Sunday, June 28, 2015

The A-Z of Black Eyed Boy. N is for ... Nancy.

Nancy is another important character in Black Eyed Boy. We meet her further along the story, once Emily and Dylan are enjoying the first days of their relationship. She is a little girl, one of the many orphan gypsy travellers. She takes a keen interest in Emily and they become incredibly fond of one another.

Another part of the mysterious puzzle presents itself when Emily learns that Nancy is a highly intuitive child; she appears to have the ability to dream about things just before they happen. Nancy has a huge role in the sequel, Green Eyed Girl. I don’t wish to give anything away at this stage, but much of the story revolves around the little girl and her capacity to know about events before they actually happen.

Nancy is a sweet child, partly made up of aspects of both of my daughters. She is a welcoming, sweet and friendly character; one that increases with importance as the trilogy continues.
Here is an excerpt, featuring Nancy:

I walked quickly with a determined long stride; I didn’t have the patience to admire the view or to amble along. I was almost on the verge of running. I saw Nancy playing on the grass, all alone, but quiet and content.
“I knew you’d come today,” she said, looking up at me.
“Did you?”
“Yes, come on,” she said, getting up and pulling me towards the camp site with her tiny hand.
There were a few of them congregated on the field.
“Dylan isn’t here yet,” said Nancy.
I was so disappointed that I thought my heart might crumble. I hadn’t seen him for a while and I loathed having to wait even one more second.
“When will he be back?” I asked, desperate.
“Soon,” answered Nancy.
I looked into her eyes, the same hypnotic dark ones as Dylan had. If I had to wait for Dylan then I supposed that she was a pretty good substitute. She was such a sweet little thing. I sensed the others watching me, but I didn’t have the confidence to go over and introduce myself; I barely had the energy to stand.
“Will you sit with me a while?” I asked, aware at what an odd request that was, asking a favour from such a young child.
“Of course,” she smiled sweetly. “I was sad too, when my mummy died.”
I couldn’t believe that she’d said that. I looked at her, scanning her face, waiting for more words, but they didn’t come. How did she know about Mum?

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