Once a Gypsy

by Danica Winters

  Lydia and Jimmy were whispering with another couple, but her cousin kept glancing over at her.

  Trying to blend in, Helena pushed into the crowd and away from Lydia’s judging gaze.

  It didn’t work; instead, Lydia followed, grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her into the empty pub.

  “How in the hell do ya know that damned man? Why in the bloody hell did he walk into your da’s party uninvited? Did ye tell him to come?”

  “Nah… I never…”

  Lydia glared at her. “Apparently he was saying all kinds of things to your da. He even offered him a job. Are you behind this?”

  “I’ve never seen him before in my life,” Helena lied.

  The police lights flashed through the bar’s windows and cast an odd glow on her friend’s face.

  “Bollocks. Do I look like some kind of eejit?” Lydia’s beak-shaped tiara tilted in her hair like it was about to swoop in for the kill. “What was he doing here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Lydia’s eyebrows arched dangerously high. “You don’t have no business cozyin’ up with no gorger.”

  “Don’t worry, Lyd. It’s nothing. I barely know him.”

  “Don’t make me tell your mam that yer walkin’ about with a gorger. Ye know I wouldn’t want to do that to you, but I’m the only one you got in your corner. Ya need to listen.”

  “I know.” Helena shifted her weight from one painfully confined foot to the other. “And I’m not seein’ him. We talked. Just for a second. ’Twas nothing, and I don’t care to see him again.” As the words left her lips, she felt the weight of her lie.

  Chapter Three

  “This ain’t no way a Traveller woman should be livin’… takin’ care of her good-for-nothing husband who can’t keep his arse out of the clink.” Mam’s voice carried from the other end of the trailer. “You shoulda taken the job the gorger offered; it’d give us the money that we need, but no… not you, Mister Too-fancy-for-a-good-payin’-job. Who in the bloody hell do you think you are? The Earl of Limerick?”

  Helena blinked away the image of Graham tumbling back as the man’s fist connected with his chin. It had been a long, fight-filled week since the party, and the gorger’s beating. The memory of him being belted had started to fade, but the strange, unwelcome desire to see him again remained.

  Sprawled on the foldout bed with her siblings, Helena pulled the copper-haired Gavin closer to her. His curls framed his cherubic face as he looked up at her. “Is everything gonna be okay?”

  “Aye, Gav.” She tried to sound positive.

  Her thoughts drifted back to when she and Angel had been young and traveling around Ireland with Mam and Da. In those days, they had spent many a night sitting around the fires with Da while Mam caused a ruckus in the trailer, throwing and cussing as she looked for another bottle. To keep them from being afraid, he would sip on a cup of hot tea and tell them tales of fairies, trolls, gnomes, nature sprites, and the gold-fearing phantom of death, the Dullahan. After a bit, when Mam had found the bottle and sunk comfortably into its depths, Da would carry them into the quiet trailer and tuck them into bed right next to one other.

  Before they fell asleep they would each make a wish for the night. Most times they wished for practical things—that Mam would get better, that Da would get a new lorry. But once in a while they would wish for silly things—dreams that would never come true.

  Angel’s silly wish was always the same; she wanted a pink wedding cake with yellow birds made of frosting. On and on she would talk about her wedding, and all the pretty dresses she would select for her cousins and sisters, and the fancy country shoes, and Helena would listen until finally they fell into the trap of sleep.

  Helena’s stomach ached thinking of how Angel never got that pink cake with the yellow birds. She probably never would.

  The day Helena found out about Duncan’s relationship with Angel had been the day Da had been arrested. Her father had followed the unwritten laws of their clan and taken his anger out on the gorger. Duncan had needed more than a hundred stitches and a set of wires in his jaw when Da had finished. When Helena heard about his actions, for the first time, she feared her da.

  Then again, Angel had known better than to turn her back on the Traveller code by bedding a gorger. To this day, Helena couldn’t wrap her brain around the idea of Angel abandoning her whole world to be with a man she hardly knew. Angel had given up everything, travelling around the countryside, the nights around the fire, the stories, the family, her culture, and worst of all she had given up Helena.

  A bottle shattered against the wall.

  Helena stared at the thin particle-board divider that ran between their parents’ bedroom and the main living area of the trailer. Like so many times before, she wished it were thicker.

  “Have you guys ever heard the saying, ‘Ki shan i Romani—Adoi san’I chov’hani’?” she asked as she ran her hair through Gavin’s curls.

  Gavin shook his head, and Rionna rolled her eyes and turned her back toward her.

  “It means, ‘Wherever the gypsies go, there the witches are, we know.’”

  “Really?” Gavin asked in his curious, high-pitched voice.

  “Ah, there ain’t no thing as witches,” Rionna grumbled.

  An image of the crone flashed through her mind. “That’s a right awful thing to say, Rionna. Of course there be witches,” Helena whispered. “Do ya have questions that ya can’t answer? Are there things that ya just can’t explain, no matter how hard ye try?”

  Rionna seemed to ignore her, but Gavin nodded.

  “There’re a lot of things that can’t be explained. Why, Da once told me a tale—”

  “Ya stupid bastard!” Mam yelled at Da from the other room, making Gavin tense in her arms.

  “Shhhh…” she urged Gavin, giving him a squeeze. “Now, Da used to tell me that when he was just a wee lad, he got lost in the woods. The mist rolled in all round him. He said it was so thick it sat on him like a bag of wet wool. Even as a youngster, he knew that unless he found his way out back to the camp or built himself a strong fire, he would die long before morn.”

  Gavin laid his head on Helena’s chest; his warm breath tickled her skin and made her smile.

  “Night quickly fell as he went to building himself a fire. As he was making his last trip with a handful of kindling, somethin’ ran in front of him in the fog.”

  “Was it a stag?” Gavin asked.

  Helena smiled. “The bushes in front of him rattled, and being the tough, strong boy Da was, he ran toward them. When he reached the bushes, no one was there, and when he called out, no answer came.”

  She ran her fingers through Gavin’s fine hair. “Da put down his sticks, and got on his hands and knees—thinking maybe it was a rabbit he’d happened upon, and perhaps he would have a fresh supper. Da pushed aside a low-lying branch and whap!” Helena grabbed Gavin’s fingers. The boy let out a muted squeal, and they giggled with excitement. “A wee little bugger laid into Da’s finger.”

  “What was it? What was it?” Gavin squeaked.

  “Da swears ’twas a tiny little goblin. With black eyes and wispy red hair, the color of the morning sunrise, with green warty skin. The wee man wouldn’t let go of Da’s finger no matter how hard Da tried.”

  Gavin covered his mouth as an excited giggle escaped. “What happened?”

  “Well, finally the beast let go and muttered what Da said sounded like a curse. Then it ran straight back under the tree.” She looked down into Gavin’s eyes. “The next morning his ol’ da followed the trail of smoke from Da’s fire right to where Da slept under the stars. When Da told Ol’ Da about the strange redheaded beast that had bit him, Ol’ Da took him straight away to the camp healer—the one that everyone said had the gift.”

  Gavin sucked in a quivering breath.

  “She took one look at the tooth marks on his finger and almost fainted. She’d never seen nothin’ like it—she’d only ever heard of it from the
old-time healers. When he asked her about the redheaded man, she told Da about the myth of goblins. It was said that once a man was bitten he would be of two spirits—one of which would roam the world forever.”

  “Da’s gonna be a ghost?” Gavin snuggled in closer.

  Helena laughed, but goose pimples rose on her arms. “Nah, lad. It’s just a story now. Don’t fret. Da’s gonna go to heaven, just like the Pope says.”

  “What’s it mean then? If he ain’t gonna be a ghost?”

  “I don’t rightly know. It’s just an old fairy tale anyhow. The healer may have been razzin’ him. You know how those old crones can be.” Helena thought back to the woman she’d met outside of the prison. “Some healers think it’s a right gas to play tricks. They’re just like them old goblins.

  “Now ya need to get your rest. Ya don’t know what tomorrow’ll bring. And who knows, maybe we can find some goblins of our own?”

  Gavin wiggled down deeper under the blanket, and before long all but Helena were asleep. The fighting between Mam and Da had quieted, but she could still hear their muffled voices.

  So much time had passed since Da had last been around that Helena had forgotten this part of her da being home. Or maybe it was never this bad before. She couldn’t quite decide, but either way it made her cringe to hear them bickering. Some thing marriage was, if it made people so cruel.

  • • •

  The morning fire sputtered and spit to life like a hacking old man outside the trailer. Peering out the tiny window, Helena watched the smoke curl up from the feeble flames, begging the world around it to help it along.

  It was her favorite time of the day: no squabbling, no cold shoulder from her mam, and there was something about the morning air. Maybe it was the promise of a fresh start the breeze carried that brought her such excitement, or it could have been the way yesterday’s problems seemed to have disappeared with the shadows of the night.

  It seemed so impossible that she would ever have anything besides her Traveller life. Not that she minded everything. She was gypsy through and through. She loved that they were never strapped down to one place. They travelled on the winds, letting only their whims, or maybe the next job, be their guide. It was a life of freedom.

  Leaning down, she opened her drawer and pulled out her studier.

  The book’s curled pages gripped her finger like a baby’s hand as she sat the book on the counter and flipped it open. She turned to the section on the Irish language—a subject required in the Post Leaving Certificate exam, but one she felt comfortable with… so long as she could keep it all straight in her head.

  A clang of metal on metal sounded from the side of the trailer. Helena flinched at the familiar sound of an upcoming move. Where they would be moving to she could only imagine. Perhaps her da wanted to find an escape from the memories of the prison which must have swirled around their campsite. Or it could have been the subtle breeze that whipped the campfire’s flames, stirring them up and begging Helena’s family to move forward. Whatever the reason, it was time. Time to travel. To make a fresh go of things.

  She was squinting at the book’s page, trying to clear her head and focus, when the door to the back bedroom opened and Mam stumbled out, deep bags under her eyes. She looked over at Helena, standing at the counter. “Studying again?”

  Helena nodded.

  “Did ya muck out the trailer yet?”

  “Aye,” Helena whispered as she motioned to the sleeping kids.

  “Well, that studying be a waste of time. You’re as dumb as an old rusty knife and about as much use as one too.”

  Helena cringed, but she closed the book and stashed it in the small drawer filled with her clothes—the only space that was hers.

  Mam stepped beside her and stared out the kitchen window, as if nothing were wrong. Pulling a ciggy from the packet on the counter, she lit the round tip. A curl of smoke twisted toward the ceiling.

  Helena set about with breakfast until the distinct aroma of sausage and eggs crackled up from the cooker, spoiled by the tarry scent of Mam’s ciggy. Helena dabbed her hands on a towel, then pushed the kids from the bed. As they washed their faces, she turned the small bed back into their dining table in a few well-practiced motions. Spitting in her palm, Mam drowned her ciggy and pushed it behind her ear. With a grunt, she plopped down beside the children while Helena dished out portions of the fry-up.

  Their chewing was interrupted by a thump when Da closed a door on the outside of the trailer.

  “Where’re we goin’?” Gavin asked between bites of egg.

  Mam stabbed a sausage and lifted it up for inspection. “Your da finally is gonna do what’s best for him.” She took a bite.

  “Whatcha mean?” Gavin asked as he grabbed a struggling bit of egg with his pudgy fingers.

  “He’s gonna be taking the job the eejit gorger offered him.” Mam grabbed the wet ciggy from behind her ear as she dug around in her pocket for a lighter. “Girl, eat your food.” She motioned to Helena’s half-eaten fry-up.

  Helena pushed her plate over to Gavin, who took it eagerly. The boy couldn’t get enough to eat, and after what little sleep Helena had gotten, she didn’t feel much like breakfast. Dreams of numbers, and words, and equations… and Graham and his chocolate-colored eyes had plagued her.

  “I’m gonna go help Da.” She walked out of the trailer before Mam could start grumbling. Standing in the dust, Da twisted a rope around his arm in a tight figure eight.

  “Breakfast’s ready,” Helena said, glad to be out of the smoky trailer.

  “That’s grand.” Da’s lips flickered into a weak smile, but his eyes looked deeply troubled. “How’d ya sleep, gra a mo gris?”

  “Just fine, Da,” she said, trying to reassure him, as if he were one of the children.

  “So ya heard us fighting did ya?”

  Helena looked away.

  “Well, you don’t need to worry, gra. I got in touch with the gorger from the party and got me a job—but there’s a bit of a catch.”

  “What?”

  Da’s gaze fixed on the rope round his arm. “I need you to go with me. They want us both.”

  “But, Da…” she said, trying to calm the butterflies that awakened in her stomach at the thought of being so close to Graham. “I can’t, Da… What about my exams?”

  “Look, gra a mo gris, I know ya want to finish your school and put it all behind you, but I need you. They won’t hire me if you don’t come along.”

  “But—”

  “I know ’tis a lot to ask,” Da interrupted as he moved toward the corner of the trailer, where the door was open to expose the guts of the metal box. “You heard your mam; we need the money.”

  Her exams were two weeks away. She needed every second of the time to concentrate on her learning, and if she went with Da, the work and her proximity to Graham would only get in the way of her studies. Yet family and home came first—and if her actions could help put a stop to Mam and Da’s fighting, then her sacrifice would be for the greater good.

  The door slammed, and Mam marched out of the trailer.

  Da stepped behind the corner of the trailer and pulled Helena after him, out of Mam’s sights. “Don’t you be telling your mam our plan,” he whispered. “She won’t take it well that you are plannin’ on going to work with me… You know how she can be about these things.”

  Helena had received more than her fair share of jabs from her mother for lesser things. “Who’ll take care of Gav and Rionna if I’m helping ye?”

  Da frowned and looked toward Mam and sighed. “Your brother and sister’ll be all right, lass. She can handle those lil’ heathens. Besides, hopefully I won’t need ya round real long. I just need ya to help me get started.”

  A memory of Mam with a bottle in her hand fluttered into her mind. When Helena had been a wee girl, Angel had been there to help raise her up. Rain or shine, most days they had spent away from the trailer, investigating the woods or the markets near where they had p
arked, not coming back until Mam had passed out from the drink and Da had found his familiar place at the fire after a long day of work laying tarmac.

  Da was right. Gavin and Rionna would be fine. They were hard-raised, just as Helena and Angel had been, but the thought of leaving them filled her with dread. She’d been there since each of their first breaths, only leaving them when forced. Leaving them would be as dangerous as leaving a fox alone with chicks—it would only end in disaster.

  Mam stomped over, her face in a tight frown. “What are you two up to now? Thinking of ways ya can go and get my life all banjaxed?”

  “Cora, be quiet,” Da said in a voice that made it clear he meant business.

  “It must be nice for you two, now that ya can gang up against me, ain’t it?” Mam glared at Helena with the power of hellfire. “Well, did your little gra tell ya ’bout what happened the other night? At your party?”

  “Cora, I told ya to be quiet…”

  Mam waved him off. “Did Helena go and tell ya she knew that man? One of the women even said she called out his name.”

  Da glanced over at Helena. “How do you know that gorger?”

  “He was outside the prison… ’twas nothing,” she lied, thinking about the way his eyes had caressed her like a wanting hand. “I was just surprised to see him at the party was all.”

  “I think it’s time we start thinking ‘bout finding her a husband.” Mam pointed at her like she was some kind of livestock. “Before somethin’ happens.”

  Da looked over at her with pity in his eyes. “You’re all right, lass? Aren’t ya?”

  “I only met him for a second Da I swear. It didn’t mean nothin’.”

  Da turned back to Mam. “If she says t’wasn’t nothing, I believe her. You need to have a lil’ more faith in Helena. She’s the best girl of the bunch.”

  Mam’s face pulled into a tight snarl. “You don’ need to tell me who ya love the most. It’s never been no secret.”