by Annie Murray
‘’Ere,’ Darius said to Joel. ‘Tek over.’ He stooped and disappeared into the cabin.
‘Ent no locks to stop us along ’ere, see,’ Joel said.
Maryann nodded. She was rather pleased with their little feat of getting her on board. And she liked the way he treated her as if it was quite natural that she should be there. The dog, who Joel said was called Jep, jumped down beside them, tail wagging frantically.
‘’Ello!’ Maryann cried, patting him.
She stood with Jep beside Joel, looking round. The city began to close in on them more and more, factory walls blocking out the sky and from behind which she could hear clanging and shouting and the roar of machines. The boat moved smoothly along, her paintwork vivid against the blackened walls and leaden water. In places there was a pall of smoke across the cut. She had never felt so excited. There were plenty of other boats coming the other way; some empty, others filled with different cargoes: metal products from the foundries, boxes or barrels of provisions, heaps of refuse. As they passed other boats, Joel touched his cap and called ‘How do!’ and usually got a reply. Maryann was standing inches away from his elbow. His sleeves were rolled and she could see the red down of hair on his brawny left arm. She could hear his breathing, rather fast, his lungs seeming to make a rustling sound at each breath.
‘So – you’ve been on the lookout for us?’ he said eventually. She had been comfortable with his silence and was quite startled when he spoke.
‘I wanted to see you again.’
‘Bloke in the toll office said. Just tell ’im next time – ’e’ll pass it on. Letters ain’t no good to us.’
‘Oh.’ Maryann looked up at him. ‘’E don’t like to be left letters to look after then?’
‘’E don’t mind, but we don’t read, us. Never ’ad much schooling. D’you want a go at this?’ Joel indicated the tiller. Maryann nodded and Joel showed her where to put her hand, then laid his over the top of hers. ‘It’s busy down ’ere. Once we get round there we turn in and we can get unloaded.’
He guided her, tweaking the rudder, feeling his way.
‘Is that your sister?’ she asked, nodding over to the girl leading the horse, who kept looking round at her, curiously.
Joel nodded. ‘That’s our Ada.’ Maryann was wondering how old the girl was, when Joel said, ‘Ten years of age she is now. She could pretty well run the boat ’erself if she had to.’
She heard the pride in his voice. How she’d love that! To know how to look after a boat, steer it all herself, live in one of these cabins, away from the streets, from everything about home! Although Ada was younger than her she found herself looking at her with awe. She’d grown up on a boat and knew everything! She was a skinny girl, with dark brown hair and a pinched face, but in Maryann’s eyes she looked very capable and grown up walking along at the side of the horse.
After a time of winding through the network of the city’s canals they turned into one of the shadowy loops of water branching off it, where they brought the Esther Jane to a halt for unloading behind one of the factories. Joel told her they were carrying firebricks from ‘up Staffor’shire’.
‘Yer can get off of ’er for a bit now,’ Joel said. Darius had emerged and was standing out on the side. Ada was strapping a painted can of feed under the horse’s nose.
‘I don’t want to get off,’ Maryann said and she heard Joel give his chuckle, like a wheeze in his chest.
‘Awright – well, yer can stay on if yer want. But it’ll take a good while.’
A little round man with glasses came bustling over, smiling.
‘Yer early, ain’t yer, pal – what’re yer feeding that pony o’ yours?’
It was more than two hours before all the firebricks were unloaded. After a time, as Joel, Darius and two other men shifted the cargo, hand over hand, working as a team, Maryann jumped out and went to see Ada and the horse. She was standing watching Bessie finish off her fodder, patting her brown and white neck. Jep was near by, sniffing round.
‘She’s called Bessie, ain’t she?’ Maryann asked.
Ada nodded.
‘She yours?’
‘Oh ar – she’s our ’orse. She’s a good’un, Bessie is.’
‘Never seen an ’orse eat out of a bucket before.’
‘That ent a bucket – that’s a nostern!’ Ada laughed. Maryann liked her cheeky face. ‘I got to fill up wi’ water. You coming?’
‘Awright.’
They each took one of the colourful metal water cans, both covered in painted flowers, and went to a tap round the side of the factory. The ground was a crunched up morass of broken brick, dust and mud.
‘So you’re Maryann Nelson,’ Ada said, holding her can under the tap. ‘You met our Joel.’
Maryann nodded.
‘You writ a letter.’
‘I wanted to see Joel again.’ She looked over at him. Joel had stopped, was coughing.
‘Why?’
‘’E was nice to me. And I like the boat.’
‘She’s called the Esther Jane . . .’
‘I know,’ Maryann said, rather impatiently. It was her turn to fill her can. She heard the water rising in it and supported it with both arms.
‘That was our mom’s name.’
‘Where is she then?’
‘She passed on when I was born. Our dad called ’er the Esther Jane. Joel says before that she were called Elizabeth Ann.’
They carried the water back to the boat. Once more, Maryann was able to go inside the cosy little cabin and she watched as Ada stoked up the range, stood a big pot on the heat and made cups of tea, handing them out to the men. She gave one to Maryann, with lots of sugar in, and the two of them sat out, balanced on the edge, each side of the stern. Ada told her that she and Joel had an older brother called Darius who worked what she called ‘fly’ on a Fellows, Morton and Clayton boat. This was the city’s biggest carrying company, Ada explained seriously, and Maryann nodded: she had seen boats with their name on many times. Working fly meant having a shift of five or six men working day and night to cover the long distances.
‘’E goes down London,’ Ada said. ‘Works the Gran’ Union.’
Ada asked a little bit about her family, but Maryann could tell as she talked that Ada didn’t really understand what her life was like, just as Maryann didn’t hers. Ada had never lived in a house that stayed still in one place, the same every day. She was a boat girl, born and bred. Maryann could feel the difference between them. The weather-beaten look of Ada’s face, the confident way she dealt with the boat, the horse. Her strength, thin and small as she was, the way she thought and spoke differently.
When the butty was finally empty, Joel came over to them. He looked exhausted.
‘Got the stew on, Ada?’ he asked. ‘And you’d better get yerself home, hadn’t yer, little Maryann?’
‘But I don’t want to go ’ome!’ Maryann protested. ‘I don’t ever want to go home!’
Ten
The light was fading now and the two Bartholomew men’s faces were hollowed out with shadows as they stood looking at her. Jep was between them, looking up at their faces questioningly. Maryann presented them suddenly with a strange puzzle, an obstacle to be overcome. Darius, as if at a loss, moved stiffly away and the dog followed him.
‘Well, you can’t just stay ’ere, can you?’ Joel suggested gently.
‘Why not?’ Her voice was fierce. ‘I don’t want to go ’ome. I’d rather stay with you.’ She looked imploringly at Joel, who was standing with his arms folded. ‘Please – just for a bit.’
‘Look – come up ’ere—’ He reached his hand out and pulled her up on to the bank, going down on one knee in front of her. ‘What’s all this, Maryann? You’ve got a mom and a dad . . .’
‘I ain’t got a dad!’
‘What about your mom?’ Ada said. ‘You can’t just stay out, can yer?’
‘She most likely won’t even notice,’ Maryann said mutinously. She gripped her
hand round the little china cat in her pocket, felt her lip begin to tremble. More than anything she’d wanted ever, more even, she thought, than wanting Tiger, she longed not to have to go home that evening. Home meant Sal’s terrible silences and Mr Griffin being horribly oily and nice to her. There was something wrong with that after the way she’d shouted and raved at him and she felt as if she was living on borrowed time, that he was cooking up some punishment for her, made all the worse because she didn’t know what it was. And there’d be Tony with his big eyes, imploring someone, anyone, to take some notice of him.
‘I’ll run back in the morning,’ she pleaded. ‘I’ll go to school. And I could sleep anywhere – outside if I ’ave to!’ But saying this, she hugged herself, running her hands down her bare arms. It was chilly now the sun had gone down and all she had on was her cotton frock. She put her head on one side, looking with the full force of appeal into Joel’s face. He was watching her with a mixture of amusement and concern.
‘Sleep outside . . .’ He shook his head and she heard him laugh, his chest making a rustling noise. ‘Look, Maryann – this ent right. We’ll be loading up at dawn and then we’re off out of Birnigum again . . . You can come on the boat again – leave a message with the toll clerks. Let me walk you back to your house tonight and see you safe, eh?’
She looked down at her shoes and wanted to cry because it felt as if Joel was babying her, as if she was younger than Ada. She swallowed hard and looked him in the eyes, annoyed at the fact her own were swimming with tears.
‘Please, Joel,’ she whispered. ‘Just once. I won’t get in your way.’
‘Go on, Joel – let ’er,’ Ada said. She seemed excited by the idea. ‘She can bunk up on the bench. I’ll go on the floor.’
Joel sighed and pushed himself upright so he was standing over her, hands on his waist and she stood looking up at him like one might at a mountain. She could see his beard silhouetted round his face. She knew he was exhausted, that they’d had a long, hard day’s work and why would he relish the thought of having to walk her back home through unfamiliar streets, houses pressing in, to be greeted by her angry family?
Eventually he said, ‘Best ’ave summat to eat, then.’
Maryann turned to Ada and saw her grin, her teeth gleaming, and she smiled back, hugging herself even tighter with excitement.
Joel lifted the lid off the stew pot and stirred the contents. Maryann went with Ada to stable Bessie for the night. On the way back Ada explained cheerfully that they had a bowl in the cabin and if she wanted to wee she’d have to go off and find somewhere. Maryann blushed.
‘I’d best go now,’ she said.
Ada handed her the bowl and Maryann slipped off in the dark and squatted down near the edge of the canal. She decided she liked weeing in the open even if it was a bit nerve-racking – anyone might come along. She saw that the moon had come out.
When she climbed down into the cabin of the Esther Jane over the coal box which was used as a step, she found a big smile spreading over her face. She was enchanted every time she stepped inside. However did they manage to live in a space this small? The house she’d grown up in in Garrett Street had been cramped enough, but here the whole living space was nine feet by seven.
‘You sit ’ere—’ Ada indicated the side bench, next to Joel. Maryann sat shyly beside him, smelling the delicious frying potatoes he was cooking. Jep came up and sniffed at her and she stroked his head until Joel said, ‘G’won – out with you,’ and he squeezed out past Ada on the step of the cabin.
Darius Bartholomew who was already sitting on the bench at the far end, dressing a wound on one of his fingers with a strip of rag, had given her a grunt of acknowledgement. She was shy of Darius, but sensed that he was gentle, even if he was not sure about her being there. Now he had taken off his hat Maryann saw he had a fine head of grizzled hair. An oil lamp fixed to the cupboard beside the range cast a cosy light round the small space, though she could see Darius was squinting to see properly. She looked round at the grainy ceiling, the pretty paintings of roses and castles on the cupboards, the strips of crochet work edging some of the shelves. It was warm in the cabin from the heat of the stove and the steam gushing out from the kettle. Maryann enjoyed every moment of it.
‘You hungry?’ Joel said.
Maryann nodded. Joel suddenly grinned at her. ‘Nearly ready now. Table down.’
Joel swivelled the lamp round on its bracket so they could see better. Her eyes felt stretched very wide, taking everything in. Joel chuckled again at her amazement and she saw Darius smile as well, his bushy moustache making the smile appear even broader. They were enjoying seeing their own life through her eyes, this quaint little wench from off the bank, who saw things that they had always known and taken for granted as new and surprising.
They ate what tasted to Maryann like the best meal she had ever had. Mutton stew with big chunks of carrot, fried potatoes, bread, from pretty plates and a cup of sweet tea. No one said much and that suited her. Jep was peeping in through the door, nostrils working. She could feel the weariness of the men, although Joel said it had been not too hard a day for them. He was squeezed in on the bench next to her, her skinny legs dwarfed by his solid thighs. She could hear his jaws working as he chewed on huge bites of bread, and in the confined space, the wheezing sound of his lungs. During the meal he started coughing and had to go outside. She heard the coughing go on and on and he came back wiping his eyes.
‘Where’s she going to sleep, then?’ Darius asked. Maryann saw that though he was the older man, the father, it was Joel who was in charge of the Esther Jane.
‘’Er can ’ave the bench,’ Ada said again. ‘I’ll go down under for tonight.’
Joel nodded, patting the bench they were sitting on with his hand. ‘This is your bed then, Maryann. How d’yer like that?’
‘Ooh yes,’ she said. ‘Ta, Ada.’
Ada laughed. She seemed to find a lot of things Maryann said funny.
She watched, after they had cleared away the meal and folded back the table, as Darius pulled out the door of the bed cupboard and inside was a thin mattress and a couple of blankets. She thought for a moment he was going straight to bed, but it seemed the men were off to the pub.
‘Back a bit later,’ Joel said. ‘You’ll be all right with Ada ’ere.’
Ada grinned, shuffled herself down under the bed with another blanket, rested her head on her coat arm and, to Maryann’s surprise, fell asleep straight away. Jep was allowed to come and curl up next to her.
‘You can have this,’ Joel said, handing her what felt like an army blanket. He indicated that Maryann should lie on the bench. Maryann settled herself down. The bench was hard, but she didn’t care. The cabin felt so snug and warm. Joel took off his jacket and folded it roughly. ‘Put this under yer head.’
The jacket was worn and the material scratchy, and it smelled of Joel.
‘Ta,’ she whispered.
Maryann dozed for a while in the light from the lamp, and was woken by the two men coming back in. Darius manoeuvred his way across the cabin and was very soon just as fast asleep as Ada.
‘You awright, little ’un?’ Joel asked. She caught a whiff of beer on his breath.
‘Yes – ta,’ she whispered.
‘Oh – you won’t wake them two – not once they’ve gone off.’ But he still spoke in a soft voice. She watched as his huge shadow moved round the walls of the cabin.
‘Joel?’
‘What’s that then?’ He came and sat beside her, his feet up on the step.
‘’Ve yer always lived on ’ere?’
‘’Cept for the two year – nigh on – I were in France.’
‘Our dad was in France. ’E was a soldier. Were you a soldier an’ all?’
Joel nodded. There was silence before he spoke. His talk came in brief bursts, as though he had to get himself ready for it.
‘Was ’e killed in the war?’
‘No, by a motor car.’
‘I know. I will. I just wanted . . . I just like it ’ere.’
For a second she felt his huge hand laid on her head. ‘Sleep, that’s a girl.’
‘’Night, Joel.’
He put the lamp out and the cabin was in complete darkness while she heard him move carefully across and settle himself on the bed beside his father.
She did not sleep well that night. The bench was very uncomfortable and she kept feeling she was going to fall off it. It was quite stuffy, and she could smell Jep’s doggy smell and it was all strange being there, with no Sal beside her and no Tony across the room. She lay listening to the silence, thinking of the water under them, wondering if she was sleeping above any fish or frogs. After a time she realized it had started to rain, the drops drumming steadily on the roof, which made the cabin feel even more of a cosy refuge when the sky was only a thin shell away. Lulled by its rhythm she dozed, but later was woken by Darius Bartholomew snoring. Some time after that Joel was moving about, coughing, and once he got up and left the cabin. She listened to him straining for breath outside. The sound made her feel sorry for him; a big man’s cough so loud, such a wrenching, painful noise.
When she heard him come back in, she said, ‘Don’t your cough ever get any better?’
He felt his way across, hands moving over her feet, and sat down on the edge of the bench. She heard him say ‘Lie down!’ to Jep.
‘So you’re still on the go, are you? Was it me woke you?’
‘No.’
‘Have yer heard of gas?’
‘’Course.’
‘The sort they used in the war?’
‘Did you get gassed?’
‘Could’ve been a lot worse. But my chest’s always bad. Worse in the winter.’
‘Don’t you ’ave a missis?’ Maryann asked.
She heard another small seizure of laughter from Joel. ‘No.’
‘Don’t yer want one?’
