Gypsy Girl (12 page)

As usual, my father was sitting in his Mitsubishi, listening to sorrowful country-and-western songs that reminded him of our mama. Ever since she died, he’d been spending too much time sitting in his motor with the windows down, his arm resting on the sill, staring out of the windscreen and listening to sad music about people dying and hearts being broken. He said he was remembering Maggie, because it was her favourite music, too.

Sometimes I leave him to get on with it, and I go and run the gym for him, or take some of the junior classes. Sometimes I hide his CDs and the keys to the Mitsubishi and try to make him get on with his life.

I think he was asleep as I opened the door.

“Come on, we’ve got to go somewhere,” I told him.

He sat up. “I thought you were going to the hen party.”

I’d thought that, too, but I’d changed my plans. I could hear my aunts and sisters laughing in Granny’s trailer. They were getting ready to leave, but I wouldn’t be going with them. A moment later there was a hoot from the road. Their taxis were here. A huge cloud of perfume wafted across the field as Granny’s door flew open and out they all came – a whole flock of Smiths done up in their best dresses, looking like parakeets and sounding like them as well. Sabrina had stuck with the white dress, and looked like a true princess, only much prettier than most of the ones you see in magazines. Granny Kate had changed into a glittering gold top from about fifty years ago that had come back in fashion, so she looked like she’d just bought it from some expensive shop.

“Just in time, Sammy-Jo,” said Beryl, giving me a very keen look. Probably checking that I hadn’t been kissing a gorjer boy, or sitting too close to one. “Let’s go.”

“I’ve got something to do first,” I told her. “With Daddy. You carry on.”

That stopped Beryl in her tracks. “What have you got to do?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is it something to do with that boy?” she said, as though I was going to race back up to Langton House the moment they left and jump into bed with Gregory.

“It’s a secret,” I said. “So don’t start on me, Beryl. I’ve had enough of people getting on at me today. It’s a surprise for Sabrina.”

That shut her up. She pursed her bright-red lips and carried on after the others. Nobody else seemed to mind that I wasn’t going. They all tiptoed off to the taxis, trying not to let their heels sink in the grass. When they’d gone, I got in the Mitsubishi.

My father yawned and got the engine going. “Where to, princess?”

“Tyson and Rocky’s house. We’re going visiting.”

As we drove over the grass to the road, I looked back at our three trailers, all alone in the middle. Tomorrow morning Mr Langton would order his men to come and tow us off. Well, that’s what he thought.

“I think we need company,” I said.

“Hello, Sam.” James Quinn shook hands with my father before he noticed me. “And Sammy-Jo!”

He swung the door wide and we walked into his house.

“If you’re looking for Rocky, he’s not here,” he said to me. “You know Rocky. He’s always out doing something.”

I shook my head. “No. We came to see you.”

His house was all marble floors, long cream leather sofas and curtains with swoops and tassels. Around the walls were glass cabinets that held all their Crown Derby china. Above the fireplace there was a huge flat-screen TV on a music channel. But it wasn’t the house that I was interested in. Out of the back window we could see the stables and the yard. It was block-paved and neat, with two beautiful American Airstream trailers in polished chrome standing there.

“Ah, I love your trailers,” I said.

“Pity he don’t use them any more,” said me daddy. Which was what I wanted him to say.

James scratched his head. “One day we’ll go off along the roads again, Sam, you wait and see.”

Quick as a flash I said, “Maybe you should do it now.”

They both stared at me.

“I’ve got an idea,” I said. “It’s for Sabrina. She’ll love it.”

Half an hour later we were back in the Mitsubishi, leaving Rocky’s parents scurrying round getting things ready.

“Where to?” said my father. He was beginning to enjoy himself. He knew what I was up to now.

“Down to the site.”

The Traveller site in Langton is tucked away between a railway line and the motorway, which makes it noisy and dangerous in both directions. It’s divided up into little plots, each with a small building that houses a kitchen and a bathroom. The site was crowded as we drove in. All the women had gone to the hen party, but the men were there. They were sitting outside, talking as usual, and the children were out playing. You can come down here on the coldest day, when the frost is thick, and they’ll still be playing out. And at night they have to be persuaded to come back into the trailers and sit down, for once. That’s why we’re tough. We grow up outside. But it gets us into trouble at school. We don’t like being inside when we can be outside, or sitting still when we can be running around.

Little boys were riding their ponies up and down or cleaning the reins and harnesses that went with the racing sulkies – little carts that stood at the side of the trailers, each just two spoke wheels and a tiny seat. One of the boys came over and trotted his pony beside us. He was Thomas Hamilton, and he was going to be a page boy. He was covered in grass stains and grime, probably from falling off his wild little black-and-white mount. He was the scruffiest child alive. Any speck of dirt lying around would stick to him. But Sabrina had insisted that he wear a small white suit on her wedding day. He was going to need plenty of scrubbing before Saturday.

We parked up, and a little girl ran over to me as I got out. Her name was Whitney Jade, and she was going to be the flower girl at the wedding. She was so cute all you wanted to do was pick her up and kiss her. She had long dark curling hair and big brown eyes like chocolate buttons. It’s a wonder she ever learned to walk because everyone wanted her to sit on their laps.

“Sammy-Jo! I’m going to die, I’m so excited,” she squealed, clinging onto my hand as I walked towards the men. “I can’t wait to wear me dress!”

Her dress was a tiny replica of Sabrina’s, but with a ring of white flowers for her hair instead of a tiara. “It’s beautiful, and it’s waiting for you in our trailer,” I said. “Not long now.” But it wasn’t Whitney Jade I’d come to see. “Run along and play, because I’ve got something to discuss with the men.”

“What’s up?” said one of my uncles as I walked over to them.

I told them my idea but not the reason for it. I didn’t mention Mr Langton’s threat. They listened. They raised their eyebrows. They nodded. My job here was done.

The hen party was in the White Swan Hotel. I could hear the music from outside in the street. We’d booked their biggest party room. If the cloud of perfume didn’t knock you over as you walked through the door, then the dresses would. The DJ had set up flashing lights, and he’d turned the music up to full volume. Everybody was dancing.

I put Milo and his brothers out of my mind. And I put Gregory out of my mind as well. I got myself on the dance floor with everyone else, and I danced without stopping. The girls from the nail bar were there, and some of me sisters’ friends, who live in houses near them. Everyone knows that if you want a good evening out and lots of dancing, you should come to a party held by the Smiths.

Sabrina and Star borrowed the DJ’s mike and gave us a couple of songs, and then Star insisted that all the sisters get up and sing like we used to. Afterwards, we did all the old dances that my aunties are fond of, like the “Macarena” and “The Loco-Motion”. We did funny ones, like “Gangnam Style”. We did rock and roll because we all love jiving. We danced all night, but I hadn’t shut Gregory out entirely, because every so often I would remember the wound on his head and the bruises on his ribs, and how I wished I could get hold of Milo and his brothers and do the same to them.

I made sure that I kept away from my aunties. There were a lot of whispers and glances being cast in my direction during the evening. But at some point Queenie and Beryl managed to corner me with a pincer movement, each of them coming from a different direction.

“So where did you go?” said Beryl, her hand on the wall to stop me slipping away.

I told them my idea, and they both looked relieved that it had nothing to do with Gregory Langton.

“Ah, that’s a good idea!” said Queenie. “Sabrina will love it. And I bet if Maggie was still alive she’d love it, too.”

So when we drove back in a fleet of taxis, I covered Sabrina’s eyes and then whipped my hands away as we pulled up.

“Surprise!” I said.

Because there weren’t three trailers on Gypsy’s Acre any more. There were twenty or more. Rocky’s parents were there, and a couple of his sisters and their families, along with uncles and brothers-in-law. There wasn’t a spare inch of grass.

Sabrina looked and laughed, clapping her hands in delight as she scrambled out. I followed her.

“You did this for me!” she said, and hugged me, all trace of Bridezilla gone.

“I did. Aren’t I the best bridesmaid ever?”

“You are.” Then she had one of her freaky flashes of wisdom. “Did something happen? Did that stupid man from the barn tell you he was going to get his men to tow us off the field?”

“No. He isn’t going to throw us off here before your wedding, I promise you.” It was the truth. Mr Langton was the problem now. Not McCloud.

I thought I’d got away with it, but Sabrina nodded and said, casually, “I bet it was Mr Langton, then. I bet he was going to chuck us off, because of his son getting beaten up and everyone thinking it was you.”

When Sabrina got her insights, it was no use lying to her. “Not any more he isn’t. I’ve seen to that. But don’t tell anyone else that’s the reason. We don’t want any trouble.”

We stood in the middle of the field, surrounded by all our folk, and we looked through the darkness to Langton House. The windows were blazing.

“There you go, Mr Langton, don’t try and bully me sister,” said Sabrina, shaking her fist at the house.

“Yeah, try and get your tractors to come and drag us all away now,” I added.

I thought I was the cleverest girl on the planet. But I wasn’t. I didn’t realize what I’d done. And what it would end up costing me.

It was well past midnight, but no one was sleeping. It was like our own little Appleby Fair, just a load of people sitting round talking and laughing and singing.

I couldn’t relax, though, as I walked among Smiths and Quinns. We’d set up a square of four big canvas gazebos in the middle of the grass to make a covered area, with everyone dragging their sun chairs and patio tables under it. What with my aunties and sisters being in their brightest clothes for the hen party, it looked like we had our own outdoor nightclub here in the field.

Solar lamps were giving out tiny sparkling lights, like fireflies, but someone had rigged up proper lights as well, and a generator was fut-fut-futting away to one side. None of the children were in bed. They were running round everywhere, or falling asleep on someone’s knee. Music was playing, competing with a babble of happy voices laughing and shouting to one another.

Even my father was happy and relaxed. He loved it when all the families got together. I knew this wedding was getting him down, because it reminded him that it should be Maggie who was organizing everything, not me. But Gypsy’s Acre was full to bursting now, and he was moving around shaking hands and talking. I hadn’t seen him this cheerful for a long time.

Granny Kate was right in the middle of everything – centre spot in the gazebos – sitting in the best chair because she was the head of the Smith family. Everyone else was squashed in around her. There were calls for her to open the blackberry wine, but she refused, saying it was for Sabrina’s wedding and not before.

Sabrina was somewhere in the darkness talking to Tyson. He shouldn’t have been there at all, because they weren’t supposed to be seeing each other before the wedding, but he’d snuck in a few minutes before with Rocky.

While everybody enjoyed themselves, I found myself walking up and down the edge of the field. Something was bugging me. The lights were still on at the big house. And the International Express security lights were blazing. As I passed the entrance to the field, I noticed a group of people standing watching us. I quickly moved back into the deep shadow of the two horse-chestnut trees that stood to one side. From here I could see and hear them, but they couldn’t see me.

There was Mr Langton and a couple of men I’d never seen before, probably some of the farm men who were going to get their tractors to pull us off the field. Parked beside them was the silver Range Rover, its headlights lighting up the road. Mr McCloud and Pony were standing in the beam of light, their shadows stretching almost to the horse-chestnut trees and my feet.

Pony was in shorts and a vest, his straggly white hair scraped back, his beefy arms folded. He stood there glaring at all the trailers. McCloud looked like the perfect businessman as usual.

“It’s the security aspect that worries me,” he was saying. “I know it’s your land, Langton, but it affects us as well.”

“You want me to get our men together?” I heard Pony mutter.

“No.” That was Mr Langton. He sounded nervous. He’d realized there were too many of us to boss around. “It won’t be necessary. This is annoying, but we don’t want trouble.”

That made Pony laugh. “I’d give them trouble. Especially that girl. She’s a—” He called me a name that made Mr Langton wince. Me and Sabrina can swear when we get going, but we never use that word. Me daddy would go crazy to hear me called that.

Pony spat on the ground. He was a real charmer, spitting and swearing. “She deserves everything she gets.”

Mr Langton and McCloud nodded.

I felt the anger start to sing in my veins like it does before a fight. They had no right to hate me. They didn’t know me. I was doing no harm being there, but they wanted me gone. I knew I shouldn’t retaliate, but I couldn’t help myself. I tossed my hair back and started to walk towards them. I wanted to face them all, not hide in the shadows. I didn’t get further than a step or two before a hand clamped over my mouth and an arm curled around my neck and dragged me back into the horse-chestnuts’ shadow.