The Liverpool Rose (47 page)

‘I wonder if you and Jake should stay behind and keep an eye on the Trelawney lads, though,’ Clem said, as the dog came bounding towards them at his whistle. ‘Suppose they try to damage
The Liverpool Rose
so we can’t follow them? If they do that, and we find Lizzie, we’ll have no means of getting her to safety. Honestly, Jake, don’t you think the two of you had best stay behind? You can get some porridge or something on the go, so when Brutus and me come back with Lizzie, there’s summat hot to warm her up.’

Jake was reluctant because he said that Clem might need his help if he found Lizzie in a bad way, but
Clem assured him that he could cope with a slip of a thing like her on his own, so Jake consented to guard
The Liverpool Rose
and to keep an eye on
The Singing Lark
at the same time. ‘It’s a pity you whistled Brutus, because they may well guess the dog ain’t there no more,’ he remarked as he and Priddy turned back towards the canal boat. ‘Still, what’s done can’t be undone, and they may think you only called him off for a moment.’

So, presently, Clem and Brutus set off together into the snow-covered hills.

Lizzie was dreaming. In her dream, she was a sheep, grazing happily on a great plain of grass and surrounded by other sheep, similarly employed. The sun was shining and the air was warm and sweet, the grass beneath her feet fresh and green. Suddenly, however, in the manner of dreams, the blue sky overhead took on a threatening aspect and Lizzie heard ominous sounds coming from the distant hills. The sheep around her raised their heads and began calling to one another, their unease evident even to Lizzie’s unpractised eye.

The flock began to move off, bunching close, wild-eyed, but since Lizzie could see no danger she did not immediately follow their example and so was at the back of the flock when the frightened animals suddenly stampeded into terrified movement. Following them, Lizzie glanced back and saw, out of the corner of her eye, a lean and terrible grey shape. Wolves! Lizzie put everything into her running but already the thin, grey shapes of half a dozen enormous wolves were close on her heels, snapping at her thick wool, their white teeth and foetid breath horribly close.

She felt herself go down, felt the teeth close on the
wool around her neck . . . and woke, a sheep no longer but a terrified girl, lying amongst sheep and prey, presumably, to their fears, for even as she sat up, wiping the sweat of terror from her brow, an enormous wolf came bounding towards her, across the broad backs of the sheep. It straddled her body but even as she drew in her breath to scream, it began to nuzzle and lick her face, uttering little whimpers of pleasure, and she recognised Brutus.

For one moment longer Lizzie’s fears caused her to cringe back, then she flung both arms round the huge, shaggy neck and burst into tears of relief. If Brutus was with her, then Clem could not be far away, and she had no doubt he would take care of her and see her safe.

Clem had been keeping as close to Brutus as he could, fascinated by the fact that the dog was clearly following a trail across the deep snow, for he never took his eyes off the ground ahead, only pausing now and then to cast about where a drift was particularly churned up. He saw Brutus climb a small rise and then the huge dog appear to slip and disappeared into a gulley in a flurry of snow. Clem, following as fast as he could, gained the top of the rise and looked down. He saw what appeared to be a great hump of smooth, untrampled snow below him, and then spotted a jutting lip of rock with a semi-circular hole beneath it. Sighing to himself, he began to descend the slope; the big dog must have lost his footing and plunged down the ravine and through the snow covering into whatever lay beneath. During his time of living in a small village, Clem had heard all about sheep caves and guessed that this might be one of them – indeed, as he drew nearer, he could hear the faint shufflings
and uneasy baaings of a flock of sheep into whose midst an enormous dog had just descended.

He reached the lip of rock and peered over. As he had suspected, he saw steam rising gently through a small hole in the thick carapace of ice formed when the sheep’s warmth semi-melted the snow. It was not a large hole, but Clem decided that his own descent would probably enlarge it enough for him to drop through and, accordingly, scrambled from the rock, slid down the slope and entered the sheep cave, feet first, his body enlarging the hole as he did so, while the frightened sheep hastily backed away from him, so that he landed on wet, much poached grass.

For a moment, he took in only the sheep and Brutus turning to face him, gently waving his tail. Then he saw Lizzie, lying between the dog’s forepaws. She was blood-streaked, battered and bruised, but she had one arm around Brutus’s neck, her fingers clutching at his ruff . . . and she was smiling.

‘Oh, Clem, ain’t he just the bestest dog in the whole world?’ she said in a small, croaking voice. ‘I don’t know how he found me, or if he were really searching for the sheep, but I reckon he’s saved me life just about. I’ve never been so glad to see anyone, ’cos I thought I were a gonner when I fell in here last night.’

Clem approached her cautiously, then sat down beside her and gave her a loving squeeze, which made Lizzie draw in her breath sharply. ‘Sorry, queen, I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ he apologised. ‘I agree Brutus is a marvellous dog, ’cos all he had to go on was the ribbon off the end of your plait – it must have fallen off when you left
The Singing Lark
– yet he followed your trail through all that snow and didn’t even let the sheep cave put him off. But Lizzie, old love, what on earth has happened to you? You look as
though you’ve been run over by a bus, or mauled by a pack of wolves or some such.’

‘I don’t really know,’ she confessed, leaning against his shoulder. ‘I came to the top of a little hillock and went to go down – I were running away from the Trelawney brothers – then I must have slipped. I knocked myself unsconcious and when I came round, I was here, with the sheep all round me and a lot of aches and pains.’ She looked anxiously up at him. ‘How’s we going to get out, Clem? I don’t think I could climb up the way we came in.’

‘No, I don’t think I could either and I’m perishin’ sure Brutus couldn’t,’ he agreed. ‘But there must be another way out . . .’ He looked round him. ‘Ah, see that stream. If we follow it downhill, then we’ll pretty soon find we’re in open country once more. Are you game to try, love? Only the sooner we get you aboard
The Liverpool Rose,
the sooner Priddy can see to your hurts and get a good hot meal inside you.’

‘I’ll have a go,’ Lizzie said at once, but as soon as she tried to put weight on her ankle, she gave a sharp cry and turned a scared, white face to his. ‘Oh, Clem, there’s something wrong with my leg. My ankle’s agony, I can’t possibly walk, even a step. Whatever will I do?’

‘We can’t stand up here anyway,’ he said, ‘the ice ceiling is too low. Can you crawl?’

‘I think so,’ Lizzie said doubtfully.

‘I’ll give you a fireman’s lift when we’re out in the open,’ Clem said comfortingly. ‘But until then, we’ll just have to follow Brutus’s example and go on all fours.’ He kept a careful eye on Lizzie’s slow, painful progress, wincing sympathetically every time he heard a sharp intake of breath, but there was little he could do to help, save for encouraging her to continue
and promising that her ordeal would soon be over.

In fact, the sheep cave only continued for another five or six yards and then they were pushing through a wall of soft snow, which gave way as they thrust through it. With a sigh of relief, Clem stood up, brushed the snow from his face and bent to pick Lizzie up and prop her against a great, snow-covered boulder which stood beside the stream. As he had predicted, they were now on the downward slope of the great hill and below them they could actually see a part of the canal, though neither of the boats was in view from here. Clem turned back to Lizzie and put an arm around her waist. With her hair soaked and her face still bruised and blood-streaked, she looked a sorry sight, standing on one leg and breathing hard from her recent exertions. But when she saw him watching her, she conjured up a grin. ‘Thank the Lord that part’s over,’ she said in a heartfelt tone. ‘Suppose we try to get down together, like in a three-legged race, with me hopping? Would that work, do you think?’

Clem admired her pluck but shook his head firmly at the suggestion. ‘No, it would be far too dangerous and painful for you,’ he told her. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to get carried down that hill piggy-back style. Now, put your arms round my neck and keep as still as you can and we’ll be down before you know it. Ready? Hold tight, here we go!’

It was a painful and perilous journey for both of them since Lizzie’s grip tightened involuntarily every time Clem slipped – which was often – and he thought she might well strangle him before they ever attained the towpath, but they got there at last and, with an inward sigh of relief, Clem stood her down, supporting her with an arm about her waist once more. ‘Now all we’ve got to do is get you aboard
The
Rose,
’ he said cheerfully, if a trifle breathlessly. ‘Then Priddy will clean you up and make you comfortable and we can turn and head for Liverpool once more.’

Lizzie, however, did not seem to be attending. She was staring at the canal as though she could not believe her eyes, then she turned to him. ‘Where is she?’ she asked wildly. ‘Where’s she gone, Clem?’

For a moment, he did not know what she was talking about.
The Liverpool Rose
was there, still moored to the bank and with smoke puffing gently out of her red chimney stack. Then he looked along the canal to where
The Singing Lark
had been moored beneath the willows and realised what Lizzie meant. The stretch of water was empty.
The Lark
and her butty boat had disappeared.

‘What the devil’s been happening?’ Clem said breathlessly as he hauled Lizzie aboard the boat. ‘Jake thought he had made the cabin fast but I suppose once Brutus had left to find you, the Trelawneys managed to break out somehow.’

‘I don’t care where they’ve gone . . .’ Lizzie was beginning, when the cabin door opened and Priddy appeared. She was pale beneath her tan and began speaking even as she held the cabin door open for them to enter.

‘Oh, Clem, you’ve found her – thank God!’ she said fervently. ‘But the fat’s in the fire here. After you’d left, Abe asked Jake if they could have a bit of wood to start the cabin fire goin’ because it were mortal cold in there. You know Jake, lad, he’s soft as a brush, and besides, though he knows the Trelawneys are villains, he’s always had a soft spot for Abe. Says he’s not as black as he’s painted and wouldn’t hurt a fly, left to himself. So, anyroad, he fetches dry wood from the storage
cabin, takes down the barricades and starts to feed the wood in, log by log, through a gap in the cabin door. I’m not too clear what happened next – though it might have been an accident – but Jake seems to have got knocked over the head and put out for the count. Then they chucked him ashore and, fair dos, Abe ran along the bank and telled me there’d been an accident.’ She snorted. ‘I suppose he had to say that, and for all I know it could have been as he said. If Jake’s head had been near the doors when that Reuben burst out of them, he could have taken a nasty knock, I suppose. So we’ll lose no more time but get movin’ towards Blackburn where a proper doctor can take a look at him and get a message to the police and the tug.’

Clem looked anxiously at Jake as he lay on his bed, his face paler than Priddy’s and his mouth slightly open. He was making an odd snoring noise which filled Clem with foreboding, but he said bracingly: ‘Yes, but in the meantime, Priddy, can you take a look at our Lizzie? I think she may have broke her ankle and there’s a nasty cut clean across her scalp besides an awful lot of bruises and cuts. She tumbled into a ravine . . . but you’d best take a look for yourself while I get
The Liverpool Rose
ready to leave and harness Hal up.’

Priddy, immediately concerned, sat Lizzie down, poured hot water into a basin and began to bathe her head, saying over her shoulder as she did so: ‘The Trelawneys took Hal, Clem. If you remember, we left him standing on the towpath with a couple of thick blankets over him and his nosebag full of oats while we searched for young Lizzie here – that’s how they were able to gerraway so fast. But their old bag o’ bones will still be in the stable, having had a good rest, and his tack will be with him. So you’d best bring him down and fasten him to the tow rope. This is a nasty
cut but not deep. I’ll put some of me soothin’ ointment on it and cover it with a piect of lint and it’ll soon start to mend, though when we get to Blackburn it’ll mebbe need a stitch or two. Now let’s take a look at that ankle.’ She left Lizzie for a moment, to pull down the bunk opposite the one on which Jake lay. ‘Hop up here, love, let the dog see the rabbit,’ she said cheerfully. ‘We’ll soon have you right. Which is more than I can say for my Jake here.’

The rest of that day passed in a blur of pain and puzzlement so far as Lizzie was concerned. Priddy’s strong, clever fingers probed her ankle until she could not smother her screams, despite pushing her head into the duck-down pillow. But at last it was over. ‘It weren’t broken,’ Priddy said breathlessly, with sweat running across her forehead and down the sides of her face. ‘Somethin’ had got dislocated, but I think I’ve put it right now. I’m goin’ to strap it up tight so’s it will bed down natural like, and as soon as he’s able, I’ll get young Clem to cut you a couple o’ crutches because you mustn’t put that foot to the ground for a few days. But once I’m sure it’s knitted together, you’ll be as spry as ever you was.’

Shortly after this, Lizzie had been wretchedly sick, vomiting up the lovely hot tea which Priddy had – perhaps unwisely – allowed her to drink before beginning to deal with her ankle. After this, the canal boat began to move as the Trelawneys’ despised Boxer leaned his shoulders into the collar and began to pull.

The movement of the boat on the water should have been soothing and pleasant, Lizzie thought fretfully, but somehow it was not. Her head ached horribly and even the slight movement as the boat
glided forward made her ankle stab with pain and increased her feeling of sickness. However, the cabin seemed a safe haven after the fear and horror she had endured in the sheep cave and she felt quite ashamed that she could not appreciate how much better her lot was than it might have been, and indeed, every time her eyes fell on Jake’s still form, she realised the extent of her own good fortune. But for Clem and Brutus – and indeed, for Priddy and Jake – she might still be in the sheep cave or, worse, lying stiff and dead amongst the snow-covered hills.