by KERRY BARNES
News of her passing went around the camp within minutes. The women were in and out of each other’s caravans, spreading the gossip and adding their own take on things. The men gathered at Johnnie’s and gave their condolences.
Billy and Farley pretended to be gutted but really they hadn’t seen their aunt in ages because she was so angry over their treatment of Kizzy. So they stayed away. But, to remain in with the rest of the family, they kept up the pretence of caring.
The funeral was to be held in Kent. Years before, when Violet’s grandfather had died, they cremated him in his own caravan, along with his possessions. Nowadays, councils refused to allow that so they had to go to a church or crematorium and be buried with the odd personal trinket. The other traditions still followed: keeping the body at home until the wake and covering all mirrors in the van. Although it was more for superstitious reasons, Kizzy took comfort in following some of the gypsy ways.
Violet kept a pot with three grand which she had saved for her funeral. She had already planned it and informed Kizzy of her wishes. She wanted four white horses to pull the carriage but Kizzy went one step further. She used her own white shires. These were dressed grander than any funeral director could have managed. They each had feathered plumes, flowing from their heads, and she covered the tackle with the horse brasses which Violet had collected over the years. Every detail was a symbol of her aunt’s life, and the gypsies watched as Kizzy groomed and polished her animals in preparation. Word went around that, in returning her good name, Kizzy had done her aunt proud. Long gone was the shame of a fifteen-year-old wild child sent to live with the queen of the gypsies. Now she was the queen herself, she held her head high and moved with grace and composure.
The travellers arrived in their hundreds from far and wide. Kizzy led the procession, walking ahead of the horses so they would behave. She wanted the crowds to know they were hers. It was good for business and her aunt would have liked that.
Kizzy looked smart in her black, satin suit and with her hair pulled away from her face and just her Creole loop earrings visible. She wore a shimmer of lipstick and a thin coat of mascara. She knew, come the burial, her tears would flow and she’d look a dreadful sight.
She could hear her aunt’s words, ‘Hold ya head up, gal, be proud.’
Kizzy was honoured. She led the mourners of the queen herself and everyone looked on with respect. The memory of that day she had left London – the spiteful and even hateful look in those women’s eyes – still haunted her. But now she saw them there in the crowds, looking on in admiration.
Ocean arrived with his mother and two sisters. She insisted he paid his last respects. She feared her son was losing his roots. He had less time these days for the gypsy ways. He was getting into more trouble with the O’Connells, especially Levi ‘no nose’ O’Connell. She guessed they were peddling drugs, but he was the only man in the van and she needed him there.
Moira heard of Kizzy’s success and hoped that Ocean would get back with her, just as he had been in the past. But he was a player. He was forever shagging one bird or another. ‘It’s those Irish eyes of yours, which get you into trouble and out of it,’ she would say, and she was right.
Ocean was on his mobile phone when the horses approached him. The crowd lined the street and were all watching Kizzy. He suddenly put the phone away as he gawped in amazement. No way could that be his Kizzy. ‘His Kizzy’, he called her now.
She sensed his gaze and turned her head to steal a glimpse. All the eyes which stared didn’t bother her, except those of Ocean. Her heart was pounding as she fought back the tears. Her one and only love was there in the crowd. She thought she had gotten over him. After taking a deep breath, she concentrated on the road ahead.
Meanwhile, Ocean was still mesmerised by her every move. She had grown up differently, from a sexy, wild teenager, to a serene, sophisticated woman. He remembered how easy it was to get her in the sack and he would put on the charm and do it again. He watched her arse sway gracefully from side to side as she led her horses to the church. But he wasn’t the only one looking on in surprise. Billy, Levi and Farley stood ogling with no shame. Farley wished she wasn’t a cousin; he wanted her for himself.
Kizzy stopped the horses by the church as the pall bearers, including Farley, Levi and her Uncle Johnnie, carried the coffin inside.
Each man nodded at Kizzy as a mark of respect. She didn’t smile back. Her face remained still and cold. Johnnie winked and smiled at Kizzy, who responded by kissing him on the cheek. She remembered who was good to her and who wasn’t.
The wake took place in a huge converted barn owned by a wealthy land owner, a traveller himself. The ceremony was short but the speeches were long. Kizzy didn’t give a speech, as she had said her goodbyes and played her part.
She walked her horses back to the fields, unbridled, fed them treats and headed to the wake. The air was cool, not cold, but it was still a perfect summer evening. She could hear the noise from the road. People had gathered, drinking and talking. The country lane leading to the barn smelled sweet from the honeysuckle along the side of the road. It was the smell which started Kizzy crying. Her tears fell without warning and she wept for ages. Honeysuckle was Violet’s favourite flower and she often sent Kizzy to pick fresh blooms for the caravan.
Violet was the nearest to a mother she had ever known and, although she hadn’t always grown up with her, the last few years had been good. They shared a lot in common – acceptance was one thing, and trust was another. It didn’t matter what she had done; as far as Violet was concerned the past was the past. She was family and, besides it all, the kid had practically dragged herself up, although she was aware that Johnnie had tried his best.
The sound of the wake was getting louder as the travellers were getting more inebriated. Kizzy thought it best to head back to the caravan and stay away from the crowd. She was fragile. She had been trying to hold it together for so long just so she could perfect all the arrangements. But it was hard and now, as the tears fell, she sensed a heavy weight lift from her shoulders.
There was the sound of footsteps behind her and her name being whispered. She knew the accent – the tone of his voice – and her stomach churned. She wiped her eyes and stopped in her tracks.
“Kizzy, gal!” called Ocean.
She tried desperately to be calm and controlled as she turned to face the one man who had held her heart all those years ago. He could make her knees go to jelly, her emotions swell and crash, like the ocean waves on a winter’s day.
“Hello, Ocean!” She remained still and expressionless.
He stopped dead and gave her the half smile she used to love. She still didn’t move. Her stare was cold but inside her heart was bursting. She could see the child and the man and yet, despite everything she had told herself over the last four years, she knew now she still loved him.
Ocean was in awe of her. She had grown into a woman. His memory of her was a pretty teenager with a cocky attitude, showing off and acting the slag. She used to hop around, flick her hair and chew gum. Not now, though. Now, she looked tame, just like her horses. She had been broken in. She wasn’t wild anymore.
“You look odjus!” said Ocean, using a gypsy term for beautiful.
Kizzy tilted her head in shame and embarrassment. She shouldn’t receive compliments on the day of her aunt’s funeral and he shouldn’t be giving them. But she liked them. There were many other men in Kent who called her beautiful, but it meant nothing until now.
Ocean’s confidence faltered. She seemed too cool and maybe too good for him. He had heard the rumours of how Kizzy could take a wild grey and ride like the wind and how she would fearlessly break the horse in.
He couldn’t imagine Kizzy being anything other than the scatty teenager who didn’t know one end of a horse from the other.
“So those greys, they are yours then?”
Kizzy smiled with pride. “Yeah, they are mine.”
Even her voice was differe
nt. He could still recognise the faint travellers’ accent but she spoke more slowly and sharply.
“You did Violet proud then.”
Kizzy nodded. “She wanted white horses. It was the least I could do.”
There was a silence for what seemed ages.
“I miss you, Kizzy. You were my gal and always will be.”
Kizzy was on the verge of bursting into tears. If only he had told her that all those years ago. If only he had freed her from the pain of believing she was so ugly and unworthy. That day she left London was the day she had left her spirit behind. What people thought was a grown woman was really a teenager who had burst all her bubbles. She wasn’t sophisticated or graceful, she was empty and sad. There was no mystery as to why she was at one with the horses. It was the mere fact that she had lost her faith in people.
Ocean stepped closer to her. He wanted to feel her, hold her and kiss her face. Her eyes widened as he held both her arms. She stiffened.
“You are my Kizzy, always have been, always will be.” She looked into his eyes – those eyes she dreamt of, cried over and missed. Her body relaxed as he gently touched her face and slowly kissed her lips. No man had come close in four years.
To the surprise of Ocean, who had never experienced rejection, she pulled away and walked back to her aunt’s caravan.
His heart sank as he watched her because with that kiss he fell in love. She really was his and he would make it happen. It was only right and proper. He had taken her virginity and now she would be his wife.
He returned to the wake and joined the others for a beer.
Levi, Farley and Billy huddled together, up to scheming again, and any bit of action Ocean wanted in on. The drug scene was making good money – perhaps not as much as it could, if they had access to the clubs, but the Vincents ran a tight joint and there was no way in.
“It’s like fucking popcorn. The Palaces are popping up all over the place,” said Billy, through his wheezy voice. He was fatter than ever, red-faced and ready to have a heart attack at any moment.
“Yeah, I heard Ruby’s Palace is doing well, now a younger crowd gets in there,” said Farley.
“I would love to get in there. All those fucking hot shot kids, making a lotta lolly in the city. Love the ole Charlie,” replied Levi.
Having just heard the end of the conversation, Ocean only heard them mention Ruby’s Palace. “Yeah, a young girl runs that one. My age, ain’t she?” said Ocean.
The boys laughed.
“Trust you, Ocean. Fuck me, he can’t keep it in his pants for five minutes. I suppose you’ve had her too, ain’t ya,” said Levi, who was nodding like an old pervert, wanting to know more.
“Nah, mush, I don’t wanna get me face poggered by the Vincents. It’s their fucking daughter or niece, or whatever. Imagine that, their princess of the palace, being shagged by an Irish tinker.”
They all laughed for a while. Then there was silence. “You may have just answered our little dilemma,” giggled Billy.
Ocean looked at the men, who were smiling with contentment.
“No way can I shag her! Fucking hell, I don’t even know what she looks like!”
Billy laughed. “A few pints, boy, and you won’t even care.”
“Bollocks, if those Vincents got hold of me, I would be lucky to survive. I’ve heard they torture you first.”
“Gawd, mush, you have watched too many Godfather films,” replied Bill.
So the plan was set up. They would take the gypsy out of Ocean and turn him into a gorger.
“The dealer boots have to go,” said Levi, as he knocked back another Stella.
“All the gold as well, especially the earring,” pointed Farley.
“You’re gonna have to get your locks chopped and styled, like those London toffs,” laughed Billy.
Ocean jolted in shock. “Fuck off, I ain’t cutting me hair off, that’s what all the malts love.”
“All right, keep your hair on,” said Billy, who thought the comment was hilarious and ended up nearly having an asthma attack. The travellers, who were standing next to the O’Connells, glared in disgust. It was, after all, a wake, not a wedding.
Ocean nodded and almost agreed to the idea but all the while his thoughts kept drifting back to Kizzy.
The night was drawing in and Kizzy changed her clothes. She put a loose, black dress on and a lowered, heeled shoe. It was only right she said hello to some of her relatives. Just before she left the caravan, she uncovered the mirrors and placed the small vase of honeysuckle on the table.
The air was still cool and the walk to the barn was peaceful. She didn’t know what to make of the whole Ocean incident. Did she still love him? Or was it a ghost sensation from the past? She never wanted to experience hurt like that again.
As she entered the barn, heads turned and she received smiles instead of snubs. Johnnie was the first to go over to her.
“’Ello, my gal.” He kissed her on the cheek and led her over to the makeshift bar area. “Me gal will have a brandy.”
There was a buzzing sound as conversations switched to her arrival.
Two wealthy landowners, Ethan Brown and Thomas Barnes, came over to meet Kizzy, acknowledging her achievements in her horse sales. All the while, Ocean had his eye on her. She was up in the ranks. Not even the O’Connells did business with them. They were out of their league, yet little Kizzy was there like lady of the fucking manor. Ocean wanted her on his arm to proudly show her off.
Ethan Brown kept over six hundred horses and land all over the Home Counties. Thomas Barnes owned farmland in Ireland and also some in Kent.
They bought from Kizzy and had been more than pleased with their goods. Thomas complimented her on how obedient the mares were. She had done well and he wanted to work with her on a full-time basis. His understanding of the animals wasn’t as good as hers, but his knowledge of business was. But Kizzy wasn’t ready for that. She was happy to buy and sell at her own pace.
Ocean watched as Brown and Barnes shook hands with her and left. She got respect from men who wouldn’t even give him the time of day. He continued to stare as the mourners paid their respects. How she gracefully brushed cheeks, even how she sipped her brandy, was a cut above every other woman in the room.
Kizzy turned away from the bar and peered around, content she had given her aunt a good send off. Violet had given her the money for the burial but Kizzy used her own savings to hire the lavish barn, which looked a picture. There were rows of tables filled with food: a hog roast, crusty rolls and crates of their favourite shellfish. She also put cash behind the bar for drinks. Johnnie made sure everyone knew that this big feast was compliments of Kizzy. It put her up on a pedestal where she belonged. She caught Ocean gazing at her and she smiled kindly.
His heart leapt to his mouth. She had looked his way. She wasn’t looking for anyone else. Ocean was eager to get more of her. She was hypnotic to him and he was hooked on her like the cocaine he often snorted. When it was gone the cold emptiness took over his body and when he had it the hit was great and the euphoria overwhelming.
He went to get a drink from the bar, heading in her direction.
“Kiz, wanna top up, baby gal?” he said, offering to take her glass, but she shook her head.
“No, I’m not a real drinker. Just the one, to drink to her passing, is all.”
Ocean nodded, surprised at her cool demeanor.
“Err… I am sorry, Kizzy, truly sorry.” He lowered his gaze in shame.
She knew what he was apologising for. “No need, Ocean, I was young and foolish and the move to Kent did me a huge favour.” She was confident and absorbed the attention she was getting from him. It was new, unlike when she was fifteen and he had treated her as a shagging toy.
“Yeah, but I felt bad after all that… Kiz, I missed ya, ask me muvver.” His voice almost begged to be believed.
“Well, we both survived, didn’t we?” Her tone was sarcastic and he sensed it. He learned that d
ay his charm and bullshit didn’t wash with her. She could see right through him. He needed to be honest and caring. Fuck: that was going to be difficult, he thought.
Kizzy walked on to say hello to friends of Violet as she left Ocean standing awkwardly alone.
Billy and Farley were watching him, laughing. They called him back to take the piss.
“Blanked you, did she?” laughed Billy.
“Nah, she wants more of me, mate, you watch,” said Ocean.
“Forget Kiz, just concentrate on how you are gonna get your hands on that Ruby,” said Levi.
Ocean rolled his eyes. “Levi, you are joking about this Ruby malt, ain’t ya?”
Levi smiled, showing two missing front teeth. He looked ugly now. With his nose flat and a gaping hole, he gave the impression of a car crash victim and he told many wild stories to that effect.
Farley had the more serious look on his face. “Listen, boy, we need to get in that club. For fuck’s sake, it’s on our own doorstep, and those fuckers are rubbing our noses in it… no offence.”
Levi nearly choked. “Are you ever gonna let up about me fucking hooter, or what?”
“Sorry, bruv,” replied Farley, who was more interested in getting the plan right and convincing Ocean to go along with it.
“Osh, we all know you can have any old malt. I would do it meself but you are younger, and the birds do love ya.”
He smiled, sucking up the compliments, and eventually agreed.
“So what do you want me to do?” he asked, as he turned his head away from Kizzy.
After four rounds of Stella, followed by a few brandies, the boys pretty much had the plan in place.
Kizzy had gone around to most of the mourners and thanked them for coming. Some of the conversation pertained to her business and so she increased her list of customers and potential sales. She didn’t feel ashamed of networking at the wake, as she knew her aunt would have done the same. ‘Business is business, never look away from an opportunity,’ she would say.
Parading her white horses had worked as planned, and a few of the wealthier travellers had offered her a lot of money to buy them and check out the others in the field.
