The Black Opal (33 page)

Dorothy was saying: “There is something so affecting about weddings.

How happy they both seem! “

She looked at me wistfully. She did not expect marriage for herself, but she wanted it for Lawrence, and I felt that she was hoping that I would grant her wish.

It was a bright autumn day when I arrived in Yorkshire.

Zingara was at the station to meet me. She had changed a little from the last time I had seen her. That must have been about ten years ago.

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. “

“And so you did.”

“You will see how it works. Now, you have eaten two buns. Well, that is something. They will not be too disappointed. Now I shall show you your room. You can unpack, wash your hands and then I will introduce you to Harriman.”

My room was large, with big windows overlooking the moor. I was delighted with the view and filled with exhilaration. I was completely fascinated by my mother and I longed for more revelations.

Harriman was the next surprise. He was indeed old. He told me later that he was seventy. He was tall and thin, with a craggy face rather like an eagle’s.

He held out his hand, grasped mine and studied me intently.

“Can’t rise,” he said.

“I am something of an old crock these days.

Rosaleen will tell you. “

“He’s not in the least,” said my mother.

“Just a little bit weak in the knees.”

It was obvious that Harriman Blakemore was a most unusual man. The folly in itself was evidence of that, and the more I saw of this unusual household, the more eager I became to discover more.

Harriman and my mother were two of the most lively-minded people I had ever met. They talked continuously. My mother astonished me by her knowledge of various subjects. I guessed that this stemmed from her relationship with Harriman. They had known each other since she was a child when he had come to the gipsy camp and found her there. He said once that he had gone to discover the true gipsy and had found Rosaleen, who was unlike any other. It was he, of course, who had tutored her, moulded her character, made her the woman she was. It was through him that she had met the impresario who had developed her talents. Harriman had guided her through life.

He was a man of means. He had been involved in several business concerns; he had travelled widely and, in his fifties, had retired from business life and devoted himself to his hobbies. Studying the gipsies and writing a treatise on them was evidently one of these;

building Castle Folly was another. Now his body was inactive but his mind was as lively as ever.

He told me that he had had a good life and that he was as content now as he had ever been.

“That, my dear Carmel,” he said, ‘is a successful life. Success is contentment. Is that not what we are all striving for? It is not fame and fortune, it is not the pleasure of the moment. Of what use is something so ephemeral? What every human being wants is happiness. The mistake most make is that they seek those things which can only bring a fleeting satisfaction. I have had a good life and now 1

have come to my old age I have my castle, which I can see from my window. My folly, they call it. I think it sums up my achievement, my success. You see me, Carmel, a happy man. “

It was not that he talked a great deal about himself. His interest in others was great. My mother told me he was interested in everyone he met. He wanted to know all about them. He could tell you details of the lives of Daisy and Tom Arkwright which he had extracted from them, to their own amazement, she was sure, for neither Daisy nor Tom was noted for loquacity.

He wanted to hear about my life in Australia, and I found myself going into details about the Formans, including the episode of the sundowner and James’s search for opals.

I was so completely fascinated by everything I found at Castle Folly that I believed, for the first time since Toby’s death, I had not thought of him once.

My mother took me to see her caravan. Harriman had arranged for it to be installed.

“He says there is so much of the gipsy in me that I’ll never lose it.

I’ll never forget that I was born in a caravan and I lived my early life in one. I have gipsy blood in me. And that means, my darling, that you, who are part of me, must have too. Sometimes I want to be alone. I come here and sit on the steps. I feel the silence all round me. I am quite alone with nature. Then I go back to the house, and Harriman is there, my guide, my guardian, as he’ has always been. And then I know that he was right. I belong to two worlds . and he has made it possible for me to live in both, for he knew that I could not be completely happy with one alone. “

“And you are completely happy?” I said.

“It must be a great contrast to the days in the theatre when you were the toast of the town.”

She laughed.

“I was never that. Mine was a success of a moderate nature. But I have heard the applause in London, Paris and Madrid. It was intoxicating. But Harriman has always made me aware of the danger of caring too much for ephemeral success. He reminded me that public approbation is fickle. Favourites come and go and it is demoralizing to become a fallen idol. Better never to have been an idol at all. He taught me how to regard that kind of success.”

“What a wonderful teacher he must have been!”

“I bless the day when he decided to come to our encampment.”

“I think he does, too.”

“But you think it is strange, do you not? This old man and this woman such as you can guess I must have been. Well, Harriman is not old.

He never could be. He has the most lively of minds and he can never fail to enchant me. As for myself, I have lived what would be called an adventurous life and at forty-five I have settled down to what would be called retirement from the world. Is that not amazing? Oh, Carmel! There is so much for us to tell. “

Each day was full of interest. Rosaleen - I thought of her by that name now, for Zingara was the dancer was right when she said we had much to tell. We belonged together. We were mother and daughter and we desperately wanted to make up for all the years we had lost.