The Wooden Rose, a symbol of love, a mystery unravelled (copyright material)

A Traveler’s Camp near Glasgow Green 1889

Chapter 1

“Hurry Rosa yer Da wants tae leave in ten minutes.”
“Ah’m hurryin Ma, Ah’m goin’ as fast as Ah can,” said Rosa. She could hardly think straight as she hopped about pulling on her black boots and fastening the laces. She was excited at the thought of seeing Eddie again, tall handsome Eddie with his dark curly hair. She couldn’t remember the first time that she saw him, but she had known all her life that he was hers. The last time they met was at Musselburgh Fair when all the travellers got together to reunite, share good times, meet up with family and friends, and trade with each other.
She was sixteen now, her raven black hair came halfway down her back and her green eyes shone under long dark eyelashes. Soon she would marry, and the only boy she would marry was Eddie. Her young heart fluttered when she thought of him. Eddie was so clever with his hands. He was an artist with wood, he didn’t just make things, he made beautiful things. He made shelves for his Mam’s precious ornaments, and he had carved the shapes himself and painted flowers and ivy down the sides. He made clothes pegs to sell round the doors too, but that was different.
Rosa carried a wooden token in her pocket. When no one was watching, she would take the token out of her pocket, look at it, and think of Eddie. Her Eddie had made it for her when he was fourteen and she was only ten. He had carved a lovely rose on the surface of it, and each time she looked at it or held it in her pocket, she thought of her Eddie. It was just a simple piece of wood, flat, about two inches across and half an inch thick, but she could feel the love in it. She was never without it and had never shown it to anyone. It was something special to her and Eddie.
“Hurry up lass,” her father called as he hitched the horses to the front of the wagon.
“Stop yer daydreamin’ and get up on the wagon.”
She loved her Father; he was a big strong man with black curly hair, arms like tree trunks and hands like shovels. They were taking horses he had bred and trained to trade at the fair.
They were leaving Glasgow today, and it would be two or three days before they would reach Musselburgh. Soon they would meet up with friends and family. There would be horse racing and reunions. The young girls would be posing and showing off new dresses that their mothers or grannies had sewn for them, and young men, boys really, would be strutting and acting manly. Everything had to be perfect in this very proud culture, and each family would vie to be and have the best; everyone went to Musselburgh Fair, it was traditional.
Mary’s Mother had taught her how to scrub, clean, stack, and stow everything that they needed in, on, and around the big wagon. Pots and pans hung from the sides of the wagon and sang a merry note as they travelled. Everything was spic and span, for they were fussy about cleanliness.
Each night after a long day in the wagon, John would stop in the same place that his family had done for generations before him. There were trees to shelter the tent that they would put down to sleep in, because the wagon would be full of things that they needed when they were travelling and things that they could sell or swop. There was lush grass for the horses to graze on, and a running stream nearby for fresh water.
As soon as the wagon stopped, Mary and Rosa would jump down and begin to unpack the things they would need. They always carried wood to start the fire, and Rosa would set that out. Mary would gather the slats from where they were stored under the wagon, and she would use these to build a floor for their tent. They often erected their big tent if they were staying somewhere for a week or more, but when they were travelling, the smaller tent was fine for their needs.
With the fire started, Rosa helped her mother while John roped off an area and untied the trading horses from the wagon before turning them loose in the secured space. The lead horses were unhitched and turned loose with the others.
Their two terriers ran around excited to be free, but their big lurcher Suzie was tethered safely, with just enough rope to wander a short distance, otherwise she would have been off exploring and hunting for game. Mary set up the chitty prop, a three-legged cast-iron pyramid shape with a large hook for holding a pot over a fire, as Rosa fetched the water. Fire lit, kettle on to boil water for tea, and animals tended to, they could now sit and rest a while under the stars.
This is how they travelled; always following familiar routes and stopping at familiar places, each place would hold memories of previous times and previous journeys. Each morning they would rise early, feed the animals, and stow all their belongings back in and around the wagon and continue on their journey.
As they neared Musselburgh, they would catch sight of others travelling to the fair and there was a stir of excitement in the air. Finally, they arrived and lined up in a queue to enter the grassy field. They waved and called to other families arriving or queuing. They could see the Morrison’s, the Wilson’s, and the Boswell’s and there were others approaching that they would know, and some of their own family, their second cousins, the Stewarts, would be there too.
Rosa could hardly contain herself.
“Mind yer ane business Rosa and dinnae let yer Da catch you ey’in up these boys,” her mother whispered.
Rosa was horrified and embarrassed “I’m no ey’in up boys, Ah was jist lookin’ for…”
“I know who yer lookin for,” replied her mother. “It’s that Eddie McGuigan. A guid boy mind ye, but dinnae show yer keen.”
Rosa blushed and her ears were burning with embarrassment.
“I like him Ma, he asked me to remember him last year.”
“Wheesht, here’s yer Da!”