The Traveller's Tale E-Book

alastair macleod

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

As he spoke the young photographer reappeared. "This is the girl you wanted?" The photographer nodded. For this shot he needed someone young. She was not unattractive, even in that crazy outfit. Good bone structure, oval face, brown eyes, dark hair – that slight fragile look- all of that contrasted well with the factory gear. Some of the workers looked at home in it; their feet filled the white wellies, their solid figures swelling in the white overalls. This one seemed only to have temporarily slipped on the garb – as if she was wearing an outfit for an occasion. "My name is Vlado." He held out his hand. The trick was to get the subject to relax, that way you got a more natural shot, you avoided the frightened rabbit look. “What is your name?" "Vera," she whispered. "Do you have any hobbies?" said Vlado, as he began setting up some lights on stands. He was nimble, not tall; she watched his quick hands tighten the clamps on the light poles.

Leseprobe

Alastair Macleod

The Traveller's Tale

For the Travelling People of Scotland BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

The Traveller's Tale

     Vera stood by the side of the road in the dark. The occasional car swooshed by, its lights dazzling her for a moment. The wind tugged at her anorak and played round her ankles where her trousers were a little short. In her hand she clutched a plastic bag wrapped round her sandwiches.

Although it was nearly dawn a thin moon came and went as the clouds scudded over the darkened sky. Then the rain squall came, beating against her mercilessly; in seconds she was soaked through. She stood stoically on. The bus would come, but there was always that tension - it always seemed as if it wouldn’t. Perhaps it was the emptiness of the road at that time in the morning - 6:45am.

Who in their right mind would be out in this, but without a car this was the only way to get into town, to get to work. Other girls in the factory got lifts. Her family kept to themselves; at least that’s what dad said. The truth was that people shunned them. It was subtly done, like the thing about lifts. All of her family except her were on the social. She was only working because of the scheme and she couldn’t get social till she was 18.

The job was crap. That was how she felt about it. Shelling crabs, by the end of the shift you smelt of crab. On the bus home people sniffed and moved seats. At home she couldn’t shower - there wasn’t one. Gran had said travellers on the road always preferred running water. There was just a bath in the house, and since the electric was often off it was hard, even if you cared.

She had cared more when that boy showed some interest. She’d washed and washed though the water was cold, and used talc. But he’d lost interest when she took him home. Her family closed ranks and didn’t speak much to him. Her family had a name that marked them out as tinks, only they weren’t tinks anymore.

Their people had wandered the north mending pots and buying rags. Dad remembered a little of those days, on the road. To her it sounded romantic. The settled people were wary, Dad said, but on the open road you were a king, went where you pleased – you were free. It was his mum, Gran, that took a house - the social workers persuaded her to stay in one spot. Grandad left when she did that. Gran was dead now and with her most of the old times but the local people here still remembered the name, in their eyes they were tinks and that was bad? To most, tinks were unsettled, thieves, wastrels, layabouts, poor and dirty.

But Vera remembered the stories that Gran used to tell of gypsy kings and magic horses and caravans of gold. The little people too were often in her tales. And she told Vera of the places that travellers knew as rests - where the horses could get good grazing and people gather wood. Gadjes was what they called the settled people.

In terms of space, her house now was almost like a caravan. Five of them in it, her younger sister at school still, her two older brothers out of work and on the dole, and her mum and dad. They were like other people. They ate together, watched TV together talked together and fought together. In winter, nerves got frayed as the cold kept everyone in.