Gypsy Girl (11 page)

When I heard that, my heart began to pound.

I knew he was watching me, giving me that deep deep stare, trying to work out the truth. I knew he was waiting for me to tell him it was a lie, but I couldn’t do that. I shouldn’t have been bothering about what a gorjer boy thought of me. But I was. I met his gaze.

“Do
you
believe it?” I sez. I threw it at him like I didn’t care.

For a moment, the rest of the room faded away, so did the ticking of the clock and the birds outside. My focus was only on Gregory.

He continued to meet my eyes. “I make my own mind up. I don’t listen to gossip and texts.”

I heard his words, but my heart just wouldn’t slow down.

“Why’re you staring at me, then?” I said. “Like you’re trying to read the truth from off the inside of me head?”

He blinked, but he never looked away. “Everyone looks at you, and you know it.” There was a pause. “Even me.”

Sabrina says when I’m walking through the town I flaunt along, like I’m a celebrity on a red carpet. But that was no excuse.

“You shouldn’t. You’ve got a girlfriend.”

Suddenly he wasn’t looking at me any more. He bit his lip, which made it bleed a bit more. His hands began playing with a loose thread on his shirt. “It’s tricky. Things haven’t been right – but that’s nothing to do with this…” He stopped. “My head’s confused about my life at the moment. And that’s before I hit the tarmac.”

And because he hadn’t asked to know the truth about the girl in the coma, I broke my rule and explained myself.

“There’s a girl gang in our town. Five girls who think they’re great because they copy the stupid boys who think they’re gangsters. They pick on other girls, follow them, get them in a corner and then steal their phones, or their trainers. They picked on a girl in my class. She’s not tough. They picked her because she’s got no one to stick up for her. No brothers and no dad. So me and Kimmy went to help her. The leader of the gang came at me punching and kicking, so I pushed her. I didn’t realize how strong I was. She flew back and hit her head on a wall and knocked herself out. She’s OK now. It scared me when she got knocked out, but I wasn’t sorry. She’s a bully, and I hate bullies.”

I sat back. Another silence fell. Gregory was watching me, his head on one side, licking his split lip.

“What?” I asked.

He smiled. “I’m glad it’s that. I somehow knew it would be.”

It made my heart swell to hear that, but now he could do some explaining. “Why is everybody texting about me?”

That stopped him smiling.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I do.”

He sighed. “It’s stupid. It’s because you found me, and you were there with me when everyone else turned up, and rumours got started. And because of this.” He held out his phone again. “Everyone’s seen it.”

I knew what it was straightaway. It was the photo Milo had taken as I tried to help Gregory. Only it didn’t look like I was helping him. It showed me bending over him as he lay on the ground, and my arms were holding him down. It looked like he was fighting me off. The chef had thought the same when he saw me. The image must’ve gone round the town fast. It didn’t matter that Gregory’s crowd weren’t friends with Milo – photos like this spread far and fast, like a disease.

My face went icy cold.

Milo was spreading it round that I attacked Gregory. Milo wanted me to get the blame. And if I got the blame, then Mr Langton would throw us off Gypsy’s Acre.

The doorbell rang again, but neither of us were taking much notice. I could hear talking in the hallway. I suspected someone else had come to see Gregory.

“I told the police I saw Milo hanging around before I got attacked, but there’s no proof he was responsible, and they’ve all got an alibi from one of their friends. False, obviously.” He stared off into the distance. “And I couldn’t explain to the police why they’d picked on me. I’ve seen them around town, that’s all. Maybe they thought I was an easy target – even though they sneaked up behind me.” His eyes narrowed. “They should’ve come at me from the front. Things might’ve been different.”

I smiled at him. “I don’t have you down as a tough guy.”

He gave a rueful laugh. “I’m not. But I’m not a pushover, either.” He flexed one arm, like a bodybuilder. “I never took fight classes, but I work on my dad’s farms when they’re busy. Throwing haybales around makes you tough. Tougher than a few karate classes.” He rested his elbow on the sofa. He raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

I placed my elbow down and we grasped hands. He tensed his muscles and we pushed against each other, neither of us trying hard. He wasn’t bragging and making himself bigger than he was. I could feel his strength. But I could also feel his breath on my cheek as we leaned in towards each other, and the closeness of him, and the warmth of his hand in mine. In the end I relaxed, and he could’ve pushed my arm down and won, but he didn’t. He didn’t let go of my hand, either.

“Milo shouldn’t underestimate me,” he said, quietly, and I could see that under all his smiles the attack had wounded him deeply. “Nor should anyone else. I would fight and I’d win if someone I loved was being hurt.”

I had to torture myself. “You mean someone like your girlfriend, Angela?”

“Alice,” he corrected me. I knew her name. I’d got it wrong on purpose to try and make her seem unimportant to me. “And not just her. I would fight for anyone that I loved or cared about.” His lip curled, his hand squeezed mine. “They don’t know me. They thought I was an easy target. But they shouldn’t have picked on me.”

“Ouch,” I said with a smile.

He blinked and realized we were still holding hands, and that he was squeezing the life out of mine. He let go. “Sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You come round to visit and I end up challenging you to an arm wrestle.”

“It’s OK.”

More than OK. I could’ve sat there all day holding his hand. But I had to tell him something. A confession. I took a deep breath.”

“They attacked you because of me. I had a fight with Milo earlier. He wanted me and my family to leave Langton. When he saw us talking outside the hotel, he must’ve thought you and me were together. So he attacked you and took the photo. And suddenly everyone thinks I’m bad.”

I never let it show, but it hurt that people were thinking badly of me and my family. We’re proud of the fact that people usually like us. When we travel and take the horses with us, we always make friends with the locals. They bring their children down to see the horses and chat to me daddy. I didn’t want to be hated.

Gregory thought about it, but shook his head. “No. I think that’s a coincidence. He saw me out there, looking for you, and lashed out at me instead.”

He didn’t think the two attacks were linked. I knew they were. “They wanted to get me into trouble so we would be moved on.”

“You’re wrong. Don’t try to understand why Milo does stuff. He’s a dick. So are his brothers. They’re screwed up. They hate anyone who’s different. Asians. Black people. You. Anyone that’s not them.”

He still didn’t get it. “Listen to me,” I said. “You don’t understand because everyone likes you, and you live in a big house, and you’re kind of cute.” He laughed. I didn’t. This was serious. “But not everyone likes me. So if it looks like I attacked you, they’ll hate me and we’ll get moved.”

“No way. No one’s that desperate to get rid of you,” he said.

“McCloud is.”

“Don’t worry about him,” he said. “He can’t do anything to make you move. He only owns the land around his business. You’re camped on our land.”

“Greg?” said a girl’s voice from the doorway behind us.

My heart sank. It was Alice, with her perfect, shiny hair and her cute kitten face. I didn’t know how long she’d been standing there. She was still wearing her white shirt, black skirt and flat shoes. She’d been warned I was there, because she glanced at Gregory and then her eyes fixed on me. She looked at my dress. It had started off short, but now that I was perching on the tiny stool I realized it had gone very, very short. I stood up, pulling it down.

“What’re you doing here?” she said, her eyes glittering again. Not with tears this time, but with anger.

“I wanted to see if he’s OK.”

“You complete bitch,” she said, and she stormed over to me.

“Whoa, wait a minute.” Gregory sat right up, holding his side. “You’ve got it wrong, Alice. All those texts – they aren’t true.”

She swung round at him. She hadn’t yet asked how he was, or stroked his hair, or kissed his cheek. I would’ve done that. “Don’t let her fool you!”

“I’m not. Just listen to me! It wasn’t her. She found me. I might’ve laid there bleeding for much longer if she hadn’t.”

I touched her sleeve. I only wanted to get her attention, to tell her that I would never hurt anyone. She acted like I’d chopped her arm off.

“Don’t you dare touch me!” she snapped. She squeezed herself next to Gregory, turning her back on me. She lowered her voice. “Haven’t you seen the photo?”

“Yes. Of course I have. It’s not what you think.” He frowned. “You didn’t show it to my dad, did you?”

She stuck her chin in the air. “Yes. Yes, I did. He should see it.” I got another killer look.

Gregory groaned. “No. Why did you do that? Now he’s going to go crazy.”

He wasn’t joking. I could hear raised voices in the hall, and a woman, probably Gregory’s mother, saying, “Wait! You can’t believe everything that gets passed around on phones!”

I turned to Alice. “Don’t you see? It was Milo and his two brothers. Milo took that photo.”

A crease appeared between her perfect eyebrows. “Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t lie.”

She smiled, sarkily. “Of course. You’re Snow White.”

“Excuse me…” Mr Langton was in the doorway. His face was red with anger. He pointed a finger at me.

“A word, please, outside.” He glanced at his son. “And no arguments. You should’ve shown me that photo.” He turned to Alice. “Stay and cheer him up.”

She got a smile from him, one that faded as soon as he escorted me into the hall. Gregory’s mother was waiting out there, too. Gregory took after her, the same cheekbones, the same chin, the same straight eyebrows and golden eyes. She gave me a hurt and embarrassed look as Mr Langton flung open the front door.

“Out.”

“Wait,” I said. “I never hurt your son. I helped him.”

“Out. And don’t come back. And tell your father he can’t stop here. You all have to leave.”

“Why? You never complained about any Travellers stopping here before.”

He poked a finger at me again. “There’s no smoke without fire. I was suspicious when they said that you’d found him. And now Alice has shown us the photo.” The finger jabbed towards me. “The police say it proves nothing. But I know girls like you – you’re nothing but trouble, fighting in the streets, hitting other girls – yes, I saw the texts as well as the photo!”

Half of my brain was thinking that if I raised my hand and hit a certain point on his jaw he would fall at my feet, out cold. That would shut him up. The other half of my brain wanted to cry. I know I’m strong and fast, but I would never attack anyone. I only fight to stick up for my friends and family and anyone who’s getting picked on, because I hate unfairness.

There was a movement in the doorway of the sitting room, and Gregory was standing there, holding onto the wall and leaning to the right to ease his ribs.

“Dad. Leave her alone. It’s not her fault.”

“You’ve been fooled. Now let me handle this.”

Alice was fussing at Gregory’s side and looking daggers at me. “Leave it, babe. You’ll hurt your ribs even more. Sit down.”

He shrugged away from her. “No. I don’t like rumours. I don’t like people being picked on.” She didn’t like him sticking up for me. She went red in the face and flounced off back into the room.

His father turned on him. “You can go and sit down as well!”

Gregory didn’t move. There was an awful pause as we stood in our positions in the hallway. Mr Langton glared at his son. Gregory stared back. Neither would give way. All because of me. His mother broke the silence. Her hand went up to her mouth, her eyes fixed on me.

“See what you’ve caused. I didn’t want to believe it, but it’s true – you’re nothing but trouble!”

I had to get out of there. None of them except Gregory would ever believe me. I stalked to the door and nearly ran into an old man who was pottering in, his walking stick tapping on the floor.

“What’s all this shouting?” he said. He saw me and gave me a gappy smile. “Ah, you’re one of the Travellers, aren’t you? From Gypsy’s Acre.” He patted my arm. “Travellers have always stopped here since I was a boy. Lots of different families. Now, let me think, what were their names…?”

“It doesn’t matter what their names are, Pops,” said Mr Langton, barely able to speak to the old fella he was so angry. “She’s leaving. It’s different these days.”

I don’t think his pops was listening, because he smiled at me as he shuffled by. “I don’t mind you being here,” he said. “I always liked it when you came fruit picking.”

He shuffled off, humming to himself. When he’d gone, Mr Langton swung round at me. He was in a towering rage. His face was deep maroon red now.

“I’ve got no problem with Travellers, none at all. It’s you.” He jabbed a finger at me again. “Stay away from my son. And I want you gone by morning. Off my land. All of you.”

I never flinched. “No. Get a court order if you want us to move. Or wait till Sunday, we’ll be gone by then.”

“I don’t think so.” He moved closer, trying to make me back away. “If you haven’t moved by tomorrow morning, I’ll get my farm workers to tow your caravans off with the tractors. Tell your father that. I mean it. It’s my land.”

“All right.” I gave him a smile and walked out without a glance at Gregory. I slammed the door behind me.

We’d see about that.

Night had fallen, and the only light in Gypsy’s Acre came from the windows of our three trailers and the yellow glow of the streetlights on the road and the bright white of the security lights at International Express. McCloud had his men working day and night it seemed.