Once a Gypsy

by Danica Winters

  “I can read people’s auras.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know how to explain it.” He gave her a modest smile. “I guess the best way is to say that when I meet people I get a feeling for them, and sometimes I can see a glow. I can’t read minds, or tell the future, but sometimes I know when a person is going to be a danger, or I can see if they have a particular strength.”

  “If you can see danger coming, then why couldn’t you stop the death in the kitchen?”

  “I have to be around the person who means harm. Even then, my sense isn’t perfect.” The white Mercedes sped up as Graham made his way onto the highway. “All I see is a color. When I met you at the prison, you glowed in rainbow colors—almost like you were standing in the light that passes through a prism. It was the first time I’d seen someone with such a strong saturation.” He glanced over at her. “Now you’re a dark gold.”

  Helena looked down at her arms, but there was nothing golden about her, just the perpetual tan that came from being a Traveller. “What does that mean?”

  “Gold usually indicates a student, or someone who’s trying to learn everything all at once.”

  “You’re putting me on.”

  “I promise I’m not.”

  “Then what color is my da?”

  Graham shook his head. “Like I said, it depends on the day, and his mood, but lately he’s been a purplish-blue.”

  “Aye… and what does that mean?”

  “That he’s having deep feelings and that he’s on the right path.”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t know for certain, though. That’s the thing about an aura—it’s subjective.”

  It was hard for her to make sense of what exactly Graham meant. She had heard of aura readers before but, like ghosts, the Dullahan, and the forshaw, until recently she hadn’t thought they were real.

  They pulled off the highway onto the familiar Limerick streets, past the tree-filled People’s Park where a couple sat under the gazebo, enjoying a picnic in the evening sun, blissfully unaware of the supernatural activities Graham was talking about.

  In what seemed like no time, they were parking. Graham opened the car door for her. She stepped out in front of big plate-glass windows with bold black lettering that read “Barbara’s Books.”

  “What’re you doin’ here?”

  “I’m getting you a present.”

  Helena stopped as Graham stepped to the door. “You can’t be buyin’ me anything.”

  “You need the book. I want to get it for you.” Graham pulled open the glass door to the shop and waited for her to walk in. “I’m paying you back.”

  She couldn’t be indebted to him; it would only be another thing he could use to push her into taking on the infirmary work. “Graham, you can’t—”

  “Nah…” He waved her off. “Consider the book a thank you gift after all you’ve done today.”

  The bell jingled as the door shut behind them. A brunette woman behind the counter looked up over her round glasses. “May I help you?”

  “We are looking for a Post Leaving Certificate studier.”

  “No,” Helena whispered, her cheeks flushed.

  “Which one do you need? There are a number of different studiers.”

  “Which one?” Graham asked Helena.

  She had been studying the basic exam, but she had an idea. “Which one will help me if I want to get into a school for nursing?”

  Helena glanced up at Graham, who had a proud smile on his face.

  “You can get into a good university if you do well on your exams, but you know, you will need to score high, at the honors level.” The woman led them to the back of the store and handed Helena the thick book. It looked almost identical to the one Mam had thrown into the fire, except this one had the word “Honors Level Studier” in big black letters across the cover.

  A knot formed in Helena’s stomach. She wanted to do well, to prove to her fam that she could stand on her own two feet and finish what she’d started. Yet she couldn’t imagine herself living on campus, talking to boys, studying all week in the library, and getting scuttered on the weekends. It didn’t feel right.

  Helena flipped through the book. It fell open to the history section. She read the first question: “Write about ballads and songs as useful historical sources.”

  Memories of Da sitting around the fire singing Sean Nos, traditional Traveller songs, flooded her mind.

  She flipped to the next section in the book, economics, and read the first question: “Outline, with the aid of a diagram, how changes in the level of investments affect the level of national income.”

  Helena closed the book and stuffed it under her arm. She would need to do more studying.

  Graham handed the clerk the money for the book. Helena’s face burned.

  The clerk handed her a paper bag, and Helena slipped the book inside.

  Graham put his hand on the small of Helena’s back. His warm touch soaked through the thin fabric of her shirt and made her already fluctuating emotions and desires surge. “I don’t know what to say, Graham. Thank you… but ya didn’t have to.”

  “I know, but I wanted to do something nice for you. To let you know how important you are to me. You’re something special.”

  She rolled the top of the paper bag in her hands nervously as they left the store. “Thank you. Maa’ths. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome. There’s just one thing I’m less than happy about.” Graham took her hand and started to walk to the right, away from where the car was parked. “I didn’t get to eat any of that gooseberry crumble you promised.”

  Helena smiled. He had remembered.

  Tradition and habit pulled her toward home and the campsite. Yet her desire for Graham made her grip his hand tighter.

  Around the corner was a small restaurant. Its green awning flapped in the breeze, waving at them like a welcoming friend. Graham opened the door for her, but didn’t let go of her hand as she made her way inside.

  The tables were mostly filled. There was a couple seated close to the door; the man was dressed in a suit jacket and trousers, the woman in a fine silk dress. The man stopped stuffing himself on an expensive-looking cut of beef for a second as he stared at her.

  Helena pulled at her dress pants. For a second she wished she had something else to wear, something that would have helped her blend into the crowded room.

  Graham smiled, and the cleft of his chin pulled tight. “You look beautiful, lass.” He ran his free hand down her arm, making her pulse quicken.

  He leaned down close, almost as if he was going to kiss her, but at the last second he turned to her ear. “Your aura’s glowing red,” he whispered. His breath was warm on her skin.

  “What do ya mean by that?”

  His smile grew wider. “Let’s just say, I’m honored that you think I’m handsome.”

  “I said nothing of the sort.” She stared into his sexy, honey-brown eyes. “What color do you see for someone with an ego?”

  Graham laughed as they sat down at their table. Helena was careful to pick a large table, and she set the shop bag between them. Graham didn’t need to be getting any more ideas—nor did she.

  The waitress came, dropped off some waters, and took their order, flaunting her assets in front of Graham like a hen presenting herself to a rooster. He didn’t seem to pay her any mind.

  The woman swiveled her hips as she walked away.

  “So…” Helena tried to control her annoyance as she glanced back at Graham. “Ya know all about me, but I don’t know much about you. Where were ya raised?”

  Graham ran his finger through the layer of condensation on his glass. “I grew up in the north, around Belfast. My father died when I was young. I don’t remember him. I was about five when my mother married Mr. Shane. At the time, he was an investment banker.”

  Helena reached over and patted Graham’s hand.

  “I went to university
in Belfast, and when I finished Mr. Shane wanted me to take over his business so he could concentrate on developing the manor, but I didn’t want to do investing. I tried to tell him, but he didn’t take the news well. And then there was an accident. My mother and brother, well, they—”

  The door of the restaurant opened so hard it slammed against the wall.

  Graham looked up and his eyes grew wide. “Helena. Your father’s here.”

  Da glared at them as he pushed his way through the crowded restaurant.

  Mam stepped out from behind him, wearing a self-righteous smirk. “I told ye. That girl’s good for nothin’. Can’t be trusted. She needs a good beltin’. Just be looking at what a disgrace she be.”

  Graham stood between Helena and Mam and turned to Da. “You know this isn’t what it looks like. We were hungry. That’s all.”

  Da’s eyes were dark in the shadowy restaurant, and he gave Graham a slow, tight nod.

  “I don’t care what this gorger has to say.” Mam charged around Graham and pointed at Helena. “You’re no good. You’re just like your fecking sister.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The ride back to the campsite had been filled with stony silence. Helena was embarrassed, angry at Da for not standing up for her, and furious with Mam for barging into the restaurant and causing a scene.

  Graham hadn’t done anything wrong. He had only been acting the gentleman, offering Helena a little meal after the events of the day. Yet, there was no use in arguing that point to Mam. She had made it plenty clear that Helena was nothing but a disgrace.

  Helena glanced in the rearview mirror, at where Gavin and Rionna sat in the backseat. Their faces were pale, and Rionna’s eyes were red as if she had been crying. Gavin fingered one of his wayward curls, but his gaze never strayed from Helena until they pulled up to the trailer.

  Another group of Travellers had pulled a trailer in next to theirs, and as soon as the back door opened, Gavin ran toward the new place. Helena got out of the car, stuffed the paper bag with her book under her arm, and walked after him.

  “Don’t ye be getting no ideas. You ain’t going nowhere ’til we talk, girl,” Mam growled. “You’ve been runnin’ around like some brasser since your da got out. It’s comin’ to a stop.”

  Helena bit her tongue. This storm would pass—Mam’s mood swings always did. Soon she would find herself back down in the bottom of a bottle, and Helena could escape until the next storm.

  When Da had been gone there had been so many days like this. She used to imagine Da would come home, put his foot down, and take away the liquor—but from the state of her mam, he had just as little control over the rabid woman as Helena did.

  He walked into the trailer, shoulders slouched and a broken look upon his face. He turned back and waved her in. “Come on. Your mam’s right. We need to have a chat.”

  Her stomach dropped. Da couldn’t be taking Mam’s side. Helena hadn’t done anything wrong. Da had given Graham permission, so why was he acting as if she had done the family an injustice?

  The sun had started to set, and the gray dusk felt heavy upon her as she made her way to the trailer. Even the weeds seemed to shirk away from the stagnant little aluminum box, as if they wanted to flee this place as badly as Helena did.

  The vertical bars on the screen door reminded her of the spiked gate of the Limerick jail. She could only assume her shame and dread were like what Da had felt when he had entered the prison.

  Mam opened the door and pointed at the laminate table. “Go. Sit. Down.”

  Helena stared in at a bottle of whiskey, which sat uncapped and half-empty next to an empty glass. An extinguished ciggy sat on the edge of a filled ashtray. A red ring from Mam’s lipstick stained its yellowed end.

  Da sat down at the small table and dropped his head between his hands.

  Gavin raced by. He turned and faced Helena as he stood under Mam’s arm. “Helena, I’m hungry! Whatcha makin’ for supper? Can we have bread and jam?”

  Helena stared at Mam and Da. Gavin would be at a loss without her. Da was a good man, but he couldn’t properly keep up with the needs of both Gav and Rionna. They would be the ones who paid the price if she left. Blood was thicker than any desires that ran within her veins.

  “You go and play. I’ll call you when supper is ready.” Helena patted Gavin’s curls.

  “Aye, don’t forget to make bread and jam!” Gavin let the door slam shut behind him as he headed out into the gray evening.

  Helena avoided the table and opened the refrigerator door instead, looking for something to make for supper. She sat her bag on the bottom shelf. Mam didn’t keep any liquor in there; she’d never find the book.

  The refrigerator was almost empty, but Helena managed to find a few carrots and a bit of chicken stock. She moved to the cupboard and pulled out some potatoes and an onion. Mam’s glare bored into her, but Helena didn’t look back. She was here to help the children, not be derided by Mam’s ridiculous accusations.

  The whiskey sloshed as Mam poured it into her glass. “Get me some ice.”

  Helena broke out a few cold cubes and handed them to Mam. They dropped into the cup with a splash. A droplet of whiskey slipped down the glass, and Mam licked it off.

  “Now tell us, who was that man?” Mam took a long gulp of the amber liquid.

  Helena pulled a knife from the drawer and peeled back the mottled brown skin of the potato, revealing the white flesh beneath.

  “Answer me, girl.”

  The tone of Mam’s voice made Helena’s skin prickle with anger. Mam had always called her “girl,” but it was starting to grate on her. Helena was her child, not some stranger she had picked up off the path. This was more than Helena could handle—it had been one hell of a week.

  “He’s just a friend of mine.” Helena glanced over at Da.

  He lifted his chin and looked up at her. The purple and red beginnings of a bruise were visible under his left eye.

  What had Mam done?

  Helena put the potato and the knife down and stepped over to Da. “What happened?”

  His gaze drifted back down to the table.

  “Your da’s just as bad as you. Can’t keep his mouth shut. Can’t stay outta trouble.” Mam drained the last bit of the whiskey in her glass. “Where did ya meet the gorger?”

  “I met Graham at Da’s work. I help him a bit. I needed to run an errand in town today, and he was nice enough to take me.”

  “You’re lying to me. I can feel it in my bones. Angel always tried pullin’ the same types of shenanigans. Out all night with her boyfriend, then lyin’ to her ole mam… like I was some eejit.” Mam spun the lid of the bottle and poured herself another glass. “You must think you’re real smart. Lying to your mam… After I took care of you while your good-for-nothing Da was in the clink. Right good it did me. I should let the banshees have ya.”

  Helena started slicing an onion. The harsh scent wafted up, but her eyes were already filled with tears. Mam droned on and on behind her, but Helena tuned her out.

  “Did ya hear me, girl?” Mam slammed her glass down on the table.

  Helena dumped the onions in the pot and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Aye.”

  Da stared at her, his face strained. “Did you hear your mam, gra?”

  Helena shook her head.

  “I should’ve known. You’ve always had your head in the clouds. I shoulda taken ya out of school when you were twelve, or at least put my foot down about you goin’ back. You got your secondary school done. You don’t need any more book learnin’—it certainly ain’t doin’ you no good. That’s it. I’m pulling Rionna out of school. She can help me around the trailer. She’s got ’nuff learnin’. I won’t make the same mistake a third time.”

  Da’s eyes narrowed. “That’s enough, woman.” His voice had a steely, cold edge Helena had heard only once before. “I’m sick to death of you and your nagging. That’s enough. You need to tell Helena and get it over with. I can’t stand n
o more of your prattling.”

  “If you’re so excited, then you tell her the good news. I’m always the hag—always the one coming between you and your little gra.” Mam opened the bottle and took a pull.

  “Sit down, gra,” Da said, and Helena slid into the seat next to him.

  “We had a visitor this evening.” Da ran his hands over his face and winced as he touched his bruise. “The O’Donoghues came to collect.”

  “Is that what happened to your eye?”

  “Aye, lass.” Da sighed. “I didn’t have nothin’ to give them, so they took a little payment out in flesh.”

  “Oh, Da. Are ya okay?”

  Mam huffed.

  Da glared at Mam. “I’m fine. Nothing a little time won’t heal.”

  “Just get it over with, Seamus. Quit prattling.” Mam let out a drunken giggle.

  “Your mam took it upon herself to make an arrangement. I tried to talk the O’Donoghues out of it, but your mam was a real good salesman.”

  “What are ya sayin, Da?”

  He looked down at his hands. “The O’Donoghues have a boy about your age, Brian.” He paused. “And he’s gonna be takin’ you as his wife.”

  Where her heart had once belonged now rested an orb of agony, radiating pain through every cell in her body. “What… what about the children? Who’s going to watch Gavin and Rionna? They need someone.”

  “What in the bloody hell does that mean, girl?” Mam screeched. “I’m their fecking mother. Not you. I can take care of my own goddamned kids.” The black eyeliner around her squinting, angry eyes was smeared, making her look like a tired old hag.

  Helena stared at Da as if he would be able to read her barrage of thoughts. Yet Da avoided her gaze.

  “I just don’t think it’s a great idea for me to get married right now,” Helena said.

  Mam exhaled with a small hiccup. “You ain’t getting married for two weeks. That’s plenty of time. I already called the dressmaker. I told her you wanted pink with the birds like ya always said.”

  “That wasn’t me. That was Angel.”

  Da reached over and squeezed her fingers, shaking his head slightly.

  Mam acted like she hadn’t heard the comment as she blabbed on about the party they would have for Helena’s wedding.