Page 33 - Where the Dream Ends ebook

The Yellow Peril

of an aging Volkswagen camper. At the far end there was a
platform bed, wide enough for two, and under it a cupboard
with two doors where Tissie said children often slept. On the
left was a sink and a stove with cupboards beneath. There were

windows on either side and in the rear. As dreary as the inte-
rior was, the exterior was bristling with excitement. It spoke
of adventure, with its brilliant circus colors and wide, curving
trim that reminded Harry of an old calliope. It had big yellow
iron wheels and on one was a leather pad connected to a long
rod that was the brake. Harry supposed it worked somehow in
conjunction with the horse that pulled the wagon.

More than fifty years earlier Tissie and her girlfriend and
Tissie’s young daughter traveled about England for six months
in the wagon. They lived in gypsy caravans and brushed away
encounters with men on the road. “It was the best six months
of my life,” Tissie said wistfully, late one evening, after the sun
was down and they sat in the huge great room drinking co-
gnac.

Afterwards, in bed, Harry lay with his hands behind his
head, staring up at the ceiling

“What’s that matter?” his wife asked.

“I don’t know. It’s just amazing, that’s all.”

“What’s amazing?

“Tissie. Her life. Look at this place. How does it happen
that one person can do so much?”

“She’s eighty-four years old.”

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