Free The Girl by the River by Sheila Jeffries Page A

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.

Chapter Five
    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.