Jenny asked. Miriam held up six fingers. A large busty woman then took Miriam to her seat and gave her a piece of rabbit.
“Has Miriam ever seen a doctor, Kate?” asked Jenny. But before Kate could answer, Rebecca butted in.
“What would she want to see a doctor for?”
“Well, she might be able to get a hearing aid,” replied Jenny, feeling uncomfortable as she always did when her eyes met the fortune tellers.
“Doctors have never done us any good,” said Rebecca, “If fate has decided Miriam will be deaf, then deaf she’ll be.”
Jenny knew how the gypsies were superstitious about fate and their acceptance of what will be; will be, but not to see a doctor for a handicap which probably could be helped, if not cured, seemed stupid to her.
“There’s a girl at the children’s home who has a hearing aid,” continued Jenny. Kate shifted uncomfortably on her cushion.
“Shhh, Jenny,” she whispered.
“Oh,” said Rebecca sarcastically, “And is this girl happier with her hearing aid?”
“W…well, I suppose so,” stuttered Jenny, not really sure what the question had to do with Miriam visiting a doctor.
“You suppose so,” shouted Rebecca getting agitated, “Don’t you know? Does she smile? Does she play with other children? Is she as content as our Miriam here?”
Jenny blushed, she hadn’t really taken much notice of Helen; she was easy to ignore, and she never complained as she could not talk very well, but thinking back she had to admit that she was not a very happy child.
“But…”
“No buts,” interrupted Kate, “That’s enough, Jenny.”
“Exactly,” said Rebecca, “Miriam is lucky she is with her own kind not isolated like that poor child in the children’s home. Parents should look after their own, not palm them off on others to care for.”
Jenny could feel the tears pricking her eyes. Rebecca really does resent me being here, she thought.
“Jenny, wash your bowl and get ready for bed,” said Kate, noticing her distress. Jenny left the tent and gratefully returned to Kate’s caravan. Kate followed with the two younger children who slept under the bunk.
“She doesn’t want me here,” sobbed Jenny as Kate was getting the little ones undressed. “Nonsense!” Kate replied, “You are being over sensitive.”
“But Rebecca said people should look after their own, you and Sam are not my parents.”
“Rebecca was not referring to you.” But Jenny would not be comforted. Kate looked at Jenny sadly. “Do you know who your parents are, Jen?” she said kindly. Jenny started to tell her the well-worn story about her
beautiful mother and handsome father who were killed in a car crash on their way back from an important business trip, but she couldn’t bring herself to deceive Kate.
“My mother had me when she was very young. I don’t know who my real father is. I lived with Mum and my gran until I was nine years old; then my gran died and Mum got a boyfriend. He didn’t like me. So I ran away.”
“How did you come to be in the children’s home?” asked Kate, “Didn’t they return you to your parents?” Jenny couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.
“Mum and her new boyfriend said as a punishment I was to stay in the home for six months. They said it would make me appreciate the home they had provided for me.”
Kate let Jenny continue between her sobbing.
“I didn’t hear from them, so after the six months were up, I went back to my old house. They had moved. There wasn’t anyone there. They had left without me and without even saying goodbye.”
Kate hugged Jenny, and slowly her tears stopped. Wrapped in the warmth of Kate’s arms, she fell asleep.
Kate eased herself out of the van without waking Jenny and joined the others round the camp fire. Sam looked up.
“What’s the matter, Kate?” he asked softly.
“It’s Jenny. She been bottling up her feelings for years, she told me about how she came to be in the children’s home.”
“She’ll be better now that she has spoken about it,” he said wisely.
“Yes, I know,” answered Kate, “But how can a mother abandon her child?”
Suddenly, Rebecca stood up. “Some things are beyond our control,” she said angrily, and stormed away from the group towards her caravan.
“What did I say?” said Kate.
“Oh, don’t take any notice,” said Sam, “You know how she speaks in riddles. In a strange way, Rebecca’s remarks have done Jenny some good. You can’t bottle things up forever; you know it would have eventually made her ill.”
“Yes I know,” agreed Kate and squeezed Sam’s hand, “Come on, love, let’s get some sleep.”
Jenny woke the next morning, feeling refreshed. The dawn chorus of bird song was ringing in her ears; she stretched lazily and looked out of the tiny window. Already the fire had been lit and the dreaded porridge pot was steaming away. She dressed quickly and left the caravan, just at the same time as Peter walked past with the cow.
“Come on, Jenny,” he said cheerfully, “I’ll show you how to milk her.” Jenny followed and watched as Peter sat down on a three-legged stool and placed the bucket underneath the cow’s udder. He expertly pulled and squeezed the cow’s teats until milk squirted into the galvanised bucket, making a pinging sound as it hit the bottom. Jenny felt her face going red.
“What’s up?” Peter laughed, noticing her embarrassment, “Haven’t you seen a cow being milked before?”
Jenny shook her head.
“Come on, you have a go,” he said, getting up from the stool. Jenny didn’t want to milk the cow. But with her face squashed up against side of it, she knew he could not see she was blushing. She squeezed and nothing happened. Peter laughed. “You have to squeeze and pull,” he said, leaning over Jenny’s shoulder, “Here, like this.” His face was alongside Jenny’s, she put her hair back behind her ears and accidentally brushed his cheek with her hand. Quickly, she pulled away and returned to the cow’s udder.
Getting into a rhythm, the milk squirted into the bucket. “You have lovely hair,” he whispered.
Jenny turned to look at him, his eyes held hers. She wanted to look away but she couldn’t move. Her face was burning; she felt embarrassed and vulnerable. She felt as if he could read her thoughts.
“Do you want to kiss me?” he said.
The magic was gone. “No, I don’t!” said Jenny angrily, “And you can do your own milking.” She got up abruptly, knocking over the stool.
“You don’t seem to have done so bad,” said Peter grinning. Jenny looked into the bucket; it was half full of milk.
“All you needed to do was relax,” he shouted.
Jenny lifted her skirt and ran towards the woods. She stopped, finally out of breath and leaned against a tree; she felt angry with herself. Angry because she didn’t kiss Peter, and angry at him for suggesting it, her mind was so muddled. Dan had never made her feel this way; she had always been confident with him. Always in control.
“Jenny, where are you?” called Kate.
Quickly, Jenny picked up some branches, “I was just gathering some firewood.” Kate looked at Jenny knowingly, “Breakfast is ready.”
Jenny sat down with her porridge; it tasted good. “Peter, put some cream on it for you,” said Kate. Jenny blushed again.
“Only ten miles today,” announced Sam, when they had all finished their breakfast. “We are meeting up with my cousin at the fair in Castleford.”
“A fair sounds fun,” said Jenny as she helped Naomi harness up her cob.
“Yes it is. We help out every year. Uncle Joe and Cousin Jack are showmen. They own all the fairground rides.”
“You mean we actually help on the stalls and rides?” Naomi nodded.
“We get paid as well in money; that means I might be able to buy something new for the baby.”
Jenny was confused, “What else would you be paid in, if not money?” she asked.
“We usually swap our labour for goods, when we go potato or fruit picking, farmers let us keep some, and that is our payment,” replied Naomi.
Suddenly, Peter appeared. “I’ll help you back him in to the shafts,” he said, “You remember what to do, Jenny?”
“Of course,” she said curtly.
“Are you on the bumper cars, Peter?” asked Naomi. Peter nodded.
“And I expect Jenny could do the hook a duck stall.” Jenny wasn’t sure if he was paying her a compliment or being sarcastic.
But when Naomi replied, “I’m sure she would be responsible enough,” she realised it was the former. Jenny helped Naomi onto the van and passed her the reins.
“A town,” said Jenny under her breath, “That means I can telephone Dan.”
“What did you say?” asked Naomi.
“Oh nothing,” replied Jenny quickly, “I was just thinking out loud.”
The matron was busy washing up the breakfast dishes. “I’ve a surprise for you all,” she said as she carefully folded up the teacloth and pulled her sleeves down over her chubby arms.
“What is it?” shouted the twins.
“Well,” said the matron, “If you are all good and behave yourselves, Dan and I are going to take you to the fair in Castleford.”
“I wish Jenny was here so she could come too,” said Dan sadly.
“Well you never know, perhaps she’ll come back,” replied the matron. It had been over a week now and no one had seen or heard anything. The police had put posters in the local shops and advertisements in all the newspapers. “She’ll turn up,” continued the matron, “No news is good news.”
Dan sighed, “I suppose you are right but she promised she would telephone me. I just hope nothing has happened to her. What if she did drown after all?”
“Now stop talking like that, Dan, I know she is all right. I can feel it in my bones.” Dan smiled; he knew the matron was only trying to make him feel better, but some part of him believed her, probably because that was what he wanted to hear.
The next evening when the matron was putting the twins to bed the phone rang. “Answer that, Dan!” she shouted down the stairs.
“Winton Common 286.”
“Dan, is that you?” said a familiar voice on the other end.
“Jenny! Thank goodness, I’ve been so worried, where are you? When are you coming home?”
“Can I answer one question at a time?” laughed Jenny.
“I’ve missed you,” said Dan affectionately.
“I’ve missed you too,” said Jenny, “But I can’t talk now, I don’t have much money. Will you meet me? I will be in Castleford over Easter.”
“Castleford! That’s great; we are all going to the fair on Saturday.” There was a silence on the other end of the phone.
“Jen, Jen, are you still there?”
“Y…yes,” said Jenny, “Did you say all of you, Matron too?”
“Of course,” replied Dan, “She will be so pleased to see you.”
“You must promise me you won’t tell her, Dan, it’s important.”
“But why, Jen, you are coming back, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know, I mean no, I’m not.”
“But, Jen,” Dan started to say.
“I’ll be on one of the stalls at the fair, Dan, promise you will meet me.”
“Of course, I will, Jen, but your picture has been in all the papers, someone is bound to recognise you.”
Jenny gasped. “I didn’t think of that.”
“I have to go, Dan, I’ll think of something, just promise me you won’t say anything.”
“I promise,” said Dan; the dialling tone told him Jenny had gone.
“Who was it, Dan?” said Matron as she carried the twins clothes to the washing machine.
“Oh just a wrong number,” he could tell Matron did not believe him and he hated lying to her. “I’m going to have a bath, okay?” he said, changing the subject and bounded up the stairs, two at a time.
Jenny need not have worried because the next morning Kate called her over to the washing bowl and stand. She stood, holding a jar of Rebecca’s bottled blackberries, and Naomi had three jugs of tepid water and a towel.
“Blonde gypsies are not very common,” said Kate, “Put your head in here, Jen, we are going to dye your hair.”
“Are you sure it will wash out eventually?” said Jenny nervously.
“Yes of course it will.”
Jenny closed her eyes and lowered her long blonde hair into the bowl. When the two women had finished, Jenny was allowed to look in Rebecca’s mirror; women in the camp were not encouraged to use mirrors as it was supposed to make them vain, but Kate convinced Rebecca it was an exceptional circumstance.
“It doesn’t look like me!” exclaimed Jenny. “I can assure you it is,” laughed Kate.
Just a Travelling Girl Page 3
