A Mistletoe Kiss (35 page)

‘You won't have to; when I saw how bad the weather was, I said I might have to take shelter until it eased. There's a pub quite near where the fish and chip van stops, so they'll think I've gone in there.' He rose to
his feet, clutching his blanket, and winced as his head cracked against the cabin roof. ‘Ouch! Doesn't it just show how much I've grown since I worked the canals!' He felt his clothes, steaming merrily before the stove, then sat down again. ‘They'll be ready to wear in another hour or so.' He grinned engagingly at them. ‘I know you've run out of bread and milk, but if I promise faithfully to bring you a supply as soon as the shops open tomorrow morning, can I snitch another biscuit? Honest to God, girls, I'm famished!'

Once Gareth had left them, with promises to walk the towpath next day until he reached the first wharf if necessary, carrying a large canvas bag full of food – they had lent him the canvas bag – the girls settled down for the night, fully expecting to find the weather cleared by the morning.

Hetty was the first to awaken, but though she tried to slip soundlessly from her sleeping bag to take a peep through the little glass panel in the door, the movement woke both Alice and Sally. On this occasion Alice was lying on the floor, whilst the other two girls occupied the narrow wooden bunks, since they took it in turns to use the berths. In summer, one of the girls would occupy the tiny cabin on the butty boat, but in winter they preferred to cram into the main cabin, which was comfortably warmed by the stove.

Sally opened one eye, mumbled something and heaved her sleeping bag up until only the top of her curly head showed. But Alice, whose turn it was to
cook, reached for her jersey and pulled it on before scrambling to her feet and lifting the filled kettle on to the top of the stove. ‘What's the weather like?' she asked as Hetty rubbed steam from the tiny window. ‘The wind's dropped; didn't it howl last night? I thought I'd never be able to sleep, but I dropped off in the end.'

Hetty withdrew from the window, giving a tremendous yawn as she did so. ‘I didn't sleep for ages either because I was worrying about Gareth. I kept remembering what I'd said about a frozen corpse and wondering whether we should have let him leave when he did. His greatcoat wasn't too bad, but his trousers and boots were still pretty wet when he left. You're right, the wind has dropped, but it's still snowing. I hope the canal is not frozen – I know it wasn't yesterday or he wouldn't have been able to fall into it, but if there was a hard frost last night I shouldn't think we'll make it to the unloading wharf, and if we miss Gareth he'll have walked all that way for nothing.'

The girls never undressed completely when they went to bed, only shedding jerseys, dungarees and trousers, and since water was at a premium, very little washing was done. Fortunately, a kindly woman at Leighton always offered them the chance of a hot dip, and most of the large towns en route had public baths. The girls took it in turns to leave the boat and make their way to the nearest bathhouse, where, for a small sum, they were able to revel in a tub full of hot water, a bar of soap and a fluffy towel. It was
wonderful to get out of garments stiff with oil, dust and quite often, Hetty feared, sweat, which they had worn for at least a week. When the opportunity occurred, the girls washed their filthy clothes and dried them on lines they had erected across the engine room, which was the warmest place when they were under power. Each girl had only one change of clothing because they were so short of space, and though they did what they could they knew they seldom looked their best.

Hetty was just glad that Gareth had been too pre-occupied with his own woes to comment upon the fact that his hostesses had draggly hair, smuts of coal dust on cheek and chin, and hands which were downright filthy. However, if they were stuck here for a bit they could walk into the nearest town and take advantage of the baths, as well as making good all the deficiencies in their food supply.

‘Tea's up!' That was Alice, pouring three mugs. ‘I say, Hetty, I think I'll have my hair cut when we reach the city. Washing long hair is a real chore when you have to do it in your bath-time, so to speak. Anyone fancy a tin of baked beans with no accompanying toast? Or we can leave breakfast until we reach civilisation once more and can buy some bread.'

‘I'll have mine later,' Hetty said, pulling on her serge trousers and donning her leather boots. She reached for her waterproofs, put them on, opened the double doors and stepped into the well. There was a shriek of protest from Sally as wind and snow blew in and Hetty, giggling, closed the doors all but a crack. She had
already taken a hasty look at the water and seen that it was only covered with cat ice, through which the
Shamrock
would make her way with no trouble. She shouted as much to the two girls within the cabin, adding the information that she would be obliged if they'd join her as soon as possible, so that they could get moving. She looked out at the bank, hoping to see footprints that would show her which way Gareth had come and gone, but though the snow was easing off it had been sufficient to cover any tracks made the previous day.

Even as she made her way towards the engine room, however, the flakes ceased to fall altogether. When the other two joined her, she began to give her orders. ‘Sally, you push over the compression lever at the count of three; Alice and I will work the starting handle.' She and Alice began to turn the handle and the enormous flywheel, which took up a great deal of space in the cramped surroundings, began to revolve. Hetty and Alice increased the speed until Hetty shouted, ‘One, two, three.' Immediately, Sally pushed the lever and the engine burst into life. The other two released the starting handle and they all three scrambled out of the engine room.

Hetty and Sally untied the ropes which attached the
Shamrock
and the
Clover
to the towpath, and very soon they were put-putting up the canal, the boat's progress not in the least impeded by the slight covering of ice. Hetty sighed with relief. Any minute they might come across Gareth, hopefully laden with a large bag of food. Normally, they would have stopped at the first farm
they saw, to buy fresh milk and anything else the farm had to offer, but because of her anxiety for Gareth Hetty just wanted to push on, and since she was Number One for this trip it was she who decided how they should proceed.

As they neared the wharf she was relieved to see Gareth's tall, greatcoated figure hurrying towards them, accompanied by another couple, similarly clad. She had seldom thought of Gareth since he had moved away, but now she realised that she liked the new version very much, considerably more than she had liked the old one. Even the memory of his teasing and their constant quarrels seemed to have been softened by time into the sort of treatment brothers and sisters habitually endure. Now that they had met up again, she realised that the old enmity was dead. She and her crew would be travelling up and down the Grand Union Canal for as long as the war lasted, and if Gareth remained at Upper Heyford for the same length of time he would surely want to meet up again to talk of old times and old friends.

Then there were the two fellows with him, even now beginning to grin as they neared the
Shamrock
and her butty. She and Sally often bemoaned the fact that when they tied up near Birmingham they were unable to leave the canal boat unmanned in order to go dancing, see a film or even visit the big shops together. Because it was impossible to render the
Shamrock
and the
Clover
safe from the young thieves who haunted the wharves, they had made it a rule always to have one girl aboard each boat. Hetty knew that none of them had much
enjoyed their solitary expeditions, but now that they knew where Gareth was, things might change. The young men even now strolling towards them looked friendly; she would invite them aboard, and if they all got on, perhaps it might be fun for Sally and Alice as well as herself to have a man's company from time to time.

Gareth had been so late back after his involuntary dip in the canal that the other fellers in his hut had long given him, and their fish and chips, up. Next morning at breakfast they jeered at him for spending the night drinking beer at the local pub, but accepted his far more dramatic explanation. They were intrigued by the fact that his rescuers had been an all female crew of a canal boat, since they had assumed that such craft were manned by large and brawny males.

‘Fancy you knowing one of them though, Ginger, you lucky dog!' his friend Phil remarked. ‘If I fell in the bloody canal and a woman fished me out, she'd be ninety years old, toothless and the image of Popeye, muscles an' all.' He stared hard at Gareth. ‘What were they like, these girls?'

‘Young and pretty,' Gareth said promptly. ‘Hetty used to be a scrawny kid, more interested in books than blokes, but I wouldn't deny she's changed. All the hard work on the boat has improved her figure … she's got a waist and tits and things now, though she's still no beauty. But the other two are little smashers, honest to God they are.'

They were sitting in the cookhouse, leisurely devouring a breakfast of porridge and toast, since they
had been stood down due to the heavy snowfall of the night before. Most of the men would go to the NAAFI, write letters, listen to the wireless or possibly play cards, but Gareth meant to keep his promise to shop for the crew of the
Shamrock
and deliver the food to them, even if it meant walking three miles or so to the nearest wharf. He said as much to Phil, who immediately offered to accompany him, as did Eamonn, a large Irishman, another friend who had listened to Gareth's story with considerable amusement.

‘I'll be glad of your company, but you needn't think you're going to step in and grab the only girls for miles around,' Gareth said promptly. ‘There's a nice little blonde I've earmarked for my own use.'

‘She won't have you, feller, once she's set her eyes on me gorgeous body,' Eamonn said in his strong Irish accent. ‘All the girls fall flat on their backs when they see my beautiful blue eyes fixed upon 'em. Why should your little blonde be any different? Besides, you said you knew one of the girls already, so she'll be the one for you, Ginger.'

‘Hetty's a brunette and I've never gone for brunettes myself.' Gareth said thoughtfully. ‘Still, Alice – she's the third member of the crew – is almost a blonde. At any rate, her hair's a lot lighter than Hetty's, so in the unlikely event of Sally actually overlooking my manly charms and going for a bogtrotter instead, I'll have Alice, Eamonn here can have Sally and lucky old Phil can reel in Hetty.'

Phil crunched down his last mouthful of toast, pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘If those girls could
hear you dividing them up like so many pigs in a sty, you'd neither of you get a look in,' he observed. ‘Frankly, I don't care which one I get, so long as she's warm and willing. By the way, before I offer to help you carry all this shopping, how old did you say they were? I don't mean to walk miles just to discover they're three old crones.'

Gareth finished his toast and pushed back his chair, whilst Eamonn hastily gulped the last of his mug of tea. The three of them cleaned their irons and strolled out of the cookhouse.

‘Well? How old are they?' Eamonn asked suspiciously as they walked across the frozen parade ground. ‘It's all very well to say young and pretty …'

‘Hetty must be seventeen or eighteen and Alice and Sally look about the same,' Gareth told him. ‘Say eighteen at a pinch, but of course the only one whose age I can be sure of is Hetty. As I said, Sally and Alice are very pretty girls, very pretty indeed. And Hetty's brainy, really clever, though I wouldn't call her pretty. She's a bit on the bossy side, sharp-tongued too. But I'm sure you'll like her.'

At this point they reached their hut, pushed open the door and hurried in, though it was very little warmer inside than out. Gareth took his coat down from its peg and jammed his cap down over his springy light red curls, then turned and faced his friends. ‘Are you coming or aren't you? It's up to you, but I'm not going to hang around because I may have to walk a good way along the towpath before I find them, and though it's not snowing at the
moment there's clouds up there which don't look too clever.'

Neither man answered, but they both began to put on their greatcoats, and presently the three of them set out, heading for the village where, Gareth knew, they would be able to buy bread, milk, and various other commodities. When Gareth had completed his purchases, including a bag of doughnuts as a thank you for his rescuers, they set off across the snowy fields. Gareth warned the others to steer clear of the hedgerows since ditches in deep snow can appear mere indentations, and very soon they reached the snowy stile, climbed over it and were on the towpath. Gareth pointed to the canal. ‘I thought that if it was really badly iced up we'd come across the
Shamrock
near here, but it's only what you might call cat ice; they'll have to steer carefully, and put the engine into go slow mode, but they'll reach the wharf ahead of us, though not by more than perhaps half an hour.' He glanced enquiringly at his companions. ‘Are you game to go on?'

‘Sure and I'm not the feller to be put off by a bit of a walk, now,' Eamonn said at once. He looked up at the sky. ‘Though I'd not swear to it that we'll be there before the snow starts again. Do you t'ink they'll invite us in?'

‘Bound to, when they see our handsome faces, particularly mine, and all the grub we've bought them,' Phil said. ‘Only from what you told us, Ginger, they have to unload this blessed ship or boat or whatever you call it, and I don't fancy being asked to give a
hand with great sacks of coal or flour or whatever. The air force is really strict about keeping one's uniform clean and tidy.'