“Anyway, the music turned my head, and a few others too, but it was me sharing his blanket that night. That was a fair to remember.” She sat looking at the fire, remembering.
Embarrassed at her story, Virginia asked, “And he’s gone for withies today?” Sally did not choose to hear her. She was still thinking about Priddy Fair.
“He was really good at it. The best. You know, all strong and hungry, ready to eat you up. And big with it. Not so much long but, I tell you, it caught me by surprise that first time. And didn’t he know just what to do with it!
“We spread our blankets under a farm wagon, part of a museum display, all fenced off and quiet. He managed to get all my clothes off, and was kissing me, and stroking me, and feeling me all over. I reckon we were both a bit pissed. We’d been drinking cider - you know, Somerset Scrumpy - all evening, and we were happy. Not legless, just flying along. I felt really fine, with him playing with my tits and kissing them. You know how it is. Good sense flies away when you’re like that, and why not?
“Anyway, he’d diddled me a bit, and I’d come a couple of times, then he suddenly slipped down between my legs, and he was licking and sucking and kissing. I swear he had his tongue so far up me, it might have come out of my ear. I was gone, completely wiped out. He could have done anything to me and I would have loved it.
“Next day my friends said I sounded like a sow with a barrel of apples, but I don’t remember anything like that. I was out beyond the moon. Gypsy men don’t go for that sort of thing, as a rule. Funny ideas they have. I’d only had it that way a couple of times before, and that was just lick-and-go. John now, he was hungry. He was making a three-course dinner of me, and more, and I loved it.
“When it was his turn, he wouldn’t let me do anything. I didn’t even touch him, that first time. He lay on his back and pulled me over him. There’s not many men will do it that way up, first time with a new woman, but he didn’t care. He pulled me over him until he was in the right place, and he let me wriggle down onto it.
“I tell you Ginny, it’s fat. Really. Not that I cared then. I was so crazy I would have got onto it, one way or another, if it had been as fat as a marrow. No matter I’d been coming all over the place, it still took a bit of pushing and shoving before we were right. Then I just held steady, with my hands on his shoulders, and he hammered away under me. I don’t suppose we did it for long, but he came with a big rush. I fell asleep on top of him, with his cock still twitching and heaving inside me.
“I guess we all have those nights sometimes, if we’re lucky. It surely stayed in my mind.”
****
Virginia could not keep away. Next day she was following the lane down to the old quarry again, this time carrying a bottle of last year’s parsnip wine. It had been a good year, with the parsnips sweet as fruit. They made excellent wine, strong and dry, with the scent of flowers that did not belong in a root garden. John would like it, and she supposed Sally would too.
She had nearly reached the quarry when Shep rushed out to greet her, wagging his tail and crouching to be scratched. Virginia liked collies, and Shep was a good one. As she straightened up, she glimpsed a movement in the quarry. Through the hazel leaves, she could see John and Sally. They were walking in her direction, heading for John’s caravan. John had his hand on Sally’s shoulder, and she was looking up at his face and smiling. She was dressed as she had been yesterday, in a colourful loose skirt and a peasant blouse.
He’s taking her to his caravan, Virginia thought. I’ve come at a bad time. I should go, and come back later. She did not move, but watched as John steered Sally between the shafts of his caravan, so she could step up to the door. Then he stopped her, and came to stand close behind her. He reached an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Virginia held her breath and stared.
Sally had turned her head and was resting against him. Her eyes were closed, and Virginia realised that, out of sight, John must be fondling her breasts. They remained together, enjoying each other, and Shep lay down, watching and waiting. Virgina began to breathe again, but it was too late to move away. She would make a noise and everyone would be embarrassed. She decided to wait until they were inside the caravan.
John said something and, still with his arm around her waist, eased Sally forward and bent her until she could rest her elbows on the footboard of the van, right in front of the door. Sally buried her face in her hands and waited.
John spoke to her gently, all the time running his hands over her back and across her shoulders. He gathered her black hair in one hand and lifted it clear, so he could stroke her neck and ears. Then he returned to her back and sides, sometimes reaching under her to grasp her breasts.
His caresses had wakened Sally and she was lifting her head, dipping her back and raising her hips to him. Abruptly, John reached for the hem of her skirt and threw it up over her back. Her legs and hips shone brilliant white against the dark colours of her skirt, and John stepped back to look at her. One hand rested on her, but he made no attempt to explore further.
Sally looked back over her shoulder and said something to him. He fumbled at his fly for a moment, and then pressed himself against her, grasping her hips and pushing slowly and firmly into her. Virginia could not see Sally’s face clearly, but she could see her mouth open wide in a silent protest as John took her. Then she dropped her head back into her hands, and let him have his way.
Virginia watched in guilty fascination as John moved gently back and forth, taking his time. Shep watched without interest, but Virginia’s heart was in her mouth. Her mind was full of the wickedness of her peeping, and the exciting beauty of Sally’s white nudity pressed against John’s dark trousers. She loved the way John’s strong, tanned hands gripped Sally, and held her steady for his pleasure.
And her pleasure too. Sally lifted her head and began to straighten her arms, but John did not want that. He put a hand between her shoulder blades to push her back down again, and she did not resist. Now Virginia could hear her, a panting sound, timed by John’s thrusting. Sally’s eyes were closed and her mouth wide open. John worked solidly on behind her, calm and steady.
Virginia could not have moved if she had wanted to. She needed to see it all and, as she watched, Sally collapsed with a long groan. John took no notice. Although her legs seemed weak, he held her up and continued to love her. Virginia did not understand how he could be so controlled, but he did not speed up until Sally had come back to life. When she lifted her head again, he began to thrust more forcefully until, as she cried out again, he stopped rigid. With his face raised to the sun and his eyes closed, he held Sally tight against him, lifting her from the ground.
When he set Sally back on her feet, he did not hurry to leave her. She lay limply, half on the caravan’s footboard, with her face turned towards Virginia, expressionless and with eyes closed. Again John was stroking her back and running his hands over her hips and thighs.
Once Sally had lifted herself onto her elbows, he stepped back and gave her rump an authoritative pat to dismiss her. He’s sending her off just as he does Jack, thought Virginia. I hope he didn’t say ‘Walk on, boy’.
Whatever he said, Sally welcomed it. She rested against his chest for a moment and then, brushing a kiss across his lips, walked off towards her own caravan.
Shep sat up eagerly and stared at Virginia’s face, but she could not leave her shelter so soon. She sat at the edge of the lane and waited for decency’s sake.
When she stepped into the quarry, Shep led her around the caravan to where John was settling down to work. He sat on a board beside the caravan, with his back against a wheel. Beside him lay a galvanised horse trough, full of water and thick, grey withies. He was working on the starred base of a large basket.
“You’m here, then, Milady,” he said with a smile. “Do you sit down a moment while I get this here into shape, and we’ll open that bottle of yours.”
She brought the bucket from near the fire and sat to watch him we
ave. The withies were tough and took a man’s fingers to weave into place. As she watched, she tried to drive the picture of him and Sally from her mind. “What are you making?”
“A log basket, Milady. You can always sell good log baskets around here. I leave the fine stuff to Sally. She does shopping baskets and the like, when she has a mind to. She’s here, you know. Just having a nap, I believe. Knock on her van and call her out. I know she’ll want to help you with the bottle. Perhaps she’ll show you her baskets too, if she has any left. They’re pretty things, right enough.”
“She won’t mind if I wake her?”
“Surely not. Don’t want to waste a good day sleeping in your van. Give her a knock.”
“No need, Ginny,” called Sally from her caravan. “I’m on my way.”
Sally climbed down and Virginia felt pleased that she looked dishevelled and ran her fingers through her hair. She smiled and asked “What have you got for us today, Ginny?”
“Parsnip. Can we open it? I didn’t bring a corkscrew.”
Sally held her hand out to John, and he handed her a pocket knife. Without asking, she climbed into John’s van and brought three mugs. She handed out the wine and went to sit on the grass next to Shep.
John tasted his wine and raised his mug. “Good stuff! What d’you say, Sally?”
“Oh, yes,” she said with a smile. “Good stuff, and bet you could do a lot of damage with it. Do you make it every year? I’ll come and put a gypsy blessing on your garden.”
John laughed. “Ginny don’t want none of that. A good load of manure would be more use.”
“Oh, you never believe in anything. Anyway, too much manure is bad for parsnips, isn’t it, Ginny?”
Virginia did not want to discuss root vegetables. “Do you always make baskets?”
John thought about that. “Well, now. I believe as I would lose my mind if I were to make them all day, every day, like some of the old fellows did. Once in a while is a good thing, though. When it’s not too hot or too cold, it can be a great satisfaction. Isn’t that right, Sally?”
“It’s not so bad, and we wouldn’t want to do regular work anyway. If they’re going to call us gypsies, we may as well act the part. He does thatching spars in winter, don’t you?”
“True, but there’s hardly any money in them. Don’t know why I bother, ‘cept they’re wonderfully philosophical. Can sit and think all day while you do them.” He sipped his wine and seemed to be thinking. “Well, milady, I think we shall have a dinner party and invite you. Would you like that?”
“A dinner party?”
“Yes, dinner, gypsy style. You can come on Saturday?”
“Are you cooking, John?” asked Sally. “What will you give us?”
“Oh, I don’t know. If it’s gypsy style, it’ll have to be hedgehog, won’t it?” Virginia winced at the thought, but Sally knew him.
“Oh, don’t be silly. You’ll have Ginny believing you. What will we cook?”
“Nothing wrong with hedgehog. Bake them in clay, and all the prickles come off easy when you break them open. Well now, if you’re too missish for that, I could do a Slovak gypsy rezen. They know how to cook.”
“Good. You’ll like that, Ginny. You bring some pork, and we’ll do the rest.”
“And a little smoked pork belly too. Make it just so,” said John.
By the time the wine bottle was empty, Virginia felt very relaxed. She had left her bucket and sat with Sally on the grass, and Shep came to lay his head on her lap. She felt at home.
“You have you car with you, milady?” asked John. “I’ve a visit to make in Hatherleigh, if you’ve time to give me a lift.”
He was right. The sun was falling and soon it would be evening. Virginia waited while he took a jacket and his fiddle from the caravan and they walked back to the road together.
“You’re going to a party?” she asked.
“Perhaps. Maybe just a little music for practise, but you can never tell.” He did not invite her to join him.
Virginia pulled her car away from the hedge so he could open the passenger door and he climbed in. She expected him to look ill at ease in her modern transport, but he settled in comfortably.
“This is a fine car you have, milady. You’d cover a lot of ground quickly, I’m sure.”
“Yes, well, I need it. I work in Exeter most days. Do you drive?”
“Used to, but I’ve left that now. I take things slower, and worry
less.” He rested his arm on her seat back and casually stroked her hair. “There’s a lot to be said for slowing down, you know. When gypsies travel, we see everything we pass. It’d take me two days to get to Exeter, not that I’d want to take my van there. We take the back roads and enjoy life. You should come along one day.”
His fingers felt rough and strong on the back of her neck. She shivered at the intimacy, and made him chuckle. “I can see you like the idea. Come along o’ me when I move to Somerset. It’ll take a few days, and I’m sure you’ll never forget them.”
“When are you going? Not soon?”
“Oh no. It’ll be come autumn, I expect. Before the weather gets too bad. I’ve a place on the Parret River, near Martock, where I lay the van up for winter. Take a holiday with us. It’s always good to have a spare pair of hands around when you’re travelling.”
“Will Sally be with you?”
“Perhaps. Who knows? But she’ll have her own van to manage, anyway. Hers is only a two-wheeler, and that makes life easier when she’s by herself.” He played with her earlobe as he spoke, and made concentrating difficult. “You’ll come along, then?”
“I’ll - I’ll think about it.”
Hatherleigh was coming up, and he stopped her before the town. They were on an open road, opposite an estate entrance. Through the trees, Virginia could see modern caravans.
“Well, thank you, milady,” he said, pulling her towards him. She did not resist as he kissed her, but her seat belt was holding her awkwardly. He did not care and reached around her as he kissed. When he stopped he was looking at her with a smile. “You’re very sweet, milady. I would like to do that again.”
She said nothing as he climbed out of the car. She felt too confused.
“We’ll see you for dinner, then. Thank you for the ride.” He closed the door and crossed the road carrying his fiddle. He did not look back.
Virginia turned the car and drove back in the direction of home. She was thinking of John and his kiss, and also picturing him gripping Sally’s plump, white hips as he made love to her in front of his caravan.
****
A kilo of rolled gammon and a chunk of home-smoked speck - that should be enough, she thought, as she made her way down the quarry lane on Saturday afternoon. I wonder how he’s going to cook it. He said it would be Slovak gypsy cooking - what’s that? Kebabs? Is that what they eat in Slovakia? It must be the easiest way to cook on an open fire.
Shep came up the lane to meet her, and lead her down to the caravans. John was basket making again, sitting on the ground with his back to the caravan wheel. Three completed log baskets sat stacked beside him, and he had nearly finished raising a fourth.
“Ah, milady, and bringing dinner too. What have you got? Welcome, sit down. Sally’ll be along in a while.”
Virginia passed him the butcher’s parcel. “Pork. Free range, from local pigs.”
He unwrapped the package. “Good. Very good, indeed. We shall eat well tonight, so I’d better get started, hadn’t I? Do you fetch some water while I poke up the fire. I dare say you’d like some tea?”
She took the bucket to the far side of the quarry where a path had been worn down to the stream. It led to a flat rock that she
could stand on to dip her bucket. It was a secret place, shaded by willows and brambles. The only sound was the sluggish passing of the water. She drew her bucket of water and checked it for inadvertent visitors. This is really simple, she thought. No taps and pipes, no water rate s, just take the wate
r whenever you want it. Still, carrying a heavy bucket in the rain wouldn’t be much fun. Or taking a cold bath in the stream in winter. I’d probably stay dirty.
John set the kettle over the fire and passed her the makings of the tea. Then he produced a wooden cutting board, set it on the footboard of his caravan and started dicing the meat. Shep sat hopefully beside him but had no reward for his politeness. Once the meat was done, John started on the vegetables.
Cooking was simple. John used a heavy, cast iron pot on a tripod over the fire. The onions went in first, along with a large knob of butter and some pork fat. He set Virginia to stirring, and sat watching and sipping his tea. The meat came next, and when that had been seared all over, water and the rest of the vegetables. Virginia saw chopped celery, tomatoes, red peppers and chilli, and baby turnips. Then dried herbs, followed by pepper, cumin seeds and a dessert spoon of paprika.
“Well, now. That should do very well, I believe. Do you sit and stir, so it don’t stick. I expect Sally’ll be along presently, and then you can take the stirring turn and turn about. I shall just finish this here basket.”
Sitting and watching John work was a pleasant way to spend the afternoon. With strong fingers, he wove the raw withies into place, raising the basket until he could trim the stakes and start on the finework of the rim and handles. He worked deftly and quickly, giving all his concentration to the task. When he had inspected the finished basket and trimmed off the last end, Virginia surprised him by clapping. For an instant, he gave her an embarrassed smile.
“That’s a nice basket,” she said.
“Ah, well. I’m no master, that’s certain, but it’ll do well enough. How’s dinner looking?” He brought two green corn cobs to the pot and stripped their husks and beards. The corn was young and not yet ripe. He shaved the milky kernels off into the pot. “That’ll give it a bit of body,” he said. “Now, where’s Sally got to? I was expecting her early.”
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