The Narrowboat Girl

by Annie Murray

  ‘Look what yer’ve done, yer drunken Irish navvy!’ Nance had recovered enough to run at him, so beside herself with fury that she kneeled down, oblivious to the shards of white china all over the place, and began raining blows down on her insensible husband. There was blood trickling from the left side of her mouth and another shiny mark on her cheek.

  ‘I hate you!’ she yelled, hitting and slapping. ‘Hate you, hate you, yer fucking useless bastard. Yer not even a proper man, are yer? Yer useless to anyone . . . I bloody hate yer . . .’ She was sobbing hysterically.

  ‘Nance!’ Maryann could barely get near her. ‘Nance – stop hitting ’im – I think ’e’s knocked himself out – look!’

  ‘Good! I ’ope ’e bloody kills hisself!’

  ‘Nance!’ She succeeded in grabbing both of Nance’s arms at once and held on, gritting her teeth while Nance fought like a rabbit in a sack before suddenly going limp. Maryann let go of her and gingerly went over to Mick, afraid for a moment that the bang on the head had really done him in.

  ‘Is ’e awright?’ Nance suddenly sounded frightened.

  Maryann prodded Mick and he stirred, groaning.

  ‘Oh, ’e’s awright,’ Nancy said, disgusted. ‘Can’t even knock ’isself out properly, the silly bugger.’

  ‘What the hell was all that about?’

  Nance’s face crumpled. ‘His brother Paddy – ’e’s gone and got Marie in the family way again. That’ll be their fifth, popping them out like peas every year and God can’t spare us even one – just one little babby—’ Her voice cracked and she let out a howl of distress. ‘Oh Maryann – if we could at least ’ave a babby I could think of staying with ’im without wanting to cut my own throat.’

  ‘Oh Nance . . .’ Maryann kneeled down with her amid the wreckage and held her tight. ‘Poor old Nance . . .’

  ‘What ’m I going to do, Maryann? I’m going to go round the bend living like this.’

  Maryann rocked her, feeling desperately sorry. There was nothing she felt she could say.

  ‘I feel as if there must be summat I did when I was younger to deserve punishing like this.’

  ‘Oh, yer didn’t do anything. Course yer didn’t.’

  ‘I’d better go and see Father Maguire and make a clean breast of everything that’s been going through me ’ead,’ she said. ‘I might be able to stand it better then.’

  There came another moan from beside them and suddenly Mick sat slowly up, rubbing his head. ‘Christ Almighty.’

  ‘Don’t blaspheme, yer bleedin’ navvy,’ Nance snarled at him.

  He stared blearily at the chaos of breakage round him, saw Nance and Maryann staring at him in disgust and groaned, ‘Oh God save us.’ Slowly, like a great ox, he lumbered to his feet and disappeared up the stairs.

  ‘Well,’ Nance said dully. ‘Now yer can go back to sleep.’

  ‘Not before we’ve cleared up.’

  ‘Maryann—’ Nance took hold of her wrist as she squatted, about to get up.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Go and see Joel tomorrow.’

  Maryann hung her head, not meeting Nance’s eyes.

  She barely slept at all after that, hearing Nancy crying next door, Mick snoring, and all their troubles churning round in her head. She couldn’t stop thinking about Amy and Margaret as well, full of frustration, anger and pity. In the morning she woke early from an uneasy doze, her head aching. But she got up, dressed silently and slipped out of the house. There was at least one small thing she could do.

  There was a mist and the streets looked ghostly but she was glad of its grey obscurity in which to hide herself. When she got to Handsworth she waited in the side street where she had stood before. As time passed the streets took on a purposeful atmosphere. Children started coming out of the houses in their school clothes and scurrying down the road. Soon, the door of the Lamberts’ house opened and she saw Amy and Margaret come out. Maryann shrank back. Janet stood for a few moments with her arms folded, her hair a bright flame in the pale morning, face turned to watch her girls. Then at last she stepped back and the door closed. Maryann slipped round quickly after them.

  They were almost at the school gates when she caught up with them. She watched them tenderly from behind. They stood out amid the rag-taggle bunch of children as among the best dressed and neatest. Amy’s hair had been plaited immaculately and each plait tied with a blue ribbon and Margaret’s was put up in bunches, big bows tied with the same ribbon. As ever she was walking with her head jutting forwards, eyes fixed on the ground.

  ‘Amy—’ Maryann spoke softly, but her urgency was clear. Amy turned and gasped, seeing her. They stopped for a moment, letting the other children stream past them.

  ‘What d’you want? Mom’ll kill us if she sees yer!’

  ‘Don’t worry – I won’t get you into trouble. You awright?’

  Amy’s gaze slid away. She swallowed. Nodded.

  ‘I’m sorry, Amy. I’m so sorry,’ Maryann said helplessly. She felt a huge lump rise in her throat. ‘I was hoping yer mom’d listen – but then she daint know me from Adam, does she? I don’t know what else to – ’cept I brought you this—’ She slipped a scrap of paper into Amy’s hand with Nancy’s address on. ‘That’s where I live just now. It’s my friend’s house. I won’t always be there but if you need help, go to her. She’s kind, and she can get in touch with me . . .’

  ‘Where’ll you be then?’ Amy asked.

  ‘I don’t know where I’ll be—’ It was her turn to look away. ‘Look – yer’d better go now. I can’t do any more for yer, not the way things are. But remember – if you want to get away, go to Nancy. I know she’ll ’elp yer. Don’t let yer mom see that though.’

  She saw Amy look down at the piece of paper and nod.

  ‘Tara then—’

  And they were gone, two little figures amid the tide of other children.

  Nance looked terrible. Her face was all in a mess, she was exhausted and in a foul temper. Mick had woken with a splitting head, said he wasn’t effing well going to work and rolled over back to sleep. When he woke later in the morning he was contrite and gave Nance the money to buy some more crockery as they scarcely had enough left for a cup of tea between them. Maryann had wondered about buying some on the way home but resisted the thought. It wouldn’t do Mick’s pride any good having her chipping in again. Nance went out and came back with a few cheap willow-pattern crocks and an even more raging temper.

  ‘If ’e ain’t pouring ’is wages down ’is throat ’e’s up to these sort of tricks,’ she said, slamming the parcel down on the table so hard Maryann wondered if anything inside was left intact. ‘Moan, moan, moan about not ’aving enough and now we ’ave to go and spend it on summat we ’ad already. ’E can ’ave bread and lard for ’is dinner and like it ’cause we ain’t got enough for anything else.’

  ‘Well, Nance – I could give yer . . .’ Maryann began.

  ‘No! Yer bloody couldn’t! You’ve done quite enough. Let ’im put up with it. That’ll teach ’im where ’is boozing and carrying on gets us!’

  Whatever Maryann did to try and help, she got her head snapped off. She’d have to leave this house soon, she knew, however much Nance kept begging her to stay. She was only making everything worse.

  After they’d had their bit of dinner and Mick had slouched off out somewhere, Nance turned on her. ‘Now – you get yerself down to that ’ospital.’

  Maryann was washing up the new plates. She didn’t answer.

  ‘Maryann?’

  She hung her head over the sink. ‘I can’t, Nance. Not today. I’m not myself today. I just can’t tell yer ’ow bad I feel . . . I can’t face ’im.’

  ‘Well, what’re yer going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to bed. ’Ave a sleep. I can’t do it, Nance – not today . . .’ She felt her voice crack with tears.

  ‘Right—’ Nance pulled her apron off and flicked it so hard down on a chair that the cloth made a snapping noise in the a
ir. ‘I’ve ’ad enough. If you’re too bloody stubborn to go, I’ll go meself.’

  ‘Nance!’

  But she was already out of the front door and off down the road.

  ‘Nance – what the ’ell’re yer playing at?’ She was already a good way down the street, striding furiously along. She turned for a second, gave Maryann a look of complete exasperation, then carried on at the same breakneck pace.

  ‘Oh Nance . . .’ Maryann stood biting her nails, helplessly watching her friend disappear. She wasn’t sure which she felt most, anxiety or gratitude.

  ‘Maryann . . .’

  There was a persistent tapping on her arm. Nance was standing over her and the light in the room had changed. She must have slept for hours.

  ‘Nance – what time is it?’ She sat up at once. ‘Did yer see him? What did you say to him?’

  ‘Plenty,’ Nance said non-committally. The bruising on her face looked worse in the shadowy light. ‘Come down – I’ve got the kettle on.’

  Maryann scrambled guiltily off the bed. ‘I never thought I’d sleep that long . . .’

  ‘Come on,’ Nance said grimly. ‘Get yerself downstairs.’

  Maryann frowned at her tone. Whatever had happened? Full of misgiving she followed Nance down the stairs, clothes all rumpled. Nance reached the bottom and stood back to watch her. Maryann got halfway down, then gasped.

  ‘Oh my . . . what’re you doing here? How did . . .?’ She looked back and forth between them.

  ‘Couldn’t stop ’im,’ Nance said, beginning to smile. ‘Any’ow – I’m popping round to spend a penny – back in a few minutes.’

  He was sitting in the chair by the fire. His cropped hair had grown a little, he had not been shaved for a few days and he was just beginning to look more like the old Joel. He looked across at her, a gentle, loving smile of anticipation on his face and started trying to get up.

  ‘No—’ She was across to him immediately. ‘You mustn’t . . . You must be worn out! How did you get here?’

  ‘Trams.’ He reached out and took her hand, holding it between his two enormous ones. ‘She said you was in trouble . . . family troubles like and you was upset. So I came – wasn’t staying in there a moment longer than I ’ad to. You awright, little ’un?’

  She was overcome by tears at the sight of him, at his loving tone. ‘Yes . . . no. Oh Joel, I don’t know – I’m sorry . . .’

  He pulled her closer. ‘’Cause I know you when you get all in a state – running off like a rabbit. Couldn’t ’ave that, could I? Come ’ere, my lovely – come and sit with me.’

  Her resistance broke like a dam as he pulled her on to his lap and she sat crying, her head tucked close to his neck as his hand smoothed her hair. Her worry poured out of her, her shame that she could have doubted her feelings for him.

  ‘’Eh now – there’s no need for all this, is there?’

  ‘Oh Joel,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Sorry – what for? There’s nothing to be sorry about – you got me out of there, dint you?’

  ‘Are you all right? Aren’t you too weak?’ She wiped her eyes and sat back to look at him.

  ‘It was hard going – still wheezing like anything, but it’s getting better. Bit by bit, every day.’ He smiled at her joyfully, and reached up to wipe a tear off her cheek. She tried to smile back.

  ‘Now what’s up?’

  ‘I’ll tell you,’ she said wearily. ‘But not now. I saw my stepfather . . .’

  His face darkened. ’Oh. I see.’

  ‘It’ll keep. Now I’ve seen you.’

  He pulled her closer again. ‘Your Nance’ll be back in a minute. You got a kiss for me before she does?’

  ‘Oh Joel, course I ’ave.’

  They held each other close and she kissed him, full of love and gratitude, and felt the strength of his passion for her in the kiss he gave her back.

  ‘We’ll start again away from ’ere,’ he told her. ‘You need never see ’im again.’

  Maryann looked into his face. ‘I do love you such a lot.’

  Nance came in to find her still sitting on Joel’s knee with a watery smile on her face and steam gushing in great clouds out of the kettle.

  ‘God in heaven,’ Nance said, rushing to lift it off the heat. ‘Don’t crush the life out of ’im, will yer?’

  Forty-Four

  They had waited in dread that night for Mick to come home. But he was back in good time, sober and contrite.

  ‘This is Joel Bartholomew, Mick,’ Nancy said nervously as he walked in. ‘Maryann’s intended.’ Joel stood up with an effort which made him cough and held out his hand.

  ‘How do, Mick. Your wife said I could stop ’ere for a few days until our boat’s ready.’ Seeing Mick frown, he explained, ‘I’m a boatman – on the cut.’

  ‘Oh – right then.’ Mick nodded.

  ‘If you don’t like it, we’ll move on somewhere else. It’s your home . . .’

  ‘Joel’s just come out of the ’ospital,’ Nance explained.

  Mick nodded again. ‘Ah – right. Well – sit down.’ Nance immediately laid Mick’s plate of tea in front of him and winked at Maryann as if to say, ‘So far so good.’

  They ate in silence but the atmosphere was not hostile, and when Maryann got up to clear the dishes away she heard Joel say, ‘D’you fancy a pint then, Mick?’

  ‘Joel!’ Maryann said. ‘You’ve ’ardly got the strength to stand up let alone get to the pub!’

  ‘It ain’t far!’ Joel grinned. ‘Anyway – ’ow’m I going to get my strength back without a few pints inside me? I can tell you, Mick, it’s been a good long while since I’ve ’ad anything but tea and slops.’

  Mick looked warily at Nancy.

  ‘Just don’t let ’im overdo it,’ she said to Joel. ‘And you look after ’im, Mick. The poor feller’s only out of ’is sickbed.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Mick said. He looked relieved. ‘You don’t look too well,’ he said to Joel. ‘We’ll take it easy now.’

  Nance raised her eyebrows at Maryann. When the men had gone the two of them looked at each other and laughed.

  ‘Jesus,’ Nance said. ‘They’d be dragging themselves off their deathbeds if it meant getting a drink inside them.’

  But she looked pleased too. It was the most harmonious evening they’d had in ages.

  The week passed quite peacefully, though it was a time of mixed feelings for Maryann. She was so happy Joel was out of hospital and they spent hours talking. She unburdened herself to him about Amy and Margaret and he agreed there was not much else she could do. But it was unsettling being here. They both wanted now to be off, to start their new life. Every day one of them – usually Maryann – went to see if there was any message from Darius, but so far they’d heard nothing. The weekend came and went. Tony and Billy came to see them. Billy was a young bruiser of a lad, and though they got on all right, Maryann knew it was going to be hard to see much of her brothers once she and Joel were working the cut, and this was a cause of sadness. All she could do was do her best to keep in touch.

  Nancy had gone to confession on Saturday night and came back looking stern after a lecture from Father Maguire.

  ‘’E said I’ve got to put anything else out of my mind and sort out my marriage. And ’e told me God sometimes doesn’t give people children for a reason.’ She looked bleakly at Maryann. ‘I mean I know ’e’s right really, about my marriage and that. And Mick’s really trying hard at the moment. But if God’s got ’is reasons for not giving me a babby I wish ’e’d bloody well let me know what they are! – Ooh, Lord forgive me . . .’

  She went to Mass with Mick on the Sunday, leaving Maryann and Joel a blissful couple of hours alone. Joel was asleep at first. Maryann had insisted he have her bed upstairs and wouldn’t listen to any argument.

  ‘You’re the one that needs to get better and the sooner you do, the sooner we can go.’

  He slept a huge amount. ‘This is the first time I
’ve had any peace at night,’ he said. ‘In there there was always someone coughing or summat going on. I haven’t slept so well in months.’

  He slept late that Sunday. At last, before Nance and Mick came back, Maryann took a cup of tea up for him and for a few moments watched him sleeping. His hair was longer, he was gradually letting his beard grow back and, slowly, her Joel was reappearing. He looked so pale and thin, though, and his coughing was still terrible at times. She sat by him thinking what a fool she’d been. He was so steadfast in his love for her. Through all the bad things that had gone on – were still going on – he had always been there, strong and gentle. He had been the one really good thing in her life.

  She leaned over and tenderly kissed his face, pressing little kisses on his eyelids, cheeks, forehead until he stirred and woke to look at her. A smile spread across his face. ‘Well – that’s a nice way to wake up.’

  ‘I brought you some tea. Nance and Mick’ve gone to Mass. I should’ve let you sleep but I wanted to see you before they get back.’

  Joel pushed himself up. ‘You should’ve woke me earlier.’

  ‘No – I want you better.’ She handed him the tea and he downed it in several big gulps, then put the cup down. He shuffled over in the bed, patting the space beside him.

  ‘Come on in and sit with me. You’ll ’ave to get used to a narrow bed on the Esther Jane.’

  Maryann hesitated, blushing.

  ‘It’s all right, little bird – I just mean sit with me.’ He held his arm out to embrace her. ‘Come on – I won’t bite. Promise.’

  She slipped her shoes off and climbed in beside him, resting back against his warm arm. Blushing even more, without looking round at him, she said, ‘I do . . . I mean . . . Oh dear, I don’t know how to say this.’ How could she tell him she wanted him, that she wanted to be held and touched, that when they were married she wanted to be his the way married people were supposed to – only she was afraid of herself, of finding she couldn’t bear to do it when her only experiences of it had meant pain and fear?