how much time has gone by. Always a dreamer. Never had no sense of time, or thought for what other people might be thinking neither.’ She suddenly laughed. ‘To be honest, she often has no sense, full stop. She went off with a band of them gyppos in caravans and camper vans or what have you a while back, even. You know about that, right?’
Hillary did. ‘A little. She spent a few years travelling, I think?’
‘Right. I reckon she thought it was as close as she was gonna get to running off and joining the circus. That’s what she wanted to do when she was little, you know,’ Deirdre said, with an indulgent chuckle. She gently nudged Hillary away from the stove and nodded in satisfaction at the softening fruit. ‘Ah, just need to cool down a bit.’ She took the pan off the stove and set it to rest to one side.
‘I blame them books she read as a kid. About some elephantpacking its trunk and what not. You ask any of my other kids what they wanted to be when they was nippers, and they’d have said that they wanted to be astronauts, or train drivers, or actresses or nurses or whatever. Gilly always wanted to run away and join the circus.’ Deirdre Tinkerton sighed and carried on somewhat pragmatically. ‘’Course, there ain’t any circuses any more, can’t afford to keep runnin’ I reckon, and even if there had’a been, our Gilly wouldn’t have been any use to ’em, Lord love her. She couldn’t ride a horse, and she was built too much like me to swing from a wire. She didn’t have no beard neither, and her dad threatened to wallop her backside if she came home with so much as a single tattoo.’
By now she was openly laughing, and Jimmy was also holding a hand over his mouth as he pretended to take notes. ‘So when she upped and left just after her eighteenth birthday with this band of gyppos none of us was surprised. We were just glad and relieved when she came back. Les was half-expecting her to come back with a nipper or two, but she didn’t. ’Course, that never surprised me so much. For all she’s got her head in the clouds half the time, she’s also got it screwed right on her shoulders. If’n you see what I mean.’
Hillary smiled, thinking that she knew very well what Deirdre meant. ‘She was well able to take care of herself, you mean. She might not have had book-learning, but she was canny, like a fox.’
‘That’s it, my love,’ Deirdre said approvingly, and reached for some battered tin plates and started laying out pastry in them, carefully trimming the excess from around the edges. ‘So now she’s gone off again, I ain’t worried this time neither.’
Well, that explained her easy manner, Hillary thought. And instantly felt guilty. For this mother truly believed that her daughter was all right. But was now the time to tell her differently ? Would it be needlessly cruel to shatter her convictions? Hillary thought that it was – especially since they didn’t have any concrete evidence to go on.
‘When she left the first time, did you hear from her then?’ Hillary asked carefully.
‘Not for ages, no, love. Gilly don’t like modern technology stuff – not computer mad, see, like all her little nieces and nephews. I swear, some of the gadgets they use make my ’ead swim.’
‘I see.’
‘Gilly was always good with her hands, see,’ Deirdre swept on, anxious to make her understand. ‘But not so good with living in the everyday world, like. She was shy as a kid, something terrible. She could knit a treat by the time she was ten though. Crochet too, and embroidery. And when she got older she took up painting – lovely little country scenes and what ’ave you. There’s one over there.’
She nodded her head towards an uninspired and not very good watercolour of weeping willows surrounding a small pond full of ducks. But the composition showed the artist had at least some eye for form. And the colours showed a hearty verve.
‘Very nice,’ Hillary said. ‘Before
Hillary did. ‘A little. She spent a few years travelling, I think?’
‘Right. I reckon she thought it was as close as she was gonna get to running off and joining the circus. That’s what she wanted to do when she was little, you know,’ Deirdre said, with an indulgent chuckle. She gently nudged Hillary away from the stove and nodded in satisfaction at the softening fruit. ‘Ah, just need to cool down a bit.’ She took the pan off the stove and set it to rest to one side.
‘I blame them books she read as a kid. About some elephantpacking its trunk and what not. You ask any of my other kids what they wanted to be when they was nippers, and they’d have said that they wanted to be astronauts, or train drivers, or actresses or nurses or whatever. Gilly always wanted to run away and join the circus.’ Deirdre Tinkerton sighed and carried on somewhat pragmatically. ‘’Course, there ain’t any circuses any more, can’t afford to keep runnin’ I reckon, and even if there had’a been, our Gilly wouldn’t have been any use to ’em, Lord love her. She couldn’t ride a horse, and she was built too much like me to swing from a wire. She didn’t have no beard neither, and her dad threatened to wallop her backside if she came home with so much as a single tattoo.’
By now she was openly laughing, and Jimmy was also holding a hand over his mouth as he pretended to take notes. ‘So when she upped and left just after her eighteenth birthday with this band of gyppos none of us was surprised. We were just glad and relieved when she came back. Les was half-expecting her to come back with a nipper or two, but she didn’t. ’Course, that never surprised me so much. For all she’s got her head in the clouds half the time, she’s also got it screwed right on her shoulders. If’n you see what I mean.’
Hillary smiled, thinking that she knew very well what Deirdre meant. ‘She was well able to take care of herself, you mean. She might not have had book-learning, but she was canny, like a fox.’
‘That’s it, my love,’ Deirdre said approvingly, and reached for some battered tin plates and started laying out pastry in them, carefully trimming the excess from around the edges. ‘So now she’s gone off again, I ain’t worried this time neither.’
Well, that explained her easy manner, Hillary thought. And instantly felt guilty. For this mother truly believed that her daughter was all right. But was now the time to tell her differently ? Would it be needlessly cruel to shatter her convictions? Hillary thought that it was – especially since they didn’t have any concrete evidence to go on.
‘When she left the first time, did you hear from her then?’ Hillary asked carefully.
‘Not for ages, no, love. Gilly don’t like modern technology stuff – not computer mad, see, like all her little nieces and nephews. I swear, some of the gadgets they use make my ’ead swim.’
‘I see.’
‘Gilly was always good with her hands, see,’ Deirdre swept on, anxious to make her understand. ‘But not so good with living in the everyday world, like. She was shy as a kid, something terrible. She could knit a treat by the time she was ten though. Crochet too, and embroidery. And when she got older she took up painting – lovely little country scenes and what ’ave you. There’s one over there.’
She nodded her head towards an uninspired and not very good watercolour of weeping willows surrounding a small pond full of ducks. But the composition showed the artist had at least some eye for form. And the colours showed a hearty verve.
‘Very nice,’ Hillary said. ‘Before
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