I'm down by my tree again, Beth is collecting India and her boys from playgroup and I've got until five pm to make a start on a new sketch.
I can hardly believe that I've sold four drawings to a complete stranger! I got Β£400 in cash from the gallery after commission and framing. That's a lot of money to a traveller; I can make it last three months and no hassle with the DHS! I've not signed on since Bristol last winter. All spring and summer working in the fields with the tatties and bulbs; then Danny splitting with the Transit and the money - the bastard! Spending our stash on brew and skunk. Good riddance. Now it's just me and India, my beautiful girl! And the old Safari trailer with nothing to pull it!
Two years gone, and I still cry over Jacky every day. I got arrested with the others, but they let me go 'cos of India. Even the pigs felt sorry for me. I split, went on the road and ended up in Bristol with Danny the hitter and kicker. Oh Jacky! Gentle Jacky! With your long raster dreads and your big black, beautiful body; those hands, so big but so careful. Oh shit! Stop it Jenny. There's no use in it. Get on with the drawing.
The tide's on the make and will soon cover the roots of my huge and wonderful Cornish oak, as they twist and turn beneath the high tide mark. The water has carved out a cave under the tree; it's a magic dark place, even at mid day. I found it at low tide when India was playing with Beth's boys and I was kicking stones and looking for shells on the little beach. At first, I couldn't believe that a tree could have a cave under it with the roots going down like pillars in a church. I have been in lots of times since.
That first time I went in was two months ago, I was so miserable, and thinking, as usual, of Jacky. Danny had just gone off with the money and my face hurt where he had hit me. I don't know why I went in, but I'm glad I did. I crawled between the roots in my denim shorts and my green vest and got really filthy! My hands, arms and legs, even my face! But what the heck, I like being filthy; I'm a traveller!
It was quite cramped 'cos I'm 5ft 9in and big boned. When I was right inside, I curled up and cried for ages until I heard the voice.
Like whoa, I mean, when you hear voices people say you're a loony. The voice said, "Jenny". I jumped out of my skin and would have run if I could. I banged my head on a root and it hurt, so I sat back and rubbed it. The voice said, "Listen". So I listened, I mean crazy or what! I listened to my tree. It had a woman's voice; so that was good.
I am a pagan. Not strict, but I keep the festivals and the solstices, jump over the fire and chant and drum with the others, and a few Beltanes I have joined in the fucking! So I know about the Goddess and the higher plains and all that, but to have Her speaking to you! I mean Joan of Ark or what! But I closed my eyes and listened. And that was when I began to reconnect.