Water Gypsies (18 page)

She was gathering herself to get back into bed when something jolted her fully awake again. There was another sound, something that didn’t belong, not at this time of night. Yes, there it was, outside. Footsteps along the wharf. A chill went through her and she held her breath, fear swelling. Who was out there? She tried to calm herself, reminding herself to breathe. There was a watchman on the wharf gate at night, so surely no one could get in? It was probably him wandering about, checking that everything was all right.

There it was again. Movement, a slight crunch underfoot. The footsteps came closer, treading quietly, obviously cautious. Had she been asleep she would never have heard them. The side of the wharf was just behind her head, beyond the thin cabin wall. The footsteps moved along a little, then stopped. At last she heard them moving away.

Impulsively she pulled herself up and over the twins onto the coal box. Clenching her teeth, praying to make as little sound as possible, she slid back the hatch far enough to poke her head out.

Sod it!’ she cursed under her breath. Of course it was very dark and still foggy and she couldn’t even see the front end of the
Theodore
, let alone anyone moving further away. The only thing she could see clearly was the tiller beside her, upended for the night. But standing very still, yes, surely she could just hear footsteps dying in the distance along the path? Shuddering, she pulled the hatch closed and climbed into bed beside Joel. The darkness outside felt full of threat. It was a long time before she slept.

Joley was sick twice more in the night, and the final time Maryann got up rain was drumming on the cabin roof. It was still raining in the morning, the sky low and burdened. She was feeling quite energetic despite the poor night, though she knew it was a nervous, jumpy sort of energy. Joley was pale and floppy but past the worst and she left him on the back bed to continue recovering.

The unloading began early, as promised. Joel and Bobby were outside with steaming cups of tea soon after seven when it was barely light, untying and stowing away the top cloths. All the supports that held the planks and tarpaulins over the load were thrown onto the bank, the cranes were swung into position and the unloading began.

Maryann fed the rest of the children aboard the
Theodore
.

‘Sally – just keep an eye on them for me will you? I’ll be back in a couple of ticks.’

Pulling her coat and scarf on, arms folded, head down against the rain, she set off across the wharf, which was fast turning into a quagmire. The place was full of activity: the wharf men shouting and horse-pulled wagons and trucks all arriving to pick up loads, with muted headlights still on to see through the dark and rain. She passed Charlie Dean, who called, ‘Morning!’ to her chirpily. ‘All right are you? Manage to get shot of that holy Joe, did you?’

She turned as they passed each other, rain running down her cheeks. ‘Oh, I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again!’ She raised a grin. The sight of Charlie always cheered her. She hurried over to the nightwatchman’s hut, wondering if he was still there, but he was in the doorway, talking to two other men. They moved back, seeing her approaching.

‘There’s a lovely lady here to see you, pal!’

‘I thought you might’ve gone by now,’ she panted.

‘I should’ve done, bab, but I got held up canting to these two!’ He was a big, cheerful bloke, the backs of his hands hairy like an ape.

‘Only – I wanted to ask, like – was anyone else in here last night?’

‘What – in my hut?’ The three men laughed. ‘No, love – I didn’t get that lucky!’

Maryann smiled patiently. ‘No – up and down the wharf, I mean. Did you go out and walk about?’

He frowned, seeing she was serious. ‘Me? No, I can’t say I did.’

‘I heard someone. They were walking round our boats.’

She could see he was struggling to believe her. ‘Well, I s’pose it’s possible. But I don’t know how anyone could’ve got in or out past me.’

Maryann knew what she’d heard, that she wasn’t imagining it, but obviously they weren’t going to get to the bottom of it.‘Oh well,’ she said. ‘Ta anyway.’

‘Tara-abit,’ he said easily. ‘Don’t worry. No one can get in here.’

She hurried back, boots sloshing through puddles. There was water to fetch, kids to see to. She raised her head, letting the rain fall cold on her face as she watched the crane swing high over her head from the hold of the
Esther Jane
.

Yes
, she urged the machine,
lift it all out, quick, and let us get out, away from here
.

P
ART
T
WO

1944

Eighteen

The days were diamond hard, sparkling with frost. They were travelling south down the Oxford cut, and in the mornings they had to wrench the hatches open, stepping out into a world of white, the trees rimed, twigs gnarled and pale like witches’ fingers.

They had to take great care along the icy lock sides. Straps froze stiff as iron and the sheets over the coal were as solid as planks.

The icebreakers were at work, freeing up the channels to allow them to set out, and once they did, often very late, the boats nosed through chunks of floating ice. They stood working the tillers, bundled up in all the clothes they could squeeze into, sleeves pulled down over their hands against the gnawing cold. Maryann kept the kettle on the hob all day, making cup after cup of cocoa or tea to stave off the deep, brittle cold of February.

One day, while she was at the tiller of the
Theodore,
she saw a pair of boats tied up beyond the bridge at Nethercote. It was the section of the cut shared by the Oxford and the Grand Union, and this pair were from the Grand Union Carrying Company. This was nothing unusual and Maryann hardly gave them a glance, until her eye was caught by the figure moving along the bank towards the butty, shouting to an unseen companion in the cabin. The person was very slight in build, and was dressed in slacks and a loose jacket, and wore a strange cap with a peak and earflaps. Maryann sheltered her eyes from the glaring winter sun and stared with blatant curiosity, still turning her head to look after the person had passed behind them. To her amazement, she realized that the lithe, energetic-looking figure was that of a woman – in trousers! And striding about like a man! She’d never seen a woman on the cut looking anything like that before.

Later, when she mentioned it to Joel, he said, ‘I saw them. They’ll be them volunteers.’

They’d heard mention of them lately in the pubs along the cut. Because of the shortage of crews and the need to keep loads moving for the war effort, there were all sorts coming off the bank to work the cut.

‘There’s women working in teams by themselves now, so they say,’ Joel said. ‘Still, they don’t mix with the likes of us. They’re working the Grand Union, most of them, anyway.’ The way he said it made Maryann feel rather superior. Of course, she was ‘off the bank’ too, but she belonged now, didn’t she? She was part of a proper boating family.

It never crossed her mind, then, that she’d ever have anything to do with these strange creatures. These girls in trousers. But later it felt as if that glimpse of them had been a premonition, a warning that she would need to prepare herself for what was to come.

She had asked Joel to try and get loads from Essy Barlow that didn’t involve going to Birmingham, and especially Tyseley, to avoid any possibility of meeting Norman Griffin.

Joel tried to reassure her. ‘What can
he
do, when you come down to it? He’s only trying to frighten you, lass. The man’s a bully, born and bred. But he can’t hardly go creeping about with a face like that on him, can he? He’d scare the horses all right! Everyone’d see him coming for miles.’

Joel didn’t understand how the very thought of Norman Griffin could upset Maryann, could throw her right off balance, but he didn’t much like Birmingham and was quite content not to go there. Mr Barlow was a reasonable man, who tried to give them what they asked, so they were working round Sutton again and up and down the Oxford. They’d had a good winter so far, the children were thriving and mostly well, and they’d spent Christmas in Oxford. Their own situation was good. Maryann felt better in herself than she had in a long time. It was Darius’s silent sadness and the gap left by Nancy that gnawed at them.

That day was a little warmer. A slight thaw had set in, the trees were beginning to drip and a sheen of moisture lay over the ice on the stones, gleaming in the sun. They’d left Banbury behind, heading south. Joel gave Bobby the tiller of the
Esther Jane
and climbed out to lock-wheel with Joley and Ezra.

The boys waved at Maryann from the bank, and she could hear Joel urging them to hurry. They had to run ahead and prepare the next lock at King’s Sutton. She smiled at the sight of Joel’s burly figure moving past them. His run, taken in long, unhurried strides, was surprisingly graceful. He had his windlass in his hand and the two boys were pursuing him, relishing their release from the boat’s confining space. Soon they were at the lock, Joel and Ezra forcing the windlass round together. Bobby skilfully slowed the
Esther Jane
right down and released the butty, and Maryann steered the
Theodore
into the bank and jumped off with a line to pull her in and wait while the
Esther Jane
passed through the lock.

They had filled the lock and Joel was opening the gate to let Bobby in when Maryann was distracted by a loud wail from inside the
Theodore
.

‘Sally?’ She knocked on the side of the cabin. ‘Is that Esther? What’s up with her?’

Sally’s flustered face appeared. ‘She’s banged her head and her nose won’t stop bleeding!’

‘What the hell was she doing?’ Maryann tutted, exasperated. Why did things like this always happen when she’d just stepped off the boat? ‘Get one of them rags – wet it in the dipper and bathe her face with it.’ She was shouting, pulling on the rope to brace it and keep the boat in by the bank. The current moving into the filling lock kept trying to tug it forwards.

The bawling inside the cabin continued. ‘It won’t stop bleeding,’ she heard Sally wail. ‘Oh, Esther, just sit still!’

‘Just keep the rag on her nose – dab at it till I get back in,’ Maryann yelled.

Joel was closing the gate behind the
Esther Jane
.

‘Come on, come
on,’
Maryann urged, still leaning back on the rope.

It seemed to take for ever to empty the lock again and for a second she nipped back on board. Sally seemed to be managing.

‘I’ll come and see to her when we get in the lock,’ Maryann said, disappearing out again.

The
Esther Jane
vanished down, down, as water poured out through the bottom paddles. The drop here was considerable as they travelled downhill – about fifteen feet.

She saw it happen as she stood there, eyes fixed on the lock, willing it to finish emptying quickly, ears pricked to make sure Esther’s screams were finally subsiding. Joel was moving away from her, going back to close the paddles on the bottom gates, when she saw him trip. He struggled to right himself, but the foot he put down slipped from under him, taking him over the edge of the lock. He twisted, flailing in the air, then disappeared.

‘Oh my God …
Bobby!’
Maryann screamed.

Joley and Ezra moved to the side of the lock, looking down. Maryann waited for Joel to appear again, climb up the ladder at the side of the lock, but there was nothing, only the little boys, both watching, not moving.

‘Sally – get out here, quick!’ Maryann yelled at the top of her voice. ‘Your dad’s had a fall!’ She flung the rope into her daughter’s hands and tore along the path. Water was trickling in through the top gates. Apart from that it seemed so quiet. She dashed round the arm of the lock gate and looked down into the emptied lock. Bobby had scrambled along to Joel, who was in a precarious position, having slid down the side of the cloths covering the load, and lay crumpled at the side of the boat close to the lock wall.

‘Joel? Bobby? Is he all right?’ She ran to the ladder and climbed down, then struggled along the gunwale to reach Joel. His eyes were open, but there was a pained, stunned expression on his face. Bobby’s normally cheerful expression was very sombre. Squatting close by, he looked helplessly at Joel.

‘He fell on his back – hell of a crack – right across the beams, and then he rolled down…’

‘Joel?’ She got as near to him as she could, horrified by the way he was just lying, not moving. ‘Love, what’s up? What’ve you done?’

‘I can’t…’ he raised his head to speak to her, but then lay back with a groan. ‘It’s no good. I can’t move.’

Two days later they pulled into Oxford. Helped by the crew of the boats following behind them, they’d managed to shift Joel onto his bed in the
Theodore.
He cried out in pain as they moved him so that Maryann could hardly bear to hear it, but he refused to let them call any medical help for him there.

‘Let me call the doctor,’ Maryann begged, beside herself with worry as she saw his face contort with pain every time he tried the smallest movement. ‘I can’t stand seeing you like this. I don’t know what to do.’ What if he’d broken his back and could never walk again?

‘Just get us to Oxford,’ Joel insisted. ‘I ent getting left in Banbury or Lord knows where. I’ll be all right here for a bit. I’m not that bad. Just leave me be.’

He slept a great deal, groaning with pain whenever he tried to move. Lying beside him at night, Maryann tried to soothe and comfort him. The family had to see to his every need and as Maryann and Bobby took the boats down to Oxford she was willing away every mile of the journey.

At last they arrived, and this time it was Joel’s turn to be taken away in an ambulance. Though she tried to control herself in front of the children, Maryann wept as it drove away from the wharf.