The Narrowboat Girl (13 page)

‘Blimey, Sal – what’ve yer done to yerself? Look, I’ll go and get summat to wipe yer.’

She bound her sister’s arm with a rag then sat beside her, half afraid to touch her. Sal looked so beautiful sitting there, pale and still, the evening light catching her hair.

‘Is it
him
, Sal? What’s ’e done to yer, eh?’

Sal just shook her head, seeming unable to speak.

‘Is ’e . . . is ’e . . .’ Maryann could barely say it, like when she had wanted to talk to Nance and no words would come, not for something like that, that couldn’t really be going on, not in real life. She sensed that whatever had happened to Sal was much worse than anything he had done to her, but she didn’t know about anything, couldn’t imagine what it could be. ‘Is Norman
dirty
with yer?’

To her enormous vexation Sal suddenly started laughing, head back, until the tears ran down her cheeks.

‘Well,
what
?’ Maryann said furiously. She was trying to help and this was what she got. ‘What’s so bloody funny then, eh?’

‘Dirty! Oh, Maryann!’ Still laughing away.

‘Well, I meant like the other night – touching yer and stuff.’ She couldn’t go on.

Sal turned to her, solemn again. ‘Don’t let ’im near yer, Maryann, that’s all.’

Thirteen

Cathleen Black had her new baby. Nance had been allowed to help out with the birth and there was great celebration when it turned out to be a girl.

‘I tell yer, Maryann,’ Nance said after, ‘I never want to go through that in my life. Our mom says it’s like passing a pig’s bladder. She was on the go till right the last minute an’ all. I kept telling ’er, “Mom, just go and ’ave yerself a lie down,” but she says, “No, Nance – I’ve got to see the lads ’ave ’ad their tea. Any’ow, the longer I’m on my feet, the quicker the babby’ll come.” ’

Maryann had her first peek at baby Lizzie when she was only one day old, with her mop of black hair, scrumpled up face, closed eyes and tight little fists. She was allowed to go up into Cathleen and Blackie’s room where Cathleen lay in a motley mess of bedding consisting of what looked like rags and coats. The room was bare except for the metal bedstead and a chamber pot, and though the window was open there was a sickening miasma of sweat and blood. Cathleen looked hollow-cheeked but she raised a smile when Maryann said, ‘Oh, ain’t she lovely!’

‘Makes a change from all them lads, don’t she?’ Cathleen said. ‘’Bout time we ’ad a wench to finish off with, ’cos I’m buggered if I want to go through all that again.’

Billy was also captivated by Lizzie, by her sheer smallness. He stood for ages stroking her waxy hands, trying to get her to straighten her fingers.

‘Why don’t our mom ’ave any babbies?’ he asked.

‘Well, you was a babby not so long ago,’ Cathleen said, adding as an aside, ‘She’s got more bloody sense, that’s why.’

Outside, when the boys had gone off, Maryann asked Nance, ‘What’s yer dad been like over ’er?’

‘Oh, ’e’s soft as anything with ’er. ’E’s always wanted another girl. Said she were ’is life’s work or summat – and that were before ’e’d been down the pub!’

‘Nance—’

‘What?’

‘How do – I mean, how does the babby get in there – d’yer know?’

‘All I know is it’s got summat to do with a man’s – yer know – thing. ’Is willy.’

‘Oh.’ Maryann’s brow puckered. ‘Has it? You sure?’

‘’Course,’ Nance said, all worldly-wise, though she wasn’t really sure at all.

Maryann had never seen a man naked, except for her brothers. When she was younger she’d wondered whether their little willies grew with them when they got bigger, or did they stay the same size?

But she knew the answer to that now, for certain. On Sunday afternoon, Sal had gone out, and Flo was with her brother Danny and her sister-in-law Margie who had come on with her babby and she’d promised to help if she could. Norman was in the front room. Maryann was just about to call the boys to go up to the Blacks’.

‘Maryann—’ She heard his voice calling softly through to the kitchen where she was clearing up.

‘What?’ She stuck her head round the door.

‘Come ’ere a minute, pet.’ His voice was wheedling. It didn’t quite sound like him.

She went and stood beside the chair. He was lolling back, feet up on a stool, and his face was flushed even though there was no fire in the grate.

‘Fancy going to the pictures?’

‘What, now? All of us?’ She had had other plans, but she did love the pictures. There were the talkies now, too, people really speaking instead of just the piano banging away while you tried to read the words off the screen.

‘I’ll give yer a shilling and you and that Nance can go with the lads. Treat yerselves.’

‘Oh – ta,’ Maryann said awkwardly. Was this him ‘trying to act like a dad’ again? Anyway, if he was in a good mood she might as well make the most of it.

‘C’m’ere first.’ He beckoned her closer. ‘Part of the treat for yer. There’s a couple of tanners in ’ere – you come and get ’em.’

He held his pocket open, shifting in his seat.

‘Go on, Maryann, I won’t bite!’ He was grinning, showing his yellow teeth, sweat on his forehead.

She slid her hand into the open pocket, expecting her fingers to find the two sixpences tucked in the soft material. But as soon as her hand was in there Norman slapped his own hand over it and pulled hers over, pressing it down on to his hard willy, waiting down there. She yanked away, managing to pull free and run to the door.

‘Tony! Billy! Come on, quick – I’m going now.’

He was laughing. ‘Don’t you want your shilling then, eh?’

He wouldn’t leave her alone these days. Watching her all the time, so the feel of his eyes on her made her feel dirty. Once or twice, when he got the chance, he’d rub against her, or feel her round her chest. She could never relax when he was about and she stayed out all the time she could. Outside, at school or with Nance it was all right. She could shrug it off because these disgusting things weren’t happening away from the house. It wasn’t real out there, and she could forget. She dreaded being at home. Sometimes Maryann thought about trying to tell her mom. But any little thing she criticized about Norman and Flo was down on her like a ton of bricks. She’d never believe Maryann. She was always on his side. He seem to infect everything. Even when he wasn’t in there were reminders of his presence: the oily dent in the chair where his head went, the paper thrown on the floor where he left it, the smell of his fags hanging about the place. Always there. Always.

It was well into June and the weather was warm now. Thin shafts of evening sunlight had found their way in through the back windows, dust motes swirling in them. Maryann smiled, remembering how Tiger used to jump up and biff at them when he was a kitten.

Sal had come in with Norman from work, had eaten her tea and the last Maryann had heard from her was the slam of the front door as she took off out again. Huh, Maryann thought, covering Tony up in bed. But she couldn’t really blame Sal. She really seemed to be sweet on Charlie Black and if Maryann could have thought of a place to go she’d have gone out as well. She was beginning to get the hang of when the
Esther Jane
might be likely to be in town from the run to Stoke. She left messages at the toll offices and ran down to ask. But she didn’t hang around the cut any more, waiting. She’d seen Joel, Darius and Ada once since her night on the boat, but they’d been held up along the cut and were pressed for time, so Maryann just walked along a bit of the way with Ada and Bessie and Jep, and left them to get on. They all seemed pleased to see her though, and Joel waved.

‘See yer next time!’ she yelled as they headed into the gloomiest part of the cut.

She’d sung Billy a lullaby and was coming downstairs again when she heard a knock at the front door, then Flo’s voice, ‘Danny – what’re you doing ’ere? Oh my God, what’s up?’ Danny’s wife Margie had also given birth to a little girl, Cissie, who was now four days old.

Maryann heard her uncle panting. He must have run all the way over.

‘It’s the babby, Flo, ’er’s bad and Margie’s in a right state over ’er. Can yer come over and ’elp us, right quick? ’Er breathing’s terrible.’

‘Well, I don’t know as there’s much I can do,’ Flo was saying. ‘You’d be better fetching the doctor out.’

‘We ’ave, but she wants you there – please, Flo—’ Maryann came down into the front room and saw her Uncle Danny looking as if he was going to burst into tears. ‘We’d feel better if you was there. You know what to do with babbies – we don’t know ’ow to go on!’

‘You go, Flo,’ Norman said. ‘Yer brother needs yer – there’ll be summat you can do, with all your know-’ow, I’m sure.’

‘Awright,’ Flo agreed reluctantly.

Maryann watched her mother disappearing out through the front door, and it was only then it dawned on her. If Flo went out she’d be all alone in the house with Norman, except for the boys sleeping upstairs. She tore out behind her mom as if she was on springs.

‘I’m coming with yer! I might be able to ’elp.’

‘Oh, don’t be daft, Maryann!’ Flo was all flustered. ‘Go on in with yer. Danny and Margie’ve got enough on their plate without you getting under all our feet.’

‘Please, Mom, let me come!’

‘Maryann, go back inside.’ Danny spoke roughly in his anxiety. ‘Do as yer mom says. We need ’er for now.’

Maryann knew she couldn’t argue. She stood on the step watching them disappear along Anderson Street. The sun was sinking now. Martins’ huckster’s shop was still open of course, along the way. She felt like going and standing in there, amid all the mixed smells of rubber and soap and sweets until her mom got back, but she had no money and whatever could she say to Mrs Martin?

‘Come in and shut that door, Maryann,’ Norman Griffin ordered her.

Her heart was thudding. The idea of being left alone with Norman Griffin now alarmed her so much that the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up and her hands shook as she closed the door. But how could she refuse?

There he was, sat in his chair as normal, she told herself, clasping her hands together so that he should not see the tremor in them. What was there to worry about? He was just sitting, looking across at her. And she knew better than ever to put her hand in his pocket again.

‘So, then,’ he said.

‘I think—’ Maryann swallowed. She was straining to keep her voice casual. ‘I’ll go up to bed now.’

‘Oh, it’s too early for that, ain’t it? Why don’t yer come over ’ere and sit with me for a bit?’

‘No, I, er . . .’ In her awkwardness she rubbed one shoe against the back of her other leg like a much younger child. ‘No, thanks.’

Mr Griffin leaned forward with a grunt and eased himself up out of the chair. Blood started to pound in her ears. But Norman went over and drew the curtains, even though it was still light outside, so that the room turned dim and green. He lit the gas mantle and the pop-pop sound started up. Then he stood with his hands straight down by his sides, looking at her. Maryann ran her tongue over her lips and looked down at the floor. Slowly, knowing in her heart that he was not going to let her go, that there was something he wanted badly from her, she began to edge across the room towards the door to the stairs.

‘No, don’t go!’ His voice had a hard edge. ‘I said stay ’ere with me.’

He walked over to her.

‘I like you better than your sister, I must say.’ He picked at a lock of her dark hair and stroked it. She drew her head back. ‘D’you know why, Maryann?’

Still not looking at him, she shook her head.

‘You ain’t like her. You’ve got more fire about yer and I like that in a woman.’

Woman?
Maryann thought.
But I’m a girl, not a woman. I’m still at school.

‘Sal were good to me for a bit. Helped me out and did what I told ’er. See, we men are different from you women.’ He spoke in a very reasonable voice. ‘We need – satisfying – now and then. That’s what comes natural to us, see, that’s all. And you girls have a way of getting me . . . excited.’ He was taking his jacket off. She heard him throw it on to the chair.

His hands came down on her shoulders and she cried out.

‘No need for that. I’ll show yer what to do. This is what wenches’re made for. I’m just teaching yer, that’s all. Now – you just do as I say and we’ll ’ave a nice time.’

His arms came round her and she felt herself lifted off the ground and carried to the peg rug by the hearth. When he pushed her down she banged her head on the floor and gave a moan of pain, which seemed to arouse him. She heard his hard, ragged breathing.

‘What’re you doing?’ Her voice had gone squeaky. ‘You shouldn’t be doing this.’

‘Who says so?’ His voice had lost its wheedling tone and was as cold as the frozen east wind. ‘Who’s gunna stop me now? You, yer little bitch, eh?’

His hands forced up her skirt and she felt him tearing her underclothes down.

‘No!’ She lashed out, trying to kick him. ‘Stop it . . . stop it! Get off me.’

‘Shut yer mouth.’

Everything went darker as he leaned over her, blocking out the light and his weight came down on her so she was struggling then only to be able to breathe, gasping. Her legs were being forced apart and that hard prodding started like in the bath until she was sobbing it hurt so much, with him pushing and jabbing, burning his way up inside her, panting in her face, filthy words dropping from his lips.

When he climbed off her she was like a rag doll, dizzy, her back sore and smarting. She went very cold, starting to shiver until her teeth chattered, wet stuff oozing out down her legs as she stood up.

Mr Griffin went out to the kitchen and she heard the splash of water. He came back, buttoning his fly.

‘Now. That’s it then. Sal could keep a secret and I know you can. Anyhow – your mother wouldn’t believe a word if you started on about this – you know that, don’t you? You can go to bed now.’ He turned away. ‘I’ve finished with yer.’

She could barely remember getting to bed, struggling to wash first, shaking so much she could scarcely attend to herself. All the water in the sea could not wash Norman Griffin off her. She lay alone in the bed, hugging herself tightly with her arms, sobbing and shaking. She felt frightened and sick and bereaved, as if there was something enormous that she had lost, and she wept for all the losses she could think of: her lovely dad, her nan, her little cat. All those she had loved and would never again be able to hold in her arms.