She had almost forgotten about the boy next morning, when a knock came on the door. Katie opened it a fraction. With a start, she saw it was him. She flushed, and stood, confused, not saying anything.
‘Hiya, Francis,’ shouted Paddy from behind her.
‘My grandmother sent me over to show you where to go for water,’ he said. ‘The water in the stream isn’t clean enough for drinking.’
‘We’ll be ready in a minute. Come on, Brian! Come on, Katie! Where are my shoes?’
Francis waited outside in the sunshine for them. Katie pulled on a T-shirt and shorts and a pair of runners – she found a wide navy hairband she shared with Hannah and hoped it would help keep some of her mass of red hair out of her eyes.
The sunlight almost blinded her as she stepped outside.
Francis stood in front of the blue horse, running his fingers along the smooth, painted wood.
‘It’s beautiful.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Katie.
‘What’s it for?’ he asked.
‘The horse is my Mam’s. Her granddaddy made it for her when she was a little girl.’
‘Oh, a kind of souvenir then.’
‘No, it’s much more than that.’ She tried to explain. ‘My great-grandfather, like his father before him, used to make the old-fashioned wagons. They travelled all the roads of Ireland and made homes for lots of the travelling families, and on a small corner of every wagon they always painted a blue horse so that people would know who the maker was. My great-grandfather carved this wooden one for Mam. The old wagons are gone but we still have our blue horse and no matter where we camp Mam puts him up for luck and in memory of times past. She says we must never forget those times, and that the blue horse brings us good fortune.’
Francis nodded. ‘Gran is the same. She gets strange feelings about places and people, about what is good luck and bad luck, and where we should camp or not.’
‘Some people say she has second sight,’ he added. ‘She can tell fortunes, and all around her she sees signs that the rest of us don’t notice.’
‘Hurry up, Katie,’ shouted Paddy, swinging a water container towards her. Katie grabbed it, then she and Francis fell into step. She forced herself to keep up with his long strides. He was much taller than her and she guessed he was a year or two older.
They came to a large white house with a neat driveway bordered with multicoloured flowers. Francis told everyone to stop, then he ran up and rang the doorbell.
No one answered.
‘Ah hell, the lady must be out. We’ll have to come back again.’
‘What about the other houses? Can’t we try them?’
He looked uncertain.
‘I’ll try,’ suggested Katie.
Two or three modern redbrick houses stood beside each other. Katie went up and knocked at the first door. Through the window she could see the children watching a large television set. It was blaring loudly. She knocked again. One of the girls got up, came out and answered the door.
‘Yeah, what is it?’ she demanded.
‘Could you help us, please?’ Katie lifted up the large white plastic container. ‘We need some drinking water as –’
The girl half-closed the door and shouted up the stairs.
‘Mum, it’s a gypsy, she wants something.’
Katie couldn’t hear the reply.
The girl reopened the door wider.
‘Sorry, we’ve nothing for you.’
‘It’s only water –’ Katie began.
The girl was not listening and shut the door quickly.
Katie noticed her go back to the television set. At the next house a man was busy mowing the small front lawn. As they got nearer he switched off the mower, strode towards the garden gate and banged it shut. Then, turning his back towards them, he started up the machine, its loud noise breaking the quiet of the morning.
The twins knocked on the door of the last house. A smartly-dressed woman answered the door.
‘I’m sorry, I’m rushing out.’
‘Please, Miss,’ Francis pleaded, ‘we only need some water. We’re camped down the road a bit.’
‘Look, I’m sorry, but I’m in a bit of a hurry. Why don’t you try next door?’
She came out onto the front step, pulled the door shut after her, and with her keys and bag in her hand quickly got into the small silver car in the driveway and drove out the gateway in the direction of the town. They stood watching her, still clutching the empty plastic containers in their hands.
‘Best get back,’ murmured Francis.
‘Mam’ll kill us if we’ve no water,’ said Brian.
‘Look, we’ll try later,’ said Katie, irritated.
As they walked back towards the camp they noticed a car in the driveway of the first house.
‘Will we try again?’ asked Katie.
‘No harm,’ laughed Francis, going up and ringing the bell.
A middle-aged woman opened the door. Her eyes brightened when she saw Francis.
‘It’s the boy from down the road, isn’t it? More water I suppose!’
He nodded. ‘We called earlier. These are the Connors. They moved in yesterday and need some water too, if that’s all right.’
A shadow seemed to pass over her face – maybe she thought she’d be swamped with travellers looking for water now – but was quickly blown away. She brought them into a small room off the kitchen, where there was a washing machine, a tumble-drier and an ironing board, and one shelf was stacked with washing powder and cleaning stuff.
Francis had already started to fill his container, placing it in the large sink and running the tap. The others copied him when he had finished. The lady of the house disappeared back into the kitchen.
When they had filled up, Francis knocked on the kitchen door.
‘Well, I hope that’s all right for you all,’ the woman said.
They smiled and thanked her. She handed them a packet of biscuits.
‘Have one each.’ They were chocolate chip.
‘Look, Francis, if I’m out when you call and you need water, why don’t you leave the containers on the step outside this door and when I get home I’ll fill them for you and you can collect them later.’
‘That’s very nice of you, Ma’am.’ Francis blushed.
‘With this heat, everyone needs plenty of water. It’s the least I can do.’ She smiled kindly.
Thanking her again, they left and began to walk back to the camp.
The full containers were really heavy. The twins carried one between them, stopping every few seconds to have a rest. Katie hadn’t quite filled hers, as she knew if it was more than three-quarters full it was impossible to lift.
It seemed ages before they got back to the campsite. The glaring sun highlighted the peeling paint and the ramshackle condition of many of the caravans. Some were new and shiny and stood out like sore thumbs.
With the heat of the day the rubbish around the site had begun to smell and clouds of buzzing flies hung heavy in the air. Katie hoped there weren’t any rats.
Francis helped her lift the water up into the kitchen.
‘Would you like to see the goats and meet my Gran?’ he asked.
She looked at Mam.
‘That’s all right, Katie, once you’re back in the middle of the day,’ Mam said.
Katie followed Francis as he wound his way through the field and down towards a small sea-green caravan, that reminded her of an egg-box. An elderly woman lay stretched out on a battered-looking deckchair making the most of the fine day, whilst keeping up a conversation with a pure white goat that grazed beside her.
For an instant Katie wasn’t sure if the woman was talking to the goat or to Katie herself. But Nan Maguire’s welcoming handshake reassured her.
‘The Connors girl, is it?’ she said, searching the young girl’s face.
Katie took an immediate liking to this old traveller woman. Her grey hair was pulled back in a bun and she wore a striped T-shirt and a floral skirt. Her face was lined but looked happy. But it was her eyes that attracted Katie like a magnet – they were the colour of the sky overhead, and when they focused on Katie, she felt as if the old woman could see right into her, to her very soul.
‘Kathleen – yes it’s a good traveller name. My grandson Francis here is named after the good saint who loved all the animals. Naming is important.’
Katie looked at the ground, unsure what to say.
‘Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the herd,’ Francis offered, leading the way to where a make-shift pen held some of the goats.
Two were not much more than kids and they stared at her with huge clear eyes and pushed against her clothes looking for a loose end to grab and nibble or chew.
‘That’s Gertie, and this is Old George. Be careful of him, he’s a bit cross. And these two are Goosey and Gilly. The rest of them are up on the hillside.’
Katie touched them gingerly at first.
‘Some people give goats a bad name but I like them,’ Francis declared. ‘Ever since I came back here to live with my Gran when I was nine, I’ve helped with them. So I’ve been at it this past six years.’
Katie smiled to herself – they were almost the same age then.
When he talked about the goats his face kind of lit up. ‘People from the town often come to the field inquiring about the goats’ milk. It’s meant to be great for children and babies who are allergic to cows’ milk. If we had a piece of land and a whole load of goats I’d say there’d be plenty of money in it.’ Suddenly he stopped as if he had said too much, given his hopes away. ‘Let’s get back – it must be one o’clock.’
* * *
Day after day Katie seemed to spend more and more time with the ‘goat-boy’, as Mam had nicknamed him. He was a good listener and she told him about all the towns they had visited, and about Sister Mary in the national school who had helped her to learn to read and write.
It was a strange thing being a traveller that even though you were always surrounded by your own family and the other families on a site, it was very hard to become a really good friend with anyone, to have someone special to talk to. The minute you got friendly with someone they could suddenly go off to the far side of Ireland. Sometimes Katie felt very lonely. In the last two schools she had gone to, she had noticed the way the other girls all had a best friend. She had found herself always on the outside of that. Now at night and even when she was washing the cups she wondered if a boy could be a girl’s best friend. Were Mam and Da best friends once?
Francis told her all about himself and his grandmother. He was very fond of animals, knew more than a hundred books would tell you. He and his gran were always moving.
Nan Maguire’s fame as a fortune teller was known far and wide. Every Tuesday, when the other women went off begging door-to-door, all sorts of people would make their way to the tiny caravan and spend between fifteen and thirty minutes having their fortune told. On sunny days, the crowds of giggling girls and older, worried-looking women waiting their turn would sit on a fallen tree trunk that served as a bench. If it was cold they sat in groups or in cars up on the road.
Some of the others living on the site resented the old woman’s way of making a living and were jealous when they saw the crowds every week.
‘More power to her, that’s what I say,’ Mam declared firmly.
‘Do you think she has the gift really, Mam? Do you believe it?’ asked Katie.
‘Indeed I do. There are lots of our people touched with gifts – nature meant it so.’ She looked at Katie. ‘Those people that come to her may have lost their way a bit. Someone to help them put a foot on the right path or tell them the strings to break – that can only be a good thing.’
‘Has she told your fortune, Mam?’
‘No, lovey, I know my fortune. I got the man I love and I got the children I love. I’d be afraid what I might hear, so it’s best left well alone.’
As every day passed Katie longed more and more to get Nan to tell what lay in store for her.