As soon as he had eaten, Reuben was ready to sleep. He never slept inside the caravan because that was purely to house his possessions. Instead, he crawled inside a small tunnel tent pitched on the grass verge beside it and said his goodnight. As he laced the front of the tent, Connie listened to him coughing.
‘He’s not so good,’ said Kez quietly, as if reading her thoughts. Connie nodded. What could she say? Life on the road was hard on them all. Sleeping out in the open when you’re unwell wasn’t ideal but it was no good suggesting that he should go indoors. The open air and the freedom of the road was all Reuben knew.
‘Has he seen a doctor?’ Connie asked.
‘He won’t go to a doctor,’ said Kez with a shrug. ‘He says all doctors are Gorgias and not to be trusted.’
‘Doesn’t it get any easier?’ Connie asked. ‘Being on the road, I mean?’
Kezia shook her head. ‘Sometimes, even before we unhitch the horse, the village bobby comes along on his bicycle to tell us to move on.’
‘Couldn’t you refuse?’
‘If we do they threaten to take our children away and put them in a home.’
Connie was appalled. ‘Can they do that?’
Kez shrugged. ‘So they say.’
Connie shivered. The sweater only had short sleeves and she was getting cold now. She wished she’d brought a cardigan. ‘I’d better be getting back,’ she said.
‘You didn’t get your tea yet,’ said Kez.
Connie sat back on the caravan steps and sipped the scalding hot tea. Kez must have noticed her shivering because she threw a shawl over her shoulders. As Kezia ate, Connie told her about life in the munitions factory and the WAAF. Kez told Connie about the day her mother died and the loss of her little Joseph. On a happier note, she told Connie about meeting Simeon and of their marriage. Simeon, who had joined up during the war, had only just returned to her. He had adjusted to life with the Gorgia and, she said proudly, ‘He did his bit.’
‘Simeon talks of buying land,’ Kez went on. ‘He wants us to settle down.’
Connie was sceptical. ‘But you’ve always enjoyed moving around. Will you be able to settle in one place?’
‘Simeon managed in the army right enough,’ she smiled. ‘The kids and I will get used to it. I want Sam to go to school. I want him to read and write.’
Connie nodded and the two friends looked at each other with the same unspoken thought in her head. Reuben coughed again.
‘I want a better life,’ said Kez quietly. ‘The Frenchie says Simeon has a real talent.’
Connie was puzzled. ‘The Frenchie?’
‘I don’t know his name,’ Kez shrugged, ‘but he says if I learn to read proper, we could go into business and I can help Simeon.’ She sighed. ‘We never stayed long enough in one place for me to learn at school.’
‘If you’re going to stick around here for a while,’ said Connie, ‘I could try and teach you to read if you like?’
‘Would you?’ cried Kez.
They hadn’t noticed Isaac coming up behind them. ‘What’s the point?’ he glared. ‘Waste of time, a girl learning to read.’
‘I want to read books,’ said Kez defiantly. ‘There’s some good things in books.’
‘Pah!’ said Isaac. He had some fishing gear in his hand. ‘You can’t eat books.’
They watched him walk away and Connie smiled. ‘You stick to your guns, girl.’
‘I intend to.’
‘You said the Frenchie says Simeon has a talent but what does he do for a living?’
Kez shrugged. ‘Odd jobs, scrap metal, driving, that’s all that’s on offer for the likes of us.’
‘So what is his talent?’
Kez led the way round the hedge to where the motor trailer stood. Connie gasped as she saw the beautiful wooden carvings he had put on the side. It wasn’t to Connie’s taste, too garish for that, but she could see that he had a real eye for it. Fleurs-de-lys, scrolls and arches were everywhere and Simeon was up a ladder decorating them with gold leaf.
‘This is amazing!’ Connie cried.
‘And he done the whole thing from scratch.’ Kez smiled in a satisfied way as she touched her husband’s leg and they exchanged a loving glance.
‘What about you, Connie?’ asked Kez. ‘What do you do now?’
‘Didn’t I tell you, I’m going to be a nurse?’ said Connie.
‘A nurse,’ cried Kezia. ‘Don’t you want to get married?’
Connie thought fleetingly of Emmett. ‘Maybe. When the right man comes along.’
Kez grinned. ‘Good for you.’
They went back to the fire and sat down to reminisce. It was getting dark by the time Connie made a move to go home. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right walking back on your own?’ Simeon asked as he cleaned his brushes.
‘Fine,’ said Connie. ‘I have Pip with me. He won’t let anybody touch me.’
‘Don’t forget to put the clocks back an hour,’ Kez reminded her. ‘Double summer time ends tonight.’
‘So it does,’ Connie smiled.
As she said her goodbyes and left, Connie felt loved and accepted by all of them. Everyone except Isaac. He had been less pleasant. In fact, he seemed to have a giant chip on his shoulder.
The house was in darkness when Connie got back home. She gave Pip a drink of water and the few scraps her mother had saved him from the evening meal.
‘Silly old dog,’ she said softly as she fondled his ear. ‘I didn’t abandon you, you know. I still love you.’
Leaving him in his basket, Connie crept upstairs. She had thought everyone was asleep but then she heard Ga call her from her room. Connie only ever went in there when invited. It was a cluttered place with piles of leaflets and papers all over the dressing table and the chair. As soon as she walked in the door, Connie could tell by the expression on Ga’s face that something was wrong. She was sitting up in bed, her handbag beside her and her bad knee resting on a pillow. She had a lacy bed-shawl around her shoulders and her hair was in steel pins. How on earth did she sleep in those? Connie wondered.
Olive motioned for her to sit on the bedside chair so Connie moved the mound of papers onto the floor.
‘I want to talk to you about this nursing business,’ said Ga. Connie opened her mouth straight away but her great aunt put up her hand to silence her. ‘You might not be worried about how this will affect me …’
‘And you don’t seem to be bothered that I have a right to my own life,’ Connie interjected.
‘But,’ Ga continued loudly and clearly not listening, ‘have you thought of what this will do to your mother?’
Connie faltered. ‘Mother? In what way?’
‘Can’t you see how she looks?’ said Ga accusingly. ‘The poor woman is exhausted.’ She paused as if to let the words sink in. ‘We need you, Constance. We need you to help share the workload. Gwen cannot carry on much longer.’
There was a short silence. ‘But Clifford will be coming home shortly,’ said Connie.
‘And what sort of a state do you think he might be in?’ Ga retorted. ‘Besides, he’s not getting any younger either. I already told you,