A childhood memoir of life before polio, and immediately after, and my magical childhood adventures in and out of a wheelchair
Gypsy Lee
A gypsy family had parked their caravan near the back entrance to our restaurant in Beach Street. They were there for the summer season, peddling dreams and palmistry. Gypsy John Lee was a not very tall man with a full, grey beard and wild eyes. He wore bright, coloured shirts and a sleeveless over-jacket. A thick, leather belt with a huge brass buckle and baggy trousers completed the outfit. He used the pubs as his 'booth' and often as not was thrown out. But he made a living from anyone he could con into listening to his tales of tall, dark strangers and the like. Maybe he had a gift, and maybe not?
His wife and kids (there were 3 as I recall) were seldom seen. Like Badgers, only in the dusk of a summer's day would they come out to play. They didn't have toys but instead had catapults or spears, exquisitely made. These strange children whose mother was rarely seen fascinated my brother Kevin. They kept to themselves. If they did go out during the day then no one saw them. It was during their rare excursions into the light that Kev encountered them. They were throwing stones into an old tin bath about four yards away. Kevin, without a word to these strange children, picked up a stone and threw it, at the same time one of the children darted in front of the tin bath and in so doing was a direct target for Kevin's stone. The stone thumped the side of the kid's head and he let out a yell. Clutching his head he ran into the caravan.
Almost at once she appeared, a screaming harridan of horror and rage. Her face contorted with fury she leapt down the caravan's steps like a tigress and made a lunge for my brother. Kevin was terrified. He ran as fast as his little legs would carry him. All the time he could hear her screaming a language he had never in his life heard before. All the kids ran with her. It was like the hounds of hell on his trail. He burst into our restaurant, his only sanctuary, and she and her children followed. Kevin made for my mother's apron strings.
This spitting, strange hag of a woman confronted my mother. ''What's this all about?'' said my mother. ''HE threw a stone at one of my boys and NOBODY gets away with that, nobody!"
''I didn't mean to, “Kevin cried, “I was just playing and he got in the way and…''
At this point the gypsy hag made to hit Kevin. Up until then my mother was prepared to reason with the lady. But this was war. As the gypsy woman had protected her own then so would my mother protect hers. She grabbed hold of her hair and frog-marched her to the door and threw her out! The customers in the restaurant burst into spontaneous applause.
Spitting and scratching, her eyes blazing, she tried to re-enter our shop. But the forces of good on which my mother stood put up a huge sign that said STOP! Like an angry cat, a shoulder and taloned hand would try and make entry. Meanwhile the police were called. But that didn't prevent her from going away and coming back with a brick, threatening ''I'll put this fucking brick through yer fucking window!''
At this stage the police arrived and took her and her kids away. The police were going to charge her with threatening behaviour, breach of the peace etc. My mother said ''She was only protecting her own. I just lost my temper, that's all.'' Later, all she would say was ''That gypsy woman. Her hair was all matted.''
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