There was, Marilla decided, nothing nicer than watching the open road drift by with the man you loved by your side. Gideon was as comfortable travelling companion as she could wish for. Happy to chat about life and his experiences, to share stories as he saw fit, but equally content to sit in companionable silence. With only the usual sound of the clip clop of the horse's hooves in one of those silences Marilla found her thoughts drifting away.

She was eight, sitting between her parents on the way to church. She had done something wrong, what she couldn't recall but the exasperation fizzed off her mother and she felt desperately anxious to get away. Shaking the feeling off, she felt rather than saw Gideon turn, "everything alright?"

"My daydreams have a habit of turning dark is all."

He looked at her ruefully, "I can relate."

"Oh, not as dark as yours, I'm sure."

"It's not a competition, ketzele. I wouldn't wish my memories upon anyone." There was a pause and he said, "care to tell me?"

"I was eight and I'd upset my mother."

"Hm, never a good thing."

"No," Marilla shook her head, unwilling to sully the beautiful day, those days were thankfully well and truly behind her. "What shall we talk about instead?"

"Well, if it's alright with you, I might stop somewhere on the way home, would that be alright?"

"Ever the businessman," Marilla dug him in the ribs.

"Can you forgive me, ketzele. I just feel the weight of those machines pressing down on me."

"Of course. We're a partnership now, your burden is mine now."

"I hoped you'd say that; it helps."

"Does it really?"

"Ach, yes, just to know there's someone out there on my side."

"I've always been." He pulled her close and kissed her cheek. "Enough of that," she half-heartedly pushed him away but soon gave up at his repeated advances. The horse sensing his lack of attention to the reins came to a halt, taking the opportunity to graze at the verge whilst Gideon kissed Marilla's canted neck, their blood rising.

"That's enough for now," Marilla pushed him away bringing their proceedings to a halt, much to Gideon's chagrin. "Ach, ketzele!" he whined.

"Hush now. Plenty of time for that later," she said brushing her skirts down. "Now where shall we set up? You'll want to be closer to town I suppose."

Clearing his throat Gideon gathered up the reins and chirruped to the horse. At least, he thought, there'll be plenty of opportunities for future trysts, another benefit of being married.

Sun beating down on her neck Marilla threaded the needle carefully, mindful of the crowd watching her every move. She had rehearsed her technique but had been so nervous about performing in public that Gideon offered to help. But when it came down to it, he wasn't sure what she was doing at every moment. Despite her misgivings she found herself interrupting to correct his commentary. Secretly pleased Gideon lapsed into silence watching as she took control of her rapt audience. Ach, she's doing a far better job than I could, he said to himself looking on fondly. She took them through the process step by step until eventually she was pumping the treadle steadily as the needle flew up and down. "You'll find it's so much faster and more convenient than the old-fashioned way," she explained as with a flourish she pulled the trousers away and turned them back outside out. There was an audible gasp of amazement that she had fashioned a sturdy pair of trousers in a few minutes when it would have taken them hours of close work. The garment was passed out across the audience and then a crowd formed clamouring to order their own. "Form a line, please," Gideon ordered. "You'll all be taken care of." Marilla sat back in amazement; she had been so involved with the work that she'd half-forgotten they were even there.

Nursing his empty dinner plate in his lap that evening, Gideon smiled.

"What?"

"You."

"Me? What about me?"

"You were magnificent."

"Fiddlesticks!"

He set his plate on the ground and shuffled over to her side, "ach, you and your fiddlesticks," he said affectionately. "I know what that means."

"It doesn't mean anything."

"Yes, it does, it means you're secretly delighted but you don't want to admit it." Marilla frowned and shook her head. "Ach, yes it does. And you know what, ketzele?"

"Mm?"

"I love you for it, and them; your fiddlesticks are delightful."

Marilla set her own plate down carefully and nestled into his flank. "You thought I did well?"

"Better than well. I sold out. I've had to take orders. Not everyone was best pleased."

"I hope they weren't too disappointed."

"It's a good problem to have. Leave the washing up," he said when she bent over to pick up the plates. "We can do it in the morning."

"But…"

"But nothing," he murmured into her ear. "Remember you put me off earlier, now it's time to make you purr." Marilla giggled and together they climbed into the wagon.

Upon waking in the morning Marilla was surprised to find their buggy encircled by a familiar collection of colourful wagons which had evidently arrived in the night. She was rather embarrassed by their camp's dishevelled state, but it was evident as she watched their neighbours spill the contents of their caravans out into the ground that no one cared. Gideon said as much to her when she mentioned it, "ach ketzele, they're not fussed by such things."

Oddly enough the most mundane chores caught her attention: the workings of the women as they cared for their children, set up laundry tubs, and sat around gossiping. One man carried an elderly woman bent double with arthritis out from her caravan to enjoy the sunshine. When Marilla tried to apologise for unkempt state of their camp, the old crone cackled in delight through her tombstone teeth thrusting her hips awkwardly and sticking her tongue out between her gnarled, arthritic fingers emulating Marilla's night in a moment. The others laughed uproariously and after a beat, Marilla joined in, her cheeks red with embarrassment. "Granny may not speak these days," a younger woman explained. "But she knows what's up."

Marilla could only nod in agreement, mortified that their intimacy was so evident. But it appeared when she looked around that privacy was not so important to these people who lived their life on the road. She said as much to Gideon when they had a moment together. "That's right, ketzele," he said. "They live and breathe in public, even their love making is done in front of everything. Theirs is a communal life, they barely know the meaning of the word 'private'. They'd be worried if we weren't enjoying intimate relations, that would seem strange; whether we were married or not. Since we are, they know just what we're doing at night, they're enjoying it themselves." He kissed her on the top of her head and trailed a series of light kisses down her cheek, his hand reaching down to cup her breast through her chemise. Marilla leaned into the warmth of him before pulling away acutely aware that they had company. But when she looked around no one was paying them much mind, except for the old woman grinning her way and nodding.

It was only later in the day that Marilla realised there were plans afoot for that night. "Gideon?" she asked, gesturing at the lanterns hanged in the branches surrounding their clearing. "What are they up to?"

"Ach ketzele, this family just loves a party. I told Motshan we've just gotten married, and they mean to give us a good old-fashioned wedding, such as you've maybe never seen before.

Marilla blinked very rapidly, "but we already celebrated?"

"Yes, and if you're up to it we'll do it again," Gideon said, mindful of his past transgressions where the Romany were concerned. "If not, then we'll make our excuses. Knowing them, they'll still celebrate in our absence."

Marilla smiled at him, thankful that this time her wishes were being taken into consideration. She accepted a cup of tea from a passing boy, the chipped cup holding a bracing brew. Sipping she considered her options. She was keen for home of course, catching up with Matthew and sharing her news was important. On the other hand, she could almost picture the scene that awaited her that night and the anticipated music was alluring. Gideon was silent watching her, smiling as her foot tapped time with some imaginary tune.

"Wish I had something to wear," she said almost plaintively. At that Gideon was away. He returned shortly carrying a fancy dress over one arm.

"If it's too big," he explained. "At least we have the means to alter it."

"There's no stopping you is there?" Marilla smiled. Gideon shook his head, unpacking the wagon to get to Marilla's sewing machine.

Their neighbours looked on intrigued at the whirring sound as Marilla altered the dress. It was, as Gideon expected, too large so she took it in at the waist and up at the hem.

One woman hesitatingly brought her a dress that she explained no longer fit her, but which was too big for her friend. "No one can wear it now," explained another who spoke a little, accented, English. "You help?"

Marilla took the item and held it up to the light appraisingly. It was a beautiful dress, all flounces made of delicate fabric. "Hm," she said looking at the woman. "Give me a bit of time to think. Any ideas of what we could do with it?" She got swept up then in a furious discussion, in a cacophony of English and Romany watching back and forth as the women argued the pros and cons of their theories. "Stop, stop," Marilla said at last. "I'm not that skilled, but I reckon I might be able to take in a bit there and add a bit here," she explained pointing. "Will you give me an hour or two?"

Once the dress was finished, she handed it over to the delighted women. One tried it on, shucking down to her underthings in front of her friends, much to Marilla's embarrassment. She glanced around, concerned that a man might see this woman's underwear. Once she had it on the woman sashayed up and down in front of her adoring crowd, a natural model. Marilla smiled and joined in the laughter when the woman curtseyed in front of them all.

Another picked up Marilla's dress and looked at it admiringly. "You fix this too?" she asked. Marilla nodded and then with a start found herself being led away surrounded by the group. "We get you ready for party," one woman yelled in her ear. For the first time that day Marilla wasn't sure where Gideon was, and she panicked a little before being settled by the women. "We have you; make you pretty for your man." She explained in broken English. "You remember me? I am Kezia, Motshan's woman." Now that she said it, Marilla did recognise the woman with her swollen belly. "Of course, you're having a baby," she said needlessly.

Kezia looked down fondly and patted her stomach, pulling Marilla's hand out to touch it. It was not yet the tight ball of a full-term pregnancy but there was no mistaking. Marilla was embarrassed once more. So many of polite society's mores were ignored by these people. Even Rachel would never invite her to touch her like that. "Come, come we fix you up for Gideon. Come, there isn't much time."

Relaxing Marilla allowed herself to be led behind a caravan. There they set her down and proceeded wash her in a hastily prepared bath. She had tensed when they'd undressed her, clucking over her myriad of layers, unused to being bathed by strangers but she decided to relax into it, it being apparent that they had done this sort of thing before. Having undone her hair, they then braided and set it into an intricate style. When it was time to dress, Kezia shooed the rest away. Marilla was then paraded in front of the group who cheered their approval. She looked like a proper bride now. Gideon had been similarly dressed by the men it appeared, when they were brought to each other, and he embraced her closely. "Alright?"

"Just fine."

There followed a celebration such as Marilla had never imagined. The music was intoxicating and the food delicious. Not unlike their wedding nuptials, but different again and utterly exotic. The dancing, oh the dancing was incredible with the men and the women separated initially before they came together in a cacophonous mess, all holding hands in circles dancing, weaving through each other.

Breathless after several dances Marilla stumbled to the side for a breather. Gideon found her sitting by their wagon still swaying to the music. "Ready for more?" he asked.

"I don't think I can," she said gazing up at him, exhausted. "Give an old woman a chance to recover."

"You're only as old as the woman you feel," Gideon laughed at her, running his hands over her shoulders and down her back.

Getting the joke after a beat, Marilla grinned back at him and with a deep breath jumped back to her feet. Giving her a moment Gideon fetched her a drink to help her recover and watched as she drank it down in one. "You were thirsty," he yelled over the music.

"Mm, hm," she nodded.

"Another?"

"No, let's get back to it." Gideon laughed at her enthusiasm, thinking later how changed she was from their last time. I must give her a chance to make her own decisions, he realised. Then she's up for anything. Back in the present he grabbed her hand and together they re-joined the fray dancing until they collapsed in a heap many hours later.