She was more serene. Her hair was still magnificent-black and glistening coils piled up on her head. Heavy Creole earrings swung from her ears, and her dark eyes were as bright and beautiful as before. She was dressed in a midnight blue cloak under which was a scarlet dress. One would have noticed her immediately in any crowd.
She came to me with arms outstretched.
“My darling child!” she said.
“I am so happy that you have come.”
Then she held me at arm’s length and looked at me.
“You have grown up,” she said.
“You are no longer a little girl. And I… I have become the old lady.”
I laughed.
“What nonsense! Nobody could call you an old lady.”
“My life is changed. I no longer sing, no longer dance. But that is for later. Now, here is the trap. I drive this myself and I shall take you to my home at Castle Folly.”
“It is so exciting to be here.”
“We have much to tell each other. But first I will prepare you. I am Mrs. Blakemore now. I have a husband. He is very old and he owns Castle Folly. It is not a real castle. He wanted a castle, so he built one a ruin of a castle in his own grounds. We have the battlemented towers scattered here and there, the remains of the old banqueting hall. I can tell you, it is a most wonderful ruin of a castle, and it suits Harriman very well because he always wanted a castle and now he has one all of his own.”
“He sounds as though he is a very interesting man.”
“He is indeed. And he has been good to me, and when the time came I let him carry me off to his castle. You will like him and he will like you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it is what I want, and he always does what I want. But we will save our talks for the right time. Now, this is your luggage?
Come. “
I sat beside her and we started off.
“We are close to the moors,” she said.
“Have you ever seen the Yorkshire moors? They are the best moors in the world. The wind is fresher here and to let it buffet you is as exciting as an audience clapping and shouting Bravo. To me that is, but then, I am a gipsy.
Give me the feel of the wind in my hair! Sometimes I take out the pins and let it blow about me. I tell you, my darling, this conventional attire is to come to that station and collect you. You will see me change. “
I laughed with pleasure. I had not expected a visit to Zingara to be a conventional one and this was certainly going to be unusual.
We drove on for about fifteen minutes before I saw the beginning of the moor wild open country with boulders rising here and there and little streams glistening on their rocky surface. It was awe-inspiring.
“We’re on the moor now,” she said.
“There are one or two houses round us, but not many. Look over there. Do you see that grand building?
When you get closer, you will see that it is a ruin. Castle Folly!”
I could see it clearly now remains of towers and turrets. It certainly had the appearance of a once magnificent edifice now in ruins.
Zingara laughed.
“Well, if you can’t inherit one, build your own!
What’s wrong with that? “
“Nothing at all, I’m sure.”
“The house is in the grounds-it is rather insignificant after the castle … but comfortable. We have a couple looking after it. Then there are just Harriman and myself. Life is queer. I never thought this could be my destiny. “
I saw the house then. It appeared to have been built in the mid-century, when Georgian elegance had been replaced by the heavy style of the industrial era. It looked solid, built to withstand the weather, which I imagined could be bleak on the moors in winter. There was an air of strength about it.
“This is the house, known as Castle Folly. Doesn’t fit somehow, does it, until you look round and see what it’s all about.”
She drove the trap up to the house and, as she did so, a man came out.
“This is Tom Arkwright, and here’s Daisy. Hello, Daisy. This is Miss Carmel Sinclair. You know she’s staying with us for a while. And this is Tom and Daisy, Carmel. They’re my mainstay.”
Tom, rather dour by nature, I imagined, twisted his mouth into a grin, rather reluctantly.
“And how are you. Miss?” said Daisy, who was small and energetic-looking and had an air of strength and immense capability.
“Welcome to Yorkshire.”
“These two keep the whole show going,” said Zingara, beaming on them.
“I just don’t know what I would do without them.”
“There’s hot coffee and buns waiting for you, Mrs. B,” said Daisy.
“Happen the young lady will want a bite after that train journey.”
“That’s wonderful. Come along and taste Daisy’s buns and have the coffee while it’s hot. Then I’ll whisk you up and introduce you to Harriman. Daisy makes the best buns in Yorkshire.”
“You get along with you, Mrs. B,” said Daisy.
I was taken into a room where there was a large pile of buns set out on a table with cups, saucers, plates and a coffee pot with jugs of hot milk.
“Tom will take your bag up while we eat the buns. Then I’ll show you your room and you can meet Harriman after.”
As the door shut on us, she lowered her voice and said:
Tom and Daisy are wonderful, but they have to be obeyed. They’re gruff. They stand no nonsense and you have to remember they are as good as anyone if you want to get along with them. And by the way, they expect you to eat. Good food and plenty of it is the way they show their welcome. Daisy is a wonderful cook and you could trust her and Tom with everything you have. Now, you must do justice to her buns.”
They were hot, spicy and delicious.
“Not too much of an ordeal,” said Zingara with a grin.
The coffee was hot and good.
“They think I’m a little mad,” said Zingara, ‘but they make excuses for me. “
She went on to tell me how she came to be here.
“The last place in the world I should have thought I’d land up in. You see, I’m getting old. You’re going to contradict that, but I am getting old, for a dancer. And it was a dancer I really was. The singing … well, that went along with it, but on its own it wasn’t quite good enough. I wanted to leave at the height of my glory. You understand?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Harriman was always a good friend to me. I have many friends, but Harriman has always been the one I relied on and trusted. And when you are no longer young, it is reliance that you want. I have known him since I was a child. He came to the camp to study us. He stayed for a year. That was when we formed this great friendship.”
“Rosie told me.”
“There was one night … on the stage… I felt a pain in my leg. I knew I could not stretch far enough. I hid it, of course. It was not so much then, only a sign. I went to the doctor. He said I was straining my muscles. If I stopped doing that, all would be well. I must slow down. That was enough. I said to Harriman, “I cannot wait until they shoo me off.” He said, “Rosaleen, you must marry me.” He always called me Rosaleen.
That is my true name. Zingara is for the stage. This was sudden. I had not thought of it. But Harriman makes quick decisions.
“I want a castle,” he said, “and the only way I shall ever get one is to build one.”
“Rosaleen must leave the stage,” he says, “so she will marry me.”
“And so you married him?”
“At last I saw that it was a good thing to do. I needed Harriman. I was downcast. I had lived the life of excitement in the theatre for so long. How could I give it up? I had some money, yes. But what should I do? Go back to the gipsies? That had always attracted me. All through my life, I had never forgotten them. Harriman said, ” No, you will not be content. You will think of the old life in the theatre, just as before you thought of life with the gipsies. You must marry me and come to my castle in Yorkshire. You can walk on the moors and feel the joy of the gipsy’s life and at the same time enjoy the comfort you have come to expect. “