The Liverpool Rose (8 page)

Clem had wondered what Priddy was doing when she went below but as Bert finished his speech all became clear. The old woman bent and picked up a meal sack which she flung on to the towpath, giving a cackle of laughter as she did so. ‘You telled us you were leavin’, and glad I was to be rid of you, you idle, greedy young blighter,’ she said roundly. ‘Never a day has passed since you joined us but I’ve had to clear up after you because you’ve not even tried to learn how things should be done. You’re sent off to put Hal into a stable, to rub him down, pick out his hooves and see he’s snug for the night, and all you ever do is drag the harness off the poor critter and leave him all of a muck sweat and without so much as a mouthful of hay or water, come to that. Oh, Jake’s a big softie, and he were mortal fond of your mother and felt he had a duty to see you right, but all that went overboard when you said you was goin’, no matter how much we begged.’ She pointed to the sack which had tipped over as it hit the towpath, spilling out its unlovely contents of worn clothing, split boots and remnants of food. ‘There’s your stuff, young Bert. Now just you clear orf ’cos I don’t never want to see your spiteful face agin, d’you hear me?’ She turned to Clem. ‘Don’t you take no notice of him, young ’un, just you hop aboard and I’ll show you where you can stow your bag. Then Jake will get aboard the butty boat – that’s the boat we’re towing – while you lead the horse. He’s a grand feller, is Hal, he’ll do most of the leading to tell the truth, but as it’s a warm day you may have to give a good tug on the bridle when we reaches a dogwash.’

‘Dogwash?’ Clem said interrogatively, taking the bridle from Jake’s hand and slinging his ditty bag on to the deck of the boat.

‘That’s right, dogwash,’ Jake confirmed. ‘Ain’t you never noticed them sort of ramps leading from the towpath into deep water? Them’s been ’specially built so’s horses what fall into the ’oggin can swim along until they reach the nearest ramp, then they can scramble out wi’ no harm done.’

‘I didn’t know horses fell into the canal,’ Clem shouted above the roars and shrieks Bert was giving as the older boy tried to clamber back aboard the boat, only to be fended off by Priddy, vigorously wielding a bass broom. ‘Hal’s a big feller, is it deep enough for him to swim?’

‘I telled you to make yourself scarce and if you don’t go I’ll come ashore meself and tell old Hal to roll on ye,’ Priddy shouted, catching Bert a thump over the ear with the broom, which made him roar louder than ever. She glanced behind her as another boat appeared, heading fast towards them, with steam billowing from its short smoke stack. ‘Ah, here come the Hortons. They’ve never forgiven you for pushing little Elsie into the water just because she reached the lock gates first. When I tells ’em we want rid o’ you, they’ll give a hand to chuck you right into the middle of the water at the first lock we reach.’

Bert appeared to take this threat seriously for grumbling mightily, he began to jam his possessions back into the meal sack and presently set off along the towpath in the direction from which they had come.

‘Ho! I see you’ve forgot your limp – left it on
The Liverpool Rose,
I daresay,’ Priddy shrieked after him. For an old lady without a tooth in her head she certainly made up for it by the strength and shrillness
of her voice, Clem considered. He had noticed her bare pink gums the first time she had smiled at him and thought her face as engaging as a baby’s; could even discern signs of the prettiness which had once been hers in her large, long-lashed brown eyes and short, straight little nose.

Having seen Bert off, Priddy took the rudder and Clem began to lead Hal along the bank. He guessed from the delicious smell of food which wafted to him every now and then on the summery breeze that a meal was cooking.

They had not gone far before he noticed that Hal’s head was constantly trying to turn towards the canal, and guessed that the heat, and the attention of the many flies which buzzed around the horse’s body, were making him think wistfully of the joys of a nice swim. Despite having a certain sympathy, for he would not have minded a dip himself, Clem kept a tight hold on Hal’s bridle and presently was able to reward the big horse for his good behaviour by snatching up a large clump of dandelion leaves and feeding them, a few at a time, between the animal’s long, soft lips. And when Priddy shouted that the meal was ready, he was only too happy to tie Hal to a handy stanchion – for they were now awaiting their turn to enter a lock – adjust the horse’s nosebag, and join the two old people in the quaint little cabin of
The Liverpool Rose
.

During the course of the next few days, Clem not only proved himself a worthy member of the crew of three who ran the barge and the butty boat, but also became very fond of Jake and Priddy, to say nothing of Hal. Right from the start, the big horse had made it plain, in ways only a horse lover could understand, that he
both liked and respected Clem and was eager to do everything he could to please him. Consequently he no longer tried to slip into the water when passing a dogwash, although there were occasions when he must have longed to rid himself of the dust and sweat of his working day.

The barge had been heading away from Leeds and towards its eventual destination, Liverpool, when he had come aboard, so Clem found, to his intense pleasure, that the canal was making its way through increasingly wild and beautiful country. The great shoulders of the Pennines rose on either side of the canal and when Jake tied up for the night, Clem was able to explore a good deal of the surrounding countryside. He found tiny streams which had carved themselves rocky ravines over the centuries and now tumbled recklessly downward, heading for the nearest lake, river or reservoir. In the folds of the hills, rowan, hazel and hawthorn trees flourished, bent and twisted by the bitter gales of winter but at this time of year gaily caparisoned with bright summer foliage. If they moored alongside a village then there was stabling for horses in winter time, but in the summer Hal had the freedom of the nearest meadow or common land, where Clem would tether him on a long rope and leave him to graze contentedly most of the night. Sometimes, as he walked back towards the canal in the velvety dark, he would see a badger, black and white face clear in the moonlight, waddling back towards its sett. Other times he would see foxes, the vixen teaching her cubs the ways of the world they would soon have to learn as they matured, and always there were rabbits, stoats, fieldmice and voles, going about their business as soon as dusk fell.

Clem also discovered that Jake was a keen
naturalist and knew more about the countryside through which they passed, and the creatures which lived there, than did many a local farmer. And if Jake was the authority on wild animals, Priddy was the one who could tell Clem everything he wanted to know about the flowers and plants which grew along the entire length of the canal. Not only did she know about such things, she also used them, for she was a noted wise woman and called upon whenever the work horses of the canal – or indeed the boat people themselves – needed any sort of doctoring. In the tiny cabin of
The Liverpool Rose
hung bunches of drying herbs, and the cupboard beneath the folding bed contained a variety of bottles and jars and a large tin of the goose grease which was the basis for most of Priddy’s ointments.

Discovering Clem’s own love for the countryside, she soon began to make use of him in the gathering of herbs and other wild plants, which she used in her medicines. Naturally, this meant that in order to bring back the right plants Clem had to be told what they looked like, how they smelt and where they were mainly to be found. In the long summer evenings, when Hal was grazing in the meadow and Jake sat on the bank, puffing at his pipe with a fishing rod dangling in the water, Priddy and Clem put their heads together over a small notebook in which she had drawn, with delicate precision, the flowers and leaves of the plants she most wanted. What was more, she told Clem as the boat began to make its way through the industrialised countryside surrounding Wigan and Liverpool, that presently she would show him wonders of plant life which he would see nowhere else in England.

‘For as we run into Liverpool, you’ll see growing
on the banks and in the verges, plants you’ve never clapped eyes on before,’ she told him impressively. ‘They say it is from seeds caught up in the hemp of sacks brought in from furrin parts, but I dunno about that. All I knows is that there’s rare and beautiful stuff growin’ in the city limits what you’ll find nowhere else. Sometimes I thinks mebbe sailors bring ’em in on their clothing. Sometimes I think mebbe the sacks of cane what Tate’s have delivered, or the sacks of tea from India and China, may have something to do with it. But wharrever it is, it’s God’s gift for my remedies and I’m duly grateful.’

By the time August came,
The Liverpool Rose
had traversed the whole length of the canal, had returned to Leeds and was approaching the great city of Liverpool once more. On Clem’s first visit to Liverpool they had had a quick change-round, since they had entered the city unladen and had only to load up with the sugar from Tate’s, which they would be delivering to various destinations en route. On this second occasion, however, they would be in the city for a day or two, since Priddy intended to stock up with food for the voyage back to Leeds and also to visit her Aunt Bertha, who was almost a hundred years old and lived, Priddy said, in poor circumstances in a tiny, dark little room, not far from the canal.

‘She were a canal woman all her life but she’s outlived all of her fambly and when she couldn’t manage the boat no more, she sold it to a strapping young feller from over Wigan way, stuck her money in a sock and moved into her little room. She must ha’ bin ninety by then and never figured on living more’n a year of two longer, so I reckon her stock o’ money must be runnin’ low. Me and the other boat people
take it in turns to pop in with a basket of groceries whenever we’re in the ‘Pool. But it ain’t the groceries she loves so much as the talk of the canal, and that’s easy to pass on.’

The three of them were in the cabin of
The Liverpool Rose,
eating an excellent rabbit stew. They had passed the Coxhead’s Swing Bridge and had moored on the left-hand bank before Jackson’s Bridge, since there was grazing for Hal alongside the canal at this point. When his wife had finished speaking, Jake looked up and grinned his toothy grin at Clem. ‘I reckon Bertha’s good for a few years yet,’ he observed. ‘But when she feels the end’s near, someone will take her aboard their boat for a last cruise down the canal, so she can join her old man in Burscough churchyard. It’s wrong for a canal woman to die alone in a stinkin’ city.’

Clem, though he had only worked the canal a few weeks, felt that he thoroughly understood what Jake meant. He knew that this was the life he most wanted, and that Jake and Priddy were the two people whose company he most enjoyed. The thought of someone like Priddy having to eke out a lonely existence ashore, cut off from the countryside she loved and the canal she knew so well, horrified him. He had never met Aunt Bertha but felt he would willingly have her aboard for her last voyage if
The Liverpool Rose
was around when she needed a berth.

He said as much to Jake, who patted his shoulder kindly. ‘She’s nobbut a step from the canal, though,’ he said comfortingly. ‘Fine days, you’ll find her asettin’ on a bench near the water, smoking her old clay pipe and callin’ out to any boatman who happens by. You’ll mebbe see her when we gets near to Houghton Bridge.’

‘You can come visitin’ wi’ me, if you like,’ Priddy volunteered, but Clem thought he would rather explore the city itself. He had accumulated a small store of pennies from helping at the locks and running errands, and thought he would like to buy some small treats for the crew to enjoy as they made their way back to Leeds. Both Jake and Priddy had a sweet tooth, and though he was sure they were far too honourable to use more than the minimum from the sugar sacks which would presently be aboard, they dearly loved toffees, boiled sweets and even the odd bar of Nestle’s milk chocolate. His pennies could buy a quantity of these things if he took Jake’s advice and went along the Scotland Road.

‘You could try Kettle’s confectionery, only watch the old biddy, ’cos she’s a tendency to weigh her thumbs along wi’ her sweeties,’ Jake advised. ‘Still an’ all, we reckon she makes the best sweets in Liverpool, don’t we, old gal?’

‘I used to be a dab hand at toffee,’ Priddy said reminiscently, cleaning her plate of gravy with a wedge of bread and speaking rather thickly through her mouthful. ‘Trouble is, since I took to doctorin’, I don’t have much time left over for fancy cooking.’ She glanced from one to the other. ‘Whose goin’ to give a hand with the washing-up? And you’ll want to bed the butty boat down for the night and get off to sleep yourself ’cos we’ll be off at dawn,’ she added, addressing Clem.

‘I suppose that’s another way of telling me I’m on the washin’ up,’ Jake grumbled, gathering up the tin plates and shuffling over to the bowl which Priddy used in place of a sink. ‘Off wi’ you then, lad. We ain’t in open country now so we’ll batten down the hatches, as they say – there’s folk who’d steal the
parings off our nails if they thought they could get away with it, and I don’t mean to lose what’s left of the cargo before we docks agin the wharf.’ Clem already knew that his mere presence aboard the butty boat at night probably saved the old people from suffering considerable losses. They were safe enough in the countryside, and even the villages through which they passed, but once they reached the industrial area, it was every man for himself. Jake had told Clem that they had owned a dog, a leggy hearthrug of a creature called Zip who had been a great deterrent to thieves, but he had died of old age shortly after Bert had joined the boat and they had not yet replaced him.

Leaving Jake clattering dishes in the cabin, Clem swung on to the bank and walked along until he reached the second craft. Boarding the butty boat, he began to check the canvas covers and the ropes which fastened them to the deck, tightening some where they had already dropped off the cargo the canvas had sheltered. Having made sure that the cargo was securely stowed, he jumped ashore again, loosened the mooring ropes, fore and aft, by a foot or two and jumped back on board, pushing his craft further from the bank as he did so. Now no one would be able to step aboard without his noticing. Having taken these precautions, Clem checked that Hal was still securely tethered and that
The Liverpool Rose
was also snug for the night. Then, comfortably aware that he had finished his tasks, he climbed into the bed roll in the tiny cockpit, where he had slept ever since he began work on the canal, and was very soon asleep.