The Girl by the River (8 page)

‘I’m so sorry.’ Kate was obviously burning with embarrassment. She tried to see the funny side of it. ‘So much for my beautiful daughter,’ she joked. But no one
laughed.

‘Don’t you worry, Kate. I’ll see Annie home,’ said Joan. ‘It must have been a huge effort for her to come up here.’ She trotted after the retreating figure of
Annie who was somehow managing to make even the back of her head look angry.

Freddie carried Tessa through the crowd, across the churchyard and under the whispering shade of the elm trees. He felt her simmering down as she listened to his slow heartbeat, his rumbly
voice, and the soothing rhythm of his footsteps.

‘Now I’m gonna tell you something,’ he said, sitting down on a bench made from railway sleepers. He watched Tessa’s eyes opening wider, brightening as she started back at
him, quiet now, her breathing settling. ‘I love you,’ Freddie told her. ‘A lot. And I love these elm trees; they’re my favourite trees. They’ve been here for hundreds
and hundreds of years, and my old Granny Barcussy used to tell me elm trees were the guardians of the spirit. They shelter us from the wind and the hot sun, and they make deeper, cooler shade than
any other tree. They’re the tallest trees in England, and lots of wild creatures live in them.’ He paused and saw that Tessa was listening intently to his story, her pale blue eyes
slowly filling with light. He showed her a tortoiseshell butterfly. ‘That butterfly – see? – she lays her eggs in an elm tree – and way up there in the branches there are
birds’ nests, and a hole where the woodpecker lives. And . . .’ he lowered his voice to a whisper, ‘it’s said that the elves live in elm trees – and they’re
magic.’

Tessa was smiling now, and to Freddie it was an immensely satisfying time for him, sharing magic with this little person who was gazing at him raptly, hungry for every word. ‘Now if you
come here at night,’ he continued, ‘and sit under an elm tree with a torch, you can see the elves’ eyes shining like stars, they say – but I know different –
it’s the eyes of moths that are shining, and some of them are orange – like your orange juice, see?’ Tessa squealed in delight. Freddie touched her face and her skin was cool
again, the way it should be.

Kate was walking over to him with Lucy skipping beside her.

‘Thank you, Freddie. I’m so grateful,’ she said. ‘It was embarrassing, wasn’t it? Humiliating.’

Freddie shook his head. ‘Not to me,’ he said. ‘I’d rather be here, under an elm tree, with our little Tessa than at any posh wedding. My church is out here, under the elm
trees, if you can understand that, Kate.’

‘Oh – I can.’

‘And – I know you want to go to the reception – so you go with Lucy. Just bring me a slice of cake. I’ll take Tessa home when we’ve finished looking at the elm
trees.’

‘I don’t know how you calm her down,’ Kate said, ‘it’s like magic.’

‘’Tis simple,’ Freddie said. ‘I talk to her as if she’s grown up – and she will be. In a few years, she’ll be a beautiful little girl like Lucy.
We’ve just got to believe in her, Kate.’

A few weeks later, Freddie came home for his mid-morning cup of tea, and was not best pleased to see Ian Tillerman’s Daimler parked outside. He debated whether or not to
get back in his lorry and drive on, but a strong territorial instinct sent him into the kitchen where Ian Tillerman was sprawled in the best chair, his beefy legs clad in breeches and brown leather
riding boots. Clipped around the heel of each boot was a highly polished silver spur. Freddie looked at them and winced. Did the man really dig those cruel spurs into the flanks of a horse? His
eyes travelled up the legs to the blue Aertex shirt, the expensive smooth tweed hacking jacket, the hairy wrist flaunting a chunky gold watch.
What a toff
, he thought. Then he got to the
eyes.
Piggy little eyes
, he thought.
Shifty
.

‘Hello, Freddie,’ Ian said, and Freddie just nodded at him. He didn’t intend to speak.

Kate got up and gave Freddie a hug. ‘Ian was telling me about the place he’s buying,’ she said, pouring him some strong tea in the earthenware mug he liked.
‘Susan’s here too and she’s taken Lucy for a walk down to the shop. Tessa’s asleep.’

Freddie sat down. He didn’t feel like talking to Ian. He wanted him to go.

‘Darkwater Farm – out on the Taunton Road,’ Ian said. ‘We can’t move in until next year – there’s so much work to be done before the horses can come
down. Do you know the place?’

‘Ah – I do,’ Freddie said. ‘Have you actually paid for it?’

‘Well – no – but I’m going to make an offer.’

‘Then you’re a fool,’ Freddie said bluntly, and Kate gave him a little kick under the table.

Ian frowned. ‘Why?’

‘You can’t keep horses down there,’ said Freddie. ‘Anyone would tell you that.’

‘Why not?’

‘’Cause it’s under water for most of the winter. That part of the Levels floods every year.’

Ian laughed. ‘I don’t take any notice of local folklore.’

‘Freddie is right,’ Kate said. ‘Didn’t they tell you that when you viewed it?’

‘No.’

‘I’ll bet they didn’t,’ said Freddie. ‘And it’s not folklore. I’ve lived here all my life, and when I were a boy we used to row a boat over the flooded
fields from Langport to Taunton.’

‘I’m sure it can be fixed with a bit of intelligent drainage,’ Ian said.

Kate and Freddie looked at each other. ‘I’m surprised Joan didn’t warn you,’ Kate said.

‘She did have a go,’ Ian said, ‘but I don’t take any notice of women’s scaremongering. I’ve had a lot of experience in preparing equestrian property, and my
men will have the paddocks fenced and the gallop circuit built before the winter. Once the stables are renovated, we can move down.’

‘You’re buying trouble,’ Freddie said. ‘You mark my words.’

The two men eyeballed one another across the table.

‘Well, let’s not come to blows over it,’ Kate said pleasantly, ‘not in my kitchen!’

When Ian had gone, Freddie stayed at the table drinking a second cup of tea. ‘I don’t want him in here,’ he told Kate.

‘He’s not doing any harm,’ she replied, startled at the brooding anger emanating from Freddie. ‘And Susan is my friend. You can’t invite Susan and not him. We must
put our likes and dislikes aside.’

‘Ah – ’tis deeper than that. I’m telling you, Kate, I don’t want him here.’

‘But when they have children it will be good for Lucy and Tessa to have friends to play with,’ said Kate. ‘AND they might get invited to play, and to ride one day.
Susan’s planning to have ponies for her children.’

‘I don’t want Lucy and Tessa down there.’

‘Well – we’ll see,’ Kate said pleasantly and Freddie thought that ‘we’ll see’ usually meant that she hadn’t given up on the idea, and further
manipulation was to follow when Kate deemed it safe to try again.

‘He won’t last five minutes down here – that Ian Tillerman,’ he said. ‘’Tis no good him coming down here lording it about. Money don’t talk as loud as
he thinks it does. He’s got to have some sense and listen to local people, not scoff at them – he’s going to come unstuck in a minute, Daimler or no Daimler.’

‘You’re usually right,’ Kate said. ‘We’ll see what happens – but at least you’ve met him now, Freddie, and broken the ice.’

‘Ice?’ Freddie said. ‘’Tis a mile thick at the North Pole. Herbie told me that. And that’s how thick the ice is between me and “Lord Tillerman”.
I’m never gonna like the man – but I’ll try and keep the peace, Kate, for your sake. Just don’t ask me to play cards with the bugger.’

He reached across the table and took Kate’s hand between his rough palms. Immediately a spark flared between them and her eyes gleamed enticingly at him. She loved him, and wanted him, and
to Freddie that was a gift more precious than gold.

THE ROMANY GYPSIES

The Romany Gypsies rolled into Monterose on a Saturday morning in May. Freddie was in the garden hoeing the carrot bed when he heard the eerie sound of the elder flutes and the
jingle of tambourines starting up at the edge of town. He went to the gate and listened, his hoe in his hand as he looked up and down the street.

‘What is it, Daddy?’ Three-year-old Tessa appeared beside him, a daisy chain around her neck, her chestnut curls shining in the sun. Her clear pale blue eyes looked up at him
enquiringly.

‘’Tis the Romany Gypsies,’ Freddie said, and even saying the words sent a chill of apprehension up his spine. Would she be there? Madame Eltura? Would she see him there, with
Tessa?

He propped his hoe against the wall and together they watched the convoy turn into the street. The smell of horses and old canvas, the hot fragrance of dried herbs, the tang of new paint and
polish. ‘You go and get Lucy – and Mummy,’ Freddie said. ‘Tell them to be quick.’

Once they were all there, he lifted the two girls up on the wall. ‘You sit there and watch. Don’t you go running round the vardos,’ Freddie said, feeling in his pockets for
money. He fished out a handful of coins and gave them to Kate. ‘You get whatever you want – clothes pegs or whatever they’ve got.’

‘They’ve got tistie-tosties!’ shouted Lucy. ‘In a big basket.’

‘Don’t shout, dear. If you’re good girls, you can have one each,’ Kate said. ‘So stay up on the wall. I won’t have you running round – but I might take
you to stroke one of the horses, if they stop.’

Freddie went into the kitchen and opened the cutlery drawer. He took out the long bread knife and put it in a cardboard box. Then he added all the other knives he could find, carried the box
outside and put it down behind the wall.

He stood with his arm round Kate, a strange feeling of unease in his stomach. The Romany Gypsies had never bothered him before; they’d been part of his rural life, and he wanted the
children to see the wonder of the painted vardos.

The sun blazed on the gleaming paintwork as the lofty horse-drawn vardos came majestically up the sloping street, each horse plodding obediently, some with jingling brasses, some with their long
manes plaited and tied with raffia. Bunches of green elder leaves were stuck in their bridles to keep the flies away.

Most of the vardos were painted in two colours, red and yellow, blue and yellow, or cream and emerald. Some had carvings on the doors of horses, birds or roses, decorated in gold leaf. Freddie
glanced at Tessa’s face and saw that she was spellbound, taking it all in, drinking the energy from the vibrant colours. Lucy was giving a running commentary. ‘That one’s got red
wheels! That one’s got pretty curtains with tassels. That one’s got a golden bird on the door.’

‘Like you,’ Freddie looked down at Kate and gave her a squeeze. ‘A golden bird.’

Kate gave him one of her radiant smiles and his heart lifted. He looked into her eyes and felt reassured that nothing could possibly go wrong. His children were healthy and strong, sitting
happily on the wall kicking the heels of their sandals against the weathered blue-lias stone. Tessa was calmer most of the time, especially in the garden. She didn’t talk much, but her eyes
were expressive, the eyes of a dreamer, Freddie thought. But many times he saw fear in her eyes, and it manifested as anger – just like Annie – and if Tessa hurt herself, she was
terrified and would run away and hide in the most unlikely places. No one was allowed to touch or even look at any wounds she had, not even Kate with her nursing experience. ‘I’ll do it
BY MYSELF,’ Tessa would yell, and it was the same when she was learning something new. She wouldn’t accept help.

‘Heaven help her when she starts school,’ Kate often said.

The convoy of nine vardos with their domed green canvas roofs came to a halt, parked along the level end of the street, filling it with colour and noise. Annie hobbled out of her gate and stood
with the family, watching the gypsy women climb down from the vardos and unload willow baskets full of clothes pegs, paper roses, elder flutes, bunches of herbs and handmade lace. With a basket on
each arm, they began their journey down the road in their flowing skirts and coloured shawls, knocking on every door.

‘Will they come to us?’ Lucy asked.

‘Ah, they’ll come,’ Freddie said, his eyes watching the last vardo which was smaller than the rest and decorated in red and purple. He tried to see the lettering on the side.
No one had emerged from it, and the door stayed firmly shut.
It had to be her
, he thought uneasily.

Kate went into the cottage and came out with a bucket of water. She carried it over to the nearest horse, a bay cob with a shaggy black mane trailing almost to the floor. She put the grey metal
bucket down and the horse drank noisily. Along the street neighbours appeared with buckets and took them to the horses.

‘Thank you kindly, ma’am.’ The dark-eyed gypsy lad gave Kate a smile and a nod.

‘Can I bring my children over to stroke your horse?’ she asked.

‘Yer welcome, lady. I can see you love horses.’

‘I do,’ Kate beamed at him. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Prince.’

‘He’s wonderful. So GOOD, aren’t you, Prince?’ Kate gave the horse a kiss on his soft muzzle. She ran to fetch the girls who were waiting with eager faces. She lifted
Tessa down from the wall.

‘You hang on to her, Kate,’ Freddie said anxiously. ‘Don’t let her get under his feet.’

Kate could feel Tessa trembling with excitement when she put her down next to Prince. The horse lowered his head graciously to the two children, blowing hot air out of his velvety nostrils.
Tessa gasped and turned big eyes to look at Kate. ‘He’s like a DRAGON,’ she whispered.

‘A dragon?’ Kate laughed in delight. ‘Why’s that?’

‘’Cause his breath is on fire,’ Tessa said. She reached out and ran her soft fingers through Prince’s mane, entranced by its heavy, wiry fronds. The sun glistened through
it in ripples of silver and tinges of blue.

Then she did something unexpected, something that took Kate’s breath away. Tessa parted the festoons of mane as if they were curtains, crept through them and sat down between the
horse’s front legs. She reached up and touched the softness of the horse’s belly hair. And Prince never moved a muscle.