Full story, enjoy it.
Ps: several times someone complained about the title of this story, or at any rate about the use of the word Gipsy. It was not my intention to offend anyone, in my country they were also broadcasting on TV a program with such a term in the title, so I did not think it was offensive in other parts of the world. The main character in this story is inspired by Helizabeth Polly Grey from the TV series Peaky Blinders, a character I loved.
Chapter 1:
Finally the real winter had arrived, after the last few weeks across Europe had broken every record and that December would long be remembered as the warmest ever...or so it would be said until the next one, after all by now with the climate crisis things would get worse and worse. Eventually, however, the dear old winter had finally arrived and with it the cold and snow. With the price of gas skyrocketing, many Europeans had hoped that the abnormally warm weather would remain for a while longer, bills were scary, and life was getting harder and harder to cope with on a normal salary.
Helen Newton, however, certainly did not have those worries and could only rejoice when the first snowflakes had begun to fall on her small English town, which by some magic had remained almost completely unchanged over the past century, as if the changes in the world did not touch that enchanted place in the middle of the United Kingdom. Only daughter of a famous lawyer, Helen had graduated from the most prestigious school in the country and loved her work as an architect more than anything else in the world. From an early age she had shown a great creative vein, and the immense personal library of a wealthy father had done the rest. Helen had married young, not even 23 years old, and the first thing she had told Charles, her future husband, after she proposed, was that she would be the one to design their house, and so she had done.
Charles was a calm and kind man, he did not show much affection but he loved his young and beautiful wife deeply and would do anything for her and Helen knew it. It was not easy to live without him for several weeks but his company operated mainly in France, in the shipyards, and Charles' presence was often required. However, the woman could not complain, between her work and her husband's, without considering her father's large estate, of which she was the sole heir, the young couple certainly had no financial problems and their mansion was the most beautiful and majestic in the city, the crisis for them did not exist and gas was just a concern of other citizens of a lower class.
With Christmas just around the corner, Helen decided to finally get out of the house to do some shopping; she was way behind schedule that year because of too much work that had kept her busy for several weeks on a very delicate project, and Charles' absence had not helped. But her husband would arrive 4 days later, and Helen awoke from that strange lethargy into which she fell when her soul mate was away, which made her a creature devoted solely to work.
It was December 20, and the stores were crowded with people who, like Helen, had been "forced" to buying Christmas presents at the last minute, perhaps hoping for some discount that in those hard times was only a beautiful illusion. The young woman, now 25, had just bought a varied array of perfumes in a store where she had wasted almost an hour looking for a particular lipstick that was the only one worthy of resting on her noble lips. In the end, the young saleswoman, not finding the product the customer so eagerly desired, had given up and realized that the woman would never buy a different one and it did not matter that it was just as good. After paying and greeting the saleswoman, who breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the customer left her store, Helen looked at her reflection in the window and noted smugly that that new coat really did fit her.
"Versace is always Versace," thought the woman as she continued to study the black coat with its golden buttons like her long hair.
Just then, however, the woman felt someone pull her sleeve roughly, and when Helen turned around, she almost jumped back in horror. A gipsy woman of about 60 was staring at her, almost pleading with her eyes. That creature sitting on the ground with a cardboard in front of her and wearing clothes so filthy and smelly that they would make a pig run away, had dared to touch her new coat, had dared to brush with her filthy hands a woman who was a hundred categories above her.
- Please ma'am, I am hungry -
Helen took another step back, the stench was unbelievable and she had no intention of knowing if the woman's breath was just as gross, or worse, of getting hit by a few drops of her saliva, only God knew what diseases that woman might have. The young woman's eyes fell on the half-empty plate on the floor, with those coins the woman could not even have bought bread for lunch, let alone soap to wash herself. What would it have cost her to stop for a moment, open the rich wallet, Versace like her coat, and pull out a few coins? Helen could have bought food and new clothes for that woman for a whole year and not even notice the slightest change in her bank account, but then why was she hesitating to do something so simple? It was as if the brilliant architect was disgusted already to be within walking distance of that woman, to be seen near that wretched creature, interacting with her would have been even worse.
- Just a few coins my beautiful lady - the old woman pleaded with her again, holding out the palm of her dirty, wrinkled hand.
- To buy what? Alcohol and drugs? Certainly not soap - Helen finally said, increasingly disgusted, before turning and walking away as fast as she could from that place and hoping soon to see a policeman to complain to him and say to clean out the place of those beggars who existed only to ruin Christmas shopping for tax-paying citizens.
That cruel scene had not gone unnoticed by the many people who crowded the street filled with lights and Christmas songs that gladdened spirits and hearts. Among them was a woman about 45 years old, elegantly dressed, with a long, thin cigarette between her full lips, magnificent with red lipstick.
- Here, take these my dear. And best wishes for Christmas- the woman said, leaning over to the beggar and dropping several bills that would completely change the next few weeks for her.
The gipsy woman's eyes filled with tears as she gazed at that woman so beautiful and so good, and for a moment she tried to shake her hand, before stopping for fear of soiling the woman's beautiful black gloves. The latter however seemed to understand what she was trying to do and grasped her hand gently, before hugging the beggar warmly, almost risking her beautiful hat slipping off her head.
- Thank you, thank you my lady and Merry Christmas to you too - replied the beggar, almost kissing the hands of that angel who had come down to earth to protect and comfort her after a new, and certainly not the last, humiliation of her life.
Helen had just returned home, changed her clothes quickly, and, after once again studying a few changes to make to the project she had been working on for weeks now, prepared herself a quick lunch, wishing once again that her Charles would return soon. Just as the woman was finishing lunch, she heard a knock at the front door.
