"'Stop Immorality!' Bit melodramatic don't you think?"
Connie asked, thumbing her way through the patient notes she was holding.
"It's because of the gypsies."
Louise said pointedly, pressing blu-tack onto the back of one of the larger posters.
Connie glanced up at the poster behind reception. It was acid yellow with thick black writing.
"So I gathered."
She murmured.
"Take them down."
"What! Why?"
Louise asked, pausing, a ball of blu-tack rolled between her thumb and forefinger.
"We are a hospital, not a notice board, and we are certainly not fuelling this hate campaign. If they're not down before I get back I'll take them down myself."
She said sharply, and Louise drew in a sigh and rolled her dark eyes, pressing the blu-tack back into the packet, which she then dropped into one of the drawers of reception, closing it with more force than was necessary.
"Fine."
She snapped, and turned to Noel who was speaking on the phone.
"I won't be a minute."
She murmured, and excused herself from reception to go in search of the posters she'd spent so long putting up.
"That is correct. You will be ten seconds."
Connie said, and with a flourish of her papers she moved away from reception and back onto the ward, leaving Louise to take down all of the posters she had spent the morning putting up.
She made her way through the littering of patients and staff, the clatter of trolleys and the gentle hum of wheelchairs sounding behind her as she came to her office, just touching her fingers against the handle, letting them rest there for a moment, waiting for someone to call her over for a second opinion, or a signature...
But no one called. She exhaled and shook herself slightly, breathing out through parted lips before stepping into the office.
"Grace! Sweetheart, I'm sorry I was so long..."
"You forgot lunch."
Grace said flatly, looking pointedly to her mothers hands. Connie glanced down at the notes she was holding. She'd been distracted by the posters...
"Yes...well, I'll just put these away and then I'll go and..."
"Don't worry, I'm not hungry any more."
Grace sighed and pushed her earphones back into her ears before pressing play on her mobile phone and the faint tinny beat of music began again. Connie made to say something about the volume, how it would hurt her ears, but she quickly thought better of it and, feeling somewhat deflated, she sat down at the desk and opened her laptop.
"We can do whatever you want to do."
"I want to go home."
Grace yawed without putting her hand over her mouth and Connie felt the familiar bubble of irritation begin to rise within her.
"We could go somewhere to eat...we could see a film?"
She continued but Grace just sighed loudly and folded her arms, looking up at her mother with those bored, dark eyes.
"Can't we just go home?"
She asked again and Connie pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose, but before she could answer Grace had already turned and begun to walk back in the direction of the car park.
Connie followed, her hands limp at her sides, half-remembering how Grace had held onto her hand when she was little, even whilst she skipped and giggled and laughed she hadn't let go of her hand. She couldn't remember when she'd stopped.
"What's he doing?"
Grace stopped abruptly so that Connie had to side-step off of the pavement to avoid walking into her.
She followed Grace's pointed hand with her eyes. In the near distance, against the railings of the car park there was a small crowd of men, women and children, and in the middle of them they could just about make out a man.
"Can we go and see?"
Grace asked, and again she set off without an answer.
"Grace..."
She whispered, though Grace was already on the other side of the road. She caught up with her, though she stayed slightly behind her as they approached the crowd.
Grace pushed through to the front where a ring of children of all ages gathered, some sitting, some standing.
Connie pressed herself against the railings, feeling the metal, warm from the sun, press hard against her bare arm.
She tilted her head, catching glimpses of the man in the circle. He was sitting by the edge of the space on an upturned wooden box and on his lap lay a guitar. He was re-stringing it, a loose wire bounced and glinted between his teeth, and every so often he would glance up to the little girl that stood beside him, a long ribbon tied about the messy knot of hair at the back of her head, her skin was dark from the sun and she was busy doing quick, impressive magic tricks for the children who stared in wonder, all watching carefully to try to see how they were done.
She glanced to Grace, she was standing near the front, her arms folded, though she watched intently, and as the little girl pulled a series of cards out of nowhere, Grace laughed, and though all the other children laughed too, Connie heard Grace's laugh, though the laugh she heard was of a Grace much younger...
Eventually the man finished re-stringing his guitar and he made a noise in the back of his throat, catching the little girls attention and she rushed to the centre of the little clearing, and as he began to pluck the strings of the guitar with his fingers, she began to dance.
Connie watched her for a moment, her fluid, graceful movements to the quick rhythmic twang of the guitar. She must have been a little younger than Grace, maybe five or six years old, though she was small for her age. She glanced up at the man with the guitar, his shoulders hunched over it slightly to keep his balance on the box, and though his fingers kept the beat, he looked out into the crowd, watching how everyone clapped the little girl, a quick smile at his lips, the smile of a proud father?
Someone jostled her from behind and she had to step forwards to avoid losing her balance, her movement caught his eye, though his fingers never missed a beat. He looked over at her, his eyes were dark and glittering and his lips hid a smile beneath them. His hair was long, though she couldn't tell how long, and a dark ruddy auburn and was pulled back from his angular face, made brown by the sun...gypsies...she realised.
He cast a slow sideways glance to Grace who stood near him, studying her for a moment before looking back to Connie, his eyes narrowing briefly. Was the family resemblance really that strong?
The music seemed to go on and on, and the dancing never faltered, and once or twice, without meaning to, Connie found her own foot tapping to the rhythm that the gypsy man plucked out on the guitar.
The sun beat down, hot and heavy as it hung above them, lazily drifting through the cloudless sky.
Gradually, as they stood, the crowd began to disperse as the afternoon sun got too much, and the crowd began to grow tired of the dancing girl and her musician, who, noticing that the crowd was beginning to thin, bought his song to an end and tossed a folded piece of material over to the little girl who skilfully unrolled it to reveal an array of hand made jewellery that glinted and sparkled as she offered them out to the children who turned to their parents.
Connie watched as Grace was offered one, she saw her large eyes swivel quickly to Connie who gave a brief shake of her head and the little girl moved on to the next child, whose mother responded as Connie, and the rest of the parents had, only one older child who appeared to be out on her own bought a pale blue jewelled necklace and hung it about her neck before moving away as the rest of the crowd began to move on.
Grace made her way slowly back over to Connie, pausing only to watch the gypsy man set his guitar down onto the wooden box. He stood up, and took the fold of materiel from the little girl who was now busy picking up feathers that she had found swept against the railings.
"Here."
The man startled Grace by holding out a brown leather necklace with a dark red stone hanging at it's centre.
"Grace..."
Connie stepped forwards as Grace began to reach out for it, and the gypsy man looked over at her, his eyes were a clear, bottle green, and he smiled slightly showing straight white teeth.
"It's a gift."
He said, and with one quick movement he tossed the necklace so that it balled up within his hand, and held it over his other hand, dropping it into his palm and holding it out to her.
"And one for you."
He said, uncurling both of his hands. There were now two identical necklaces, one in each hand.
Grace took hers and slipped it over her head, looking down and fingering the red stone between her fingers.
He still held the necklace out to Connie, dangling it between his fingers so that the stone twirled and danced on the end of the leather, capturing and reflecting the light and spinning back on itself.
"No...thank you."
She murmured, and he withdrew his hand, slipping the necklace back among the others.
"Suit yourself."
He had a faint accent, though she couldn't place it.
"But can I ask why not?"
He asked, narrowing his eyes at her, and with the back of his hand he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
She smiled slightly.
"It's not what you think."
She said quietly, and out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement behind him, just over his shoulder, the quick flicker of someone, and she heard Grace shriek and the gypsy turned to see a man snatch up the guitar that lay on the brown wooden box, and before any of them could move, he'd begun to run.
The little girl shrieked, Grace moved closer to Connie and the gypsy made to run after him, but stopped after only a few steps, he couldn't leave his little girl. Instead he shouted a string of profanities that made Connie wince and she placed her hand over Grace's ear, hugging her head against her chest.
The gypsy whispered something under his breath and kicked the side of the box so that it tipped up and rolled over to reveal a little woven basket full of the necklaces that they'd been trying to sell.
Connie stood, unsure of what to do. The gypsy turned slowly, exhaling and running a hand through his hair, strands of which had come loose from his short plait and curved about his jaw.
She felt for her phone in her pocket and offered it out to him, he looked down at it within her palm and looked back up at her.
"The police?"
She offered and he stifled a laugh and shook his head.
"Thank you, but no."
He said, and then with surprising softness he turned and murmured something inaudible to the little girl, crouching down to her level and stroking the top of her head, kissing her forehead.
"No more dancing?"
She whispered and he murmured something else.
She nodded to him and through eyes that glittered with tears the little girl nodded, smiled, and he helped her up onto his back where she held herself, her little arms clinging about his neck, her legs curled up above his hips whilst he gathered together the rest of his belongings, and with a quick backward glance to Connie and Grace, they left.
"What do you think they'll do now?"
Grace asked as they pulled out of the car park and onto the road. They'd stopped off at a little cafe to buy milkshakes, and now Grace sat loudly slurping the remains of hers from the bottom of the plastic cup.
"Hmm?"
Connie murmured, watching the lights and pulling to a stop at the end of the narrow road.
"The little girl and the man. What do you think they'll do now?"
She asked, and she bought up her knees to her chest, wriggling beneath the seat belt and resting the cup on her knees.
Connie pulled away again as the lights changed and a bleeping noise sounded, and at last they were on the way home.
"I expect he will buy another one."
She said quietly, thinking about the man and the little girl, wondering where they were now. She felt silly for expecting him to ring the police, she could well imagine why he would refused their help, and though she didn't say anything, she thoroughly doubted that he would be able to afford another guitar.
"Can we come back again and see if they're there again tomorrow?"
Grace asked, and she yawned loudly, though Connie noticed that she put her hand over her mouth this time...her mood seemed to have changed for the better after watching the dancing and magic performed by the gypsy girl and her father.
"I expect so."
Connie murmured, and indicated to turn out of the city centre, catching the slight smile at Grace's lips.
Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you enjoyed it and whether or not you would be interested in seeing it continue. x