Sweet Charity

Chapter One

Above, the stars were twinkling in a dark velvet sky.

The Gypsy girls’ skirts twirled and shone like multicoloured jewels in the light from the campfire.

They were dancing around it, laughing and enjoying themselves.

But as Charity watched them, she had mixed feelings.

This party was being held in celebration of her sixteenth birthday.

The end of her childhood. That was a daunting thought.

Up until now she had led a charmed life.

The much-loved daughter of Jethro and Destiny, she had been pampered and spoiled, but she had also never known what it was to live in one place.

The community travelled each year from one end of the country to another.

The men found work where they could and their main income came from the horses they bred and raised.

Charity’s earliest memories were of watching the horses being led into the rivers.

There, the Gypsy women and boys would wash them.

Then they would brush their tails and manes until they gleamed.

Once a year, in early June, they would travel to Appleby Fair in Westmorland.

It was here that many of the horses were sold.

It was one of Charity’s favourite places.

There, they would meet up with other Gypsy groups and friendships were formed.

The women also did what they could to earn money.

Charity’s grandmother had what she termed ‘the gift’ and would earn extra money telling people’s fortunes.

She also claimed that she could receive messages from the dead.

Many people visited her hoping to hear from their dearly departed.

Other Gypsy women made lace so fine that it looked like silken cobwebs.

The lace sold for great sums of money to those that could afford it.

Charity loved the sense of freedom her life afforded her.

She loved to run barefoot through long grass with her best friend, Scarlet.

She loved the feeling of the wind in her hair.

And she loved the vardo her family lived in.

It was a gaily painted wagon on four wheels that contained everything a family needed to live in.

In winter she and her brother Matthew lived inside it with their parents.

They would sleep on little pull-out beds.

A small pot-bellied stove that belched out smoke kept them all warm and cosy.

In the summer they would sleep beneath the vardo with the dogs.

They would bathe in the rivers and swim to their hearts’ content, laughing and splashing.

The river water would also be used to wash their clothes before they were hung on the hedgerows to dry.

Charity had only a basic knowledge of reading and writing, but by the age of ten she could ride a horse bareback.

She could find mushrooms and watercress and bake bread and milk a goat.

She could also skin a rabbit and make a very tasty stew.

To Charity it was an idyllic way of life, and all she’d ever known, but that was all set to change.

Once a Gypsy girl reached sixteen years of age, her parents would begin to look for a husband for her.

It was this that was concerning Charity.

She didn’t feel ready to be married. Especially not to someone her parents chose.

There was talk of it being her distant cousin Felix.

For some time, the two families had hinted at a union between the two.

Admittedly Felix was handsome. The trouble was he knew it, and Charity avoided him whenever she could.

Even more so now because her heart belonged to another.

Luca was the son of the ringmaster at a circus that also visited the area a few times a year.

There had been a spark between them for some time.

But the year before they had grown close.

Before the Gypsies left they had shared a kiss.

And ever since she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him.

‘Charity!’

As she heard her father’s voice calling her, her thoughts returned to the present. Jethro was standing on the steps of their vardo and she crossed to him.

A hush fell across the assembled crowd as Charity reached him.

‘My loved one.’ He smiled at her proudly as he handed her a gift. It was a beautiful small knife with an intricately carved mother of pearl handle. ‘You must now wear this always in your garter to protect you from unwanted attention. Happy birthday. Today you become a woman.’

‘Thank you, Papa.’

Charity inclined her head and, lifting her skirt, she placed the knife into her garter next to her skin.

Such a gift was given to every Gypsy girl in Charity’s community when they reached sixteen.

From now on she would be forbidden to be alone with men or boys unless they were family.

Jethro would shadow her and save her from unwanted attention until a suitable husband was found.

This was one of the Gypsy traditions that Charity felt was unfair.

The boys were allowed to pursue whoever they wanted, often leaving broken hearts behind in the towns they visited.

A cheer went up and with a sigh Charity returned to the party. It was her birthday after all.