Water Gypsies (39 page)

‘Why the hell didn’t we bring a proper lamp?’ Charlie grumbled.

Another match, held lower, showed them that at the bottom was a rusty iron door. When they climbed down they found it was held shut with a chain and a hefty padlock. Charlie shook his head.

‘We’ll have a hell of a job getting in here.’

Joel tried his strength against the door. It gave slightly, tugging on the chain, which seemed to rattle far too loudly in the quiet.

‘If we can’t smash the padlock, I reckon we’d be able to break that down,’ Joel said. ‘If I was up to full strength, I could.’

With their hammer and the windlasses they smashed at the padlock, an erratic process in the pitch dark. Striking another match showed them that they had only succeeded in denting it, and the chain wouldn’t break or give. Maryann stood watching, her whole body tensed to breaking point, wanting to smash at the door herself.

‘It’s no good!’ she cried after a few moments. ‘We’ll never do it like this!’

Joel stood up straight, considering. ‘Look, pal – let’s go at the hinges. I don’t reckon they’re up to much.’

They leaned and shoved and kicked. Joel aimed a blow low on the door with his leg and reeled back in the narrow space with a grunt.

‘Confound this back of mine!’

‘ Here – let me.’

With a few kicks from Charlie’s powerful leg, the lower hinge came away.

‘I can get in through there!’ Maryann cried.

‘Just hang on.’ Charlie kicked at the door again and Joel joined in. Soon the top hinge gave as well and the door fell in with a crash and fell, hanging at an angle from the chain.

They walked into even more profound darkness, straining their eyes to see anything of the space around them.

‘This is hopeless,’ Charlie said. In the flare of light from another match, they saw they were in a narrow room. Maryann had a brief impression of a large, dark shape to her right.

‘Here – there’s a light!’

She turned on the switch by the door. The dim bulb in the middle of the ceiling gave off light that strained to reach the walls. The big object by the wall turned out to be a rusting old lathe. Ahead of them was a partition wall with a door in it. Otherwise the space was clear: brick walls, earth floor. Nothing else.

‘Oh, where is she!’ Maryann wailed. ‘What’s he done with her? Could she be in there?’

She went to the door in the partition and hammered her fist on it, beginning to sob. ‘ Sally – Sally, it’s your mom. Are you in there?’

Nothing. They stood listening.

‘Let’s get in there and see,’ Charlie said grimly. ‘Why’s he got so many locked doors in this place? What’s there to nick?’

‘Sally!’ Maryann banged again. ‘It’s all right, bab – it’s your mom and dad.’ She turned to Joel. ‘Oh, this is no good. She’d call out if she was there wouldn’t she?’

Joel nodded miserably. ‘ Unless …’ They neither of them wanted to put into words unless what.

‘Right,’ Charlie said, positioning himself to kick the door.

‘What’s that?’ Joel held him back. From low down somewhere came a tapping sound, getting louder, insistent, frantic.

Maryann went to the door, throwing herself against it. ‘Get it open, for God ’s sake!’

‘Mind out!’ Joel caught hold of her, shifting her away and he and Charlie set to at once, kicking at the door with all their strength. Unlike the outer door it was made only of wood and one of Charlie’s kicks splintered it. In a few moments they’d kicked it down.

Maryann ran in ahead of the men, looking round frantically in the poor light coming through the door. It was a continuation of the long cellar, only twelve feet or so across, partitioned off and empty and completely bare except, except for … A cry escaped from her. There in the corner was all she needed to see: lying on sacking, Sally’s blonde head, the torn cloth tied round her mouth, the ropes round her ankles and wrists, head straining up, her pleading eyes burning into them.

Thirty-Nine

Joel carried Sally back all the way, cradling her in his arms. Only the deep sound of his breathing betrayed to Maryann the depth of his distress and anger. He sat on the tram back to Tyseley with Sally’s head pressed to him like a tiny infant’s and every so often Maryann heard him make a low, comforting sound, which seemed to rumble up from deep within him.

For a moment Maryann let her head rest on his shoulder in the tram’s gloomy light. It seemed to have been the longest day of her life! All she could feel now was overwhelming relief at having Sally back, alive and safe in their arms. What had happened to her, what state she was in, only time would tell. They would have to go to the police again, to deal with everything, but that could wait until the morning. They had her back – her baby would be home and safe. Tears ran down her face again. She leaned round and laid her hand on Sally’s head.

‘Mom’s here,’ she murmured. ‘It’s all right. It’s all going to be all right.’ Joel freed one of his hands and pulled her close, stroking her cheek.

After thanking Charlie, they walked home across the wharf. It felt later than it was – barely ten o’clock – and Sylvia and Dot were still up and waiting. Both jumped off the
Theodore
and came running towards them. At the sight of Sally in Joel’s arms, Sylvia burst into tears.

‘ Oh, thank God! I can’t believe it! Oh, the little love – is she all right?’

‘Where was she?’ Dot asked. Briefly they explained.

‘Look, we’ve got the rest of the children in with us,’ Sylvia said, wiping her eyes. ‘We thought it was for the best – not knowing what time you’d be back. They were unsettled.’

Maryann knew that in normal circumstances Joel might have bridled at the idea of someone like Sylvia taking charge of his children. Bad enough having them on the boats at all. But tonight everyone felt close, united in relief, even though Joel and the two women barely knew each other.

‘ Good of you,’ he said gruffly, beginning to move to the
Esther Jane.
‘We’d best get this ’un tucked up.’

‘Our kettle’s just boiled,’ Dot said. ‘I’ll bring you over a drink in a minute.’

Maryann looked at them. ‘I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve both been so kind.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Dot said briskly. ‘Absolutely the least we could do in the circumstances.’

Sylvia reached out and squeezed Maryann’s arm. ‘ Is she all right?’

‘I don’t know. God, Sylv – you should’ve seen where we found her.’ Her voice began to crack. ‘But we’ve got her back – that’s the main thing.’

They’d tucked Sally up in their bed and she lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

Joel and Maryann looked at each other, eyes very troubled. Ever since they had rescued her she had lain limp and silent.

‘Sally?’ Maryann perched on the bed beside her and took her hand. It was ice cold. ‘Would you like a nice cup of hot milk? Or some cocoa? Warm you up?’

There was no response, except a flicker of her eyes.

‘I’ll put a bit on to warm anyway,’ Joel whispered behind her. Both of them knew they had to have something they could do: they both felt so helpless.

Maryann waited, stroking Sally’s hand, her hair, making soft, reassuring noises. She was appalled, wrung out by the sight of her child. Sally looked like a shell of the pretty, lively little girl she had been.

‘Here.’ Joel handed her a cup of warm, sweet milk.

‘Can you sit up and drink a bit of this, pet?’ Maryann supported Sally into a sitting position and she managed to take a couple of mouthfuls of the milk before turning her head away.

‘All right – you sleep now, my lovely. I’ll sit with you. You’re safe here. No one’s going to hurt you ever again.’

She sat on the edge of the bed, tears running endlessly down her cheeks as the fear and tension gradually drained out of her. Her little girl was here, she was safe! But she was so sad and frightened by the state Sally was in. She held her hand and tried to hum to her, until at last Sally began to drift off to sleep. Maryann sat on for some time, unable to let go.

When Sally had slipped off at last, Maryann and Joel squeezed onto the side bench, their eyes turning every few seconds to the tormented little figure on the bed.

Joel put his arm round Maryann’s shoulders and leaned down to kiss her hair. She heard the soft whisper of his lungs close to her and the rhythm of his heart.

‘Back home,’ Joel said softly, stroking her back. ‘With my little bird at last.’

She nodded into his chest, feeling warm and cared for. She kept her head down, knowing that if she looked up he would kiss her, knew he was longing to kiss her, but she couldn’t face that. Not now. She only wanted to feel the comfort of him near her.

‘I don’t know what we’re going to do. She looks so bad,’ she said desperately.

There was a silence, filled only with the tinny tick of their alarm clock, then she heard Joel’s voice, filled with a bitterness she had never heard in him before. ‘We’ve got to get that bugger. That we have.’

It was a few minutes later that they heard the tapping at the door. When Joel opened up, they saw the three boatmen waiting with pale, solemn faces. Beside them was a policeman.

‘It’s all right.’ Joel spoke quietly, standing in the hatches.‘We got her – found her at the works – Griffin’s. She’s in here with us, fast asleep.’

The solemnity on their faces turned to bewilderment. They looked at each other, seemingly unable to take in what Joel was telling them.

‘Are you sure?’ one of them said, eventually. They seemed totally confused. Joel climbed out onto the bank into the damp air and Maryann followed.

‘Course we’re sure!’ Joel told them. ‘Not going to mistake our own daughter, are we?’

‘What’s up?’ Maryann asked them, a sense of dread coming over her once more.

The policeman, a chubby-faced man, seemed to think he’d better take over.

‘While these men were searching certain premises in Acocks Green – according to your instructions, I understand – they found a body in the cellar. A child’s body.’

Maryann couldn’t move. She clamped her jaws together.

‘Thing is,’ one of the boatmen said, ‘we thought it must be your wench. Only she were …’ He stopped, face creasing in distress.

‘ The way the body was,’ the policeman said flatly, ‘anyone’d have been hard pushed to say who she is.’

‘My God,’ Joel said.

Now do you believe me?
Maryann thought.‘I’ve been telling them for weeks he’s a murderer!’ she blurted out. ‘So now you know for certain, don’t you?’

‘Thank Christ it’s not your little ’un, Joel,’ one of the men said. They all looked extremely shocked.

‘But it would’ve been if we’d left it any longer,’ Joel said grimly. ‘What’re you going to do about it?’ he demanded of the policeman.

‘ We’ll find him and arrest him, of course,’ he said with dignity. ‘As soon as we possibly can. We’ll put all the men we can onto it.’

‘’Bout bloody time too!’ Maryann lost control of herself. Her voice was edged with hysteria. ‘None of you’ve ever taken any notice of what I said, have you?’

When they went back into the cabin after thanking the boatmen for their help, she could no longer contain herself but shook uncontrollably, as if she was having one of her nightmares while she was still awake. Even Joel holding her close didn’t dispel the terror and despair which filled her.

‘We’ve got to get away from here,’ she said between chattering teeth. ‘Away from Birmingham – away from
him.
While he’s still on the loose, none of us are safe.’

Joel gave a long sigh into her hair, stroking her back. ‘I don’t s’pose we can just go like that. We need to talk to the police – make sure they get him before he does anything else.’

The whole Bartholomew family moved into the
Theodore
for those days. They towed the butty to a quieter part of the wharf, and Sylvia and Dot took the
Esther Jane
back to Coventry to work short trips out of Sutton Stop and bring in some money. The children enjoyed the enforced break and being able to play on the bank, though Maryann knew the boys were aware of the unease and trouble around them, and she insisted that they never move out of sight of the boat.

All she could think about was Sally. She knew that she might be able to tell them things which would help catch Norman Griffin, but she could not stand the thought of forcing anything more on the little girl. For the first couple of days Sally seemed to be in a trance, sitting or lying staring ahead of her, not speaking, barely eating, her pale face wearing a vacant expression, as if she couldn’t bear to inhabit her body. Maryann sat with her whenever she could, holding her hand, stroking her hair, making gentle noises to try and reassure her that she was safe now, that everything would be all right.

Joel was finding it hard to bear. His eyes, when they rested on his daughter, were full of pain and anger at what had been done to her. He was tender with her but also full of frustration that she could not, or would not, tell them what would lead them to Norman Griffin. The weather was fine and to relieve his feelings he took refuge in working on the
Theodore,
scrubbing her out, splicing ropes, doing repairs. Maryann could see that his back was still hurting. She went to him outside on the first afternoon with a mug of tea. Joel was squatting in the hold, looking at the tarpaulin sheets, and she climbed along to him.

‘ Cuppa for you.’

Joel looked up, letting go of the coarse ropes to take the mug.

‘Ta.’ He drank some of the sweet tea, then stared out to his left across the cut. At last he said, ‘Can’t stand seeing her like that.’ She saw tears in his eyes, which he wiped away quickly with a rub of his sleeve.

‘I know.’ She swallowed, unable to comfort him. All the time, inside herself, she was terrified of identifying too much with her daughter. She had to prevent herself revisiting places of pain and horror which she had shut away in herself so long now, or she would fall to pieces. She had to stay calm, to hold herself together for all of them.

The other children couldn’t understand why Sally was like she was and kept asking why she didn’t come out and play. ‘She’s poorly,’ Maryann told them. ‘Just leave her be for a day or two, eh? I s’pect she’ll be better soon.’