Gypsy Girl (20 page)

There was a panic when we thought we’d lost my father, and my heart started beating fast in case McCloud had got
him
now. But everyone else was saying that perhaps the wedding had been too much for him and he’d gone down the pub. It turned out he hadn’t. He was sitting quietly in his Mitsubishi, listening to music and staring out of the windscreen. When he saw Sabrina, he came out and hugged and kissed her, and said she looked wonderful, until she told him to stop because he was creasing her dress. As Sabrina moved away, I found him staring at me.

“What?”

“You worry me, Sammy. I keep catching you looking scared. You’re never scared.”

All of a sudden I wished I could tell him about McCloud’s threats. He was still a powerful man. His fists were huge and could hit like sledgehammers. I wished he would go and beat McCloud in a fight, but I could never tell him what had happened. If I did, he’d go and get Bartley, Tyson and Rocky and all the other men, and they’d go storming over to International Express. I shivered, even though the sun was blazing down. We were stronger, but it would make no difference. It would end in disaster – for us.

So I gave him a hug instead. “Everything’s fine, Daddy. Now go and get your suit on. The limo will be here soon. And the horse and carriage. It’s Sabrina’s big day. What could go wrong?”

I pointed to the nearest tree. Two magpies were sitting watching us all, or more likely they were watching the crisps and biscuits that my little cousins were spilling everywhere as they ran from their mamas, who were trying to force them into their best clothes.

“One for sorrow, two for mirth, that’s what Granny Kate sez.”

It seemed to be working, because Sabrina was looking happy and even Beryl had stopped shouting at everyone. She was dressed in her wedding outfit, with her new fascinator perched on the side of her head. It was a bright red flower made out of feathers, with a couple of extra long plumes like antennae.

The exception to all this happiness was Rocky. My heart sank as he pulled his Shogun onto the field. He was either going to have another go at me, or ignore me. So I was glad when he went straight over to Bartley and started talking. My delight didn’t last long, though, because they both turned and glared at me. I was the centre of more stares than Sabrina, as she posed for photos with our sisters and aunts.

I tried hard to keep out of Rocky’s way as we waited for our transport to turn up, but in the end he came swaggering over, looking even more handsome in his best man’s suit. It was grey with a white shirt and a skinny grey tie. He was on his way to pick up the groom, who was getting ready at their house.

“Aw,” he said, clasping his hands like one of me sisters and putting on a soppy voice. “Look at you! Ain’t you pretty!”

“Stop it.”

He came closer. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to mention last night. Not today, anyway. But we will talk about that soon, I promise.”

I shrugged as though I didn’t care. Behind him, I could see Queenie approaching.

“Doesn’t she look gorgeous,” she shouted as she hurried up to us.

He put a smile on his face. “Like a royal princess. No! Better than one of them.”

Queenie was wearing a shining gold dress that was as tight as a sausage skin around her middle. “I hope she’s more comfy than me. I can’t breathe.”

“I told you to stop eating chocolate,” said Beryl, trotting up to join us. “And where’s your fascinator?”

“Sat on it. It’s crushed. I didn’t like it anyway.”

They went off, arguing. My sisters were all ready to go as well. There was definitely a Smith sisters theme. Bright colours in all the shades of the rainbow, skyscraper heels, long dark hair up and twisted into curls, or hanging straight and glossy to their waists. I thought this was my opportunity to get away from Rocky, but he stood in my way.

“You’re being watched again, by that red Impreza in McCloud’s driveway,” he said. “What have you been up to?”

“Nothing.”

He sighed. “If you’re not going to tell me, I’ll have to go and ask him.”

I put a hand on his chest. “No.”

That got him scowling. “Why? Has something happened?”

First Bartley, then my father, now him. I had to think quickly. “They hate travelling people, that’s all. They think we’re all thieves and we’re going to steal their stuff. Or poke our noses into their business. Just leave them. We’re gone soon.”

Before he could question me any more, I gave him a push towards his car.

“Now go and move your car, or the limo won’t be able to get into the field and Sabrina will go crazy!”

By the look he gave me, I could tell he wasn’t convinced, but there was nothing he could do. “Watch yourself, Sammy-Jo. Just keep to being a bridesmaid for today.”

“Yes. Yes,” I said. “Now go.”

He was only just in time. As he drove away, our hired stretch limo turned into the field. It was pure white, with satin ribbons tied along the bonnet. That got all the little children excited. Thomas Hamilton was racing alongside it, shouting to all the other children that he was going to ride to the church in it. So were my sisters and aunties. It had disco lights, a driver in a uniform and a cocktail bar. There were “oooh”s and “aaah”s from everyone as we peered inside.

Me and Sabrina had different transport, one that didn’t have an engine, and it was on its way. We could hear the clip-clop of hooves on the road outside the field. The little girls forgot about the limo and went running to the entrance. Round the bend came two white horses with their manes plaited with satin ribbons, their dappled coats shining in the sun, their tails swishing. They were pulling the most romantic and handsome carriage in the world, with the leather top folded down like a pram hood and the coachwork sparkling. Steering it was my cousin Freddy and his wife, Mandy. Like all the Smiths, they loved their horses, but Freddy had turned his into a business.

My daddy shot straight over to inspect the horses, stroke their noses and talk to Fred. This was more his style than the limo. Sabrina was making her way over to it, a whole crowd of little girls holding her dress up off the ground for her. She had been smiling, but now the carriage had arrived, she looked ready to burst into tears.

“You sure you want to go through with this?” I said.

She nodded, but her eyes were sparkling like diamonds. “Course I do,” she said. “And there’s nothing wrong with me except that this dress is killing me. It weighs a ton. And my shoes are hurting already.”

We’d both got new Jimmy Choo high-heeled silver sandals for the ceremony. But waiting back at the hotel room were some flats to change into later.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon,” I told her.

The church service would, but not her married life. I was glad it wasn’t me. None of it – not the beautiful dress or the carriage and horses, or being given a bungalow as a wedding present – could make me want to get married. I looked around at Tyson’s cousins and the other boys as they got in their motors to drive to the church. These were the boys I should’ve been dreaming about, but I wasn’t. I looked over at Langton House. There was only one boy that made my heart beat quicker.

“Sammy!” said Sabrina. “I can’t get up the step. I need help!”

It took three of us. Two pushing from behind and Freddy hauling her up from inside the carriage. He was used to it. No girl could move in such a huge dress.

I skipped up the steps easily enough, but Sabrina had disappeared. In her place was what looked like a puffball of netting and white satin taking up all of one seat of the carriage, with Sabrina’s head almost buried in the middle of it. It turns out that not only was the dress too heavy, it nearly didn’t fit inside the carriage, either. Somewhere underneath all the lace and netting was Whitney Jade.

We had a very squashed ride to the church. People walking in the streets stopped and stared. Some came out of their houses to watch us go past. I didn’t blame them. It wasn’t every day you saw a horse and carriage, especially one carrying two girls and one little girl almost drowning in a sea of white net petticoats. But I relaxed a little.

No one could get near me now. The limo was behind us, crammed with aunties and sisters and me daddy. And behind it was a whole line of cars belonging to us. I could hear music playing as we made our way towards the town and through traffic lights and up the high street, past the hotel. The girls at the nail bar were standing in a row on the edge of the pavement, ready to wave at us. So were the hairdresser women and all the friends of my aunts and sisters.

I waved like a princess.

But I couldn’t forget that somewhere far back, Hudson was following me.

Granny Kate says that in the old days Gypsies didn’t get married in a church like St Stephen’s, with its little steeple and stained-glass windows and the beautiful old churchyard out front, where the photographer was waiting to take our pictures. They didn’t have balloons lining the aisles, and someone videoing it from the side, and a whole load of relatives dressed in their wedding finery, waiting to greet us as the horses trotted into the churchyard pulling the carriage, with the limo gliding in behind. They didn’t need two strong men to help get the bride out of the carriage and standing on her own feet.

Instead they used to jump the broomstick.

That’s what she told me. They actually used to jump over a broomstick. They would lie one on the ground. The girl and boy who were in love and wanting to get married would hold hands and jump over it, with everyone standing around to witness it. And when they landed on the other side, they were husband and wife.

Jumping the broomstick – I wish that’s what we were doing today. I wish Sabrina and Tyson would jump the broomstick in five minutes, and then we would all go far away and never come back.

As I walked up the aisle behind Sabrina and our father, trying to keep Whitney Jade from running off, and trying to stop Thomas Hamilton from sticking his tongue out at the other children as he went past, I looked at the guests in their fine clothes, and the children dressed like little princes and princesses. I thought we looked like a fine people. A people who didn’t do what everyone else did.

Rocky was standing at the front. He should’ve been concentrating on giving the wedding ring to Tyson. He wasn’t. He kept glancing my way. I don’t know what he was expecting me to be doing.

As the service began, and Tyson got his first look at his beautiful bride, I sat myself down next to Granny Kate on the front pew. Beryl had told me to keep an eye on her, because she’d had a couple of dizzy spells in the limo. She was wearing a handsome lace dress with a shawl around her shoulders and her long hair hanging in a plait down her back.

She leaned closer to me, as the vicar droned on and Sabrina and Tyson gazed happily at each other, and whispered, “I don’t like this. My thumbs are prickling. That’s always a bad omen.”

“What’s wrong now, Granny?”

“Didn’t you see the magpie sitting all on his own on top of the steeple? One for sorrow.”

“Don’t worry, I bet there was another one close by,” I said, but I felt a shiver run down me own spine. I didn’t need magpies to tell me that there was danger around.

She took my hand, and I could feel her shaking. Now I was even more worried about her. Granny shouldn’t be shaking. She was as steady as a rock.

“And that’s not the worst of it, Sammy-Jo. There’s a mullo here.”

“A what?”

“A mullo, Sammy-Jo. One of the dead who are still walking.”

Beryl was right. There was something the matter with Granny. First she goes wandering off with old Langton, and now she was talking about the walking dead.

“You sure, Granny?” I smiled and patted her hand. “There’s a zombie in the church?”

“No! They don’t go in churches. He’s outside.” Granny lowered her voice. “He’s waiting for us. Someone should go and scare him away.”

We were all getting up to sing the first hymn, so I turned and looked. The church door was half open and framed in it was Pony. Milo was next to him. Hudson was doing a good job of making sure I was watched the whole time.

“Him with the white hair. He’s a mullo,” Granny whispered. “You remember I used to tell you about them. The walking dead. People without souls, who can be ordered to go and kill.”

Granny Kate knows all the old legends. She used to love telling us horror stories from those dark countries with high mountains far away in the eastern parts of Europe, where Gypsies first gathered hundreds of years ago. We came from India, that’s what people say. We were thrown out, and we began travelling. We thought we’d soon find a new land to call our own, but we never did. So we’re still travelling now. But some of us stopped on the way. There’s scatterings of Gypsies in lots of countries. And in some they tell dark tales about Gypsy ghosts and Gypsy witches. But a Gypsy zombie?

It sounded about right for Pony, though. I knew Granny’s talk of mullos and the walking dead couldn’t be real, but at that moment, in the dark church with the organ playing and the stained-glass windows throwing splashes of crimson and green and blue over everyone, and the smell of incense, and the plaster saints staring sightlessly at us, I felt that evil things could be real.

And if mullos did exist, then they would look like Pony, with his white, stringy hair. He looked like he had no soul, like he could be ordered to go and do terrible things without worrying about it or feeling guilty.

“I think we call them psychos these days, Granny. They’re not really dead, just dead inside, so they have no feelings.”

She wasn’t listening to me. “I’ve seen them before, when I was a girl. And during the war. Sometimes we’d stop in the country and a man would come by, and we’d know. He’d look at us, and he’d have no shadow and no reflection, and we’d know he was a mullo off to get revenge on the living.”

She was still staring at the distant figures. “Dead eyes. Eyes without soul,” she muttered. “That’s how you can spot them. That and the white hair hanging down their backs, corpse hair.” She clutched my hand again. “And if they come for you, then you’re dead. Don’t let him come for you, Sammy-Jo. I noticed him, but no one else did. He keeps looking at you with his dead man’s eyes.”