Chapter 3) Almost due
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Did you eat? Was the first thing her boss signed to her when she walked into the stable to start her chores.
A little taken aback she nodded, still a bit embarrassed of her growling stomach from the day before. After taking the food she'd tried to be civil but had wolfed down the bread and ate the entire apples – cores included.
One eyebrow went up and Tommy placed his hand onto his hip: Really?
"No sir, my mum said it was too early to go to the market", she lied, ashamed to admit there wasn't even a breadcrumb left in their cupboard.
Her boss snorted and motioned for to her to follow him. In between two chimney stacks was a lean-to built from reclaimed bricks and stones. Inside was a small office where Charlie was reading the morning paper.
"Oy Tommy, lass!" the older man greeted them and held up a cup of tea.
Maria greeted him back but Tommy was straight to business: Is your stew ready?
"Almost. It would be better if the meat cooked a bit more but it'll do." Charlie added. "Why, you want some?"
Fuck no, Tommy signed, for her.
"Manners, Tom," Charlie grumbled annoyed as he walked outsider to a little bonfire. A kettle hung above the smoldering wood filled with gently simmering stew.
Maria took a bowl full out of the hands of Charlie and took place on one of the chairs around the fire.
Tommy took out his cigarettes while she wolfed down her meal.
"Might lose a finger lass, if ya eat any faster." Charlie chuckled by the sight of the hungry girl. "Ya sure you don't want any hedgehog stew Tom?" Charlie asked right before slapping Maria on the back when she began to choke on a chunk of…
"Hedgehog?!" She squeezed out between coughs, staring at her now half full bowl.
"An old gypsy recipe - been in our family for generations," Charlie told her proudly.
For a moment she stared baffled at the chef, then over to Tommy who was suppressing a smirk and refusing to make eye contact, and then back at her breakfast.
"To be honest, it's quite alright," she had to admit, "Better than my aunt's Shepherd's Pie."
"Quite alright, bloody gorgers…" Charlie mumbled under his breath.
"So, you're a Gypsy then?" Maria asked interested as she continued to eat her stew.
"Ay proud Romanies we are!" Charlie roared a bit too tipsy for the early morning.
Tommy snorted and rolled his eyes. Show off, he signed at Maria.
"What ya say now, Tommy?" Charlie asked with narrow eyes.
"Traveller," Maria answered quickly, "he says your people are travellers."
"Damn right there, Tom. Our ancestors travelled all over the globe!" Charlie bragged proudly and laughed, earning another moody glare of Tommy, "Speaking of which lass, what brings you and yer family to Small Heath?"
"Well," Maria began shyly, not at all comfortable with being the centre of attention. "-my father and brother died in France and then our farm burned down. We didn't have enough money to build up a new home and the only family that would take us in was my mom's sister." She told her story straightforwardly, trying to keep her feelings about the tragic events from showing in her voice.
Charlie's good-humored eyes turned stern: "My condolences."
"Thank you, sir."
"What's the name of your town?"
"Cranleigh, sir. It's lovely there. We used to have a fair number of stables, a herd of sheep, three cows and a fat potbelly pig called Gilbert. He could do tricks too-"
Tommy pushed his chair roughly backwards and got up. Without any explanation he threw his cigarette down and headed for the stables.
Unsure of what she had done or what she should do next she looked over at Charlie like a deer stuck in headlights.
"Lemmy give ya a little advice if ya want ya keep your job, lass. Don't ever mention France." the older man tipped his hat back. "It'll do ya no good with Tom."
"That's where he lost his voice isn't it?" She whispered.
Charlie stared at his nephew's back and nodded: "Aye and lots 'n lots more."
Maria felt a shiver run down her back and stared at her bowl of stew. She remembered how many of the men of her town had came back, traumatized and multitated from the inside out.
"They dug him out of the ground", Charlie revealed making the sign of a cross against his chest and forehead, "Took 'em three days. He was a tunneler, you see? Bloody hero too, saved thousands of lives at Mons. Even received the Distinguished Conduct medal. Threw it in the cut, the mad bugger."
Silence fell and Maria lost her appetite: "Thanks for the stew sir. I must be heading to work."
"Lovely seeing you again lass. Best luck spending time with Tom. And be a smart lass, don't let him know ya know, ya know?"
Tommy was working in Monaghan Boy's stall when she entered. He'd taken off his long black coat and was dressed in a white cotton shirt, faded grey trousers and his trademark flat cap. A hoof scraper was tucked into his belt.
"I'm sorry if I offended you."
Tommy spun on his feet and in one quick motion drew a line over his lips: zip it. Then he urged her to come into the box with him. He stepped around Monaghan Boy, gently petting the horse: "Ssssh." He calmly muttered to his animal and carefully placed his hand on her belly.
Maria almost felt like an intruder witnessing such compassionate moment. Sinking to her knees and staring at the bulging stomach she whispered: "She's expecting."
A short nod. Almost due.
"Monaghan Boy? Strange name for a mare."
Last owner was a twat, Tommy signed. He stepped aside and grabbed her hand before placing it on the mare's belly. She could feel the foal shift under her touch and gasped excitedly.
"Oh so precious," she sighed and rubbed the flank of the mother to be.
Will be a boy, Tommy signed.
"How do you know?"
A short shrug, I know, followed by an unexpected smirk, Gypsy remember?
She returned the smile happily, noting that he was now making small-talk with her instead of ignoring her.
Fresh water, she likes beets, give her some extra. More straw, it's comfortable if she needs to lay down, Tommy wrote down her to-do list in his small notebook. She nodded vividly keeping half an eye on the small wonder. Nature was beautiful.
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