He seemed to think about it for a moment before saying, ‘When could you start?’
‘Tomorrow. Would that be soon enough?’
He nodded and pointed towards the farmhouse. ‘You’d best come and meet the children in that case.’
They picked their way across the yard where chickens were pecking amongst the cobbles.
The first thing Charity noticed when they entered a large kitchen was how unloved it looked. Dirty pots were piled high in the sink and every piece of furniture was coated with dust. Two small children were sitting at a table.
‘That’s Tilly, she’s two, and that’s Simon, he’s four,’ he introduced them.
They were nice-looking children but Charity thought both were in need of a good bath.
They eyed her warily as she approached and bent to their level. ‘Hello, I’m Charity.’
They were both blue-eyed and blonde-haired and were chewing on crusts of dry bread.
‘I’m not much of a cook,’ he said quietly and Charity felt sorry for him. ‘And the house . . .’ He spread his hands in defeat. ‘I’m afraid I’m not very good at housework either. My Mary kept this place shiny as a new pin. Have you had any experience of caring for children?’
‘Oh yes,’ she assured him. ‘We Gypsy girls are taught to look after children from a young age.’
He shrugged. ‘Very well. I suppose we could give it a trial.’
She smiled. ‘Thank you. I’ll be here early tomorrow morning.’
She left with a feeling of relief. Now all she had to do was wait until the camp was asleep and escape. Then when the circus arrived, she would get word to Luca where she was. And their new life together could begin.
Chapter Eight
‘You have been gone a long time!’ Charity’s mother scolded when she arrived back at the camp. She had bought the shopping her mother needed on the way.
‘Yes, I’m sorry. I got carried away looking in the shops.’ She hated lying but what choice did she have?
The rest of the day passed painfully slowly. Charity was feeling a mixture of emotions. There was sadness at the thought of leaving her parents and the life she had known. She felt anxious about what might lie ahead. But overriding everything was her need to be with Luca.
During the afternoon, her mother went outside to cook over the campfire. While she was gone, Charity hastily packed her belongings into a pillowcase and wrote her family a note admitting that she had met someone she loved and telling them not to worry about her. When she was finished, she hid them beneath her small pallet bed. Then all she had to do was wait for her chance to leave.
Luckily, the Gypsies retired early that evening. The men had had a busy day tending the horses and the women had been busy cooking. They were all tired. Soon after they had all settled in their beds, Charity’s family’s snores echoed around the vardo. Charity had gone to bed fully clothed and lay awake until she was sure they were all fast asleep. Only then did she quietly rise and retrieve her bundle. Then she looked down on them all with tears in her eyes as she placed the note on the table where they would find it. Once she left there could be no coming back. The shame of what she was about to do would mean that they would disown her. Even so, what she felt for Luca was strong, so very quietly she slipped away. She paused once at the edge of the camp to look back at the vardo. It had been the only home she had ever known, but it was time to start the next chapter of her life.
She reached the farmhouse in the early hours of the morning and saw that it was in darkness. She had no wish to disturb the farmer so she crept into the barn. She made herself a bed of hay and lay down to sleep with the chickens. When the farmer rose with the dawn, he found her sitting on the doorstep.
‘Ah . . .’ He looked mildly surprised to see her. He hadn’t been at all sure that she would turn up. He looked embarrassed as he stood aside and she stepped past him. ‘I’m sorry, I forgot to ask you your name.’
She dropped her bundle onto a chair. ‘My name is Charity.’
‘Right, and I’m Eddie. Eddie Wells, and this is Top Acres Farm. I was just about to put the kettle on for some tea.’
‘I’ll do that,’ she volunteered. ‘If you’ll just show me where everything is.’ She supposed she should start as she meant to go on.
He was embarrassed as he pointed to the sink. ‘I’m afraid most of the pots are in there. I was going to wash them last night, but I never got around to it. What with seeing to the children and one thing and another. The kettle is on the hob.’
Charity had only ever cooked or boiled water over a fire before. Still, she was sure she would soon get used to it. While she was waiting for the kettle to boil, she washed some mugs. She carried them to the table before asking, ‘Where do you keep the milk?’
‘There’s a pantry to the side of the sink. That door there.’ He pointed. ‘And when I’ve milked the cows, I’ll bring you some fresh in.’
‘I could take that job on for you,’ she offered. She was used to milking a goat. Surely milking a cow would not be that much different.
‘Really?’ He looked relieved. It was a job his wife had always done before she passed away.
