Water Gypsies (30 page)

‘Well – ’ Dot tipped her dregs into the water and jumped down with a thud onto the platform – we’ll just have to scout out a telephone directory.’

‘Don’t you know where she lives?’ Bobby asked. ‘Dunno why you don’t just go and see her.’

‘I say –’ Dot turned to Maryann, excited – ‘how about it? We could surprise her! What if we took the kiddies along? It’d be a little outing for them as well.’

Maryann looked at Bobby, who gave his easy smile. ‘I’ll see to the unloading. Don’t you fret.’

As they began on their journey, having speedily gathered up the children, Dot looked back at the pair of boats and said, ‘I never cease to be amazed by Bobby’s relaxed attitude to life.’

‘Oh, he’s a good’un,’ Maryann said. ‘Nice family, the Jenkses.’

They made their way through the shabby Limehouse streets and got onto a crowded bus, standing all the way, packed in. Maryann saw Dot wrinkle her nose as she registered the strong smell of unwashed bodies pressed close to them. Peering out between people’s heads, Maryann caught glimpses of the damage the Blitz had inflicted on the East End. She was glad Dot knew London so well as she guided them onto the Underground. Rose looked really frightened at being led down into a dark, squalid hole in the ground. Dot took her hand and reminded her that they would soon be seeing Auntie Sylvia, and the little girl’s face relaxed, her eyes lighting up. Soon all the children were peering out, watching excitedly for each stop. There were a few moments of peace, and Maryann felt she might easily fall asleep here in the warm, stuffy carriage, rocking back and forth, her coat on to cover her grubby frock. She gave a wide yawn, feeling muzzy in the head. She felt Dot looking at her.

‘I’m not very good at talking about things and so forth,’ Dot said abruptly. ‘Thing is, Maryann, you’ve obviously got something on your mind. Don’t want to pry. But – I can’t help but notice – bad nights and so forth.’ Dot was blushing, looking down at her plump thighs, clad in black corduroy. ‘If I can be of any help, you would say…?’

Maryann was touched, but at the same time the old panic rose in her.
Don’t ask me! Don’t let anyone find out!
How could she possibly explain to Dot – how could she name the strange feelings she had? It was true Dot had family problems, but nothing like this. Sometimes she longed to pour it all out to someone. But she couldn’t even tell Joel! She sensed he didn’t really want to hear it. So far as he was concerned, past was past and they had their own family now. Did anyone, ever, really want to hear the truth? She didn’t believe they did. Naked truth was too horrible. She swallowed hard.

‘It’s all right, Dot. I just have the odd nightmare sometimes. Don’t know why.’

It seemed a long walk from the tube station to Sylvia’s, but the afternoon was warm and pleasant.

‘Is this her house?’ the girls kept asking, but then there were so many houses on the way that they gave up and became weary and just stared round them.

‘Aren’t we
ever
going to get there?’ Sally complained wearily, her old boots scuffing along the pavement.

Looking at her children, Maryann was suddenly full of misgivings. Now they were away from the cut and in this neat neighbourhood with its little front gardens with trimmed hedges, they did all look a scruffy bunch with their old clothes and grimy skin!

‘D’you think she’ll mind?’ she said as they looked over the gate. ‘I mean us turning up, showing her up?’

Dot snorted. ‘Oh, I can’t imagine so! Sylvia’s not like that, is she?’

Isn’t she?
Maryann thought. How could they really know what she’d be like away from the cut and in her nice home? The neighbourhood was such a world away from the jerry-built Ladywood houses she’d grown up in that she felt nervous and out of place.

Sylvia’s house was painted white, but Maryann was at once disappointed and relieved to see that the roses and shrubs in the front garden looked straggly and there was plenty of groundsel and dandelions. It spoiled her pretty picture of Sylvia’s perfect house! But, of course, Sylvia had not been at home to see to any of it, and the fact that everything was not perfectly neat made her feel reassured. The house had a pea-green front door, with a window set into it edged with coloured-glass fruits. A cinder path ran alongside the grass.

‘I wonder if her husband’s here,’ Maryann found herself whispering. ‘What’s his name again?’

‘Roy.’ Even Dot was whispering.
‘Darling
Roy.’

‘Oh yes – how could I forget!’ This set them both off into giggles and for a few moments they were both helpless with nervous laughter in the road.

‘What’s so funny?’ Sally frowned at them. ‘Aren’t we going to knock on the door?’

Ezra ran ahead and started banging his fist on the lower part of the door and Maryann went and dragged him back, saying, ‘
Sssh!
Don’t!’

‘One way to find out.’ Dot’s hand was poised over the knocker. ‘Ready?’

Its brass clatter sounded very loud in the silent street. The houses looked down on them from all round, with their anti-blast tape on the windows. Where was everyone? Maryann wondered. The only life about was the lady next door, who stepped out through her front door carrying a cloth bag and peered at them over the wall.

All of them jumped, startled, when the door opened and they found themselves faced with a well-built man with fair hair shorn into a very short serviceman’s haircut and a wide, strong face. The man from the photograph.

‘Yes?’ His voice was clipped and conveyed no expression, either of disapproval or welcome. Maryann could not meet his eyes and kept her gaze on the sharp creases in his trousers, his well-polished black shoes. She saw that the floor was a pale wood parquet. Dot could do the talking. She wasn’t going to open her mouth with her Brummie accent and have him sneer at her. She felt instinctively that he might be the sneering type.

‘Dorothy Higgs-Deveraux,’ Dot announced briskly, though she too appeared uncomfortable as Roy Cress-well looked appraisingly at her generous figure, dressed in her worn black trousers and the brown baggy sweater. The one touch of colour she wore today was a red and green scarf tied as an Alice band to keep her hair back. She pointed at her ‘IW’ badge. ‘I’m a colleague of your wife’s – Inland Waterways – National Service. This is Mrs Maryann Bartholomew, whose boat we’re crewing. Sylvia’s due to join us again tomorrow, of course.’

‘I see.’ He stood looking at them, holding the door open with one arm, which protruded hairily from his white, short-sleeved shirt.

Well, he’s not very pleased to see us,
Maryann thought. Though his face betrayed no emotion, she sensed that he was angry.

‘Is Sylvia in?’ Dot persevered. ‘We’d like a word with her.’

‘Just a moment.’ He swung the door almost closed and they heard him calling, ‘Sylvia. Sylv! Someone to see you.’

Dot turned and grimaced at Maryann. ‘Not exactly a gushing welcome,’ she whispered.

Rose was pulling on Maryann’s hand, her face anxious. ‘When’s Sylvia coming out?’

A moment later the door opened again. Sylvia was wearing a very pretty floral dress with a floating skirt, a white cardigan over the top and leather navy pumps. As ever, she was well made up, with her favourite scarlet lipstick. She looked delicate and feminine. Maryann was quite taken aback. They’d only ever seen Sylvia in her boat clothes and the children looked especially abashed, as if they could barely recognize her. Maryann felt Rose’s hand clutching at her skirt for reassurance.

‘Oh, my goodness!’ Sylvia hissed. She sounded horrified and immediately it all felt a terrible mistake that they’d come here. She glanced behind her and pulled the front door closed and squatted down so that her skirt fell in soft swathes over her knees. ‘Oh, Rose, it’s all right – come here, darling!’

Rose, whose face had crumpled ready for tears, let go of Maryann and went shyly to Sylvia, who immediately cuddled her, despite Rose’s grubby frock. Sylvia greeted all the other children and then stood up, still holding Rose’s hand. She looked back anxiously towards the door again and gestured them to move further away along the path.

‘Is everything all right?’ Maryann asked. There was a tight fearfulness in Sylvia’s face that she had never seen before.

‘I’m
so
sorry.’ Sylvia spoke quickly, in short bursts. ‘I’d love to invite you in – only I can’t. The children could have played in the garden if … but not with Roy here, you see. He’s very … particular about everything, you see. You do understand, don’t you?’

‘Where’re your children?’ Maryann asked. She was filled with unease at the sight of Sylvia. She looked lovely, fresh and well groomed, and she was the same, sweet-natured Sylvia, yet somehow quite different.

‘Oh, Kay and Dickie have gone back to school. I put them on the train yesterday. It was a couple of days early, but I thought it was for the best. I wasn’t expecting Roy home, you see – not now – and he likes to have me to himself. He had a couple of extra days’ leave, you see.’ She gave a valiant smile.

‘So you don’t want to come back with us today?’ Dot tried to joke. ‘You don’t look dressed for the part, I must say.’

‘No – it’ll be a couple of days. I’ll find you – don’t you worry. If it all goes wrong, I’ll get to Sutton and pick you up there. Oh look – ’ she glanced behind her – ‘it’s so sweet of you to come and I’m longing to see you all properly, but I’d better not stay now.’ She began to back down the path. ‘Roy goes back tomorrow. I just need to stay and see him off.’

‘It’s all right – you make the most of it.’ Maryann felt herself twist up inside, though she didn’t really know why. Sylvia seemed so anxious and unlike her normal self. ‘We’ll get back and help Bobby with the unloading. You enjoy the rest of your time. Have a bath for us both, won’t you?’

‘Oh,’ Sylvia said yearningly, ‘I
wish
I could ask you in, I really do! It’s a bit difficult to explain.’

‘You’re all right – I was only joking,’ Maryann called lightly, shepherding the children in front of her. ‘TTFN!’

‘Cheerio, Sylvia!’ Dot called.

Sylvia waved and, as she pushed the front door open, they caught a glimpse of Roy Cresswell standing in the hall, arms hanging at his sides. Then the door closed.

As they went out of the gate, the woman from next door was coming towards them along the pavement. Her bag was still empty and Maryann sensed she had been waiting for them. She was in her thirties, hair scraped into a bun, and wearing a faded flowery frock.

‘Could I have a word?’ She spoke in a quiet, guarded voice, looking back at Sylvia’s house.

‘Of course,’ Dot said.

‘You’ll probably think I’m ever such a nosy-parker,’ the woman said, fiddling with the frayed handles of the bag. ‘My name’s Lois, by the way. Lois Parmenter. Are you friends of the lady in that house?’

‘Yes,’ Dot said. What’s the trouble?’

‘Well, I don’t know, that’s the thing. Dear, oh dear, you are going to think I’m an interfering busybody.’ Her eyes darted anxiously back and forth between Dot’s and Maryann’s faces. ‘You see, I’ve been wondering because I haven’t been living here all that long and there hasn’t been anyone in next door for some weeks.’

Dot explained briefly that Sylvia had been away working with them.

‘Oh, I see – well yes. But then they came home and the kiddies were playing outside and that was all perfectly all right. And Mrs – Cresswell, isn’t it? Yes, we exchanged a few words. But then her husband’s been about once or twice, and he’s there now. It’s just that, well, he seems a bit of a queer fish. Oh dear, I do feel funny about asking, but I just wondered if everything’s all right.’

Maryann immediately sensed that the woman was not just being nosy, that something had caused her to feel real concern.

‘We don’t know, really,’ she said. ‘We don’t know him either. But Sylvia’s coming back to work with us tomorrow.’

‘Oh – oh good. Well, that’s probably all right then.’ The woman started to back away. ‘Sorry to bother you.’ She retreated inside her gate. ‘Sorry,’ she said again. ‘Goodbye.’

They retreated down the road, pacifying the disappointed children, who had all hoped to see Sylvia’s nice house and be able to run in her garden.

‘Look, I tell you what,’ Maryann said, fishing in her pocket. There was a corner shop at the end of the road. ‘I’ve got this week’s coupons – we’ll go and get you some rocks, eh?’

The children cheered up immediately at the thought of sweets.

‘Take them in, will you, Dot?’ Maryann handed her the ration coupons. ‘Get them sorted out. I don’t like this. I’m going to go back.’

‘What the hell’re you talking about?’ Dot said. ‘Go back? What, knock on the door and ask Roy Cresswell why he’s such a “queer fish”? You can’t do that!’

‘I
know,’
Maryann snapped. ‘What d’you take me for?’

‘Well, what can you possibly do?’

‘I don’t know.’ Maryann couldn’t explain the tight feeling of dread in her chest that Roy Cresswell had given her. ‘I’ve just got to … to see. Hang on for me a few minutes, will you?’

Full of nerves and afraid she was being stupid, she hurried back along the crescent towards Sylvia’s house. To her relief, Lois Parmenter had gone indoors. An elderly man scuttled along the pavement with a hairy terrier, which seemed to be pulling him along at the full stretch of its lead. The man touched the brim of his hat with two fingers and was propelled off round the corner.

Maryann felt very foolish. The house was quiet, just as when they had left. Supposing Sylvia saw her out of the window? What on earth would she say to her? She opened the front gate very quietly and closed it behind her, gritting her teeth. Her heart was banging wildly. What the hell did she think she was doing? She should just turn back now and go: stop being so downright ridiculous. But she felt driven on, partly through curiosity, but also by a sense of recognition. That fear she had seen in Sylvia’s face, the instinct that she was hiding something, that there was a dimension to her life that she could never admit to anyone. These were things Maryann knew herself as if they travelled in her blood. She recognized them when she saw them in someone else. And she doubted if Sylvia would ever tell them. She would just suffer on in respectable silence.