Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [151]
Beth was aware of all his faults, and knew too that they were major ones that would never change. Sometimes she wished she’d taken note of what Ira had said about gambling men and had never given him her heart. But when things were good between them it was wonderful, for he was funny, clever and so loving, and she tended to overlook the bad parts — the disappearing acts, the lies or half truths, the laziness and conceit.
Her real security came from within her. She knew she could earn a living anywhere with her fiddle, and she loved that as much as she loved Theo. Maybe she didn’t need a dream because she was already living it?
∗
They heard the first crack in the early hours of 29 May. Beth thought it was a gunshot and sat upright in alarm. But then another came and she realized it was the ice breaking up.
It never really got dark at night now. The sky turned pink and purple around midnight, as if the sun was finally setting, but it didn’t go completely dark at all. So she leapt up, pulled on her boots and, shouting to the others, ran down the few yards to the shore.
By the time the boys had joined her, there were hundreds of people gathered to watch. The ice was creaking and rumbling, dark green water spurting out through the cracks and washing away the building detritus, wood shavings, nails and patches of tar where they’d caulked their boats. Someone cheered and everyone joined in, holding hands and spinning one another round like children in a playground
That last day on Lake Bennett was one of pure joy for everyone, for the following morning they would be able to sail away. Beth dug her red satin dress out to wear in the evening. It had some black mould on it from being packed away so long, but she sluiced it off and hung it up to dry, excited by the prospect of looking like a real woman again, even if it was only for one night. She washed her hair too, leaving it to dry in the warm sunshine.
Everyone else was busying themselves with similar tasks. The queue for the bath tent was the longest she’d ever seen it, and someone told her that they were resorting to using the same water for twelve men, and offering them a rinse-off with cold water.
Some of the men, Jack included, pitched in to help the folk who hadn’t yet finished their boats. Even the dogs picked up on the excitement and ran around the camp barking wildly.
At eight that evening, Beth played her fiddle to a packed house in the Golden Goose, the big gambling saloon marquee. People who had never been seen in there before turned up, and everyone danced.
Much later, as Beth was leaving to go back to the tent with Theo, the sound of the thunderous applause still ringing in her head, and over thirty-five dollars in Theo’s hat, she heard a young man singing ‘Sweet Molly’. Until that moment she’d forgotten her mother used to sing it to Sam and her when they were small, and hearing it again now, so far from home, on the eve of the last stage of their journey, seemed portentous.
Sam and Jack had stayed behind in the saloon, and for the first time in months, Theo made love to her. Later, as Beth lay sleepily snuggled into his shoulder, listening to all the merrymaking throughout the camp, she felt she must be the happiest woman there.
The late-night revels didn’t prevent anyone getting up early the following morning and running down to check on the state of the ice.
There were still some large chunks floating by but it was clear enough to set sail and go. Suddenly everyone was striking their tents, packing up their pots and bedding, and hauling their provisions and equipment down to their boats.
Beth smiled to herself as she folded up her red satin dress and put out her best boots for Theo to seal up in one of the big waterproof sacks which they wouldn’t open again until they got to Dawson City. She was wearing her old dark blue cotton dress again, her mackinaw coat, wide-brimmed hat and rubber boots. A change of clothing and her fiddle were packed in a small waterproof bag for the journey.