Water Gypsies (29 page)

‘I was there though, then, see,’ she remembered him saying. ‘You have to believe your own eyes, don’t you? And that was war. But what he did – to children – well, that was something else altogether.’

As he held her now, she knew he would be having the same struggle to believe in the further wickedness of what had happened.

‘What makes you so sure?’ he asked, eventually.

Maryann pulled back and looked into his eyes. He had to believe her. She knew it was the truth. ‘Because he’s on the warpath. He is – I remember the way he looked at me in the church that night. I don’t know what he wants, but he won’t stop until he’s got it.’

Twenty-Nine

‘Maryann?’

Dot leapt up onto the
Esther Jane,
making Maryann almost jump out of her skin. She was sitting on the bench facing the stove, dazed, as if unable to move. She had been about to do something. What was it? She couldn’t seem to hold a thought in her head for long and Rose and the twins would keep on, ‘Mom … Mom …’ and she’d get as far as saying absently, ‘What?’ and then not hear the rest of what they said to her.

‘You all right?’ Dot asked. She came down and squeezed herself onto the coalbox, looking at Maryann with embarrassed concern. Dot wasn’t comfortable with emotions and Maryann felt herself stiffen and go red with embarrassment.

‘I will be,’ she said tersely. ‘Just getting cleared up.’

Dot, seeing she wasn’t going to get anywhere, stood up and went again.

But Maryann had seen it in Dot’s eyes, the thought,
I know you’re not all right, but I don’t know what to say …
Her nights were full of dreams now, fragments of childhood which she forced away from her memory when she was awake, but which made her cry out or wake up sobbing and shaking. It had not been as bad as this for years, not since she first ran away and started working at the big house, Charnwood, near Banbury. A number of times Dot had had to comfort her, and in the darkness she had held Maryann, speaking to her with a sweet gentleness that Maryann was learning to accept instead of pushing her away, but which she found hard to reconcile with Dot’s awkward gruffness in the daytime. And in daylight she could not seem to keep her mind on anything, could not remember from moment to moment what she was supposed to be doing. It didn’t help that she knew why it was happening to her. Through all the shocks and loss of the past months she had managed to hold onto herself, to keep the past at bay, even when Norman Griffin came back into her life. If any memories had forced themselves at her she had pushed her mind elsewhere, made herself go numb as she had when he was with her, forcing himself on her. But the horror of Amy’s death seemed to have stripped her, left her bare and there was no Joel, her support and mainstay, to rescue her and keep her safe. She was frightened, overwhelmed by her feelings. It seemed to take an effort almost beyond her strength for her to stand up and get on with all her chores that morning. The kettle was boiling furiously on the stove. How long had it been like that? she wondered, yanking it off the heat. She must get on – they had to get moving…

It had been Bobby’s idea that they make the trip down to London. Mr Veater had no trouble finding loads needed for Limehouse. The war effort’s hunger for coal was bottomless. Bobby would find a boat to crew his way back on and they could pick up Sylvia for the return trip now that the Easter holidays were over.

Spring had truly arrived over the past fortnight and suddenly the worst of the cold had passed. Standing at the helm, Maryann felt her limbs relax a little in the warmer breeze, after the months of cold. The boats were heavily weighed down with a full load of coal and tidily sheeted up by Dot and Bobby. She tried to keep her concentration together. Once they got onto the Grand Union, you could turn a bend and find yourself nose to nose with the huge river barges, which loomed above tiny narrowboats. To her surprise, Dot had suddenly said she’d take the older girls and stay awhile on the
Theodore,
to give them a lesson with the boys, while they were on a stretch with none too many locks. But Maryann read the worst into this. Normally Dot would have done anything to avoid being too near Bobby.
She wants to get away from me,
she thought.
Can’t blame her, I suppose.
But she suddenly felt sad and lonely with just Ada and Esther on the roof. Rejected, almost. As they drew closer to Sutton Stop, she turned to signal that she was slowing down. Bobby was standing in his usual easy fashion, cap perched on the back of his head, tiller behind him, and to Maryann’s surprise Dot was standing out there beside him and they were talking, apparently quite amiably. It took her a moment to get their attention.

I should be glad,
she thought. It’s about time they stopped being so silly and got on with each other. But that day the sight of them together made her feel even more bleak and alone.

The journey south went smoothly. Maryann was astonished at how smoothly, considering she felt as if the days were passing in a dream. She was exhausted. It seemed so long since she had had a really good night’s sleep. She felt as if the flashes of memory – sometimes not even memory, discomfort rather – were sapping all her energy. They came south towards Stoke Bruerne and once more she was steering the boat alone. When Dot had said earlier that she’d go aboard the
Theodore
again, Maryann teased her.

‘You’re getting mighty friendly with Bobby all of a sudden!’

‘Oh, don’t be so
silly,’
Dot said huffily. ‘Joley and Ezra want to fish off the side and I said I’d help.’

‘I don’t think you’ll catch much like that, will you?’ Maryann said.

‘You never know – and it’ll keep them happy for a bit. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘No.’ She wanted to ask, why can’t you stay on here with me and do it, but she felt childish and bit back the words. Of course Bobby was the main attraction for Joley and Ezra – he’d always been Joley’s hero.

So she steered the
Esther Jane
with no one else on board except Ada and Esther. They were napping in the cabin as the boats came towards Blisworth Tunnel at Stoke Bruerne. The black mouth of the tunnel grew bigger as they drew closer, swallowing the front of the boat. Its cold shadow fell over her and abruptly Maryann found herself in the darkness. She had put her scarf and coat on in preparation, collar up, as the place was permanently dank and dripping, cold water splashing down on you.

She forced herself to concentrate on the steering. It was hard at first, disorientating to be plunged into darkness; it was easy to lose any sense of direction and steer the boat into the opposite bank and end up veering back and forth, crashing into the walls. There was only the boat’s dim lamp ahead, with no light from an oncoming boat. She peered ahead, sometimes standing on tiptoe to try and see better, glancing back every so often to make sure the
Theodore
’s light was following behind. In here, if the snubber snapped, there’d be no chance of hearing a cry over the echo of the engine, which roared off the curved brick roof of the tunnel, filling her ears so it was impossible to hear anything but the loudest of sounds over it.

Every so often ventilation shafts in the roof let in a ghostly cylinder of light from above, from the world outside, convincing you for a few seconds that real daylight still existed. Otherwise, for over a mile and a half, all was darkness and engine throb, and the dim yellow beam of light casting forward only a few yards onto the ripples to show the way. A freezing splash of water dropped down the back of her neck.

After a time she saw the far end of the tunnel, a tiny dot of light at first, growing very slowly bigger.
Thank heaven for the motor,
she thought, shuddering at how they would have had to get through here the old way, when the horses would be walked over the top and the men lay out on planks half over the black water, feet pressed to the wall to leg the boat through step by step.

It came over her with no warning, about halfway through. She could not have said exactly what set it off: some half thought or memory, or simply the darkness, the way the white light so far away never seemed to get any bigger, however much they moved towards it. The blackness became suffocating, as if it had weight and was pressing itself on top of her. Her lungs felt crushed, incapable of pumping air in and out. Heat rose in her, her own body seeming to suffocate her and she was sweating and overtaken by panic. She tore her coat off, flung it down into the cabin and bent over the tiller gasping for breath. Her lungs were sobbing as if she had run to the summit of a cold mountain. Her neck and forehead were wet with sweat.

Maryann was jerked back to her surroundings when the
Esther Jane
hit the opposite wall with an awful crack and scrape and she was almost flung over backwards. She just managed to clutch onto the cabin roof, and immediately fought to straighten out the boat and get her running on the right side of the channel.

It was a few moments before she gained proper control again, the tiller was throbbing in her hand and she was trembling with shock. She leaned on the cabin and, knowing no one would hear, let out a great howl of pain which echoed round her amid the throb of the engine.

When the boat finally moved out into the sunshine it was like emerging from a nightmare. She breathed in hard, still shaky but longing for the light, for the sense of release it brought. Stoke Bruerne was busy, and Maryann knew they should press on through, but the moment she saw the familiar buildings along the canal she was filled with longing. It made her think of Nance and the time they’d brought their children in together to see Sister Mary Ward. She wanted desperately, suddenly, to see Sister Mary. Just the thought of the woman’s comforting face would make her feel better. She turned and signalled that they were going to stop.

Holding Ada’s and Esther’s hands, Maryann walked to Sister Mary’s little front-room surgery. Another boatwoman, heavily pregnant, came out and then it was their turn.

The sight of Sister Mary in her white overall and long white veil, even the smell of iodine steadied her. Sister Mary was busy over on one side of the room. Maryann heard the clink of glass as she arranged a jar on the shelf. After a moment Sister Mary looked round and gave her warm smile.

‘Ah – now I know you, don’t I?’

Maryann found herself smiling back. ‘I haven’t been to see you in a while, Sister. Last time, I came with my friend Nance – Nancy Bartholomew.’

‘Of course, the Bartholomews.’ Sister Mary came across and gestured for Maryann to sit down. ‘You take a rest when you can, dear.’ She looked solemn. I remember. Poor, poor Nancy. That was a real tragedy. I was so very sorry to hear about it. That must have been a couple of winters ago now?’

Maryann nodded, looking down into her lap as her eyes filled. She spoke more roughly than she meant to.

‘Can you look these two over for me?’

‘Ah now – ’ Sister Mary bent over, putting her hands together almost as if praying and smiled at Ada and Esther – ‘I remember these two as babies, don’t I? Let’s have a look at the pair of you then, shall we?’

As she examined the girls, their heads, necks, ears and throats, she asked after the rest of the family. Maryann told her about Joel’s accident, about the trainees.

‘Oh – we have quite a few of them up and down here.’ Sister Mary laughed. ‘You’ve got a couple of them working on the Oxford as well now, have you? Most of them are marvellous, of course – there’s just the odd one or two can get a bit uppity.’ She glanced at Maryann as she worked, and after observing that Ada might need her tonsils out one day she pronounced the twins to be fit and bonny.

‘And what about their mother? Are you keeping well?’

Maryann nodded, feeling herself crumple, hearing the kindness in her tone. Her throat hurt with the effort of not breaking down. ‘Mostly. You know how it is.’

Sister Mary knew all too well. After years of working with the boatwomen she was awed by their stamina and capacity for endurance. Her eyes twinkled down at Maryann.

‘No problems, then?’

Problems? Maryann longed just to lay her head on the woman’s shoulder and sob out all her need and confusion. She shook her head, but the tears welled up again unbidden. She was getting up out of her chair to leave, afraid of embarrassing herself, but Sister Mary gently took her arm and encouraged her to stay sitting.

‘What is it, dear?’

Shaking her head, Maryann felt sobs rising up again. She was so mortified, she wished she could become invisible. How could she even begin to tell Sister Mary what she felt, however kind the woman was?

‘I can’t say … it’s nothing.’ She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and stood up. She couldn’t begin crying: if she did she might never stop. ‘I’m just being silly. I just feel a bit anyhow today, that’s all.’

Sister Mary watched her with concern, but she could see that Maryann was determined not to say more.

‘Well, you make sure you look after yourself properly, dear. Don’t put yourself last all the time, will you?’ She opened the door to let Maryann out. ‘Goodbye, dear – I’m always here, you know.’

Thirty

Limehouse Dock was very busy. Once again they moved across the great expanse of water, dwarfed by many of the vessels around them. They joined the queue for unloading and got busy on all the chores and the shopping. By the time they had finished those it was dinnertime, but their two heavily laden boats were still waiting.

‘When’s this Sylvia coming, then?’ Bobby asked through a mouthful of bread and cheese. He was seated casually on the back of the
Esther Jane,
feet on the bank.

‘Oh, she’s not coming here,’ Maryann said. ‘She’s s’posed to be getting a train up to join us in a day or two. She doesn’t know we’re down here.’

‘Seems silly, doesn’t it?’ Dot said, perched up beside Ezra on the cabin roof, tea mug in hand. Why don’t we telephone her? Have you the number?’

‘No. Got the address, though.’