by Molly Green
‘Good.’ Mrs Hunter scribbled a note, then looked up and fixed her gaze on Ronnie. ‘And if I offered you the job right this minute, what would you say?’
‘I’d say, “Yes, please,”’ Ronnie said, grateful to see Raine give her a wink.
‘You’ll need a medical. I’ll wait until I hear your mother has given permission and book one for you as soon as possible.’
‘I think they’ll find she’s as fit as a flea,’ Raine said.
‘We hope so.’ Mrs Hunter made another note. ‘Bear in mind that the boat is only seven feet wide and there’ll be no room for items such as suitcases’ – she tapped her pen on the desk – ‘so pack sparingly in a rucksack, if you have one. If not, a pillowcase, which can be stowed more easily than a case. And you’ll need bedding – or possibly a sleeping bag. It’s not kitted out like a hotel, you understand?’ Ronnie nodded. Mrs Hunter took a sheet of paper from a file on her desk and gave it to Ronnie. ‘This is a list of things you must bring.’
Ronnie glanced at the list, hardly seeing it, she was so excited. She noticed rucksack and sleeping bag along with items of clothing.
She looked up. ‘I have my dad’s rucksack from when we went camping once, but we gave our sleeping bags to the Girl Guides when we moved to Downe.’
‘That’s a shame. It would have been useful. Well, be sure to bring a sheet and a warm blanket.’
Ronnie wondered how on earth she was meant to get all that into a rucksack with her clothes and a few personal belongings, but she didn’t dare say anything.
‘I have something which might be useful for you.’ Mrs Hunter rummaged in her desk drawer and brought out a small paperback book. She passed it across to Ronnie. ‘It’s a novel but it will give you a good flavour of what it’s like to work on the canals.’
Ronnie glanced at the title: The Water Gipsies. She wasn’t a big reader but this might be interesting.
‘Thank you very much,’ she said. ‘I’ll definitely take it with me.’ She tucked it into her bag.
‘Right, then. Just to recap. All being well with your mother you will start the six weeks’ training next week, Friday, the 12th of November, where you’ll meet your trainer, Dora Dummitt, and the other trainees at nine o’clock in the morning at Regent’s Canal Dock. Any problems of any kind, you must speak to your trainer.’ Mrs Hunter smiled and rose to her feet. ‘Would you like to come with me and have a look at the boats?’
‘Oh, yes, please,’ Ronnie said eagerly.
She and Raine followed Mrs Hunter down to the canal. There were a couple of dozen narrowboats – not barges, Ronnie quickly reminded herself. They were painted in vibrant red and blue, with the company’s initials GUCC and telephone number, and were riding high in the water. There seemed nothing about them Ronnie could relate to. Her pulse quickened.
One of the workmen appeared from a nearby boat and sprang onto the hard surface of the yard.
‘Sorry, Mrs Hunter, if you and the young ladies are intending to have a dekko inside – there’s all wet paint.’
‘Oh, what a nuisance.’ Mrs Hunter turned to Ronnie and Raine. ‘Quite a few of the boats are here for repair and repainting and redecorating so we’d best not disturb them, but at least you’ve caught a glimpse. Just remember they look much bigger than they are inside.’
She put out her hand, first to Raine and then to Ronnie. ‘I wish you the very best of luck, Ronnie Linfoot. Always remember why you are there – to release a place so a man can fight for our country. Do your utmost to make sure no one can ever point out the difference between women taking the cargo and men. Don’t let the company down.’
Ronnie stood and shook hands. ‘I promise to do my very best.’
‘See that you do, my dear. I’ll show you out.’
‘I won’t be allowed to go,’ Ronnie said sulkily as she and Raine walked back to the station. ‘Maman will never give her permission. Oh, why can’t I be twenty-one?’ she burst out.
Raine laughed. ‘Don’t wish your time away. And don’t worry about Maman. I think she’ll give it.’ She grinned at her youngest sister. ‘It’s a pity I couldn’t come back with you. It would have been easier to talk to her. But I’ll ring her tonight, so don’t worry.’
If anything, the journey home took even longer than when Ronnie had started out that morning. Immediately she’d kissed her sister goodbye – at Paddington Station this time – she’d felt lonely.
It was gone five by the time Ronnie arrived in Bromley, but her luck was in when she saw a bus for Downe draw up outside. A woman with bleached blonde hair under a felt hat, and thickly painted cherry lips, plonked next to her.
‘Been somewhere nice, have you, dearie?’ she said, turning to Ronnie, who was staring out of the window into the darkness, trying to work out how to tell her mother she’d been accepted to work for the Grand Union Canal Carrying Company. She still hadn’t got things worked out in her mind when the conductor dropped her at the nearest stop to home.
Keeping to the regulations, she fixed a small piece of tissue paper over her torch with an elastic band to prevent any rogue aeroplane from spotting her. Her common sense always questioned this – how could a pilot possibly see such a tiny beam from such an altitude? – but she supposed it was to remind people that the enemy wasn’t far away and to take every precaution.
Wishing her mother would trust her with her own key, Ronnie walked up the path and rang the bell. She heard Rusty barking.
Simone opened the door so quickly Ronnie thought she must have heard her footsteps.
‘I have been very worried,’ Simone began immediately. ‘You said you will be back before dark. It is now past six.’
‘Just let me go and see Rusty,’ Ronnie said quickly. ‘He’ll be wanting his dinner.’
‘I have fed him,’ her mother said. ‘He was driving me crazy. He is in the front room.’
Ronnie stared at her mother. Maman had never fed him before. And allowing him to go in the front room when she wasn’t around to control him? Unheard of. Did that mean Maman was finally softening towards him? She felt a sudden warmth towards her and made a step forward to give her a hug, but Simone had already turned to go back along the hall to the kitchen.
‘Your supper is ready, Véronique. You will eat and tell me about Raine.’
Even though Ronnie was hungry, the meal her mother had prepared of tinned sardines, cold mashed potato and overcooked cabbage didn’t exactly whet her appetite, but she didn’t dare pass any remark, though she noticed Maman hadn’t even attempted hers yet.
‘Raine looks really well, Maman. You can see how happy she is doing the job she loves.’
‘Hmm.’ Her mouth turned down at the corners. ‘I suppose I must be happy, too, but although she does not think it, I worry about her every day.’
‘You shouldn’t. She’s a very careful pilot.’
‘And what did she say about you working for the vet?’
Ronnie felt her cheeks warm. ‘I told her about Mr Lincoln’s offer. But I also told her about another idea I’ve had.’
‘Digging up turnips? No, I do not allow it.’
‘No, Maman, not the Land Army. It’s to work for the Grand Union Canal Carrying Company.’
Simone’s eyes narrowed. ‘What is this?’
Ronnie quickly described her interview with Mrs Hunter, all the while watching her mother’s expression turn to horror.
‘I am your maman,’ Simone said, her nostrils flaring. ‘Why did you not discuss this with me? I know why. Because you are aware I will not approve of this work.’
‘It’s what I want to do, Maman.’ Ronnie took another mouthful of the limp yellow cabbage and would have spat it out if she’d been on her own. She put her knife and fork down and caught her mother’s eye. ‘Raine liked Mrs Hunter, the supervisor, and thought it would really suit me.’
How could she make it sound a little easier for Maman to say yes?
‘I only have to make up my mind definitely to carry on after I’
ve finished training,’ she said after a few moments. ‘If I change my mind, they would accept it.’
Her mother’s mouth tightened.
‘You will have ruined your hands and nails by then. Winter is coming.’
‘But you know how I prefer to be outside. And it’s something Mrs Hunter says is important for the war effort.’
Simone’s eyes narrowed. ‘You are underage, Véronique. You will need my permission.’
Here it comes.
‘Maman, talk to Raine first. She’s going to telephone you this evening.’
Simone gave a jagged sigh. ‘My three girls. None of you are doing what I would wish. If only Pi—’ She broke off. ‘No, he would not interfere.’ She briefly closed her eyes. ‘But you have made up your mind, I think.’
‘I have, Maman. I want to do this more than anything.’
Simone put her knife and fork together on the plate, her supper barely touched.
‘Then you must tell the vet tomorrow so he can choose someone else. It is a pity. You would be most suited to the work.’
‘I’m not sure about that,’ Ronnie said. ‘Mr Lincoln had to put to sleep a perfectly fit young dog on Saturday.’ Tears gathered as the image danced in front of her. ‘Rusty would have gone the same way if I hadn’t rescued him. I can’t bear anything like that.’
Rusty pricked his ears up and gave a short bark.
Simone looked at Ronnie, her eyes suddenly gleaming. ‘If you insist on this canal work, what arrangements have you made for Rusty who you say you love so much?’
Ronnie gulped. ‘I think it may be possible to take him with me. Dogs do travel on boats and I think he’d like it.’ She wouldn’t tell Maman she hadn’t brought up the subject with Mrs Hunter.
Her mother looked away but not before Ronnie saw how her face fell. ‘Oh, I see.’
What was this? It was almost as though her mother didn’t want to see him gone.
‘Well, you wouldn’t want to look after him.’
‘Have you asked me?’ Simone brought her gaze back to Ronnie.
‘N-no. I never dreamed—’
‘You want to leave me, so everyone has left me,’ Simone said, her voice trembling. ‘First your father, then Lorraine, then Suzanne, and now, once again, Pierre.’ Her lower lip trembled as a lone tear fell down her cheek. ‘I do not know where he is … maybe he is back in France.’
Ronnie felt her own eyes well up. It was an extraordinary thing to have happened – Maman’s first love reappearing after twenty years, knowing she was married but not that she was now a widow. It was so sweet the way they still carried a torch for one another. Best of all, she and her sisters adored the Frenchman who had managed to escape the Gestapo and after a long circuitous journey, find his way to England … and Maman.
‘He’ll keep safe now he has everything to live for.’
Her mother grimaced. ‘His work is dangerous. His name is on the Nazis’ list for stealing their documents about their wicked plans for our beloved Paris if they lose the war.’ Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I should not have disclosed such a secret, Véronique. You must never mention this to anyone. What was I thinking about?’ She put her head in her hands and gave a sob. ‘And now there will be no one here when you have gone. At least the dog would be some company to me.’
‘Oh, Maman—’ Ronnie sprang up and rushed to her mother’s side. She put her arms round her. ‘I won’t take him if you want him to stay. He’s a lovely boy. He always knows when I’m unhappy and tries to comfort me in his way.’ She reached down to pat him. ‘Maman, please don’t cry. I want to go with your blessing. They say I can come home for three days after the training, which will fly by in a jiffy. And I’d write to you.’
‘When do you propose to go?’ Simone sniffed and reached for her handkerchief.
‘Friday,’ Ronnie said in a small voice, going back to her chair, hardly believing her mother seemed to be accepting the new situation.
‘You will need warm clothes.’ Simone wiped her eyes and blew her nose. ‘We must find you some suitable things. I do not want you to catch pneumonia – another thing to worry about.’
‘It’s quite a long list, Maman. Things like a coat and boots.’ Ronnie hesitated. ‘They’ll use up a lot of coupons … and money. That’s what worries me.’
‘Suzanne is not taking music lessons so that money can go to you.’
‘I’ll pay you back, I promise. I’ll be earning £2 a week to start, and then £3 after I finish training, though we have to buy food out of it.’
Her mother nodded. ‘Show me the list.’
Ronnie took it from her bag and handed it over. Her mother read it in silence.
‘These things are practical if you are on boats or here through the winter,’ Simone said, looking up. ‘You need a good raincoat. You have outgrown yours.’ She glanced at the list again. ‘And you must have a suitcase to pack these things.’
‘Oh, no, Maman, no cases. Mrs Hunter specifically said not. They take up too much room. She said either a rucksack or a pillowcase.’
‘A pillowcase?’ Simone’s voice rose an octave. ‘To pack your clothes in?’ Ronnie nodded. ‘Non. That I will not have. What would the village say to see you carrying a pillowcase like … like Dick Whittington?’
Ronnie laughed. ‘I don’t care what the villagers say.’
‘Well, I do.’ Maman pushed her plate to one side, giving the tinned sardines and the soggy cabbage a final look of disgust. ‘We will go to Bromley tomorrow.’
Chapter Five
Regent’s Canal Dock, London
November 1943
Laughter greeted Ronnie’s ears as she surfaced, spitting and thrashing, from the murky brown canal water, terrified and fighting hard not to be pulled under again by the weight of her sodden gaberdine mac and waterlogged Wellingtons.
‘That’ll teach yer not to be so cocky, miss. The cut’s a dirty little devil and a lock’s a dangerous place not to be payin’ attention.’
Dora Dummitt, one of the trainers, puffed on her pipe as the five other brand-new trainees stood around on the towpath in the rain. One of them was smirking. Another gave a nervous giggle. The trainer let Ronnie struggle for a few more moments, then thrust out an arm that could sink a battleship and hauled her back onto the towpath.
Ronnie, red-faced with exertion and shame, clung on to the woman’s arm, and dripped water and mud splashes over Dora Dummitt’s sleeve and down the front of her waterproof jacket, already filthy from months of training girls to man the narrowboats.
The sky that had been gloomy all day was now beginning to darken. This first day hadn’t been at all as Ronnie had imagined. Instead of the peace of a canal, Regent’s Canal Dock was alive with men and boats and horses. Stevedores and dockers were shouting to one another, warning bells rang and whistles pierced the air, cargo came crashing down into the lighters and barges and narrowboats, factories spewed out foul smoke and steam, trains roared over the railway bridge … it was a bewildering cacophony and Ronnie hadn’t the faintest idea how she’d fit in.
It had sounded like a job tailor-made for Ronnie when she’d been for her interview and had had her medical and was accepted. Nothing about the training scheme had put her off, even when Mrs Hunter had warned her the work could be heavy. She should never forget she’d be taking the place of a man who’d gone off to fight for King and country, and this could mean working as much as twelve or even fourteen hours a day, non-stop.
Do you think you’re up to it? she remembered Mrs Hunter asking her, looking her up and down. Ronnie had ignored Raine’s amused grin as she tried to stretch as tall as her five foot three inches would allow. ‘At only seventeen you’ll be the youngest,’ Mrs Hunter had added.
‘I’m really strong and not afraid of hard work,’ Ronnie had answered.
Little had she known that the trainer, Dora Dummitt, would be a slave driver – and a bully who seemed to enjoy humiliating her in front of the others.
‘Wait he
re, all of yer,’ Dora ordered as she sprang like a young girl onto the roof of the narrowboat called Persephone and disappeared into the cabin. She was back in a trice holding up the floor mat, her eyes sweeping the group of girls. ‘When it happens again – and I say “when”, not “if” – and that goes for all of yous – one of the other crew must remove this’ – she jerked her head towards the mat – ‘and anything else that needs ter keep dry. Then yer don’t make the cabin floor into an extra cut.’ She gave her strange mirthless bark at the weak joke which Ronnie was sure the woman spouted to every new trainee who fell in. ‘The one who’s had a dunkin’ then goes and puts dry clothes on. Bung any wet things round the engine room and they’ll dry soon enough.’ She paused and her gaze fell on Ronnie. ‘Yer’d better buzz off, Shirley, and change into some dry gear but don’t be long. We’ve got more ter do before it’s dark.’ The smile she presented came out as a terrifying grin, showing several dark holes between her teeth.
It wasn’t the first time today Dora Dummitt had called her Shirley, Ronnie thought, thoroughly tired and miserable as she clambered onto the counter of the motor boat and through the hatch into the cabin. The woman must be muddling her up with someone else.
Inside the cramped space, Ronnie tore off her jacket, then removed her jumper and shirt. Too late she realised her clothes were still in her rucksack in the other boat. Dora hadn’t given them a chance to unpack and she needed to get to her second pair of trousers and another shirt and jumper. Ronnie pulled a face as she tried to dry the top part of herself with a towel, hardly bigger than a teacloth, that didn’t even begin to absorb the water from the dunking. Tears of frustration pricking her eyes, she flung it on the floor. She’d have to put the sodden clothes back on.
She heard footsteps above and then May’s voice.
‘Ronnie, are you there?’
‘Yes,’ Ronnie called. ‘Very wet, very dirty, and no hope of drying off. My clothes are in the other boat.’
‘I’ve come to tell you our dear Dora says to take what you need of her spares – they’re in one of the drawers. She said to help yourself to underclothes as well!’ May burst into giggles as she came down the cabin steps. ‘Good luck.’
