might call a friend of the police, and I wouldn't trust him with my back turned, but he's what you wanted. Shall I have a car take you?'
'No, I don't think that would be appropriate treatment for a pair of gipsies, do you? And you'll have to have a talk with Miss Carter and Sergeant Donaldson. We do not want the whole police force to know that Senator Simpson spent an hour with two arrested gipsies, do we? No, I think we'll just carry on as if you've let us off with a warning, if you'd be so good as to arrange my release. You know where we'll be; if you need to talk with me, have one of your constables stop me. No one will think twice of a copper rousting a gipsy. But, if he needs to arrest me, have him do it gently. I do promise not to beat up my daughter in railway stations any more.' Connor hesitated, then forced a laugh. Perhaps only the circumstances had rendered him humourless.
We rose to take our leave. Connor rose with us, and after a small hesitation, came around the desk and held out his hand to Holmes.
'There's sorry I am, Mr. Holmes, for what you found here in my building. I am newly come here, but I say that in explanation, not in excuse.' Holmes took the hand and shook it.
'I found good men here, Mr. Connor. Young men, it is true, but I think from the look of you they will age quickly.'
'They will that, Mr. Holmes. Now, I'll be wishing you Godspeed, and a good hunting to you. And to you, Miss Russell.'
We were soon out on the street, carrying three bags apiece, working our way up to the outskirts of town where we soon located Andrewes Stables. Holmes left me in the office and went to find the owner. I cooled my heels by juggling for half an hour, desperate for something to read (though strictly speaking I should be barely literate) until I heard voices outside the door, and in came a shifty, greasy character followed by the marginally less disreputable figure of Holmes, smelling strongly of whisky and flashing his gold tooth. Andrewes leered at me until Holmes distracted him by holding money under his nose.
'Well, then, Mr. Andrewes, that's settled. I thanks you for holdin' my brother's wagon for me. Here's what I owes you. Come, Mary, the wagon's out in the yard.'
'Just a minute, Mr. Todd, you're a shilling short here.'
'Ah, terrible sorry, I must a dropped it.' He laboriously counted out three pennies, a ha'penny, and six farthings. 'There it is, now we're quit. Get the bags, girl,' he snarled.
'Yes, Da'.' I meekly followed him, laden with the four largest bags again, through the muck-slimed yard to the gipsy caravan standing in the back. A rough-coated, heavy-legged horse was being introduced between the traces. I deposited my load and went around to help with the process, blessing Patrick's tutoring as I did so, and found that though the arrangement of the harness was different from that of a plough or a hay cart, it was logical and quickly mastered. I climbed up beside Holmes on the hard wooden seat. He handed me the reins, his face a blank. I glanced at the two men standing nearby, arranged the thick straps in my hands, and slapped them hard across the broad back in front of me. The horse obligingly leant forward, and we pulled out onto the road north, on the trail of Jessica Simpson.
SIX: A child gone from her bed
Let her be restored — and they will receiveher with extraordinary, pathetic welcome. — The strange hymn of rejoicing.
On the very outskirts of the town Holmes had me pull over and apply the brake.
'We need to do a thorough check on this equipment, I fear,' he said. 'The last time I hired one of these the wheel fell off. It would not be convenient this time. You strip the horse down, take a look under the traces, and I think you'll find a few sores. Currycomb, rags for padding, and ointment for the sores are in the calico bag.' He disappeared beneath the caravan, and while I brushed and treated the puzzled horse, he tightened bolts and applied grease to dry axles. With the horse back in harness, I went around to see if I might be of help and found his long legs protruding from the back.
'Need a hand?' I called.
'No point in both of us looking like mechanics. I'm nearly finished.' A minute passed, silent on my part, grunts and low imprecations on his.
'Holmes, there's something I must ask you.'
'Not just now, Russell.'
'I need to know. Is my presence — an embarrassment?'
'Don't be absurd.'
'I mean it, Holmes. Inspector Connor today all but accused you — me — I just need to know if my presence is inconvenient.'
'My dear Russell, I hope you don't flatter yourself that because you talked me into bringing you on this delightful outing, that means I am incapable of refusing you. To my considerable — Oh blast! Give me a rag, would you? Thank you. To my considerable surprise, Russell, you have proven a competent assistant and, furthermore, hold some promise for becoming an invaluable one. It is, I can even say, a new and occasionally remarkable experience to work with a person who inspires, not by vacuum, but by actual contribution. Hand me the large spanner.' His next remarks were punctuated by grunts. 'Connor is a fool. What he and his ilk choose to believe is no concern of mine, and thus far it has not seemed to harm you. You cannot help being a female, and I should be something of a fool as well were I to discount your talents merely because of their housing.'
'I see. I think.'
'Besides,' he added, his voice muffled now by the undercarriage, 'a renowned bachelor such as myself, you probably would be more of an embarrassment were you a boy.'
There really was no possible response to that statement. In a few minutes, filthy as a miner, Holmes emerged, cleansed himself as well as he was able, and we set off up the road again.
We wobbled along north in the colourful, remarkably uncomfortable little caravan, walking up the hills and whenever the sway of the high wooden seat and the jolts to the base of the spine became too much, which was most of the time. Holmes peppered me with information, badgered me mercilessly into my rôle, criticised and corrected my walk and speech and attitude, forced Welsh vocabulary and grammar down my throat, and pontificated between times on the Welsh countryside and its inhabitants. Were it not for the constant awareness of a frightened child's life and the fraying thread that held it, the outing would have been great sport.
Up through Glamorgan we walked and rode and walked again, into Gwent and then Powys, turning west now into the hilly greensward that curled up toward the Brecon Beacons, all hill farm and bracken fern, terraces and slag heaps and sheep. The shepherds eyed us with mistrust as we rumbled past, although their thin, black, sharp-eyed, suspicious dogs, lying with bellies pressed to the ground, as alert as so many pessimistic evangelists to snatch back a straying charge, spared us not a glance. As we passed through the villages and hamlets children ran shrieking to the road, and then stood in silent wonder staring up at our red, green, and gold splendour, their fingers in their mouths and their bare feet spattered with mud.
Wherever we went, we performed. While the children watched, I juggled, pulled colourful scarves from their colourless pockets and ha'pennies from dirty ears, and when we had the attention of their mothers, Holmes would come out of the pub wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and pull out his fiddle. I told the fortunes of women who had none, read the cracked lines on their hard palms and whispered vague hints of dark strangers and unexpected wealth, and gave them stronger predictions of healthy children who would support them in their old age. In the evenings when the men were present their wives looked daggers at me, but when their ears were caught by 'me Da's' ready tongue, and when they saw that we were moving on for the night, they forgave me their husbands' glances and remarks.
On the second day we passed the police roadblock, receiving only cursory abuse since we were going into the area being guarded, not coming out. On the third day we passed the Simpsons' camping site, went on a mile, and pulled off into a side track. I cooked our tea, and when Holmes remarked merely that he hadn't thought it possible to make tinned beans taste undercooked, I took it that my cooking was improving.
