The Girl in the Painted Caravan (3 page)

My next escapade took place inside the vardo, where I was now kept in custody, since my mother dared not let me out of her sight. A chromium-plated screw from one of the cupboard doors had
worked loose and, after I had fiddled with it for a while, it came away in my hand. To amuse myself, I balanced the flat head of the screw on the palm of my hand and then, having mastered that
fairly simple operation, I thought I would find out how long I could balance it on the tip of my tongue.

I found out, and the answer was . . . not for long. I swallowed it! When I told my mother, she rushed me to the nearest hospital. This was one of those few occasions when Romanies would not rely
upon their own remedies, but would call for a drabengro, or doctor. The drabengro at the hospital x-rayed me and showed the plate to my mother. Unfortunately, the screw was pointing downwards,
which he said was dangerous because it could puncture something. I was put on a diet of thick, horrible porridge, with no liquids allowed at all, until the screw passed through me. It worked
eventually, although I remember how cruel I thought my mother was being to me.

If it wasn’t enough for my mother having to deal with all my antics, there was the constant worry of another bomb attack, or – something that seemed even scarier at the time –
the possibility of a gas attack. Thank God, it never did happen, but there were frequent scares. I do recall one particular occasion when my mother was absolutely terrified because we had no gas
masks. The gorgers had all been issued with them through their town halls and schools, but when my mother applied, she was told that there were none left and she would have to wait until another
supply came through. They advised her, while waiting and in case of a gas attack, to cover herself and the children with wet blankets. Consequently, whenever there was any rumour of a gas attack,
the middle of the vardo was occupied by a bathtub full of water with three blankets soaking in it.

In the end, all these scares and dramas became too much for my mother, there on her own, and she decided she would move in with Granny.

THREE

My grandmother, Alice Eva, was a tiny woman, smart as a carrot, always beautifully groomed and dressed. She was very pretty and dainty when she was young and when I knew her
she carried herself with the poise of a duchess.

Granny’s wooden vardo was like a Wonderland to me, lit by two oil lamps with ruby-coloured glass shades which gave a soft, warm glow that made us feel so comfortable and cosy. We’d
lie on the bed in the evening, our backs against goose-feather-filled pillows covered with large paisley shawls made from pure cashmere with fringes. I’d be drinking a cup of hot Horlicks and
Granny would have a glass of barley wine. She would unpin her long, dark hair, which almost reached her waist, and I would brush it carefully with a silver brush until told to stop. When it was
time for bed, Granny would turn on the radio and Vera Lynn and Benny Goodman would sing in the background while she told me stories about my grandfather and their children and I drifted off to
sleep.

Alice Eva Taylor came from Hopton in Norfolk, where her family owned a lot of businesses and land. Like most Romanies, she met her future husband, Nathaniel Smith (or Petulengro in Romany), from
time to time throughout their childhood at gatherings. She told me once that she fell in love with him at the age of eight and always knew she would marry him. They were roughly the same age, I
believe.

Nathaniel, who was born in Gorleston, near Great Yarmouth on the Norfolk coast, in 1876, was a very independent young man with a great sense of humour. As a boy, his twinkling eyes made people
think that he’d done something mischievous, or was about to, which is why he was nicknamed Naughty. His family were horse dealers, so he became one too, and he learned his trade from his
father and uncles.

When he was about five, he ran into his father’s vardo and said that Rajie, his favourite horse, was not well.

‘What’s the matter with him?’ his father asked.

‘I don’t know, Daddy, but he is in pain.’

His father examined the animal and announced, ‘This horse has colic.’

‘I knew something was wrong; he’s got the bellyache!’ Naughty said.

‘It’s something bad that he has eaten, so we will give him something to get rid of it,’ his father said. After this, Naughty was known as ‘the bellyache kid’ for a
while.

By the age of twenty, he was a very striking man, tall and well-built. He had style and grace, even though his arms seemed to go on forever; in fact, they hung below his kneecaps.

He had a natural sense of humour, as did Alice, and when they were together at gatherings everyone around could feel the magnetism between them. No one was surprised when, in true Romany
fashion, the couple eloped, running away to nearby Thetford. On their return, Alice’s mother gave her a gold charm bracelet, with five gold sovereigns hanging from it. It was traditional to
pass on gold to daughters as a wedding present, for it was as good as money.

On the same day they returned to Hopton to receive the Romany blessing, their vardo was delivered. In preparation for his marriage, Nathaniel had secretly contacted Dunton’s of Reading, a
firm renowned for their beautiful vardos, which they had been making since 1880. He ordered for his bride a Reading wagon, known among Romanies as the Rolls-Royce of caravans.

Naughty selected each piece of wood that went into the building of the vardo, determined to have the best. It was painted a rich ox-blood red on the outside with gold-leaf motifs. Steps led up
to the footboard at the front of the caravan, where stood two water cans and a matching bowl for washing their hands and faces, made from alternating strips of brass and copper. To finish it off,
there were two carriage lamps, also made of copper, one situated at each side of the door, to be lit in the evenings when they often sat outside by a stick fire and talked into the night about
their future together.

Inside, he dictated the carvings and the design of the cut-glass mirrors in the doors which separated the beds (two doubles, on top of each other like bunk beds) from the living quarters. The
mirrors were engraved with birds, bunches of grapes, vines and flowers, and the same design was artfully carved into the ceiling. Over the brass mantelpiece there was another splendid mirror, which
reflected Alice’s precious, delicate Dresden china ornaments. There were two oil lamps made of ruby cut-glass which bathed the whole caravan in a warm, relaxing glow. They also had the finest
linen, china and silver. Granny’s nine children were born in this caravan, as was I and many of my cousins.

Later, after their first three children were born, Naughty had a replica of the first vardo built. This one was painted in beautiful sage green, again with the gold leaf decoration. Eventually,
as their brood grew, he ordered a third – he and Alice had one to themselves; the boys and girls took the other two. Each vardo had coloured leaded windows and stable doors. The horses that
pulled the vardos were all heavy black-and-white cobs, trained by Naughty and standing at about fourteen hands high; there’s no way less sturdy horses could have done that job. Generally,
only one horse was used at a time, although two were needed to go up steep hills. That’s probably why the family concentrated on travelling around flat parts of the country, like Norfolk and
Lincolnshire. Naughty knew horses like the back of his hand and had a deep respect for the animal; his horses never travelled more than fifteen miles a day and were very well looked after. Famous
racehorse owners would often seek out Naughty to get his advice and guidance on their own horses as he was so highly thought of within this circle.

Romanies did not believe in or even understand banks. It would have been hard in those days for them to use them anyway because of their travelling way of life. So Romanies put their money into
gold and china. Both men and women would buy expensive gold necklaces, rings and sovereigns and wear them. They also often invested the money in diamond rings. Should money ever become tight, they
would sell them, but wearing them seemed like the most obvious thing to do. This is why we see so many pictures of gypsies with gold-hooped earrings. Little did people know that this was them
wearing their savings, so to speak.

Every Romany woman would proudly display the china of her or her family’s choice. For the Petulengro family it was (and is) Crown Derby and this particular, very attractive design was
handed down the family and bought by succeeding generations too.

The Romany lifestyle often seemed mysterious to gorger folk, who would sometimes attempt to make friends with Romanies with the sole purpose of trying to take a peek into a Romany vardo! But
this is something Romanies never encouraged as, aware of their expensive ornaments, they were always afraid that word would get out and they would be a target for burglars.

Alice and Naughty were an incredibly happy couple and they fitted together perfectly. While he treated her like a princess, she managed to tame him and his wild ways. She was a woman who
didn’t suffer fools gladly and he respected her opinions. She also knew how to suppress his rebellious streak, something no one else had ever been able to do for him. He had always been
mischievous by nature, hence his nickname, and would regularly tell his children stories that demonstrated how different a path his life could have taken when he was younger, thanks to his
inability to do what he was told.

Naughty’s brothers all claimed to be educated because they once went to school for five weeks. This was at Broome, in Norfolk, where the family had pulled in to paint the vardos. As
usually happened when Romanies stopped somewhere for longer than a few days, the authorities insisted that while they were there, the boys would have to attend the village school. Having never been
to school before, the other boys were curious about the experience and were quite happy to give it a try, but not Naughty. He wanted to stay at home and tend the horses, which he loved. Wild ones
could not have dragged him to that school and, always the rebel, he never did go. He saw no reason why he should fit into the gorger way of life when he was a Romany.

I also remember being told a story of how he and his brothers were one day leaving a horse auction when they saw an old cart and horse in the street outside. They examined it and decided it was
not worth bidding for. On the back of the cart there was a pile of sacks and, on top of these, an old worn-out pair of boots, obviously discarded by their owner and not in any condition to be worn
by anyone.

Naughty picked up one of the boots and threw it to his brother, my great-uncle Olby, and, as high-spirited boys will, they had a general game of catch. All this, they didn’t realise, was
being observed by a policeman who, for want of something better to do, arrested them on a charge of stealing footwear – the rotten old pair of boots.

They had done nothing wrong; there had been no intention to steal anything. Though chastened by this end to their joke, it still seemed a bit of a lark and they had no doubt that this silly
charge against them would be thrown out of court. When the brothers were asked what they had to say, they apologised in the manner they had been taught. All except Naughty, who looked at the
magistrate as though he didn’t think much of his intelligence for taking this stupid matter seriously and said, ‘If I were going to steal, it would be something a lot more valuable than
a worn-out pair of old boots, I assure you.’ Luckily, all he got was a good telling off.

Like generations of his family before him, horses were in Naughty’s blood and there was nothing anyone could tell him about a horse or its fitness. He knew all the tricks of the trade and
could spot a cheat immediately, but he was also known for his honesty and would never have used his knowledge to cheat anyone himself. Later, during the First World War, he supplied horses to the
cavalry.

The profit they earned from their horse trading was sometimes counted in shillings rather than pounds, but this was neither here nor there to Naughty and his brothers. The Romany never counted
his time; he was a free man and rejected the idea of a regular job and steady wages as that would have taken away some of that freedom. So whatever Naughty earned was profit and, in that way, he
always got the best of the bargain.

He would also tend horses and was a blacksmith, again something his father and his father before him had done. As Naughty learned from his father, so he would go on to teach his sons. He
expected that their future livelihoods would depend on their ability to deal knowledgeably in horses.

Naughty and Alice Eva’s first child, Nathan, was born around 1902 by my estimate. He was a talented boy who, had he been educated, would have most likely become a writer. He had a real
gift for description and could hold the attention of the most impatient audience with his fascinating tales and insight into life.

He was the first of what was to be a brood of nine, all born roughly eighteen months to two years apart, as best I can tell. Alger came next and was the most animated of the brothers. He was a
wonderful tap dancer, as was his father, although his shy nature when among outsiders prevented him from being the showman he could have been.

Cissie was the oldest of Alice’s girls and was said to be the most beautiful. Elders in the family often said she reminded them of Merle Oberon, the famous actress who would star in
Wuthering Heights
with Laurence Olivier. She had a faraway look in her eyes, as if she were gazing at something only she could see. Cissie had very thick, naturally black, curly hair, as did
all of Alice’s five daughters. Cissie’s framed her angelic face and lovely tanned skin. But what made her all the more beautiful was her character.

A representative of an advertising company for a chocolate firm once approached the family and said that they would be very interested in having Cissie on the front of one of their chocolate
boxes, as she had been spotted by one of the directors. Naughty went mad and refused in no uncertain terms. Shortly after that, a famous artist asked to paint Cissie when he saw her. He approached
Alice and, although she knew Naughty wouldn’t approve, she couldn’t resist eventually agreeing. So, behind his back, she arranged for the artist to visit the stopping ground on the days
when she knew her husband and their sons would be out tending farmers’ horses. She made sure that she and all her sisters were present as chaperones. I’ve heard that the painting was
amazingly stunning, but the artist kept it, of course, and the family has never been able to track it down.