by Molly Green
The Golden Eagle was only a couple of hundred yards from the towpath. Without hesitating she opened the door. It was the first time she’d ever entered a pub, let alone entered one on her own.
It was difficult at first to take in the scene with the clouds of smoke. Warmth emanated from an open fire in the inglenook on one side of the room and she vaguely noticed a few men sitting around it, talking loudly and adding to the smoke with their cigarettes. She headed towards the bar in front of her. Two men sitting on stools with their backs to her turned at the sound of her step.
‘Well, well, if it in’t one of them trainee wenches.’
Will Drake unfolded his legs and stood tall and solid, looking down at her with an amused grin.
‘What can I do for yer this time?’ he said to her.
His companion smirked. ‘Yer can introduce me, for one thing,’ he interrupted as he rose to his feet. Almost as tall as Will, he was more heavily built.
‘This is Ronnie, one of Dora’s lot,’ Will said, grinning at his friend. He looked back at Ronnie. ‘This here is Dave. Yer haven’t come here to have a drink on yer own, now have yer?’
‘N-no,’ Ronnie stammered. She swallowed, feeling nervous with him standing so close to her in the gloomy atmosphere, and his mate watching them with interest. ‘We’re stuck in the mud. Dora asked me to see whether anyone here could help.’
Will’s grin broadened. ‘Well, I’ve rescued yer twice before,’ he said, ‘so one more time i’nt goin’ to hurt, I reckon. Let’s see if the two of us can get you ladies on yer merry way.’ He threw some coins onto the counter and strode towards the door, Dave close behind.
Deadly Dora will go mad when she sees who I’ve brought with me to help, Ronnie thought, as she stumbled after them, her Wellingtons squelching on the rain-sodden towpath.
‘Not yous again,’ Dora grimaced from the deck of Persephone as they approached the boats.
‘Nice ter have a warm welcome,’ Will said with a grin. ‘I’ve brought Dave. He’s come ter help.’
Ronnie watched as the two men threw their whole weight upon the shafts.
‘Now reverse the engine,’ Will ordered Dora.
‘I think I know what ter do,’ she said, scowling at him.
Five minutes later Persephone was free.
Without looking at either Will or Dave, Dora said, ‘Thanks for the help.’ Her tone sounded the complete opposite. She glanced down at Ronnie. ‘Come on, miss. You can stop yer gawpin’.’
‘Not so fast.’ Will turned to Ronnie. ‘I want ter have a word with yer.’
‘I can’t, Will,’ Ronnie said, conscious of Dora’s glare. ‘We’ve got to go.’
He caught her arm. ‘When’s yer birthday?’ he said in an undertone.
Ronnie gave a start. ‘What?’
‘Well, when is it?’
‘December – the twenty-third. Why do you want to know?’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe there’s somethin’ yer want and yer can’t git hold of. Maybe nylon stockin’s. It’s not just the Yanks that can get ’em.’
‘Where do I go that I’d need nylons?’ Ronnie said, chuckling at the absurdity.
‘Ver-ron-eek, get up here right now!’ Dora shouted.
‘Coming, Miss Dummitt.’
‘We best make ourselves scarce,’ Dave said, pulling Will’s arm and jerking his head in the distance.
Will squinted. ‘Yer right,’ he said. ‘Time ter go.’ He glanced at Ronnie. ‘I’ll be seein’ yer.’ With that he and Dave vanished.
In two minutes flat Ronnie heard the roar of Will’s motorbike.
Chapter Fifteen
Because of the delay with the mud, Dora wouldn’t allow them to stop for lunch before entering Blisworth Tunnel.
‘Biscuits and tea is all yer gettin’,’ she said. ‘If we start ditherin’ we won’t be where we’re s’posed to be before dark.’
‘Is it a village?’ May asked.
‘Gayton Junction?’ Dora snorted. ‘Yous’ll be lucky. There in’t no villages near the junction.’
There was much grumbling as everyone took their places on Penelope, Dora shouting the final instructions.
‘Keep the tiller within the sides of the boat, miss,’ Dora called. ‘That way it don’t jam against the wall. If yer swerve do not use the wall ter push away with yer hands. It’s too dangerous. Take it slowly. Any major trouble, use yer oil lamp as a signal. The tunnel’s narrer but it’ll just take another seven-footer ter pass us.’
‘My stomach’s already rumbling,’ Ronnie said to Jessica and Margaret as she felt the familiar movement of the butty.
‘I’ll cook something special tonight and plenty of it,’ Jessica said. ‘In fact, I’m going to start it if you’re happy on the tiller. And I’ll make a snack for us for lunch. We can all eat as we’re going along. I’m not missing a meal for anyone – and that includes Deadly Dora.’
‘She won’t like it if you’re not watching me,’ Ronnie said as she pulled away.
Jessica chuckled. ‘Too bad. We’ve got to eat.’
‘Suits me,’ Ronnie said. ‘I feel hungry all the time.’
‘I’d better get started then,’ Jessica smiled as she disappeared.
‘Ronnie—’ Margaret began.
‘Don’t talk for a minute. I need to concentrate.’ Ronnie chewed her lips. ‘Bend coming up and— Oh, damn!’ she cried as the boat swerved into the middle of the canal.
Pull back. Keep following close as you can round the bend.
Ronnie managed to pull the boat back into the curve of the canal as she followed the trail of the motor in front. Feeling pleased with herself she righted the butty as the canal straightened, but her moment of pleasure faded as she saw not far in the distance, looming before Persephone, the black hole of the tunnel entrance. She had to get this right. Bring Penelope safely out to the other side or Dora would lose her patience.
Stiffening her shoulders, she said, ‘Margaret, keep an eye and tell me if I’m doing anything wrong.’
‘I’m not sure I’d know.’
Margaret’s voice was so low Ronnie could barely hear her. Oh, if only she hadn’t told Jess how hungry she was, Jess would be here now. Margaret’s confession that she was terrified of going into the tunnel didn’t exactly do anything for her own nervousness. Ronnie wasn’t scared of the dark – that wasn’t it at all – but she was apprehensive of trying to steer the butty in a narrow space and not allowing it to smash into the sides as had happened on the bank a little while ago. And she could tell Margaret was not going to be any help.
Trying not to alarm the girl, Ronnie smiled. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘You’ll be fine.’
Margaret didn’t answer but kept her eyes wide as she fixed them straight ahead. Persephone disappeared through the entrance.
Ronnie, sensing Margaret’s fear, patted her hand as the tunnel entrance loomed. ‘We’re going in. Hold on.’
The atmosphere immediately changed from a watery winter sun to blackness. The dank foul air hit Ronnie’s nostrils and it took all her concentration to keep her focus, though she couldn’t really make out anything in front of her. It was like steering into a dungeon and the dim light from the oil lamp wasn’t helping matters. Margaret said something but Ronnie couldn’t hear what she was saying above the noise and vibration of Persephone’s engine echoing round the walls on either side.
It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before Margaret suddenly gave a groan that made Ronnie’s blood run cold.
Ronnie swung round. ‘What is it?’
She could barely see the outline of the girl’s face, it was so dark.
‘I don’t feel very—’ Margaret broke off. There was a silence.
‘Speak up! I can’t hear you. What’s the matter? Tell me!’
‘I’m going to be sick.’
‘WHAT!’
‘I’m so scared, Ronnie. I told you … it’s so black. Please get me out of here.’
‘How can I?’ Ronnie shou
ted above the noise of the motorboat in front, its engine thrumming and its exhaust reverberating around the dripping tunnel walls. She tried to quell her impatience. ‘There’s nowhere to turn round. You can see that. We have to just carry on. It’s too dangerous for you to go down below when you can’t see where you’re going but you can’t be sick up here. We won’t see where you’ve been and one of us could slip.’
And I don’t want it to be me, she thought grimly. Was this the time to use the light to signal if there was a problem? But who would see it?
‘I feel faint.’
‘Put your head down between your knees!’
‘I daren’t move,’ Margaret said in a choked voice.
Ronnie felt for Margaret’s hand. It was as cold and clammy as the tunnel and she could hear Margaret’s breath coming in quick jerky bursts. Ronnie gave a start. Maybe Margaret really was ill. But they were trapped. She felt in her jacket pocket where she usually kept a few boiled sweets to stop herself thinking of food. She brought one out and unwrapped it.
‘Open your mouth,’ she said. ‘I’m giving you a sweet. Just keep thinking you’ll be all right. I know you’ll be all right.’
‘I’m not brave like you, Ronnie.’
‘Yes, you are,’ Ronnie said, trying to put some conviction into the words. ‘You’re as brave as anyone else here, me included. You wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t.’
Margaret’s answer was lost in the engine noise ahead.
‘I can’t hear you,’ Ronnie said, giving Margaret’s trembling arm a light squeeze. Poor Margaret. She didn’t sound as though she’d had a particularly happy life. Ronnie remembered all the times she’d grumbled at her mother. Yes, Raine and Suzy and I have all been at the sharp end of Maman trying to stop us doing what we love and treating us like naughty children, Ronnie thought, but she doesn’t do it out of spite or cruelty. Suzy always says it’s out of fear.
Talking of fear, Margaret was certainly terrified of the tunnel and if Ronnie was honest, she wasn’t so keen on the dark damp passage herself. She’d imagined a tunnel – dark, of course, but well lit by the boats’ lights. As it was, she could barely make out the brick walls that Penelope was almost brushing on one side. She gave a thought to the men who’d built it. There must have been many accidents from the explosives they were bound to have used. She and the others would be coming into daylight soon but those men would have spent all day and every day in the dark. What a horrible existence. The image made her shudder.
She realised Margaret had gone very quiet.
‘Margaret, are you feeling any better?’
But there was only silence.
‘For God’s sake, Margaret, speak to me!’
And then in front of her a pinprick of light appeared. At first she thought they must be about to come out of the tunnel until Margaret screamed, piercing her ears, slicing through her eardrums, making her heart pound.
‘LOOK OUT!’ Margaret screamed again.
‘What is it? I can’t see a thing. What’s happened to the oil lamp? The light’s completely gone!’ Ronnie fought to keep the panic from her voice but her lips trembled and she didn’t know if her words made sense. It must have gone out with all that water from the tunnel walls dripping onto it.
‘BOAT COMING!’ Margaret screamed.
Oh, dear God. Surely there wasn’t room for another boat to pass. Ronnie’s stomach churned. If only she could see – judge the space. See where Dora was. She’d said a seven-footer could squeeze by but Ronnie couldn’t tell if she was close enough to the wall to allow it. Grimly hanging on to the tiller, she felt the butty moving faster, knowing she had no control. No brakes. Heart pounding in her ears, she realised her speed was set by the motor in front.
In her panic Ronnie pulled the tiller too hard and felt the butty bump against the wall. Forgetting Dora’s warning, she frantically used her fist to push against the dripping wall, allowing the boat to pull away, wincing as her knuckles scraped the slimy brick surface. Any moment the other motorboat would crash into them but she still couldn’t even make out the shape of any boat. Dear God, had they spotted Dora’s headlights?
‘Blow the horn!’ Ronnie shouted to Margaret, hoping against hope that Penelope was hugging the wall. Seconds that felt like hours passed, and finally she felt the vibration in the water from the other boat. Smoke she couldn’t even see made her cough as several voices, sounding like an entire family, shouted obscenities. Ronnie hardly dared breathe until she was sure the other motorboat must have passed by.
‘Yer silly boogers,’ bawled one of the men. ‘Where’s yer light? Yer’ve no business steerin’ somethin’ yer can’t handle with no lights.’
‘You got by, didn’t you?’ Ronnie shouted back to the bodiless voice, her temper rising.
‘You wimmen make me sick,’ came another voice. ‘Yer shouldna be allowed on the cut.’
‘We’re doing a job, same as you,’ Ronnie shouted back, her temper flaring. ‘Doing our bit for the war.’
‘Yer need ter git back home ter mummy, where yer belong,’ came the growled response.
‘It’s no good arguing,’ Margaret said, as the other boat’s voices faded. ‘They’ve gone now.’ She patted Ronnie’s arm. ‘They could easily have crashed into us but you kept your nerve.’
With Margaret’s confidence seemingly restored as a result of warning her about the other boat, Ronnie breathed a long sigh, her heart slowing to an even tempo as Penelope inched its way behind Persephone on the tow rope through the long, dank, watery passage.
‘Oh, look! Isn’t that a tiny pinprick of daylight? We must be coming to the end of the tunnel.’ Margaret’s voice rose with relief and excitement.
‘What the blazes happened to you two in the tunnel?’ Dora demanded when they were tying up.
‘Our oil lamp went out,’ Ronnie said. ‘Luckily, Margaret heard that other boat above the engine noise and warned me.’
‘What was Jess doin’?’
Ronnie’s heart sank. She might as well tell Dora the truth.
‘She was making lunch.’
‘I said she was ter watch yer,’ Dora said tersely. ‘Did yer keep away from the wall?’
‘I did feel a bump once when I was trying to get really close so the other boat could pass.’
‘I warned yer it were narrer. So more damage, I don’t doubt.’ Dora’s tone was grim.
‘I didn’t scrape anything,’ Ronnie said defensively, ‘except my hand when I pushed us away.’
‘That’s what I told yer not to do. Yer don’t seem ter listen when I’m speakin’.’
‘That’s not fair. I do.’
Ronnie watched Dora’s lips pursing in disbelief, but she didn’t care. For once, she wasn’t scared of the trainer. She’d done her best and all was well, as far as she was concerned. Even Margaret appeared to have fully recovered from her bad case of nerves.
‘It’s true, Miss Dummitt,’ Margaret said. ‘Ronnie was marvellous and kept calm. It was the men in the other boat who started shouting at us.’
‘I’m not surprised when they saw a boat comin’ towards them with no space to pass,’ Dora said, having the last word as usual.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Wouldn’t it be fun if one of us could play an instrument?’ Jessica said after supper. ‘We could have a singsong.’
She’d made a delicious macaroni cheese and taken the other trainees half the dish. To Ronnie’s relief Dora had decided to have her supper at the nearest pub.
‘I play the ukulele,’ May said unexpectedly.
‘You never said,’ Ronnie piped up.
‘You never asked,’ May chuckled. ‘I’m no professional but I’ll play a few songs if you like.’ She stood with a teacloth in her hand, ready to dry the dishes Ronnie had washed and left in the bowl.
‘It would definitely break the monotony,’ Jessica said.
‘Shouldn’t we invite the others?’ Ronnie gave the macaroni saucepan an extra scrub to remove the bit
s of clinging cheese and sauce.
‘Yes, we should, though it’ll be a frightful squash.’ Jessica wiped the foldaway table.
‘Do we have to invite Angela?’ Ronnie said.
‘No, we don’t have to. She’d put a real dampener on it.’ The corners of Jessica’s mouth turned down as though at the very thought.
‘We can’t ask Margaret and Sally without her,’ May said.
‘I don’t see why not,’ Jessica said.
‘Maybe she won’t come,’ May ventured.
‘I bet she will,’ Jessica said. ‘She’s the sort of person who likes to be in on everything.’
‘I’ll go and see what they’re doing,’ Ronnie said. ‘Tonight would be good as we haven’t got Deadly Dora peering at us with her disapproving look. She’s another one who’d take all the fun out of it.’
‘I’ll get the uke tuned up while you’re gone.’ May hung the wet tea towel over the range.
‘Where on earth did you hide it in such a cramped space?’ Jessica asked curiously.
‘I kept it under the cratch, but after the police finished their search that time I moved it where we keep the extra coal.’
She disappeared to the back of the boat and returned with a sack. Five minutes later Ronnie came through the hatch.
‘Margaret’s not coming,’ she said. ‘She wants an early night. I think she’s exhausted from the tunnel. You know she had a bit of a panic in there. I was quite scared for a while that she was going to be sick.’
‘Poor Margaret. I’m not sure she’s suited to this job,’ Jessica said. ‘She’s such a frail little thing.’ She paused. ‘So is it just Sally coming?’ She raised an eyebrow.
‘And Angela,’ Ronnie added with a grimace. ‘She said yes immediately.’
‘Oh, no. Oh, well, we’ll have to make the best of it.’
May tuned her ukulele, which sounded awful at first but settled into a tune Ronnie recognised.
‘Let’s try one and see how it goes,’ May said. ‘You must all know this one.’ She strummed a few bars and began to sing:
‘Cruising down the river
‘On a Sunday afternoon …’ Ronnie and Jessica joined in.
