Read Online The Girl in the Painted Caravan by Eva Petulengro - Free Book Online
Authors: Eva Petulengro
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when it
came to experience and training. Mummy and Vera would tap dance together and had worked out many routines to their favourite songs. Lena, with her Marlene Dietrich-style voice, would sing
‘Underneath the Lamplight’.
They knew, of course, that their parents would never have consented, so it took quite a bit of daring each other before one of them eventually went on stage. Sure enough, Lena won the Talent of
the Day prize. Thereafter, it became a little monotonous as, day after day, one talented sister appeared after another, and it must have seemed to an increasingly restive audience (for they
weren’t all day-trippers) that this was some kind of benefit for the Petulengro family.
The manager was in fact accused of this, after all five of the older girls had won the contest in turn and were happily queuing up ready to win again. He called them aside and tactfully
suggested that they were more or less monopolising his theatre, not to mention scaring off the talent among the holidaymakers, which it was the purpose of the show to encourage. The girls were a
little sad, but they understood and, in any case, there were new horizons ahead. A number of professional talent spotters, or people who claimed they were, had already approached them after their
appearances, offering them jobs in show business.
This would never be more than a dream, they knew, but the idea was thrilling and they were proud and flattered that they had been asked. The manager of the Arcadia was impressed too and he
couldn’t see why they shouldn’t have their chance. Thinking to give them a pleasant surprise and not knowing anything about Romanies, he found out where Naughty’s caravan was
parked and went to see him. He congratulated him on his beautiful and talented daughters and told him that he would like to be their manager and give them training for careers on the stage.
Although he listened politely, Naughty’s face froze as the mystery caller talked. At first he thought the manager must be a gorger lunatic, rambling on senselessly. Then, as the penny
dropped that it really was his precious daughters the man was talking about and that they had been performing on stage in front of a lot of gorgers, he began to feel his blood boil. He somehow
managed to calm himself down and remain polite, although his negative answer was so emphatic the manager realised he was not to be argued with.
When the girls came home, they took one look at their father’s face and realised they’d been rumbled. They were lucky they shared the blame equally and Naughty didn’t know
which one to start with. For some reason, though, he did not get as angry as he thought he would; he felt more sadness in his heart, for he realised that this was another turning point. On the
road, always travelling, this would never have happened. In the intimate confines of the vardos there were no secrets to be kept from each other, no chances to conspire. Things were different
now.
It is true that the Romanies know little of culture outside of music and dancing; literature and art are not part of our lives, but we are all artistic in our own way. One particularly important
craft among Romanies was always that of woodcarving, a practice put to good use making toys, bender tents and pegs for hawking. Our arts, or skills, are on the whole practical; we do not take a
commercial view of them, as this story shows.
One day the family was pulled up near to a farm and the farmer, knowing the Romany reputation, asked Naughty to attend to one of his sick horses. Naughty worked through the night on the horse
and managed to save its life, much to the relief of the farmer, whose favourite mare it was.
Naughty refused payment, for they were parked up on the farmer’s land and it was what he would have done for any sick animal. But the farmer was adamant that he should have something for
his night’s work and, taking Naughty into the living room of the farmhouse, he
came to experience and training. Mummy and Vera would tap dance together and had worked out many routines to their favourite songs. Lena, with her Marlene Dietrich-style voice, would sing
‘Underneath the Lamplight’.
They knew, of course, that their parents would never have consented, so it took quite a bit of daring each other before one of them eventually went on stage. Sure enough, Lena won the Talent of
the Day prize. Thereafter, it became a little monotonous as, day after day, one talented sister appeared after another, and it must have seemed to an increasingly restive audience (for they
weren’t all day-trippers) that this was some kind of benefit for the Petulengro family.
The manager was in fact accused of this, after all five of the older girls had won the contest in turn and were happily queuing up ready to win again. He called them aside and tactfully
suggested that they were more or less monopolising his theatre, not to mention scaring off the talent among the holidaymakers, which it was the purpose of the show to encourage. The girls were a
little sad, but they understood and, in any case, there were new horizons ahead. A number of professional talent spotters, or people who claimed they were, had already approached them after their
appearances, offering them jobs in show business.
This would never be more than a dream, they knew, but the idea was thrilling and they were proud and flattered that they had been asked. The manager of the Arcadia was impressed too and he
couldn’t see why they shouldn’t have their chance. Thinking to give them a pleasant surprise and not knowing anything about Romanies, he found out where Naughty’s caravan was
parked and went to see him. He congratulated him on his beautiful and talented daughters and told him that he would like to be their manager and give them training for careers on the stage.
Although he listened politely, Naughty’s face froze as the mystery caller talked. At first he thought the manager must be a gorger lunatic, rambling on senselessly. Then, as the penny
dropped that it really was his precious daughters the man was talking about and that they had been performing on stage in front of a lot of gorgers, he began to feel his blood boil. He somehow
managed to calm himself down and remain polite, although his negative answer was so emphatic the manager realised he was not to be argued with.
When the girls came home, they took one look at their father’s face and realised they’d been rumbled. They were lucky they shared the blame equally and Naughty didn’t know
which one to start with. For some reason, though, he did not get as angry as he thought he would; he felt more sadness in his heart, for he realised that this was another turning point. On the
road, always travelling, this would never have happened. In the intimate confines of the vardos there were no secrets to be kept from each other, no chances to conspire. Things were different
now.
It is true that the Romanies know little of culture outside of music and dancing; literature and art are not part of our lives, but we are all artistic in our own way. One particularly important
craft among Romanies was always that of woodcarving, a practice put to good use making toys, bender tents and pegs for hawking. Our arts, or skills, are on the whole practical; we do not take a
commercial view of them, as this story shows.
One day the family was pulled up near to a farm and the farmer, knowing the Romany reputation, asked Naughty to attend to one of his sick horses. Naughty worked through the night on the horse
and managed to save its life, much to the relief of the farmer, whose favourite mare it was.
Naughty refused payment, for they were parked up on the farmer’s land and it was what he would have done for any sick animal. But the farmer was adamant that he should have something for
his night’s work and, taking Naughty into the living room of the farmhouse, he
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