“Tell him to go away, Nanny. I’m afraid ... please, Nanny.” Screamed the child, desperation lacing her voice. Nora picked Anne up, holding her close.
“It’s alright, Darling, he won’t hurt you. Hush now – Don’t cry.” Nora hugged the child closer, looking alarmingly at the gipsy, a man who for the past three months had intoxicated her by his mere touch, who had turned her whole world upside down. She found her voice, controlling it as best she could.
“Johnny, what on earth are you doing here?. Please go at once. Frank will be down at any minute to cut the fresh vegetables for lunch. Believe me, he will call the police for sure if he finds you here. Don’t explain, just go – hurry, take those chickens if you must have them.”
He did not answer, only moaned as he looked at the child. The silence seemed to go on for ever, the only movement was the swaying branches of the trees, edged on by the wind. Nora stared at the gipsy and saw the face of a man going through mental torture. His face went dark like thunder. Sweat covered his handsome features, giving them a shiny, unreal look. His eyes looked so disturbed, Nora wasn’t sure if he was angry or shocked. He moaned again, a deep sadness flashed across his eyes as he reached out to touch Anne’s cheek.
Nora backed away, quickly, almost falling over. Again, he touched Anne’s face, this time pushing her curls back, revealing the small brown mark.
“What is this? Look here, Johnny – why are you behaving like this?” Her immediate thoughts were to run. She tried, unsuccessfully, her feet somehow rooted to the ground. Again, there were a tense few seconds before he started to mutter.
“The bastard ... the bastard. On my wife’s grave I will take revenge. Now I know who he is, I will kill him. To hell with the consequences.”
Nora’s mouth felt dry with nervous foreboding. The man was mad. She tried backing away, managing a few steps then failing to go any further. ‘My god, he is going to kill us’, her thoughts echoed.
The gipsy started to mutter again, a vindictive smile on his face.
“This child – my daughter – his daughter. The murdering bastard was under my nose all this time and I failed to spot him...”
He stopped talking, seeing the distressed look on Nora’s face, the child in a similar condition.
“Please, Johnny, please tell me why you are behaving so strangely?” For one moment, she thought he was going to faint, his colouring now ash white. But he leant over her and shakily planted a kiss on her forehead and whispered the words she had heard so often.
“I love you, woman. Love you with all my heart. I would never harm you or this nipper. Never, the child is not responsible for the murdering bastard who is her father and my daughter’s...”
He straightened up, running his fingers through his hair.
“See me tonight. I will explain. So much is happening at once. I’ve waited so long.” His voice took on a far away sound, hollow and husky.
Mid-morning sunshine shone through the branches of the trees. Except for the usual animal noises, the wood lay silent and undisturbed. The gipsy shifted his position a few inches – the sleeping child still cradled in his arms. He was gripped with an overwhelming grief, looking down at the tiny well-scrubbed baby face. He looked at her in silence. His Marie, a child born because an animal in human shape decided to take his fill, regardless of the suffering he inflicted. His Marie. A beautiful child born to suffer, but, no more. He would see to that. He congratulated himself. So far, so good.
The turning point was near. The child his dead wife carried for nine months in the womb, was going to her natural father. Not because of choice, but because of necessity. Her needs would be catered for; her standard of living altered for the better. Because of this he must bypass all murderous thoughts and actions, on the bastard. The gipsy was dying inside every passing moment. The shirt on his back was damp with perspiration. He spoke to the sleeping child, his tone husky with emotion.
“My darling, Marie. You already look like a rich man’s daughter. If all goes well, no longer will you live in a cramped caravan or sit by an open fire that you fear so much.” He paused. Tasting the salty tears. “No longer will you be looked down on or sneered at. A lady, you will become. In a few short years the memory of me and the camp site will fade.”