The Narrowboat Girl (31 page)

With Jep following her she went back to look for the man who she found in the dry dock, working on another boat called the
Venus
.

‘D’you know if Mr Bartholomew’s coming back soon?’

The man looked at her over his shoulder. ‘Oh, I should think so. That was one of Essy Barlow’s men ’e went off with. Don’t s’pose ’e’ll stay with ’im long.’

‘Samuel Barlow?’ S.E. Barlow owned one of the carrying companies and she’d often seen his pairs of boats on the cut. ‘’E ain’t selling the
Esther Jane
?’

‘Seems like ’e might be,’ the man said. ’E could do worse. Times’re tough, everyone chasing about for not enough loads. If ’e sold out to Barlow ’e wouldn’t ’ave to chase the loads ’imself, would ’e?’

Maryann was appalled. She knew how hard old Darius and Joel had always worked to stay independent, to be Number Ones like they’d always been, not tied to a boss, a company. How would Joel feel about this?

‘Can I wait till Mr Bartholomew gets back? I’d like to speak to ’im.’

‘Stay as long as you like.’ The man winked at her. ‘Don’t see anyone complaining, do you? So long as you don’t get under anyone’s feet.’

She went over to the side of the yard. From somewhere near by she could hear the sounds of a forge: a horse being shod. She hoped Darius Bartholomew wasn’t going to be too long. In a couple of hours she would need to set off for Charnwood House, but the way she felt just then she would have waited for ever and damn everything else. Having seen the
Esther Jane
it was almost as if the past six years had not existed. She was back on the cut with the boat and the people she loved and she was desperate to know what had befallen them. Suddenly it was all that seemed to matter.

Almost an hour later Darius Bartholomew came back. She saw him the second he strode, grim-faced, into the yard. He was a large, striking presence. He looked puzzled and not especially pleased to see someone standing by his boat.

‘Mr Bartholomew?’ she said, even before he reached her.

She found him rather forbidding, in the same way she had often found his father. Those strong, chiselled features seemed to scowl down at her.

‘My name’s Maryann Nelson. I—’ How did she explain? ‘A few years back I lived on your boat – with yer dad and Joel – and Jep here – until Ada went off. . . .’

For a moment he stared blankly at her, then his face softened a fraction. ‘Did you? I remember they ’ad a lass on board for a bit.’

He seemed about to turn away, sinking back into his own thoughts again, so Maryann asked quickly, ‘Only – I wanted to ask after everyone. Your father and Ada – and Joel.’

Darius Bartholomew climbed over into the
Esther Jane
and stood on the steering platform looking back at her. He shook his head. ‘You won’t be seeing our Ada no more. She were drownded four year ago, God rest ’er.’

‘Ada?’ Maryann gaped at him. ‘Oh no . . . No!’ Not cheeky, vivacious Ada.

‘They was working the Grand Union – right down to the Thames. It’s all wider and faster there, with currents and that. Our Ada was knocked overboard – got swept away. Took ’em days before they found ’er.’ Seeing the tears in Maryann’s eyes he looked down with a sigh. ‘She were a good’un.’

Maryann swallowed, wiping her eyes. ‘And your father?’ She could hardly bear to ask about Joel.

‘I left ’im down at h’Oxford with ’is sister what lives on the bank. What with Joel and the boat in this state I said I’d bring ’er up ’ere one ’anded. He ent a young man. He’s finding the life harder and harder and ’e’s been poorly.’

‘And Joel?’ she breathed.

Darius started shaking his head in that grim fashion again and Maryann felt as if a great pressure was bearing down on her chest. Not him as well. He couldn’t be drownded as well, oh please God, no!

‘Bad,’ Darius said. He seemed almost glad to have someone to whom he could pour out all his troubles. ‘He’s took real sick. He’s been heading for it since the winter, what with ’is chest, but this time it went from bad to worse. I had to get him took away to the ’orspital at Birnigum even though ’e begged me not to leave ’im on the bank. But he was that burning up with fever I couldn’t look after ’im and see to the boat and the loads . . . And with fighting for regler loads and back loads—’ He wiped one of his huge, dark hands over his face. ‘It looks as if we’re giving in – going to Essy Barlow. S’the only way now.’

‘Oh dear.’ Maryann wiped her eyes again. ‘I’m ever so sorry you’ve had such troubles, Mr Bartholomew. I truly am. I know how Joel and your father felt about selling up.’

‘Times move on – what with the roads taking over . . . Some of ’em’re acting like they’ve never heard of the cut these days. I don’t know what can be done, that I don’t.’ He pushed open the cabin door. ‘I’m going to get the stove going and brew up. You stopping for some tea?’

‘Yes please.’ She was desperate to know more about Joel. She had to know how he was, where he was . . .

‘Come aboard – that’s if you don’t mind?’ He eyed her pretty frock. ‘It ain’t spick and span like it oughta be.’

Stepping into the
Esther Jane
again after all this time was a wonderful feeling and despite her anxiety, Maryann found herself smiling as the memories poured back. She sat by the tiny table, looking round, itching to get to work and clean the place up: the plates and copper kettle and Esther’s brown and white teapot. The crochet work was filthy, the whole cabin dull and dirty compared with how it had been before when either she or Ada had kept it nice. She watched Darius stoking the range and suddenly found herself aching for it to be Joel here beside her so that she could see him again. She remembered her younger self, confused and frightened, lying alone at night in this cosy cabin, this place of refuge as it had been.

‘Where have they taken Joel?’ she asked as the kettle was heating.

‘I told you – to the ’orspital up Birnigum.’

‘Yes, but which one? D’you know?’

Darius looked round at her, stooped over, scraping old leaves out of the teapot. ‘I never ’ad the chance to see ’im. Our father weren’t well neither and what with chasing the loads I don’t know ’ow Joel is even. ’E’ll not like being on the bank for long. That’s if ’e even . . .’ He trailed off, but she knew he was going to say ‘lives’. ‘Never been right really, ’e ent – not since that war.’

Every moment she sat there, she was filling more and more with an urgent determination. Joel was sick, maybe dying, and she had to see him. He’d been so good to her and she’d repaid him unkindly. Now it was her chance to do something for him. She didn’t need to ask if there was anyone else in Joel’s life. No one had been mentioned and Joel would only have married someone who could live on the cut, who would be his ‘mate’ aboard the
Esther Jane
. If there was any such woman in his life, where was she?

‘Is ’e all alone there?’ she asked. ‘No one who can visit?’

Darius shook his head, ashamed. ‘There ain’t no one.’

‘Can’t you think which ’ospital it
might
be? Daint they say when they took him?’

Darius’s brow wrinkled. ‘I think it might be the one near the chocolate fact’ry.’

‘The chocolate factory? Bournville. Would it be the Infirmary at Selly Oak?’

‘Might be,’ he said hopelessly. ‘Ain’t no good me knowing when I can’t ’ope to get there, is there?’

‘But I could go.’

Darius stopped in the middle of handing her her cup of tea. ‘You?’

She reached out and took the cup and the absolute resolve in her face was plain to see. ‘Yes. Me.’

Thirty-Two

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Letcombe, but I really do ’ave to go – it’s someone in my family.’ How else could she describe Joel? ‘He’s very ill, maybe dying.’

‘But when will you be coming back?’

‘I don’t know. I’m ever so sorry.’

And she was sorry. Almost heartbroken. Throughout the train journey to Birmingham the tears kept rising up in her eyes. She could go back, Mrs Letcombe said. They’d give her a week or two. But she knew that she wouldn’t be returning, that everything had changed and that she could only look forward. Deep in her heart she had known that one day she would have to go back to Birmingham and face her family and now that day had arrived. And it was Joel who had brought her there. He seemed closer to her now than he had in all the years she had been away. The thought of him, and her worry about him and his weak lungs, was with her all the time. Now she knew she had to see him she was in a desperate hurry to get there. Darius had said he would try and get to Birmingham when the
Esther Jane
was ready. But she had to get there more quickly. Throughout the journey she wanted to command the train to go faster, faster!

She looked out as it chugged slowly into Birmingham. It was a hot but overcast day and a grey pall hung over the city: all the smoke from the factory chimneys and no breeze to blow it away. A blackness lay over everything and along the tracks the buildings seemed to be closing in, the workshops and warehouses, with what windows they had poky and filthy, their walls covered in soot and grime. The sight of it shocked her. What a grim, stifling place it looked! She had been away so long, had become used to the space and clean air of the country, the warm-coloured stone of the houses, and felt almost panic-stricken at the thought of being enclosed behind these dark, cramping walls again. But down there, under it all, she told herself, was the cut, slipping through and between and under. Another world, sealed off from the rest of the city, and the thought gave her hope and a way out, a sense of freedom.

When the train lurched to a standstill her pulse began to race even harder. This was really it now. She was back. People were jostling to get out of the train and she pulled her little case down from the luggage rack.

‘Time to face the music,’ she thought. ‘But not before I’ve seen Joel.’

Changing platforms, she waited for a local train to Selly Oak, and it wasn’t long before she was stepping out of the station. It was dinner time, a bit early to go and visit, so she went along the Bristol Road to find a place to sit and have a cup of tea and a sandwich and try to steady her nerves. She found a workmen’s café and sat listening to the voices round her, remembering how much Diana Musson had laughed when she had first heard her talk at Charnwood. That place which had at first felt so strange and foreign had become a second home to her. It felt very odd to be back in this big, clanging, rackety city. Once again the thought of Charnwood brought tears to her eyes.

She had said her goodbyes the evening before. It was no hardship to part with Evan, but even the crustier characters like Sid and Wally and Cook had shown surprising affection for her. Cook had flung her arms round her and gone all dewy round the eyes. Parting with Mrs Letcombe had been very emotional even though the housekeeper herself was rather unconcerned, because she was sure Maryann would soon come running back, and kept saying, ‘There there, m’dear, I don’t know what you’re crying about.’ Even saying goodbye to Alice had brought tears to her eyes: though she’d never had very warm feelings towards her, they had spent a lot of time working together.

To her surprise, though, it had been Roland Musson who had aroused the most emotion in her. When she went up last night to prepare his room during dinner he had come in as she was turning down the bed for him.

‘Oh—’ he said, taken aback. ‘I forgot you’d er, be . . . Just popped up to er . . .’ She saw him go to his decanter of whiskey, pour himself a generous couple of fingers and gulp them down. He turned to her, shamefaced, still holding the glass. ‘Ah – that’s better. Mother doesn’t like to see me – you know. Says I drink too much.’

‘Er—’ Maryann delayed him, nervously. ‘As you’re ’ere, sir, I’d just like to say, I’ll be leaving the ’ouse first thing in the morning. I don’t know if I’ll be coming back.’

Roland just stood staring at her.

Maryann blushed. ‘I’m sorry, sir . . . I know it don’t matter to you one way or another who makes your bed and that, but I just thought it’d be polite to say goodbye.’

‘But, Nelson – you’re not really
going
, are you? You don’t mean it?’

‘I ’ave to, sir.’

‘This is appalling news. I mean, you can’t! You’re just
always
here – in fact you’re the one really cheering person about the place. I rely on you, Nelson!’

She looked at the carpet, not knowing what to say.

‘Well – damn it. I can’t just shake your hand, not after all you’ve done for me over the years. Come here, girl.’

And he wrapped his arms round her in a rather clumsy but, she could tell, heartfelt embrace, and for a moment she allowed her arms to rest round him as well. She felt him kiss the top of her head.

‘You’re a damn fine girl, Nelson,’ he said thickly. ‘Damned fine.’

‘Thank you, sir. And good luck to yer.’

When he’d left the room she kneeled down for a few minutes by the bed and wept silently with her hands over her face. Sitting thinking of it now, a lump rose in her throat.

Pulling her thoughts back to the present, she wiped her eyes and stood up to pay for her tea. The café proprietor stared at her curiously but she was too preoccupied to notice. Pressing her hat down she went out into the street. It was threatening to rain and she walked on quickly, carrying her case, towards the hospital.

When she enquired inside, she was told she was too early and would have to wait another half-hour. So she went out and strolled up and down Raddlebarn Road feeling more and more nervous.

What was Joel going to think of her turning up all of a sudden? Would he even remember who she was? She felt ashamed when she thought of him, and worried. How ill was he? Was Darius exaggerating when he said he didn’t know if Joel would come through? He must be seriously ill if they’d got him to move away from the cut and his beloved boat, especially at such a worrying time. Maryann’s thoughts spun round and round. She turned at the bottom of the road again. It must be nearly time for them to let her in. Oh God, her heart was beating so hard! She pressed her hand over it. It felt as if all her future depended on the next half-hour. All her feelings, wounded and battered as they had been, were now reaching out to Joel with great longing. How would she find him, and what would his reaction be to seeing her again?