The Bonbon Girl

by Linda Finlay

  It was all too much, and her eyes closed as she began to feel faint from fear and the effects of the sedative. Her legs buckled and she slumped forward, stopped from falling only by the ropes lashed to the rock face.

  ✳

  The noise of the rising tide advancing towards the Devil’s Frying Pan jolted her back to consciousness. She shivered as she saw the turbulence created by rough seas surging through its entrance. Her father had chosen his spot well. Desperately she tugged at the ropes binding her hands, only to wince as the damp hemp tightened, cutting deeper into her flesh.

  As white-tipped waves swirled ever closer to her feet, she shuddered. In the distance she could hear the sounds of the organ from the travelling fair. Loud and brash, its purpose was to attract the crowds and, judging from the shrieks of laughter coming from the villagers on the green, it was doing its job. Nobody would hear her screams and Kitto, dear unsuspecting Kitto, would be waiting for her.

  The light was fading now, the wind rising, bringing with it a thick bank of rolling mist. She licked her salt-coated lips. The crescendo from the waves pounding the tidal cave and reverberating around the serpentine rock was deafening now, blotting out all sound of the fair. Her father had promised to return for her decision before the tide was in full spate but, intent on his mission and wishing her scared witless, she knew he was deliberately cutting it fine. He’d have a wasted journey though, for she had no intention of changing her mind. Nothing on this earth would induce her to marry that odious Ferret with his grasping paws and suggestive sneers. Her heart belonged to Kitto, and without him her life would have no purpose. She would take her love to the grave if need be. And if it was deemed to be a watery one then so be it, she thought, as spray from the advancing swell covered her feet before receding to allow her respite, albeit momentarily.

  She gave a laugh that came out as a high-pitched shriek. How ironic that her name Colenso should mean ‘from the dark pool’, for now it looked as if she would be returning to it much sooner than she’d thought.

  ‘Colenso.’ Yes, that’s my name. ‘Colenso.’ She must be dreaming now. Do you dream before you die, she wondered? Then she heard the crunch of shingle. ‘Oh, dear God, what has he done to you?’

  ‘Mamm,’ she whispered, for she had no strength left to talk.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll save you.’ More crunching, another figure hovering above her. She felt someone hacking at the ropes behind her back. Her hands were suddenly free, but her limbs were too numb to move. She felt rubbing on her arms and legs, the warmth of a blanket around her shoulders. With arms supporting her, she let herself be led back along the dark tunnels. Then everything went black once again.

  When she came to, she was lying on a soft bed, her mother stroking her hair and talking softly to her.

  ‘You’re awake,’ Caja cried. ‘Mara, she’s awake.’ Eyes black as coal peered down at her, carmine lips smiling.

  ‘My, you gave us a fright,’ the woman said. ‘Your poor mamm’s been out of her mind with worry. Drink this, it’ll warm your blood.’ She eased Colenso into a sitting position then held out a silver goblet. The liquid was sweet on her tongue but as it hit the back of her throat, she began to cough and splutter. ‘That’s better, your colour’s returning. You’ll be all right, now.’

  ‘How do you feel now?’ her mamm asked.

  ‘My throat’s sore and it feels like someone’s banging my head with a hammer, but other than that, I’m fine,’ she smiled, hoping to reassure her mamm, who was looking whiter than the sheet covering her.

  ‘When I returned home and saw all your clothes on the floor, well, I didn’t know what to think. I found Peder in the alehouse but couldn’t get any sense out of him. He kept muttering about you coming to your senses before the tide turned. Worried me sick, he did. If it hadn’t been for Mara doing one of her readings and consulting her crystal ball … well, I don’t know how we’d have found you.’

  ‘Here, girl, eat this,’ the black-eyed woman said, bustling back with a bowl of fragrant-smelling broth. ‘Got lucky with a chicken this morning,’ she winked.

  It was some time later, when Colenso had finished her soup and felt the strength returning to her body, that she was able to take in her surroundings.

  ‘Where am I?’ she asked, looking around the wagon-like interior. It was like a miniature home with a stove, its chimney seeming to disappear out of the roof, utensils hanging from the walls, tiny cupboards, brightly coloured cushions on the bench-like seat opposite on which her mamm was sitting.

  ‘This is Madam Mara’s travelling van,’ Caja told her. ‘She’s a fortune teller with the fair.’ Colenso stared at the woman properly for the first time, taking in the shiny dark curls spilling from her headscarf to her carmine lips and the brightly coloured bracelets that jangled from her wrists.

  ‘The problem is, what are we going to do with you, dearie? You can’t go back to that monster of a father, it would be criminal, and from what your mother’s told me the man he proposes you wed ain’t much better.’ Colenso stared at her mamm in surprise, for until now the Ferret could do no wrong in her eyes.

  ‘I learnt things in the alehouse, terrible things about what he did to his first wife. He used to beat her but one day he went too far and …’ she shook her head and shuddered. ‘You’ve got to get away from here, and fast. Mara has offered you a ride in her van.’

  ‘You’ll have to stay hidden, though, cos Big Al don’t allow no hitchers along, especially young female ones. Like I told your mother, you’d have to pretend to be a boy in case you was spotted.’

  Colenso shook her head but the thought of facing either her father or Fenton again sent shudders shivering down her spine.

  ‘I must see Kitto first,’ she said.

  ‘No time,’ Mara replied. ‘We leave at first light.’

  ‘I’ll tell him what’s happened,’ Caja said. ‘Where are you headed?’ she asked Mara.

  ‘Best you don’t know, then nobody can get it out of you. We don’t want her father getting wind and following. Colenso can send you a card further down the line when things have cooled down.’

  ‘But …’ Colenso began.

  ‘’Tis for your safety, dearie.’

  ‘Mara’s right,’ Caja sighed. ‘Father’ll be mad as a March hare when he finds you gone. As for Fenton, I only wish I’d known sooner what he was really like. Forgive me, Colenso. I’m going to miss you so much,’ she murmured, leaning over and kissing Colenso’s cheek.

  ‘Me too,’ she replied. Realizing she had no choice in the matter, she reached up and unfastened her necklace.

  ‘Please give this to Kitto with all my love,’ she murmured, fighting back the tears as she handed it to her mamm.

  Chapter 14

  Through a mist of tears, Colenso watched her mamm disappear. Was she really in so much danger? Mara obviously thought so, for bangles jangling, she took up a pair of fancy handled scissors and slid elegantly into the seat Caja had vacated.

  ‘Best get you disguised before someone comes knocking on my door. Lovely hair you’ve got,’ she sighed, taking a handful and cutting it off somewhere near Colenso’s ear. ‘By the time it grows back we’ll be on the other side of the county. Still, it’s a small thing compared with the ordeal you’ve suffered. Lucky for you the crystal ball never lies,’ she added as she snipped with quick efficiency. ‘Right, now let’s get you changed. I’ve scavenged some old clothes from one of the tinkers but first we need to bind your chest.’

  ‘What?’ Colenso spluttered.

  ‘Well, you’ve got a fine bosom – too fine for a lad,’ the woman laughed, wrapping a band of material so tightly around Colenso she could hardly breathe.

  By the time Colenso had squeezed into the boy’s shirt and trousers, she was exhausted, but as she went to lie back down again Mara shook her head.

  ‘Can’t risk you being discovered. Make yourself comfortable in here,’ she said, jumping up and lifting a hinged lid on the seat she’d just v
acated. Colenso shivered as she remembered the dark tunnels, and stared dubiously down at the confined space.

  ‘Will I have to stay in there for long?’ she asked nervously.

  ‘By the time you wake we’ll be well on the road,’ Mara told her. Still in a daze, Colenso did as she was bid. ‘Whatever happens, don’t climb out until I tell you it’s safe, though judging by the look of you, you’ll have the sleep of the angels.’ Mara chuckled, her black curls bobbing as she bent over to cover Colenso with a blanket.

  ✳

  Colenso woke with a start. Where was she? Why was someone banging on her head with a hammer? Why was her chest so tight? And why was she being rocked from side to side? As she screwed up her eyes trying to remember, she became aware of the clip-clopping of hooves and the metallic trundle of wheels. In the dappled light filtering through a gap in the wooden slats, she could make out the outline of trees and hedges passing by, feel the cool breeze on her cheeks. She went to sit up but banged her head and everything went black again.

  When next she surfaced, so did her memory. She was in a van travelling to who knew where, dressed as a boy. As her hand went to ease the band at her chest, the roof above her was raised and the cheery face of Madam Mara smiled down at her.

  ‘Foretold you’d sleep well, didn’t I?’ she grinned through carmine lips. ‘Still, better dead to the world than dead full stop,’ she muttered. ‘Blood runs cold every time I think of what that father of yours did. Still, he’ll get his comeuppance. What goes around comes around.’ Colenso smiled at the woman’s avowal, for hadn’t Mammwynn always said the same. A thud followed by a dragging noise came from outside, making her jump.

  ‘Only the kumpania setting up camp for the night. Best stay where you are for now,’ Mara added, as Colenso made to climb out. ‘How does supper in bed sound?’

  ‘Supper?’ Colenso frowned. ‘But I’ve only been asleep a little while.’ Mara chuckled again.

  ‘You’ve slept through the moon, stars and rise of the sun, dearie. Now it’s sinking beyond the sea like a pink orange ball. How are you feeling?’

  ‘My head’s all muzzy and itches like mad,’ she replied, lifting off the woollen cap she’d covered her cropped hair with.

  ‘Best keep that on, dearie, in case anyone comes. This hedgerow tea will soon clear your noddle.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Colenso took the proffered cup and drank gratefully, for her throat was dry as dust.

  ‘Now for the bokoli. It’s one of the few dishes that tastes better when Queenie cooks it,’ Mara smiled, gesturing to the corner. Puzzled, Colenso looked over to see who this Queenie was, but there was only the cast-iron stove upon which Mara placed a skillet. ‘Usually I’d be broiling on the chitties over the yag with the others, but not tonight,’ she explained.

  Bokoli, chitties, yag? It was like another language, Colenso mused, her head spinning, but the tea was comforting and she sat back and savoured its unusual flower-like taste. Soon an appetizing aroma filled the little van, making her stomach rumble.

  ‘Here we are, dearie,’ Mara said, handing her a tin plate then sitting on the seat opposite. So bokoli must be a pancake, Colenso thought, tucking in ravenously. The batter was light as a feather and filled with a mixture of bacon trimmings and cheese sprinkled with some spice she didn’t recognize.

  ‘Thank you, that was lovely,’ she said, handing Mara her empty plate.

  ‘I’ll have to do a lot of dukkering if you’re going to eat like that,’ Mara chuckled. ‘That’s fortune-telling to you,’ she added as, bangles jingling, she got to her feet and peered through the drawn curtain. ‘The others are still eating so if you want the privy, best go now.’ Colenso stared around the tiny wagon. ‘Not here, outside. I’ll wash the dishes further downstream while you do what you need in the bushes.’

  Cramped and stiff, it took Colenso a few moments to extricate herself from the wooden box before struggling into the coarse jacket she’d been given to complete her disguise. Following Mara out of the little door, she just had time to take in the group of people sitting around a crackling fire over which a blackened pot was swinging from a crook. Beyond was a circle of wagons, a huddle of trailers and horses munching the grass to one side. The woman gestured towards a row of trees then, with plates clattering, took herself off in the other direction.

  ‘Not joining us, Mara?’ a man called.

  ‘Not tonight, Jimbo, I need to make more tisanes and teas for the next fair.’

  ‘Still got a few days for all that …’ But Colenso had reached cover and the rest of the conversation was lost to her.

  Back in the van, feeling much better for her rinse in the flowing water, she went to climb back into her box, but Mara shook her head.

  ‘Don’t worry, dearie, the others will soon be making merry. They’ll not bother us tonight, though they’ll be up at break of dawn to strike camp. Come and tell me about yourself,’ she said, patting the seat beside her.

  ‘There’s not much to tell, really,’ Colenso shrugged. But as she sat in the dying light, heat from the stove warming her chilled body, she found herself opening up. ‘One minute I was happily arranging my handfasting to Kitto, the next that Mr Fenton arrived at the works. For some reason he decided he wanted to marry me, and Father encouraged it.’

  ‘Hmm, your mother explained about that. Got to know her quite well when she came to treat young Domo’s leg. He’d been carried in here and between us we fixed him up. When she returned later in the day, we shared a brew and got chatting. Right worried about you, she was, yet couldn’t explain why.’

  ‘But she was as bad as Father for encouraging me to wed Fenton. They were going to sell me, can you believe?’ Colenso cried indignantly.

  ‘Avarice,’ Mara tutted. ‘It can turn a person’s head.’ She shook her head so that the golden hoops at her ears flashed in the glow from the stove. ‘Can’t understand this obsession with material things myself. Give me the open road, the wind on my face and my little home any day.’

  ‘So, what do you actually do?’ Colenso asked, intrigued by the striking woman and her funny way of speaking.

  ‘Live life, my dear, and enjoy doing it too. I travel round the country with the kumpania, visiting the fairs and feast days, earn money by dukkering, forage for food.’

  ‘It sounds a lovely way to live,’ Colenso sighed.

  ‘It is. New people to meet, acquaintances to catch up with and of course the friends I travel with. Although it’s hard work pitching and striking camp at each new place. By the end of the season I’m ready to take things easier.’

  ‘You mean you have a real home like a cottage to go to?’

  ‘This is my real home, dearie,’ Mara chuckled, gesturing around the van. ‘I have everything here that I need. But tell me about this man you’re betrothed to – Kitto didn’t you call him?’ At the sound of his name, Colenso’s heart flipped, and as she began telling Mara about him the woman listened attentively.

  ‘Sounds like a decent young man to care for his mother and siblings so. And he must be handsome to have caught the eye of a pretty young girl like you.’ As Colenso’s hand went to her shorn locks, Mara reached over and patted her shoulder.

  ‘By the time you see Kitto again, your hair will be back to how it was. In the meantime, I promised your mother I’d keep you safe, so remember to stay well hidden. No use escaping one web just to be caught in another, now, is it?’ Colenso nodded thoughtfully, for hadn’t she been feeling like a fly being drawn ever closer to the spider’s mouth?

  ‘Of course, you’re bound to be spotted sooner or later, but hopefully by then we’ll be on the other side of the county,’ Mara continued, placing a little ornately carved chest on the table.

  ‘Now, let’s see what’s in store for us,’ she said, raising the lid.

  ‘Goodness,’ Colenso murmured as the woman pulled decorative cards from beneath a covering of gemstones and herbs.

  ‘Need to protect the tarot else they can pick up negative forc
es that affect the reading. Here, you shuffle them and let them pick up your energy,’ she instructed, handing them to her. ‘That should do it,’ she said, taking them back moments later. ‘Now to put them in order.’ Colenso watched as she laid them out in rows of three on the little pull-out table. ‘Right, now let’s see what the spread says. Oh …’ her voice trailed off.

  Colenso briefly caught a glimpse of staring faces and figures before Mara hastily gathered them together and returned them to the chest. ‘Not working tonight,’ she shrugged. ‘Time we were abed anyhow.’

  As Colenso climbed into her hidey-hole under the settle, she glimpsed Mara peering into a crystal globe and could tell the woman was troubled. But too exhausted to think anymore, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

  ✳

  Men were shouting, banging things around. The clattering of hooves resonated.

  When Colenso stirred, the van was swaying gently from side to side. Peering through the wooden planks, she could make out the outline of buildings, horses and carts, people walking. Her limbs were cramped and she needed some air, so she pushed on the lid above her head. To her surprise, it gave way easily and she climbed gingerly out. The room was empty and she guessed Mara must be outside steering the pony. Everywhere was immaculate, the things they’d used the night before neatly stowed away. The pans and brass handles on the cupboard and drawer were polished to a sheen and, although the space was smaller than their living room at home, it felt homely and loved.

  Suddenly, the van lurched to a halt and, unable to resist taking a peek, she lifted one edge of the chintz curtain. They’d drawn up in a field, which to Colenso’s eyes seemed to be crowded with vans and trailers. She just had time to glimpse big burly men erecting what looked like stalls, when the door opened and Mara appeared.

  ‘Get away from there,’ she growled. ‘Have you not got the sense you were born with?’ Colenso stared at the woman in bewilderment. Gone was her smile and kindly eyes.

  ‘I was curious to see where we were,’ she murmured.