Just a Travelling Girl

by Chrissie Wren

  “We ought to give her another name,” suggested Naomi.

  “That’s a good idea,” agreed Kate, “What about Rosie?” Jenny ran her fingers through her hair; even though it was still damp it felt soft. Naomi smiled.

  “It’s the best conditioner in the world. Oh look, here comes Peter.” Peter was leading Tommy to his new grazing spot. Naomi took Jenny’s hand.

  “Peter,” she called before Jenny had time to object, “Let me introduce you to our new helper; this is Rosie.” Peter stopped in his tracks.

  “Jenny! Is that really you? You look beautiful!” he stammered. Jenny twirled around her long hair and full skirt flowed with her, she flashed him a confident smile, pleased for once she had made him feel uncomfortable. Peter stood and watched as Kate and Naomi took Jenny off, to make sure the others knew her new identity.

  That evening Jenny and the gypsy children watched, mesmerised, as the men turned the common into a fairground. The big wheel, the octopus, the swings and roundabouts were put together with what appeared to be tangled bits of metal.

  “Well,” said Sam’s cousin, “That’s the bones done. It will be dark soon. I think Jack’s got the usual ready.”

  “What’s the usual?” asked Jenny, but the lovely smell that wafted across the common gave her the answer.

  “Mmmm, I can smell hot dogs.”

  “Yes,” said Kate, “And beef burgers and chips.”

  Jenny’s mouth watered in anticipation. She hadn’t realised, until now, how much she had missed the food she used to take for granted.

  The fairground lights were switched on and the men appeared with violins guitars and mouth-organs.

  “It’s a shindig,” said Naomi excitedly.

  “A what?” replied Jenny, wiping away the tomato sauce that was running down her chin. “A dance a…well, what do you call it?”

  “A party,” said Jenny, “Great!”

  The musicians perched on the steps of the big dipper, and before long, the party was in full swing.

  “Come on, Rosie, don’t you want to dance?” For a split second Jenny forgot her new name until Peter’s arm slipped possessively round her waist. Jenny danced as she had never danced before; she felt as if she had stepped into a dream world.

  Her senses were fired by the enchanting music and the damp heady smell of the evening, and of course Peter. That night she fell into bed exhausted; it truly felt as if it was the beginning of a new life. The old Jenny had gone; she was now Rosie, the gypsy girl.

  Noisy clanking and men’s loud voices woke Jenny with a start. She recognised the time by the familiar dawn chorus. Birds singing was a much nicer way to be woken than an alarm clock, she reflected. Kate’s head popped over the half door of the caravan.

  “After your bowl of porridge, go with Naomi and put the signs up; she’ll show you where.” Jenny nearly said she wasn’t hungry but remembered not to, just in time. After the hot dogs and chips, the previous evening, she thought she would be full up for a week. So she only had a very small ladleful of porridge.

  The fairground was beginning to come to life, men were arriving with supplies of food and drink; others were busy decorating the stalls.

  By 4 o’clock, Jenny was exhausted; they had put up signs of every shape and size; ghost train, free goldfish with every go, 3 darts for a £1, they had seemed endless, she hadn’t realised just how many there were in a fairground.

  “Time for a cup of tea,” said old Rebecca.

  “Yes, thank you,” said Jenny, trying not to look into her eyes. Jenny had persuaded Naomi to put up the “fortune telling sign”; she was still uneasy around Rebecca.

  Sam came over to join them, “Thought you’d smell the teapot,” said Rebecca.

  “You go over to the tiny-tots roundabout, Naomi, and you, Rosie,” he said, winking at Jenny, “You can go on hook-a-duck. If you have any problems, ask Naomi, she is opposite you.”

  “Okay,” replied Jenny.

  At 6:30, the music started. Jenny could hear rock and pop songs blasting out from loud speakers. People streamed into the fairground.

  “There is a lot more to this than I thought,” said Jenny to Naomi when they had a short break. Naomi smiled.

  “Don’t forget about number 13.”

  “What about it?” said Jenny.

  “Didn’t Jack tell you?”

  “No,” answered Jenny. Just then a harassed mother and father arrived, being pulled in two different directions by their excited children.

  “Back to work,” laughed Naomi. Number 13 was forgotten. The rest of the evening went very quickly Naomi and Jenny were lucky, at 10 pm the hook-a-duck and tiny-tots roundabout closed, so after another delicious hot dog, they went back to their respective caravans for a good night’s sleep.

  On Saturday morning, Jenny saw the little group enter the fairground. Matron was pushing the twins in their buggy, with John and David gripping on to each side of it. Dan was holding Helen and Gem’s hands; she stared at them, her old family. Memories came flooding back, not all bad ones either. Jenny watched Dan; he looked different somehow, more grown up, more serious.

  “Naomi,” said Jenny urgently, “there they are.” She had already told Naomi of her plan to meet Dan and Naomi had agreed to help her.

  “Leave it to me, I’ll distract the others and leave Dan to you,” she said.

  “Roundabout only 50p each, babies free,” called Naomi in her high-pitched fairground voice. Jenny smiled. That would do it, she thought. Matron could never resist a bargain. Naomi winked and called out again.

  “John, David, hold the little ones on your knee.”

  “But, Matron,” whined John, “We don’t want to go on that.”

  “You’ll do as you are told,” said Matron sternly, “There will be plenty of time to go on the other rides.”

  John and David reluctantly sat on the mini-roundabout and took a baby on each knee. Helen had already climbed onto the prancing horse, and was holding the pole tight ready to go.

  “Now, what do you want to go on, Gemma?” said Matron as she opened her purse to pay Naomi. “What about the motorbike or the dolphin?”

  “I don’t want to go on any of them,” she pouted.

  “Come on, Gem,” said Dan, attempting to lift her up; she kicked him in the leg. Jenny recognised the determined look on Gemma’s face and knew she was not going to be persuaded.

  “I want to go on that,” she pointed her finger at the hook-a-duck sign. Jenny cringed, she had to get Dan on his own. Matron intervened. “All right, Gemma, have your own way, I can’t hold up the roundabout any longer, the others are waiting.”

  “I’ll stay here, Dan,” she said, “You go and help Gemma hook her duck!”

  Dan paid Jenny and helped Gemma with her stick. Jenny wasn’t sure if she was pleased or disappointed that he didn’t recognise her. It really was a good disguise.

  “I’ve got one,” said Gemma, jumping up and down with excitement. Dan turned the duck upside down.

  “Number 13,” he said, handing it to Jenny. Their eyes met, Jenny saw the flicker of recognition.

  “Shhh,” she said, putting her finger up to her lips. “Is that really you, Jen?”

  “Yes, I think so,” she laughed.

  “Where is my prize? Where is my prize?” shouted Gemma. Matron glanced over.

  “Is everything all right, Dan?” she shouted.

  “Fine,” replied Dan, “Quick, Jen, give her a prize, it will keep her quiet.” Jenny checked the numbered raffle tickets pinned to the prizes.

  “It’s the giant teddy,” she said in amazement. “Gemma, you are lucky.” Gemma looked at Jenny strangely. Jenny held her breath, thinking she had given herself away, but as soon as Gemma held the teddy which was almost as big as herself, she soon forgot.

  “Look, Matron,” said Gemma, she ran back to the roundabout to show off her prize. Jenny hopped over the edge of the stall, glanced over towards Naomi who gave her the thumbs up sign. She took Dan’s hand.
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  “Quick, come with me, we won’t have long.”

  She took him to Kate’s caravan, no one had seen them.

  “What on earth are you doing here, Jenny?” asked Dan slightly out of breath.

  “Oh there is so much to tell you, Dan, I’m not sure where to begin.”

  “We thought you had been drowned, the police found your bag in the sea.”

  “I’m sorry you were worried, Dan, but I rang you the first opportunity I had. There aren’t many phone boxes on the country lanes.”

  She explained her incredible story to him, as he sat uneasily looking about inside the gypsy caravan.

  “Are you really happy with them?” he said when she had finished.

  “Yes of course I am,” she replied, “It took a bit of getting used to, but yes, I am really happy. It would be just perfect if you would join me, you did promise, remember?”

  “I can’t,” said Dan.

  “Why not? Think about it, Dan, no school, sleeping under the stars, the open road, it’s hard to explain but it’s just, well, it’s freedom.”

  “Things have changed, Jenny,” he said quietly, “Matron needs me, I couldn’t leave her now.”

  Jenny could hardly believe her ears.

  “You mean, you want to stay in that home and go in to bed and breakfast, when they throw you out at 18, it’s like being in a prison with Matron as the jailer.”

  Jenny sounded so spiteful it made Dan angry.

  “You always think of yourself, Jenny,” he retaliated, “Matron nearly lost her job because of you. She has devoted her whole life to orphan children, never married and,” he added, “She is an orphan herself.”

  “I didn’t know that,” said Jenny, “Dan I don’t want to argue.”

  Dan ignored her plea, “You always got what you wanted, one way or another without caring if you hurt anyone’s feelings,” he continued, “Anyway, I don’t know how you could lower yourself to live with these dirty people.”

  Jenny bristled. “They are not dirty!” she shouted, “You don’t know anything about them.”

  “No, and I don’t want to either. I think it’s best if we pretend we had never met today. I don’t know you any more, Jenny, and until you come to your senses, I don’t want to.”

  Dan stormed out of the caravan.

  “Wait,” called Jenny. She ran after him but as he reached the children, they ran towards him. He swung Gemma on to his shoulders, and without a backward glance, marched to the other side of the fairground.

  Jenny returned to her stall. Naomi was talking to Peter, they were whispering. Jenny forced a smile, but Peter returned it with a scowl.

  “How was the giant teddy won?” he demanded.

  “A little girl hooked it, of course,” replied Jenny sarcastically. The last thing she needed at the moment was one of Peter’s lectures.

  “I thought you were doing so well for an outsider, then you go and do a stupid thing like giving away the main attraction of the stall.” His words hurt Jenny; she didn’t think of herself as an outsider any more, she thought she was part of a family. She thought she belonged.

  “Don’t you realise, it will take all of the money we earn today to replace that bear?” Jenny felt awful.

  “I didn’t know,” she replied, “No one told me.”

  “Don’t make excuses. I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes when Jack finds out.”

  “Peter, you are being a bit hard on Jen,” said Naomi.

  Peter ignored her and strode back to the bumper cars. He leapt on to the back of one; there were two pretty girls in it, Jenny was sure he was telling them about her stupidity, one of them looked across at her and giggled. Jenny watched as Peter gave the other girl’s long blonde hair, a playful tug, they all laughed, as he swung the car round, skilfully dodging the others.

  Jenny bit her lip to stop the tears coming. She saw Peter miming the words to the music and looking at the two girls in a way she wished he would look at her.

  “Everything is going wrong,” she sobbed. Naomi put her arm round her.

  “Don’t take any notice of him. He is a terrible flirt but he wouldn’t let it go any further. I know he likes you, Jenny.”

  “I don’t care if he likes me or not,” said Jenny angrily, “I’m not crying because of him, it’s Dan, he wants to stay at the children’s home.”

  “Well, you can’t force him to leave if he is happy there,” said Naomi, desperately trying to think of the right words to comfort Jenny.

  “I know, but it’s not only that he said…” Then she stopped. She couldn’t tell Naomi what Dan had said about dirty gypsies when Naomi was being so kind.

  “Oh don’t take any notice of me, I’m just crying about everything.”

  “Well carry on then,” said Naomi, “A good cry never did any one any harm.” Jenny rubbed her eyes and blew her nose.

  “Is there anyone on this stall?” said a man with two little boys.

  Jenny hopped back in and passed two fishing sticks to the children then shouted, “Come on, who wants to hook a duck, a prize every time?” Jenny was determined to make up the takings to cover the teddy. She would show Peter that she wasn’t stupid.

  Chapter 4

  Blackberrying

  When a knot in your stomach turns to fear, the cry in your heart rings a loved one near.

  Jenny’s life with the gypsies was falling into a regular pattern. The days passed quickly. She felt more at home now that she knew all the rules. They were a very proud and private people and it angered Jenny when they met prejudices on their travels. It was a way of life that had existed for hundreds of years, but now it was harder to maintain a travelling life with landowners using machinery for much of the farm labour. The roads were getting busier, the drivers impatient and insulting, when they were held up for a few minutes. Jenny realised how unfair society was to them, calling them thieves and dirty when the opposite was true. She wished she could do something to help them but when she tried to stick up for them, she was told to let it go, and not make a fuss.

  The summer was hot and dry. Jenny and her new ‘family’ stayed with the fairground, visiting different towns until September. Then promising to meet at the winter quarters, they left Cousin Jack and went their separate ways.

  “Do you know what blackberries are?” asked Peter.

  Jenny, who was lazily sunbathing, propped herself up on one elbow. “Of course I do, we used to gather them every year when I was at the children’s home.”

  “Good, then you can come with me. I have six hours before I have to milk the cow again.”

  “Do you mean we are going to pick blackberries for six hours?” The task which Jenny had usually enjoyed, now looked like being a chore.

  “Well the berries are ripe and the sun is warm, why not?” replied Peter playfully.

  Jenny watched as the large kilner jars were unpacked from their hiding place at the bottom of Rebecca’s caravan. “Make sure you get enough to fill them all,” said Rebecca. Jenny hitched up her floral skirt, by rolling the elasticised waist over a couple of times and picked up one of Miriam’s wicker baskets.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  The brambles were woven into an endless hawthorn hedge which ran along the edge of the barley field.

  “Put some straw in the bottom of the basket,” said Peter, “It will stop the berries from being damaged by the wickerwork.”

  There was plenty of straw in the corner of the field that had been missed by the tractor and baler.

  “They are in too much of a hurry nowadays,” said Peter, “I can remember, being paid to fold all the straw in from the headland with a pitchfork, still their loss is our gain.”

  “Mmm,” said Jenny, “Look, there is a great heap of barley here.”

  Peter picked up a handful and let it run through his fingers. “It must have been spilt when they were loading the trailer,” he said, “I’ll go back to camp and get a sack, it will do to feed the horses if we get a bad winter.�
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  Jenny was a little nervous at being left alone but pride would not let her say anything to Peter. She watched as he strode off purposefully across the stubble.

  Jenny started to pick the berries, being careful not to get scratched by the thorns that were guarding them. She chose the big fat juicy ones that could be plucked easily.

  Some were over-ripe and they squashed between her fingers. The stain reminded her of when she had been disguised to work in the fairground and had her hair dyed. She was glad to have it back to its normal colour now. Her thoughts skipped back to the past and she wondered idly, if Dan would be picking blackberries too.

  Suddenly, she felt very isolated. The sun was at its highest in the sky, her tummy rumbled, letting her know it was lunch time but there was still no sign of Peter. A rabbit rushed out from under the hedge and startled Jenny. She wondered, what was the matter with her, as a sense of foreboding crept over her.

  “Jenny, where are you?” the shout came from the other side of the field. She could just make out Peter’s shape; she hadn’t realised how far along the field she had walked.

  Jenny waved and walked back towards him. He was scooping the barley into the sack. “Why did you take so long? I was getting worried.”

  “Were you?” he replied, looking amused, “I’m a big boy now, did you think I got lost?”

  Jenny blushed. “There’s no need to be sarcastic.”

  “Oh I’m sorry, Jen, I didn’t mean to be; sometimes my mouth speaks before I tell it to. Am I forgiven?”

  “I suppose so,” she said, unable to resist his smile and twinkling eyes.

  “Good,” he said, “Hold open this sack for me then.”

  “On my way back,” he explained, “I noticed the cow had escaped from her tether. I chased her through the woods, way over the other side of the camp. She only stopped when she reached the river, and I was able to catch hold of the rope she was dragging.”

  “It was lucky you noticed,” said Jenny, “She could have strayed for miles.”

  Peter bounced the sack on the ground to shake the grain down then twisted the top and fastened it with string.

  “Come on, Jenny, let’s go back and have something to eat. You have picked enough blackberries to keep Rebecca bottling for the rest of the day.”