The Narrowboat Girl (34 page)

‘If I don’t get a bun in the oven for a year or two it’d suit me, I tell yer,’ she said rattling cups. ‘It’s not all on one side, yer know – I give ’im one back sometimes, the mardy bugger.’

While Nance finished making the tea Maryann sat down at the table in the sparsely furnished little room. There was nothing but the range, a couple of shelves for keeping their few crocks on and the table and three chairs. On the table in a jam jar was a bunch of buttercups. Maryann smiled at the sight of Nance’s homemaking. She thought of the luxuriant vases of flowers at Charnwood.

‘Right then—’ Nance sat down with a grunt. ‘You tell me all about it. For a start, where the ’ell’ve yer been all this time?’

With the luxury of knowing that there was little of her past Nance was ignorant of, Maryann told her: Joel, the
Esther Jane
, Charnwood, Evan and Roland Musson. And finally meeting Darius and Joel again, and what had happened when she went to see her mom – only Nance kept chipping in.

‘You were never on the cut all that time, were yer? They’re a rough lot, them canal workers – they’re like gypos!’

She oohed and aahed when Maryann told her about Joel and Roland Musson and listened spellbound when she got to the bit about seeing Flo again. Maryann poured out everything, how she felt about Joel and how sick he was and how Darius was going to be forced to sell the
Esther Jane
.

When there was a gap in the flow, Nance put her head on one side and said, ‘You’re in love with ’im – really in love, ain’t yer?’

Maryann smiled bashfully. ‘Am I?’ she said in wonder. ‘Yes – I do love ’im. I
do
. I’m going to spend every minute I can with ’im and try and ’elp ’im get better. I’ve missed spending so much time with him – all those years, and ’e could’ve married someone else but ’e daint.’

‘In love . . .’ Nance said wistfully. ‘Well, yer one up on me there, Maryann.’

‘Nance – I know this is a cheek with me coming breezing back in after all this time – but could I stop ’ere with you a while? Only I ain’t got nowhere else to go and I’ve got to be near Joel. I’ve got money saved – I can pay my way and that.’

Nance looked hesitant for a moment. Then her face cleared. ‘’Course yer can. I’d love to ’ave the company with ole misery guts coming ’ome kalied every night. Don’t take no notice of Mick if ’e says anything. You can stay and that’s that.’

‘Ta, Nance – oh, it is good to see you!’

Nance grinned. ‘Seems like yer never left.’

Maryann couldn’t help feeling it didn’t seem quite like that to her. ‘Did you ’ear anything about where ’e went – Mr Griffin?’

Nance shook her head. ‘No, but by all accounts ’e left only a week or two after the fire. Our mom went to see yours but she wouldn’t even open the door to ’er. It weren’t long before she ’ad to move back over Sheepcote Lane but she still ’ad a smell under ’er nose – sorry to say it, Maryann, but Flo always thought she was above us. We ain’t ’ardly seen ’er: she don’t want nothing to do with my family.’

‘I know,’ Maryann said apologetically. She was frowning. ‘Norman Griffin can’t’ve gone that far, yer know. I wonder if ’is mom’s still alive – he was all over ’er.’

Nance shrugged. ‘Good riddance to ’im I’d’ve said. Any’ow, you don’t want to go asking questions about where ’e is, do yer? What about what you did to ’is business?’

‘No, I s’pose . . . But, Nance – what about Tony? I’ve got to see ’im. I’ve written to ’im and Billy ever since I left. How is ’e? D’you ever see ’im?’

‘Oh – Tony’s awright. ’E’s got a job carrying hods for Paddy Murphy. Going to be a brickie. ’E’s a strong lad and ’e’s doing awright. I’ve seen him about now and then.’

‘Does ’e ever say anything about me?’

‘Said ’e’d heard from yer – nowt else.’

Maryann sighed, holding out her cup as Nance offered more tea. ‘I saw Billy. ’E barely knew who I was.’

‘Well, yer been gone a good while. You can’t expect them to be all over yer from the word go.’

‘No, I s’pose not . . .’ Maryann was saying, when the door burst open, kicked by a heavy workman’s boot which set the latch rattling.

‘Oh, ’ere we go,’ Nance said. ‘Oh my God, Maryann!’ She gasped, panic-stricken. ‘I’ve forgotten all about making tea! Oh Jesus, I’ll be for it now!’

She stood up as a stocky, dark-haired man stumped into the room. He had ruddy skin and a weatherbeaten complexion with lines under his eyes that were almost creases. Maryann’s first thought was, but he’s so
old
! She realized then that he was no older than Joel, but she had expected Nance’s husband to be much closer to her own age. Mick Mallone must have been nearer to forty than thirty and looked rough with it. He was swaying from the drink and stood looking at the pair of them. Maryann stood up as well.

‘’Oo the ’ell’s this?’ Mick demanded.

‘No, Mick – don’t start,’ Nance said. ‘This is my pal Maryann – I told you about ’er. I’ve said ’er can stop ’ere with us for a bit, ’cause ’er ain’t got nowhere else to go.’

He gave Maryann a mere glance. ‘Where’s my dinner?’

‘I’m going out to get us fish and chips,’ Maryann said quickly. ‘And I’ll take Lizzie and Mary home. Give us a few minutes and I’ll be back.’

As she went to the door, Nance shot her a powerful look of gratitude.

Thirty-Five

Carrying the fish and chips back down the road, warm and delicious smelling in their newspaper, Maryann realized how hungry she was. What a long, long day it had been! But she felt relieved after pouring her heart out to Nance. She tried to keep the thought of her mother out of her mind and instead recalled the look in Joel’s eyes when she had told him she loved him. This made her so happy that she grinned at a group of children out playing, remembering how she used to play out just round the corner, waiting for her dad to come home.

Back at Nance’s she found Mick slumped asleep over the table. She could hear Nance moving about upstairs and, leaving the bundles beside Mick’s head, she crept up the creaky stairs to find her.

‘That you, Maryann?’

‘Yes – I’ve got the fish and chips. Mick’s asleep I think.’

Nance rolled her eyes. ‘Best thing. We’ll wake ’im up for ’is tea. I was just making up the bed for yer.’

Once again Maryann was struck by how middle-aged Nance seemed. ‘Ta, Nance – I dunno what I’d do without yer.’

‘Well – pals, eh?’ Nance said quite bashfully. Suddenly for a moment they were little girls again. ‘Never found another pal quite like you.’

Maryann grinned. ‘No – nor me.’

They woke Mick up and he sat blearily with them as they all ate out of the newspaper. The fish and chips tasted to Maryann like some of the best food she’d ever had.

‘D’you get work from Marron again?’ Nance asked Mick cautiously. He nodded, mouth full of chips. ‘What about tomorrer?’

‘Maybe.’

Maryann watched him out of the corner of her eye. Nance had told her he could only find work as a casual labourer, bits here, bits there, hanging about early morning with groups of men all looking to be taken on. Long, gruelling days in builder’s yards or toiling on roads, and no security. She thought of Evan with his soft cheeks and his soft job at Charnwood, his certainty of ‘getting on’, and she pitied Mick Mallone. He took no notice of her at all and behaved as if she wasn’t there, but she didn’t really mind.

Later, when they’d all gone up to bed, Mick and Nance were arguing next door. Every word of it floated through to her as she lay on the lumpy mattress in the back bedroom.

‘Yer’ve never got a word to say to me when yer get in – they get more out of yer down the pub than I ever do. You just expect me to be ’ere like a skivvy – tea on the table the minute you set foot in the door . . .’

‘Yes – I do!’ Mick yelled, his Kerry accent thickened by drink. ‘And I don’t think that’s too much to expect you to manage when you’re here all day. You’ve got no one else but yourself to think about, now have you?’

‘Well, if I ain’t got a babby coming whose fault’s that then, eh?’

‘Shut your blathering mouth, woman!’ There was a sound of struggling.

‘Stop it, Mick! Yer cowing filthy navvy, don’t yer touch me!’ Then a cry of pain. ‘’Ow – you bastard!’

‘Fuckin’ barren bitch!’

On and on they went, the shouting getting louder. Maryann sat up, all tensed up. Was this what always happened at night? Or did Nance need her help? There was another sharp yell of pain from Nancy and Maryann pushed back the bedclothes, her heart pounding, ready to rush in next door. Maybe her visit had provoked Mick beyond what was normal.

Suddenly all went quiet. She sat on the edge of the bed listening. Gradually another sound rose from the next-door room. Listening in disbelief she realized it was weeping she could hear. Mick Mallone’s weeping.

Drunken bastard! she thought. He’s knocked Nance about and now ’e’s gone all maudlin and sorry for ’imself!

But she heard Nance’s voice, soft now but with an edge of impatience, saying ‘there there’ and ‘it’s awright’ until Maryann heard them climbing into bed, and at last there was quiet until Mick started snoring.

‘I’m sorry about the row last night,’ Nance said next morning. She was downstairs before Maryann. Mick had already gone. Her lip was cut and very swollen. She handed Maryann a cup of tea.

‘Oh Nance – you shouldn’t ’ave to put up with that! Have you bathed your lip? That looks ever so sore.’

‘I’m awright.’

‘Does that happen often?’

Nance gave a bitter laugh. ‘Not every night, if that’s what yer mean. Look—’ She turned, holding her teacup cradled next to her chest. ‘You ’ave to understand – about me and Mick. I married ’im to get out of ’ome. ’E married me ’cause ’e wanted someone –
anyone
. ’E ’ad a wife before me – Theresa O’Sullivan she was before she married ’im. Mick doted on ’er. She was nice so far as I remember – sweet natured, gentle like. Died three year ago. They never ’ad any kids. Broke Mick’s heart. ’E thought they never caught for a babby ’cause of ’er. Thought she weren’t the type. Too weak and frail. But it ain’t ’appening with me neither and ’e’s starting to think it’s ’im – probably is ’im I reckon and that ain’t easy for a man to come to terms with. ’E don’t love me – not really and I don’t love ’im. But I feel for ’im. ’E used to be a fine man.’

‘But ’e knocks you about, Nance!’

‘I can stand up for myself,’ she said with a sigh. ‘You don’t really know what the last few years’ve been like shut away out in the country, do yer? There’ve been that many out of work and the Means Test. It’s been bitter ’ard for the men.’ She put her cup down. ‘I took what I could, Maryann. Couldn’t see much else on offer . . .’ Her hands went over her face suddenly.

‘Oh Nance—’ Maryann went to comfort her as her shoulders began to shake.

‘And now I don’t think ’e’ll even give me a babby either. I try not to mind, but I don’t know ’ow I’m going to face being married to Mick if it’s just ’im and me and no one else for the rest of our lives!’

Maryann spent the morning with Nance, helping her out round the house and listening to her pour her heart out. Whatever brave face Nance was putting on about her marriage, however much she tried to laugh it off, Maryann could see how unhappy she was. She was thinking about Nance as she travelled to the hospital that afternoon to see Joel.

I’ll slip Nance a bit of extra money to treat herself, Maryann thought. She had her savings and she wasn’t going to go scrounging off Nance and Mick – she’d pay her board. But she could try and cheer Nance up a bit too.

She stepped off the tram and walked along Oak Tree Lane, hurrying anxiously to get to Joel. How would she find him today? She hoped he’d be just a bit better – better for seeing her perhaps?

But when she said, ‘I’ve come to see Mr Joel Bartholomew,’ to the plump, redheaded sister, the woman’s expression turned very grave.

Maryann’s blood seemed to freeze with dread. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘I’m afraid Mr Bartholomew took a turn for the worse in the night.’

‘Oh no . . . Is ’e—? ’E’s still . . .’ere?’ She looked wildly down the long Nightingale ward to see if she could see him.

‘He’s here,’ the woman said stiffly. ‘But perhaps not for much longer without a miracle. Are you the girl who came to see him yesterday?’

Maryann nodded, her eyes full of tears. Oh this couldn’t be true, Joel couldn’t die, not when they’d found each other again and they had so much between them! How could she face the future again without Joel? She wanted to give so much love to him, to make up for all their lost, lonely years.

‘I really don’t think . . .’ the woman began, but seeing Maryann begin to weep in front of her she hesitated.

‘Please,’ Maryann sobbed. ‘I told the nurse yesterday – ’e ain’t got no one else.’

The sister relented. ‘You better calm down before you go to him.’

Maryann nodded, unable to speak. She wiped her face, pulled her shoulders back and walked along the ward, feeling the eyes of the other male patients on her.

Joel looked very bad. For a moment as she approached the bed she thought he wasn’t breathing and his face was sunken and pale, head turned to one side like someone trying to catch the sunlight. Her tears started to fall again in spite of herself as she looked at him. He seemed so weak and defeated.

Kneeling in the narrow gap by the bed, she took his hand and brought it to her cheek.

‘Oh Joel,’ she whispered. ‘Stay with me. Please don’t go – don’t die. Can you ’ear me? Joel, please open your eyes – please still be ’ere.’

Watching his face, she saw, rather than heard, his shallow breathing and waited, staring intensely at him, for a flicker of movement, some sign that he was not leaving her. For a second his lashes flickered and she thought he was going to open his eyes.

‘Joel?’

But the movement stopped and left her feeling more desolate than before. He couldn’t hear her. He was slipping away. She talked to him frantically in a low voice, begging him, talking about all the things they’d do when he was better, saying over and over again how she loved him, clinging to his hot hand. But there was nothing. Eventually the sister came and approached the bed.