In a Field of Blue

by Liviero, Gemma

  I loved Helene, but I was unsure whether she was right. Though the emptiness in my belly most nights told me that perhaps she was. Perhaps there was a better way.

  She took seriously her role to protect me, and I’m not sure where I would have ended up without her. And I’m not sure where she got all her goodness from, either, because it wasn’t from the people who raised us. Helene was just born good.

  One of the older children, Babik, had his eye on me from the start. I was not quite ten, and although I liked attention, I did not wish it from him. He said he was fifteen, though we did not believe it since he sulked like a child. Once he tried to kiss me, and I roughly pushed him away. He got angry with this and told us that we could no longer sleep in the shelter, that I was a distraction, that I do it on purpose.

  “Do what?” I asked.

  “Do that!” he said, pointing at my bony body, and still I didn’t know.

  We had a very big argument, and we almost left that night.

  “It is your fault,” said Babik. “You try to be different. You think that you deserve better, that you deserve to be a Frenchwoman.”

  “I am a Frenchwoman.”

  “You are no such thing. You will always be Roma. It is the way it is, and nothing will change you.”

  “Gypsies don’t have to be beggars all their lives, and you can’t tell us what we are or what we might become. We will be whatever we want to be.” Helene had challenged him, and I had never heard her talk like this, as if she knew for certain that things would change.

  “We are Roma!” said Babik. “Our place is under the stars.”

  “And the rain and the wind and the snow! You tell the same lie that all gypsy adults tell us because they don’t try to fit in anywhere.” She was angry, and she pulled my arm to leave.

  Suddenly Babik ran after us and said that he was sorry and we could come back. He said that he knew people who used to be gypsies who had a legitimate business and that Helene could get “real” work with them, though he was looking at me when he said this, and there was something odd about his stare. Most children would play with my hair and plait it and marvel at it. There were not many with my color. To have such color was both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes the attention it brought was from people I didn’t wish it from, like Babik.

  “Why don’t you work for him yourself?”

  “He likes girls. They are nicer,” he said with a grin.

  “Nicer?” queried Helene.

  “Sweeter.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us about this before?”

  “Because he said that I could only come back if I brought some sweet girls with me.”

  I thought about the women who sold their bodies, who we didn’t think were particularly nice or sweet, so this had to be different.

  We walked back reluctantly but mostly because Babik and his young associates had stolen several loaves of bread and four onions and said we could share them. I was so hungry I did not care about Babik’s gaze or Helene’s anger.

  It was cramped in the tent, and we slept on the ground bunched together, and in the night Babik put his arm across me. I was facing Helene in the dark, but I could see her eyes were open. She shook her head, telling me to be careful with him. I moved away, and Helene wrapped her arms around me protectively, and Babik turned over to face the other side with an angry bounce of his bottom.

  But the next morning, Babik, true to his word, led us north of the town. It was a cloudy day, and the wind had picked up. We would need coats before winter, and the promise of work meant that we could buy them legitimately. In a shop in Amiens, I had seen a red coat with fur around the collar and matching gloves. Babik had seen me looking and said that I deserved it. If this man and woman liked me, I could afford it, he said. I grew very excited.

  The place of business did not look legitimately anything. It was a small house, rundown and crushed between a noisy factory that made headstones, a tannery, a pig farm, and a butcher. The streets here were muddy and tired, and the houses weren’t happy, either; they did not have windowsill planters full of flowers or pretty curtains. Babik knocked on the front door, and a plump woman answered. I was envious of her because she was well fed. This was a good sign at least, I thought.

  “Hello, Babik,” she said, slapping him across the top of the head with what appeared to be affection. “I have not seen you for ages.”

  “Hello,” said Babik, who went bright pink. He was clearly enamored with her. She was attractive. She wore a tight blue satin bodice and a long black embroidered skirt. The bodice barely covered her acorn-colored breasts, and her hair hung around her shoulders, washed and curling.

  We followed Babik in and sat at a table. Her name was Sybille, and she lived there with her husband. She gave us a hot cup of coffee and a piece of bread, and it took only two large mouthfuls to finish mine, while Helene nibbled at hers suspiciously. I do not know how Helene knew things, but she just did. There was a tale that some gypsies are born with an extra sense, and I’ve always believed that Helene had it. She could tell if someone’s heart was filled with good blood or bad. She had already told me she didn’t trust Babik, that he was simple and easily led, rather than malicious. She could tell when the weather would soon turn nasty and would lead us to places to find cover in advance. And just sometimes for no reason, we would be somewhere and she would say it was time to go. That she could feel or see things in the wind. I can tell you that one day in the years ahead, she had dreamed of fields of graves and whole towns on fire, but at that time she was yet to name it “war.” If I told people today, they would think I was mad or that Helene was mad, but I lived with her, and I know that she had something that others didn’t.

  It was on such a day in Sybille’s house that Helene had the feelings.

  “My husband will be home soon,” said Sybille. “And I think that he will be happy.”

  A girl around Helene’s age came out of one of the rooms. She had a bruise on her cheek and dark circles around her eyes like a polecat.

  Sybille laughed when she saw her. “Look what finally came back from the dead.”

  The girl said something I didn’t understand, then walked past Sybille and helped herself to some of the coffee. She sat down opposite, and Sybille introduced us.

  “They are the new girls Babik was talking about.”

  The girl laughed to show her missing front tooth. I was about to ask her about it, even though I knew Helene would not have wanted me to, when Aldo, Sybille’s husband, walked in. He was a big man with a broad face and roaming eyes and a mouth that was fixed in a grin, which made it difficult to judge his mood.

  “This is Helene and Mariette,” said Babik. “The sisters who wish to work.”

  Aldo looked at Helene, who then looked down at her hands. I watched her and saw that she was unusually impolite, but when I turned to look at Aldo, he was staring at me. I had grown to be the same height as Helene even though I was two and a half years younger. I had gone from being too small for my age to finally reaching some kind of height, though I was not yet a woman like Helene, who at least had a figure, and small breasts appearing.

  Aldo looked at Babik and nodded; then they left with Sybille through the back door, and we heard the three of them discussing something amongst themselves, but we could not make out the words. I peered out the window to see what they were doing. Sybille put a coin in Babik’s hand and pulled his ear, though I could not tell if he was in trouble or if this was affection again. On the shelves around the kitchen, I could see jars of jam and spices and other foods. The food overtook any other thoughts.

  The toothless girl who had been quiet got up and walked away.

  “Pretty,” she said, pulling my hair as she went past.

  “We should go,” said Helene. “There is something about this that doesn’t feel right.”

  I looked at the stove and felt torn. Something was being cooked in a pot, something meaty and rich, and I felt sure that we would be given some.


  I shook my head, and Helene just stared at me and stood up. “Now! We have to go now!”

  I refused to budge. She pulled my arm, and I resisted, and that was when Aldo came back in.

  “What is going on here? A fight between sisters!”

  Helene looked at Aldo and back at me, and I saw Babik walk to the front door, blocking any exit that we might have made.

  Sybille shut the back door and locked it, and I knew then that Helene’s sense was right. I should never have doubted her. Not that I really did, but the pull of food was far stronger.

  “You weren’t thinking of leaving, were you?” Sybille asked.

  Helene said nothing and stared at her lap, and I shook my head, my eyes not leaving Aldo’s.

  “You sure are a lovely one,” Aldo said to me. “I think I can find you some work before your sister.” He turned to his wife. “Sybille, go into the village. Tell Monsieur Devereux that we have a special package for him tonight.”

  “Package” was how they referred to the women we had met earlier who sold their bodies. My heart seemed to rise to the base of my throat, like it often did when I was nervous. I did not like the sound of their plans.

  He sat opposite us and spoke to Helene in particular. “I think that your sister Mariette would be perfect for the job we have in mind. I am quite sure she is more to his specific liking.”

  Helene jumped in straightaway.

  “We are leaving!” she said.

  “You are the one who came looking for work, who walked in here freely. What else did you think you were going to do?” He turned his murky brown eyes onto me. “But it is you, Mariette, who will have the first job.”

  Helene stood up to stand in front of me. “You do not touch her!”

  Aldo laughed then, mockingly and in such a way that left me feeling jumpy. “It’s not me that will touch her, but someone willing to pay a fetching price for her.”

  It was only then I realized I would be the package.

  “I will do whatever I want but not what you want me to do,” I said. Sybille appeared beside me suddenly and slapped me hard across the face.

  My sister lunged toward Sybille to return the slap and was pulled away by Aldo. Helene kicked out at him and yelled for me to run. I did so, only to find the front door was locked.

  Aldo dragged Helene into a room, while I pulled at his sleeve to release her. He held me back with one arm and with his free hand turned the key to lock Helene away. I bit the arm that held me. So enraged, he picked me up and threw me on a narrow bed near the kitchen, my shoulder hitting the wall. The worry I had for my sister distracted me from any pain. Helene banged on the door from inside the other room.

  “You can’t damage her,” boomed Sybille. She stood in front of Aldo, who loomed above me and looked as if he would hit me. She turned to me: “If you don’t want to be hurt, or your sister, then you must behave.”

  Helene heard this and stopped banging, worried then they would harm me. I hated Sybille and Aldo and Babik. And I would not do as they wished, but I told them I would until I could think what else to do.

  Aldo brought Helene out to sit next to me again.

  “Girls!” said Sybille. “You will be rewarded if you behave.”

  Helene looked at her feet that had a layer of black dust on them from the street, her pale-pink toenails shining through the grime.

  She then looked up and said, “It should be me, not my sister!”

  Aldo turned to her, and I thought he might take her back to the room for being so outspoken.

  “He will like your sister,” said Babik to Helene, interrupting. “She is younger. We will send her first.”

  “Be quiet!” barked Aldo to Babik, whose expression turned surly.

  “Mariette is scratchy and horrible and likely to hurt him and run away,” continued Helene.

  I saw dots of blood on Aldo’s shirtsleeve and imagined he still felt my bite. Sybille whispered something in his ear.

  “Are you a virgin?” Aldo asked.

  Helene nodded.

  “All right,” he said. “Then we will save the other one for someone else.”

  “No!” said Babik. “You said I could have the red one after she was spoiled tonight. It should be her!”

  “You will have to wait!” Aldo shouted. “Get outside and guard the house, you imbecile!” I saw Babik flinch. “They mustn’t get away!”

  Sybille was very sweet then, purring like a kitten, and she took Helene to have a bath. Helene did not make eye contact with me. They bathed her in a room at the back, and after she was cleaned, her skin smelled like jasmine and her hair like cinnamon. Then Sybille pulled out a dress that was red with armpits stained from years of use.

  They fed us some broth, and suddenly the food wasn’t important, and I felt sick with it in my stomach. Helene continued not to look at me, afraid perhaps I might see the fear in her eyes and attempt to hinder the task, which would then see us punished.

  It was said that Aldo would take Helene on his trap; then he would wait outside to get the payment once the deed was finished. Though his terms were that he would always get half the money up front.

  Helene left with Aldo, and Sybille said that if I behaved, I could earn some coins of my own one day. I had no intention to earn money that way. The other girl appeared from another room, wearing a similar dress to Helene’s. Sybille fussed about her briefly, straightening her dress, sniffing her breath, and checking her nails, before unlocking the door to let her leave to perform her “work” elsewhere.

  Helene had been gone a short time when I said that I wanted to go to bed. Sybille said I was not to get up to no good and that Babik would be waiting outside. She also said that if I ran away, Aldo would beat us both when they found us and ruin our faces. I should have been frightened because adults up till that point had made all the rules, but I wasn’t, because the thought of Helene doing something she vowed not to do was a far greater hurt than being beaten.

  Sybille locked the door to the room where she sent me. I looked out the window but could see no sign of Babik, who was supposedly guarding the place. I took out a packet of matches, which I had taken from the table when Sybille wasn’t looking. I tore a large piece of cotton from the bottom of my dress and placed it in the space between the door and the floor. I lit one match, but it died out; then I lit another, and the cotton took slowly. The flames licked the wood of the door, and soon a small fire grew to a bigger one.

  When the door was burning, I did become a little frightened, and smoke was filling the room. I called for help, and Sybille began to shriek from the other side of the door. From the window, I saw Babik then. At first I thought he would come in to help put out the fire, but he ran off into the darkness. I climbed out the window to make my escape.

  As I ran fast toward the center of town, I thought no more of the burning door and the shouts from Sybille behind me but of reaching Helene before anything happened to her. It was after midnight, since Sybille and Aldo’s work was the kind that happened long after dark, when the streets were silent.

  It took me frantic minutes searching down several streets before I saw Aldo and his horse and trap, and I slid into the shadows before he saw me also. The house he guarded was large, with a front garden and decorative fence. There was light from a window upstairs, so I had to assume it was the right house, but I was surprised why a person with money would want the company of gypsy girls, and ones so young as we were. Aldo was leaning against the fence, counting some coins. I crept down low behind bushes on a neighboring property then over the side of the fence of the house. I’d spent most of my lifetime appearing invisible, and the skill of stealth was part of my grain. I continued down the side of the building to find a small street-level window open, and I climbed into a kitchen, where I grabbed a knife that lay on a butcher block. I had no idea what I would do from there. I had no plan but to find Helene.

  I crept in the dark, expecting someone at every corner, but there was no one, only
the muted sounds of a conversation from somewhere upstairs. I saw some ornate silver candlesticks and made a mental note that if I got the chance, I would shove them down my dress.

  Some noises, the grumblings of a man, were coming from a room with its door partway open. Peeking through the gap in the doorway, I saw that Helene was under a sheet on the bed, the red dress discarded on the floor. The man, Monsieur Devereux, was standing in front of her in a shirt and no pants. There were two glasses, one half-filled with wine, on a table beside the bed.

  The man, with his back to me, climbed over the bed toward Helene, and I walked toward him slowly. Helene saw me suddenly, and the man turned to follow her gaze just as I stabbed him in the buttocks. He cursed and grabbed at his bottom, and I then heard Sybille’s shouts from the streets. She was yelling at the top of her lungs that the house was burning, that the “bitch has escaped!”

  Helene then jumped up and kicked Monsieur Devereux hard between the legs, so hard he moaned in pain. He had one hand over his manhood while he used the other to pry the knife from his backside. We rushed down the stairs.

  I heard the man yelling out to Aldo from the window. I grabbed a silver candlestick on the way, and this time Helene said nothing about my theft. We climbed out of the same window I had entered and then over a fence at the back. Then we ran like feral cats, weaving between buildings, leaping over fences, and charging through alleys toward the outer edge of town. We stopped only briefly so that Helene could pull on trousers and a shirt we stole from a washing line. Once we were on the road that led from the city, we vowed never to go back there.

  When we were exhausted, gasping for breath, we sat against a tree. Helene reached to hug me, and then we examined the silver candlestick under the light from the moon and thought of the food it might buy us.

  When I asked her what had happened in the room, she said not to speak of it. In her mind it hadn’t happened. Helene believed that you must never dwell on bad things, because they will infect and blacken your brain like the plague. She said the only true way to heal was to forgive and forget and live a new day.