Chapter Six

The following morning it was Christmas Eve and Clara rose from her bed early to make it to the market place. She’d need to get in all the food supplies for Christmas so she took Meg and Edmund along with her, so they could help to carry the baskets home. Meanwhile, Mama was already baking her well-loved mince pies, a couple of batches of bread and was boiling a large ham on the stove for their Christmas Eve tea before going to church.

Emily was giving The Vicarage a good spruce up as Mama had said it was possible visitors might call in unexpectedly as it would be their final Christmas living at the house. She had wanted to invite her sister over with Lottie and the baby but Clara thought it too risky. So far they hadn’t seen Jethro McWhirter anywhere and he certainly hadn’t knocked on their door as yet, but Clara just had a feeling he was out there somewhere waiting to pounce. Mrs Pettigrew would surely not have kept that nugget of gossip about Mrs McWhirter and the baby being sighted at The Vicarage, to herself.

Clara sighed deeply when as they approached the market place, it was already crowded at this hour of the morning. Everyone must have had the same idea about getting there early before things sold out as they surely would that day. She nudged her way through the crowds, jostling the elbows of well-dressed men in top hats and smart frock coats and women in fur edged capes with fancy hats, amongst those of a lower social class who even though of a lower standing, were dressed as best as they could for a special day. It was so crowded that she warned the children to stay close to her side. ‘If we lose one another,’ she said, ‘we’ll meet up at the front of the church.’

Meg and Edmund nodded obediently, but she knew they’d rather be back home playing in front of the fire rather than going shopping with her, so it was with some surprise she noticed something to keep them amused. There was a Punch and Judy show going on to the left of the church and quite a crowd had gathered to watch Mr Punch and Judy playfighting with a string of sausages as a crocodile came along and snapped the sausages up in front of them! How the children laughed. A man in a straw boater hat who carried a wicker basket over the crook of his arm, mingled amongst the crowd as he sold pokes of peppermint and Bentley’s Chocolate drops to the children and their parents. Whoever had that idea has a captive audience, Clara thought, smiling to herself. It was one way to keep the children amused as the adults shopped at various colourful stalls. ‘You both go and have a look at the show,’ Clara addressed her younger siblings. ‘Here’s a couple of pennies for sweets, but you’ll have to help me carry the baskets home afterwards as they’ll be too heavy for me to cart home on my own.’

Both nodded enthusiastically and ran off in the direction of the puppet show, leaving their baskets with Clara.

She began to browse the various stalls and found what she was looking for, a hunk of cheese, a large pat of butter, some pickle preserve to go with the ham her mother was cooking, a selection of apples, oranges and nuts, a link of pork sausages, a quarter of tea and a selection of penny buns. She was about to turn around to go over to where her brother and sister were watching the puppet show, when something caught her eye. It was a gypsy caravan and not any old one either as it was Patrin’s. Feeling so excited, she forgot how heavy and cumbersome the baskets were, she decided to leave them with Meg and Edmund, with a warning not to let them out of their sight as there were often light fingers at work around the market place. They both nodded happily as they wanted to see the end of the show, so she set off for the caravan. But she was to be disappointed when she got there because Patrin’s sister was sat on the steps. For a moment, she thought the girl wouldn’t recognise her but then she greeted her warmly. ‘You spoke to our Patrin, didn’t you? A few days back?’

‘I did indeed. Is he around?’

She shook her dark lustrous curls and as she did so, her gold hooped earrings caught the morning sun. ‘Ah no, well what I mean is, he is around here but he’s busy.’

‘Oh?’

‘He’s in that boxing tent over there?’ She pointed to a large tent with a yellow and red striped canopy covering its roof. ‘He’s sparring to get a bit of practise in at the moment as in a couple of days’ time, he said he’s going to take on any man in this village. He’s not been beaten yet.’

Clara frowned. ‘Sorry, but what does he or they get out of it?’

‘If they knock him down on the canvas they get a purse of five sovereigns, but if he knocks them down, he gets the glory of still being the undefeated champion!’ She said proudly.

‘Oh, I see. Well I’d better leave you to it then.’

‘Aw,’ the girl frowned momentarily. ‘Why don’t you come into the caravan for a while? I’ve got a pot of tea brewing here,’ she pointed to the small fire she had going to the right of the caravan as a large blackened kettle was suspended over it, ‘I can tell your fortune if you like?’

Clara gasped. She’d never had her fortune told before. Emily would have jumped at the chance, but she wasn’t sure. Then again, what harm could it possibly do?’

‘I will then, if you’re offering, thank you.’ She expected the girl would ask to have her palm crossed with silver like she’d once read about in a book, but she had plenty of money on her. ‘I better just explain to Meg and Edmund. They’re my younger siblings, they’re watching the Punch and Judy Show.’

‘Aye, well you go on then and I’ll get the tea ready for us by the time you return.’

Meg and Edmund were only too happy to stay a while longer and she told them if the show finished to come and get her from the caravan and they both nodded in agreement. When she returned to the caravan the doors were wide open but there was no sign of the girl. Tentatively, Clara climbed the wooden steps and called out, ‘Hello?’

There was no answer. Maybe she’d been called away? But then the girl arrived breathless behind her and said, ‘Please go and sit inside. I just ran over to the boxing tent to tell Patrin you are here…’

Clara felt her cheeks infuse with heat. Why would the girl do that? At a loss for words, she said, ‘Oh, you didn’t need to do that, but thank you.’ It would be helpful though as she needed to speak to him about Lottie and the baby getting away to a more permanent place of safety.

‘There’s no need to thank me, miss,’ she said. ‘He just said after the last time you spoke, if I was ever to see you again to let him know.’

That’s curious. Why should Patrin want to seek me out? It puzzled her.

‘Well thank you for going to the trouble,’ she said.

‘Ah, ’tis no trouble at all now. He’ll be over in a few minutes after we’ve had time to have a cup of Rosie Lea and a chat.’

Clara nodded, knowing full well that the chat meant the girl telling her fortune. ‘Sorry, I don’t know your name?’

The girl shook back her dark curls, her vivid emerald eyes shining brightly and said, ‘’Tis Florica, but everyone calls me Flori for short.’

Clara smiled. ‘Florica is a beautiful name. I’ve never heard of it before.’

‘Only me Ma and our Pa used to call me by the full name, sometimes Patrin too if he’s annoyed with me though,’ she giggled.

Clara couldn’t imagine anyone being annoyed with the beautiful creature she saw before her. She guessed the girl was about sixteen or seventeen years old and not even far off Emily’s age, but there was a huge difference. This gypsy girl would be more worldly, she would have seen a lot and experienced many things spoilt Emily had not.

They seated themselves on the two low wooden chairs that were inside the caravan, a small table in front of them. It was then Clara noticed the crystal ball. She’d only ever seen one in a book before. Clara noted how clean everything looked, Flori obviously took pride in keeping the caravan spruced up. Beside the crystal ball were two steaming cups of tea. ‘Drink your tea as we chat,’ she said, ‘and I’ll read your tea leaves first.’

They chatted in general about the upcoming festivities but all the while Clara was aware of the fact that Patrin would be here soon and she was grateful for the cup of tea to soothe her jangling nerves and moisten her dry lips.

‘Now then,’ said Flori with a smile as she took Clara’s teacup from her hand, turned it upside down on its saucer and rotated the cup three times, before turning it the right side up, ‘I’m going to read your tea leaves.’

Clara’s breath hitched in her throat. Did she really want to know what was in front of her? After all, if someone had forecast her future this time last year she might have been warned of her father’s impending death and that would have frightened her and ruined her final months with him. Some things were best not knowing.

Flori held the teacup in her hand and peered inside. ‘I see changes afoot,’ she said solemnly, ‘big changes.’

That much was patently obvious to Clara as she was taking on a new position as a governess to work for a family she didn’t know which would involve moving into their stately home.

‘What sort of changes?’

‘With regards to relationships. I see a new man coming into your life. This man is out to do you good, but then, wait, there is a young woman…’

Clara was inwardly shaking her head, surely this was some sort of contrived thing? Flori and Patrin were trying to trick her maybe? But then she said, ‘There is a man you fear but he is not out to harm you, but the young woman will. This is a warning for you. I’m sorry your tea leaves don’t hold any better news for you but I don’t feel I can tell a lie.’

Clara felt a shiver course her spine, now wishing she hadn’t encountered the girl, but then Flori said, ‘But don’t fear, this is a warning for you. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything bad will happen. Just keep your wits about you and it won’t.’

Clara let out a little breath of relief. ‘Thank goodness for that. Do you see anything else in the leaves?’

‘No, the warning is so strong that I can’t see anything else, that happens sometimes. I’ll try the crystal ball instead. She placed both of her hands on the ball and closed her eyes for a moment, almost as though she were in a trance, and then she peered inside the ball. ‘I see a swirling mist,’ she said.

‘A mist?’

‘Yes, and there’s someone walking through it. A man.’

‘Is he one of the men you spoke about earlier?’

‘No, this man is much older. He’s a good man, everyone likes him. He’s smiling now and tipping his hat to me. Wherever he is, he’s happy but I get the feeling this man looks over you.’

Clara’s heartbeat quickened. ‘I think I might know who he is,’ she said excitedly.

‘He’s dressed in black, he might be an undertaker?’

‘No, not the man I know.’

‘Wait a minute, I see a white collar, he’s some sort of man of the cloth.’

‘That’s him!’ Clara felt like grabbing the crystal ball from the girl and peering inside. ‘Please can I see him?’

Flori shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she explained. ‘Only I can see him as I interpret these things, it’s a gift that not everyone is blessed with. Please try not to interrupt as I might lose him all together.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Clara’s eyes were beginning to mist with tears as she waited on tenterhooks to hear what the girl had to reveal next.

‘He’s still here and he’s trying to give you something. It looks like a red rose.’

‘Yes! Yes!’ Clara said, ‘He grew them in our garden, he was fond of his roses.’

‘You have no need to fear as he will always be around you, especially when the roses bloom every year…’

A tear spilled down Clara’s cheek. She took a clean handkerchief from her reticule to mop it up.

‘Your father is leaving now and I see a woman. She’s in danger. It’s not you, she has a baby in her arms.’

‘Lottie…How is she in danger?’

‘I see her lying at the foot of the stairs all covered in bruising.’

‘But that’s already happened that’s why she was trying to get away from her husband.’

Flori looked at her with trepidation in her eyes. ‘This is definitely the future. She’s in more danger from her husband, she needs to go far away…but this is only a reflection of what might happen. Another warning.’

This was one warning too many for Clara and now she wished she hadn’t come at all. ‘I think I’d better leave,’ she said reaching for her reticule to pay the girl.

Flori held up her vertical palm. ‘No money, please. I do this as a favour to you and these warnings I’ve given you are unusual I know, but at least you should have some comfort in connecting with your father once again.’

Clara nodded. That was something at least.

‘Please don’t rush off, I have one more thing to tell you.’

‘Go on.’ Clara decided if it was another warning or bad news she just as well hear it.

‘Your family fortunes are about to change. I see your family living in a smaller house but they will be happy there, but for some reason you aren’t with them?’

‘No, I will be living elsewhere soon.’

‘There is also a marriage on the cards.’

‘But I’ve no intention of marrying anytime soon and there is no one…’

‘It might not be yourself. That’s all I know is I can see a wedding, a spring one as there are apple and cherry blossoms.’

‘That’s curious. I can’t see our Emily marrying soon. But wait a moment, Mrs Pettigrew’s daughter is due to wed, maybe it’s her?’

‘I don’t think so, this is someone close to you, or it might even be you.’

Lillibeth Pettigrew was definitely someone she couldn’t have considered close. How strange.

There was a sharp knock on the caravan door which startled Clara, the warnings had been enough but now this.

The door opened and Patrin stood there, shirtless, his skin slick with perspiration. His torso was very muscular she noticed.

Flori rose from her seat and went outside the caravan to have words with her brother. Through the open door, Clara heard,

‘You might have put your shirt back on,’ as Flori scolded him. ‘Particularly when there’s a young lady here.’

She heard him chuckle. ‘Well, I don’t think the lady will be minding too much, particularly when she’s seen me in this state afore now.’

Clara’s cheeks seared with embarrassment as realisation crept in. There was the time she’d spied on the gypsies in the woods and he’d stripped off to the half to have a wash.

‘Please put this on,’ Flori said, returning to the caravan and opening a cupboard. She rolled her eyes in a good natured fashion at Clara, and handed her brother his flannel dressing gown.

He put it on without murmur or complaint. Clara smiled to herself thinking, She might well be a young girl but she knows what she wants and how to get it.

The girl turned in Clara’s direction and said, ‘I’ll leave you both now as my brother would like to speak to you, would you prefer to speak to him inside the caravan or outside of it?’

Clara chewed her bottom lip and thought for a moment. It wouldn’t be deemed proper for her to be left alone with Patrin unchaperoned in this caravan, someone might see her leaving him afterwards, so she opted to speak outside. Whatever he had to say to her couldn’t be that secret as after all, she barely knew him. Though she felt in some way that she had known him for years.

She followed Flori down the caravan’s wooden steps and watched her leave to go off in the direction of the market stalls, then she glanced up at Patrin’s beaming face. He did look pleased to see her, but then she noticed a slight swelling on his cheek bone. ‘Hello. What happened there?’ Instinctively, she reached out to touch it and he winced. It was most unusual for her to be so intimate with someone she didn’t really know and that scared her somewhat.

‘I had a good sparring partner,’ he chuckled. ‘’Twas one of the other gypsies, Thomas, I’m going to have to watch him or he’ll steal my title as the best bare knuckle fighter in these parts.’

She nodded. ‘Is that what you’ll be doing in the tent afterwards?’

‘Yes, but keep it quiet as we should be using Queensbury rules.’

‘What are those?’

‘Brought in by the Marquis of Queensbury. He brought in the rules that boxing gloves have to be worn and the count to ten rule about when someone’s knocked out.’

‘For safety reasons then?’

‘Yes.’

She shook her head and tutted at him. ‘Then why do you carry on with the bare knuckle fighting?’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Seems to be what attracts people most. They like the idea of a little illicit gambling and witnessing something they shouldn’t really. It draws in the crowds and it’s in my heritage. The men in my family have all been bare knuckler fighters, my great grandfather was a champion in these parts,’ he said proudly. ‘He was known as “Fearless Finbar”. People came from miles around to watch him and he was never, ever defeated.’

‘You sound proud of him,’ Clara smiled to see the pride in his eyes as he spoke.

‘I am. He’s no longer on the earth plane with us, died a few years back, but he’ll always be remembered. He even took on men who were years younger than him and beat them also!’

She frowned as the winter sun was getting stronger now behind him and dazzling her eyes, so she shielded them with her hand. ‘Is that what you’d like? To be remembered?’

‘For sure I would. This is in my blood.’

Clara studied his face for a moment. ‘What was it you wanted to see me about? I don’t have much time as I expect that puppet show where my brother and sister are waiting will finish soon.’

‘I was going to ask you if you know of any work going for myself and Flori? We would like to remain here throughout the winter instead of moving on with the others. It’s a long story but there’s been a bit of a fall out in the family and we both can’t stand my cousins arguing between themselves and causing strife no more.’

‘Oh,’ she hadn’t been expecting that answer, it scuppered her plans now to ask about him taking Lottie and the baby with them in their caravan. ‘I can’t say as I know of anywhere as I’d been looking for work myself as our family fortunes have changed since the death of my father.’

‘I am most sorry to hear that,’ Patrin looked into her eyes and she saw genuine sympathy there for her. ‘Where will you be working?’

‘At a manor house as a governess to three children.’

‘That’s nice. And yer’ll have to live in there?’

She smiled and nodded. ‘Maybe you could ask at one of the big houses if they’re looking for anyone. What can you do?’

‘Just about anything to be honest with you. I’m good at gardening, as a handy person, I can even sharpen knives and cook too!’ He laughed. ‘And I’m definitely good with horses.’

Her gaze was diverted to the strong looking white horse which was tethered to a wooden post. ‘Do you have any references though?’

He shook his dark curls. ‘No, as we move from place to place, I don’t have any.’

‘Anyone who can vouch for you and your conduct?’

He looked thoughtful for a moment as Clara glanced at the Punch and Judy stall to see if she could spot Meg and Edmund but there was no sign of them. ‘Oh no!’ she said as fear clutched her insides.

Patrin’s eyes widened.  He placed both of his hands on her shoulders. ‘What’s the matter?’ he said, gazing into her eyes as she felt in a stupor for a moment.

‘My brother and sister, they’ve gone! I told them to wait there for me but I can’t see them any more.’

‘Come on, I’ll help you find them,’ he said with great confidence. She followed him over to where the puppet show was packing up until the next one—the man was now collecting coins in his straw hat for the performance. ‘Punch ‘n’ Judy will be back here in one hour!’ he shouted at the crowd.

‘Bart, have you seen a boy and girl?’ Patrin asked the man.

Bart chuckled. ‘Seen loads of them this morning…’

‘Please sir, my brother and sister were sitting here earlier throughout the show, they had a couple of baskets with them. My brother has red hair and my sister has fair hair.’ She paused as she remembered something. ‘My brother had a toy wooden soldier with him.’

The man smiled, I remember them now, they disappeared all of a sudden, I thought I heard someone calling them.’

Clara legs became boneless as she felt giddy with fear. Who could have called them? She scanned the market crowd but it had enlarged since the last time she’d shopped at the stall. Then she felt a reassuring squeeze of her hand from Patrin. ‘We’ll find them,’ he said nodding at the puppeteer. ‘Keep an eye out Bart if they return and keep them here if they do.’

The man nodded back at him, his face solemn now as if he feared where they’d got to, too.

As they pushed their way through the bustling crowd, Patrin keeping hold of her hand, she heard shrieks and giggles and she was sure it was Meg’s laughter she could hear, but then she heard Edmund laughing too. There was no doubt about it. ‘I can hear them,’ she said with tears in her eyes. ‘Over there!’ she pointed to Patrin, who elbowed his way through the throng until they arrived at a wooden signpost which read, “Test your strength here”. Josiah Whitman was standing there without his shirt on, lifting her brother and sister in some contraption around his neck with Meg on the one seat and Edmund on the other. Both appeared to be loving it, but Clara felt her hackles rise with anger.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ She glared at the man. Please put my brother and sister down, right now!’

Quite a circle of people had gathered and Josiah looked at her with great amusement in his eyes. ‘How did you get hold of them anyhow, they were at the puppet show?’

Edmund looked at her and said, ‘Please don’t get angry, our Clara. Josiah just spotted us and asked us to come here for a moment to help him win a prize.’

Clara found it hard to remain angry with the kids, especially as Meg’s bottom lip was now quivering and she appeared as if about to burst into tears.

The stall holder helped Josiah remove the yoke from around his neck and the children were placed firmly on the ground once more. The crowd cheered as if impressed with his show of strength. It was then, Clara noticed Patrin was glaring at him.

‘You did wrong there, fellow me lad!’ Patrin shouted at him. ‘You worried Clara about them. She’d told them to stay put at the puppet show until she collected them.’

‘We didn’t mind!’ Edmund said brightly but Patrin ignored him to carry on sizing up to Josiah. Josiah glared back at him. ‘Ain’t you the fighter who’s going to be in the tent on boxing day?’ he asked.

‘I am.’

‘Then I think we’ll meet up and settle our differences then,’ Josiah snarled.

‘That’s fine by me.’ Patrin kept giving him a menacing stare.

Josiah grinned. ‘Me too. Maybe we could do so in that boxing booth of yours tomorrow?’

‘Just come along and I’ll take you on any time! I’ll take great delight in knocking a big lump like you flat out on the floor!’ Patrin declared and then he continued to stare him out and began invading his space as he brought his face close to Josiah’s.

Clara was about to step in between the two men to break the impasse, when Meg distracted them all by crying very loudly. The crowd were now “Awwing and Ahhing” and began to walk away as the stall holder paid Josiah several coins into his filthy looking palm. Maybe the man hadn’t changed as much as she’d thought. Money came first as always for him.

Finally, Josiah broke the standoff and began to walk away, jingling the coins in his pocket as if to torment Patrin.

Patrin let out a long composing breath as if to calm himself before saying, ‘If you just give me chance to change into a clean shirt and my jacket, I’ll help you home with your shopping,’ he said, glancing at the abandoned wicker baskets on the ground. Clara nodded in appreciation. Christmas Eve was turning out to be totally different to previous ones. Now there were two men at one another’s throats and she feared she and her family were the cause of it.