In the corner of the woods lived a gypsy family that we were advised never to go near. They lived in a brightly painted caravan that had a bent chimney coming out of the roof that was always spewing out dark bonfire smelling smoke that covered that corner of the wood with an eerie haze. To enter the caravan there was a wooden stepladder where invariably sat the father, who was always smoking a clay pipe and paring pieces of wood with a large sinister looking knife. All of us referred to him as Clay Pipe Joe.

The mother was always busy preparing food and cooking. She could skin a rabbit or pluck a chicken at breakneck speed using a knife with expert skill. Sometimes she would sit next to Clay Pipe Joe on the steps, making baskets, weaving the material in and out with long white fingers that had blood red painted fingernails. She was always dressed in black from head to toe that made her ghostly-white face with its hook nose much more menacing. Large gold earrings dangled from her ears but the most awesome feature about her was her black eyes that sparkled and sent out darts of fire that we were told could burn you alive if you got too close to her. We fearsomely knew her as Black Alice.

There were two children in the family, a boy that we called Lurch, so called because he always lurched from side to side as he walked. He was massively built, although a teenager he dwarfed the rest of the family and certainly all of us kids. He had an unusual shaped body with enormous shoulders and long arms that seemed to hang down below his knees. But the most frightening sight was his hands that were like bunches of bananas that adorned most greengrocers stalls. His fingers were thick and deformed with large swellings on the knuckles, and I could quite believe what the older boys told us, that he could easily squeeze any of us to death. His saliva-dribbling dog that we named Boxer Bill always accompanied him. And because of these fears, I always kept a reasonable distance away from the gypsy site, being faint-hearted as I was.

Lurch had a twin sister named Bridie and she was the complete opposite to her brother; she was a beautiful girl with long black hair tumbling waist-ward and always tied with brightly coloured ribbons. Her bright red headscarf always contrasted wonderfully well with the rest of her colourful clothes. Whenever us kids crossed her path she would always give us a pleasant smile, and to the older boys a wink that made them blush crimson, and the girls, seeing the boys discomfort would tease them something shocking. It was only when Bridie disappeared from the family caravan that all the rumors began. Some of us thought that she had been killed and we were convinced that she was buried beneath the caravan, but some were equally convinced that Bridie had been thrown into the nearby Ravensbourne River and had floated away, never to be seen again. Whatever became of her remained a mystery, and the woods became a sadder place because of her absence.

Unfortunately I wasn’t allowed to stay the night and when my sisters arrived to take me home I promised my mates that I would be back early next morning.

I couldn’t sleep that night being so excited with the thought of going back to the campsite. I got up at the crack of dawn and went downstairs where my mum, being an early riser, had already made me a cup of tea and toast. In those days we kept chickens in the back garden and always had an abundance of fresh eggs and my mum had already hard-boiled half a dozen eggs for me to take to my mates. I left home and headed for the woods, carrying my eggs with me. On entering the woods that early in the morning was an unusual experience for me. The place was alive with singing birds and the rays of the early morning sun were filtering through the trees creating a colourful wonderland. The trees were swaying in the gentle breeze with their leaves dancing to a silent melody making the whole place a peaceful panorama that made me feel so happy to be there.

Although I was only seven years old, I knew the woods very well, so I took the quickest pathway to the campsite and burst into the camping circle intent on waking everybody up, but my words of greeting froze in my throat as I viewed the emptiness before me. Everybody and everything had gone and only the cold ashes of the previous night’s bonfire remained. The lullaby of the birds ceased and was replaced by some harsh croaking crows; the sun became clouded over robbing the woods of its colour and as the breeze stiffened the trees swayed violently into grotesque shapes with their leaves dancing to a more macabre tune. The fear and my loneliness engulfed me until I was awakened from my trance-like state by the distant barking of a dog. That told me that Boxer Bill was on the loose and I fled. In my blind panic to escape from the woods I couldn’t avoid crashing into low branches nor prevent myself from slipping and sliding on the exposed tree roots and my stumbling slowed me down. My panting pursuer was closing on me, but I could see the gap in the bushes ahead and that meant freedom from the woods, and it was with relief when I crashed through the opening only to fall into the arms of the awaiting Lurch.
 
I must have passed out for a while, because when I eventually opened my eyes I was in the gypsy caravan feeling bruised and bewildered. As I regained full awareness of my situation, I realised that Black Alice was gently bathing my injured knees, and as she came closer to wipe some blood from my forehead I realised that she was in fact quite beautiful, her black eyes sparkled, showering me with stars of kindness, and what with her radiant smile, my fear of her completely melted away. Meanwhile Clay Pipe Joe was sitting on the caravan steps, meticulously making wooden clothes pegs, and when he knew that my name was John he made a peg and carved my initial J on it and gave it to me as I left the caravan. Lurch and Boxer Bill accompanied me out of the woods; Lurch carried my bag of eggs, and the dog walked obediently by my side stopping occasionally to lick my hand.

Before saying goodbye to Lurch I summoned up enough courage to ask him whatever had happened to Bridie? He told me that she had gone to Ireland to study at a medical college, hopefully to become a doctor. Lurch’s mum and dad had apparently been saving their hard-earned money for years, with the intention of paying the fees for Lurch and Bridie’s education. Unfortunately, Lurch couldn’t write because of his crippled hands, and was therefore an unacceptable candidate for college. I couldn’t help feeling so sad for Lurch as I said goodbye and headed homeward.

I didn’t realise then what an impact the gypsy family would have on my decision making for the rest of my life. Never again would I judge people by their looks or appearances. I realised then, that I needed to look at people from all angles, and get to know them better before making an assessment of their characters. With these thoughts in mind my walking pace quickened to a skip and as I skipped happily homeward I started eating my boiled eggs.

Subitted by: Da Harwood for his granddaughter Molly
Story Location: Bromley Kent