Hope on the Waterways

by Milly Adams

  Solly grimaced. ‘Oh, don’t call ’er that, Sister, or she’ll be showing off all the way to the station.’

  Sister Askwell opened the door and waved them through, putting up a hand to stop Solly. ‘Just where do you think you’re going, Mr Fisher? It is not your time, sadly. You are to be with this hospital for several days more, heaven help the lot of us.’

  She followed the girls out, ignoring Solly’s grizzles, and walked alongside them as they navigated the steps. The fresh air reminded Sylvia of the cut, their beloved cut, and she ached with homesickness, almost feeling the movement of the boat. Wouldn’t it be better to go on to the boats to get well? But they couldn’t because Bet, Evelyn and Mabel were taking Marigold and Horizon to Tyseley while the three of them were recuperating. Perhaps at the end of that trip the GUCCC would have a new pair ready for Bet, who they could see was waiting for them at the bottom of the steps.

  She was wearing a coat, her old Harris tweed, which was strange. Idle Women usually only wore sweaters. Polly called, ‘Getting feeble in your old age, then, Bet? What say you, Sylv?’

  Everyone laughed, and Solly called from the top step, ‘Short names be good, Sylv.’

  Sister Askwell swung round and shouted up the steps, ‘It’s an enema for you unless you return to the foyer this minute, Mr Fisher. I’ve told you once to stay inside, and will not say it again. It’s too cold for folks in their dressing gowns.’

  At the word ‘enema’ he had already grumbled his way towards the doors. Verity whispered to Sylvia, ‘Does she mean it?’

  Sister Askwell, who had the ears of a bat, snapped, ‘Indeed I do, it’s the only thing he can’t bear the thought of.’

  ‘Can’t say I blame him.’ They turned at the sound of Steve’s voice. He grinned. He was in mufti. He spread his hands. ‘I have the morning off-shift and Bet thought she might need reinforcements to make sure you behaved yourselves on the way to the station.’

  Bet’s smile was huge. ‘But I bet you’ve just come straight off an all-nighter, Coppernob.’

  Steve was looking only at Sylvia, when they heard Solly yet again. ‘You behave yerself with our Sylv, Coppernob, and get her to the train on time.’

  Sister Askwell set off up the steps. ‘I’ve warned you, Mr Fisher …’ Solly shut the door with a bang, but Nurse Newsome opened it again immediately and stepped out, calling, ‘Well done, girls, you’re an example to us all. Enjoy Sherborne, but the war still needs you, so don’t do anything I wouldn’t. I look forward to removing your stitches.’

  Solly bellowed from the door, ‘Wiv ’er teeth, I bet yer.’

  The door shut behind Nurse Newsome, and Sister Askwell kissed them all. ‘I’ll see you off from the top step.’ The taxi driver, grabbing the carpet bags and putting them into the cab, was scratching his head. ‘She’s a tartar that one, but salt of the earth. She’ll give ’im one, I bet yer. An enema, I mean. In you get.’

  Sylvia was torn between screaming and laughing as Steve took her arm and helped her into the taxi, taking the flip seat opposite; she sank into the seat, looking at him as he met her eyes. Somehow there were no words needed. He had saved her life, their lives, but it was more than that. He was here to see them safe to the station, in spite of having had no sleep. He was here for her, she knew it, just as he had been daily, slipping in just for a few minutes, when he could snatch the time. He nodded as though he could read her mind. I want you safe and on that train, he mouthed.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered in return.

  ‘You’re welcome, Sylv,’ he smiled. She raised her eyebrows, knowing when to give up. ‘How long’s he been calling me Sylv behind my back?’

  ‘Do you really want to know?’ He grinned.

  As the other two clambered in, she sat back, feeling content, although she’d thought that she’d want to be back in that nice clean ward or in the cabin the minute she left the hospital, somewhere familiar where she could lie down. But she didn’t. She’d rather be here, with him.

  When Polly and Verity were in, Bet followed and sat on the other flip seat. The taxi driver looked at her. ‘Don’t ’ave extra passengers in me taxi normal like but seeing it’s for the war effort. That’s what you said, ain’t it, Missus?’

  He winked, slammed the door, and hurried round to the driver’s cab. He roared off. Bet said, turning away from the girls’ stares, ‘You need to put the meter on, driver.’

  ‘Not for boater girls, I don’t. I knows what they damn well do, day in and day out, and it ain’t right they should be bloody bombed. I’ll be dropping yer back to take the bus to Southall or Hayes, or wherever is best, Missus, and you, cocker, can pick yer Tube station and I’ll drop yer there so’s yer can get back on fire duty, ’ow about that? Jacob’s a mate of mine, yer see. Started as a barrow boy and now’s a, well, not rightly sure what ’e is, but he buys and sells and does right well too. Told me all about yer.’

  He seemed to screech around the corner on two wheels, the girls clinging to one another while the carpet bags slid backwards and forwards along the centre of the floor. Polly said, ‘What does he mean, extra passengers?’

  Steve knocked up against the door, Bet’s coat fell open and there was Timmo’s puppy, nestled in the crook of Bet’s arm, asleep. Sylvia stared. It was like some strange dream, all of this, and from Polly’s and Verity’s faces she knew they felt the same but their pain reflected hers, sharp and stabbing. Dog, oh darling Dog. Sylvia’s mind and heart wept.

  Steve said, into the stricken silence, ‘So ruddy cold, isn’t it?’

  Sylvia wondered what the British would do without the weather but just as she was doing, the others seemed to hang on to his words like a lifebelt. He rubbed his hands together. The taxi driver called, ‘That’s cos yer not cosying up to one of your fires.’

  Steve grinned. Verity, squashed in the middle between Sylvia and Polly, smiled back at him. ‘You should have Sylv with you on your winter rescue work, you know. Look at her nose, she’s worthy of the name Rudolf. You could send her down instead of a torch.’

  Polly clung to the handle as they hurtled around another corner. ‘Why didn’t we think of that under the rubble?’

  It was the first time they’d talked about it, and though their voices were jolly, they weren’t quite right.

  ‘Because we kept falling asleep – and I will in a minute, because, quite frankly, this is far too boring.’ Sylvia was trying to smile, though, her eyes on the puppy. No, surely not, it was far too soon and besides, hadn’t the mothers said they were taking it back with them?

  Bet for once in her life was saying nothing as they proceeded through the traffic and into the station. She exited first, followed by Steve, digging into his pocket. ‘Take a tip at least, driver.’

  The cab driver shook his head. ‘Get back in, I said I’d take yer two to where yer want to go.’

  ‘I’ll take the Tube, cos I have to get these girls to their trains, but thanks, mate. Really, thanks.’ He jogged round the cab after Bet, who stood silently with the three girls. ‘Are you going back with the cabbie to a bus stop, Bet?’

  Verity nudged Sylvia’s arm, and then nodded at Polly, whispering, ‘A bob she makes a run for it.’

  Steve was jerking his head at Bet, looking meaningfully at the puppy who had woken and was looking around. It had a collar and lead. Bet stepped forward, kissed the girls. ‘I was going to come all the way, but Steve will see you on to the train and I will telephone Lady Pamela, to check on how you are.’

  She spun away, taking the puppy with her. The girls dug in their pockets and each handed Verity a bob. ‘Hey, Bet, thanks for running away, I don’t think. Verity’s won her bet,’ Polly muttered, sighing with relief as Bet and the puppy disappeared inside the cab. It was too much, really it was, Sylvia thought. Too soon, too everything. Steve leaned forward and kissed Bet on the cheek, shutting the door behind her. She waved through the window at the girls, and the taxi shot off, revealing Steve with the puppy in his arms, looking at them h
elplessly, and three carpet bags in the road, where Bet had slid them out.

  ‘What was I to do, say no to a woman who shoves this little thing at me, or just drop the pup on the ground?’

  Polly shrugged. ‘Don’t be such a weakling, Steve.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I didn’t notice any of you saying very much to her, like no. I gather your mothers thought you would bond on the journey home but might not if you reached Howard House and this little mite was already there.’

  There was another silence, until a taxi hooted at Steve, and the driver gestured to him to get out of the way as he worked his way up the rank. Steve joined the girls, who rushed to pick up the carpet bags. They made their way on to the concourse. He strode ahead. ‘You’ll miss your trains in a minute, and I’m supposed to get you on safely, so follow me, at the double.’

  They did, looking at one another. Polly shouted so he could hear, ‘You’ve caught bossiness from Bet, you know.’

  He shouted back, ‘I can see why she has to keep you in order. Hurry up, as fast as your little legs, or limps, will carry you.’

  But he slowed a little so they could keep walking on their damaged legs without falling flat on their faces. Verity dug her hands into her pockets, her head down, a sure sign, Sylvia sighed, that she was sulking. Polly had their tickets in her shoulder bag, which she carried in her hand because her shoulders and upper arm were stitched. She looked as though she would bash someone with it, given half the chance.

  As they reached their platform, they stopped. Steve was talking to the ticket collector at the gate. He nodded Steve through, and then the girls, calling after them, ‘You have a good rest and do as your boss tells you.’

  Polly gripped Sylvia’s arm, then remembered the great gouge above her elbow and released her, saying, ‘The world is suddenly full of people who know best, and bloody bosses. Well, I hope his fire-fighting watch are happy to look after a dog, that’s all I can say.’

  Steve walked before them, alongside the train, looking through the windows presumably for some seats, the puppy sort of sitting on his other arm. Polly said suddenly, ‘I remember walking along this platform with Saul when we went on holiday to Burton Bradstock. Lord, I hope he’s safe.’ The longing in her voice was clear for all to hear, and Sylvia squeezed her hand; she reached for Verity’s too, but it was still in her pocket. ‘At least the two of them are together now, just like the three of us, if that’s any comfort.’

  Verity drew her hand from her pockets, looking curiously at the piece of paper she held, saying, ‘It is, darling. It’s what helps me sleep at night. I couldn’t bear Tom to feel alone.’

  Steve stopped and peered once more through the train window. ‘Look, there are seats there. Hop in, the guard is blowing his whistle.’ They heard it then, turned and saw his green flag waving. ‘Just like it did when Saul and I went,’ Polly whispered.

  Steve opened the door, throwing in the carpet bag he’d taken from Polly. Beneath his other arm he still held the puppy. The girls clambered in. Steve held up the pup. ‘Here you go, call her Pup, says Bet. She’s not Dog’s replacement, but a gesture from the boaters, or so Bet said to remind you. She wrote it down and slipped it into your pocket, Verity.’

  Verity was still looking at the scrap of paper in her hand. The train lurched; the girls clung to the window rail. Steve yelled, the door swinging open as he moved with the train, ‘Take her, or I’ll have to throw her in.’

  Sylvia grabbed Pup, Steve shut the door, and blew her a kiss. Sylvia leaned through the window, the puppy lying quite still in her arms, watching him, and he nodded at her. ‘I will write. I have the address of Howard House,’ he yelled, scribbling in the air in case she couldn’t hear.

  She heard and shouted, ‘If you write I promise I’ll reply.’

  Her leg was aching, perhaps some of the stitches had torn? The puppy was too heavy for her sliced and diced arm, but what was she going to do. Drop her?

  Verity pushed back the sliding door into the carriage and took the window seat, followed by Sylvia and Pup, and finally Polly, who heaved the carpet bags up into the luggage rack before sinking down. Verity stared at the poster exhorting a pilot to keep mum because the woman might not be dumb. When would it end? When would Tom be home? What the hell were they to do with a puppy? How bloody dare Bet.

  She looked down at the note she had been given by Bet:

  Girls, you must be smart, and accept a gift when it’s offered. This little girl is a stray saved from destruction by the boaters, in memory of Dog, and just think of Pup’s fate if you don’t care for her.

  She passed it along to the other two. Polly muttered, ‘That woman is the absolute end. Pup’s not a stray, she’s one the boaters went out and bought, probably from someone in Buckby.’

  Sylvia said, ‘You realise you’ve accepted her name. We all have.’

  ‘No, we haven’t. It was Bet who named her,’ Polly protested.

  ‘But you’ve just used it,’ said the woman opposite. ‘So she’s yours, and I reckon she needs to do a pee.’

  Sylvia felt the wetness on her lap then and groaned. ‘Too late,’ said another woman, who was sitting by the window. ‘Might be an idea to hop off at the next station and see if anything else is on the way.’

  The three girls looked at one another in horror. ‘I will swing for Bet,’ Verity moaned.

  Sylvia plonked Pup in Verity’s lap. ‘Stop being such a prima donna. It’s your turn to do the honours, and you’d better hope the next station comes quickly.’

  The woman opposite was unpacking her basket, which contained bags from some department stores along Oxford Street. ‘Got any clothes in that carpet bag of yours?’ she asked.

  Polly sat forward. ‘Yes.’

  ‘All right,’ the woman said. ‘I’m getting out at Woking. You can have my basket. Put something along the bottom and let her sleep in that. She won’t soil her own nest, or so they say.’

  Verity tried to keep the panic from her voice as she said, ‘For goodness’ sake, Pol, jump to it, and thank you so much. Are you sure you can manage without the basket?’

  Sylvia said, ‘We must pay for it.’

  The woman shook her head. ‘No, take it as my offering to the dear little thing.’

  Verity was stroking Pup and was gentle when she lifted her into the lined basket and held it on her lap. ‘Don’t know what Father will say.’

  Polly sighed, ‘Do you really think that the family mafia who assembled round our hospital beds haven’t laid all their plans and told everyone what is happening? What we need to consider is what they would have said had we arrived without Pup.’

  Verity looked at Sylvia now. ‘You realise of course, Sylv, that Steve is totally in cahoots and when you next speak to him, you will have to deal very firmly and give him only one kiss and cuddle per evening.’

  Sylvia blushed.

  Verity reached down and stroked Pup. ‘I don’t quite know how it will work out, having her on the boats, but she’ll just have to be chained to the chimney, like the young children, until she is old enough … After all, we couldn’t have Dog’s … well, Dog’s what? Not a replacement – but how about protégée? – falling in the cut. Yes, that will do, because no one and nothing could replace our beloved Dog.’

  She looked at Sylvia. ‘You know, we can never thank Steve enough for saving our lives, but perhaps you can. He must have seen many things that leave him raw, and love after all is a powerful currency, and you, our lovely girl, can help to heal him should you … Well, you know. I do think, as well, darling Sylv, that it is entirely appropriate for you to be saved by someone who knows all about the convent, because love you as we do, how can we understand what it is to be an orphan? Perhaps someone on high is looking after you both.’

  Suddenly realising just where they were and the audience they had, she sat back. Sylvia was looking past her, out of the window, her face thoughtful, and Verity did so hope that the girl would allow love into her life.


  Sylvia said, ‘Am I to be called Sylv from now on, then?’

  It was Polly who looked at the women opposite. ‘Oh, I think so, when the boyfriend has also started calling her that, don’t you, ladies?’

  The women, agog at the discussion, all nodded. One brought out her knitting needles and commenced knitting gloves in wool of varying hues, just like Polly’s mum. The three girls relaxed. They were going to be safe for at least ten days. Sylvia’s shoulders eased, and she let her happiness override the smell of dog pee.

  Chapter 10

  Recuperation at Howard House

  Lord Henry Clement met the girls, and Pup, at Sherborne Station that evening, to drive them back to Howard House. Polly thought she would collapse from exhaustion. One of her wounds, a great gash on her ribs, was seeping through its stitches and had stained her bandage, and her jumper. She sank on to the back seat, while Sylvia, smelling ever more strongly of Pup’s urine, sat in the corner. Between them, in the basket which rested on the Times newspaper sacrificed by Henry Clement, slept Pup.

  ‘I hope you’ve read your newspaper, Lord Henry?’ called Polly.

  ‘No, call me Henry, please. And yes, I have.’ How strange to hear him insist on just his Christian name, thought Polly. He had always been so distant, and correct. Was it her parents’ influence?

  Sylvia said, as Henry pulled away from the kerb, ‘So sorry about the pong. We learned our lesson and took her out at every station as per instructions from the other passengers. Naturally the other two girls managed to keep themselves spotless.’

  Lord Henry burst out laughing and looked at his daughter, Verity, sitting in the front seat. ‘Why am I not surprised? So, you let Sylvia bear the brunt, eh?’

  Polly reached across and stroked Pup. ‘Not quite all Verity’s fault, just for once. The love of Sylv’s life actually handed Pup to her.’