by Molly Green
The stuffy atmosphere felt as though it was stifling her. She couldn’t breathe. Unnerved by so many eyes staring at her, she jumped up.
‘Where yer goin’?’ Sid called. ‘I gotta keep an eye on yer. Yer heard Bob tell me, didn’t yer?’
Ronnie sat down again and gulped down half of her drink. It was cool and sharp. She prayed Bob wouldn’t be long so she could just get out of here.
The minutes ticked by. She watched the clock. Ten minutes. Quarter of an hour. Now twenty. Ronnie finished her drink, thankful her feet had finally thawed and were tingling. At least it meant there was some life. She looked up as Bob appeared, carrying a basket that exuded a wonderfully enticing smell. He was grinning.
‘Tell the ladies to have this on me,’ he said, putting up his other hand to stop any argument. ‘And don’t worry about being late back.’ He paused. ‘Who’s your trainer, anyway?’
‘Dora—’
‘Dora Dummitt?’ he interrupted.
‘You know her?’
‘All the folk round here know her. She’ll understand better than anyone if you’re stopping for a drink.’ He gave a hoot of laughter, then suddenly tapped the side of his head. ‘I’ve just thought. Old Jack Soames from the White Hart telephoned here no more than half an hour ago, asking if I’d seen her. Apparently, the police are trying to get hold of her.’ He roared with laughter again. ‘I wonder what she’s been up to this time.’
Ronnie’s heart jolted. She glanced at Sid who was just heaving out of his chair. She didn’t want him with her, being nosy about Dora.
‘I really can manage on my own now you’ve put the dish in a basket,’ she told Bob.
He looked over to Sid, then back to Ronnie. Seeming to understand, he nodded to her. ‘If you’re sure, love.’
‘I am.’ Ronnie smiled at him, taking the basket before he changed his mind. ‘And thank you so much for not charging. It’s really kind of you.’
‘Hope you and the ladies enjoy it,’ he said, ‘though I will have me dish and basket back.’
‘Of course. I’ll bring them back tomorrow morning.’
Twice Ronnie almost slipped and twice she managed to keep upright but it took all her concentration to stop herself from falling over. Thank goodness. There were the boats. Even before she approached the motorboat she could hear the girls talking. Well, she’d give Dora the message privately. It was none of her or the other girls’ business to know the reason why the police wanted to question their trainer.
Chapter Twenty-Two
She’d made it! Ronnie almost laughed aloud thinking how pleased Dora would be when she saw the dinner Bob had kindly packed for everyone. She hadn’t managed to buy any food but at least they’d be all right tonight, and she knew there was plenty of porridge and evaporated milk for the morning. The village shop would be open tomorrow when surely the sun would finally come out and melt the snow.
Ronnie was just about to climb on board, balancing the basket, when a figure stepped from the hatch of Persephone. Constable Michael Scott! So he’d already found Dora. Why was he so intent on interviewing her again? Surely they’d found out all they needed to know when he and the sergeant came to inspect the boats that time.
Those men at the pub hinted Dora was probably up to no good. Oh, it was too embarrassing for words.
She waited for Michael to recognise her and when he did, his expression was grim. Her heart lurched. Supposing Dora was arrested. She and the others were still training. They wouldn’t have a clue what to do or even where to go. All this was muddling through her head when he reached her on the towpath.
‘Ronnie! Everyone’s wondering where you’d got to. Dora’s not at all pleased you’ve been gone so long.’
‘She knew I was going to the village to get some rations,’ Ronnie said defensively. She held out the basket. ‘Look! I’ve brought them dinner tonight. That should put Dora in a better mood.’
‘I doubt it.’ Michael Scott regarded her. ‘But of course you wouldn’t know what I’ve come for.’
‘No, I don’t, unless it’s checking for stuff on the black market again.’
‘No, it wasn’t, though I wish it were.’
Ronnie frowned. ‘What is it, then?’
He was silent as though wondering what to say. A terrible foreboding flooded through her.
He cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry, Ronnie, I don’t know how to say this …’ His eyes were fixed on her. ‘You must be brave.’
Her heart began to pound. He was about to say something awful – she knew it. Not Raine or Suzy. Don’t let anything have happened to them. Panic clawed at her throat.
‘Not one of my sisters? Or my mother?’ She grabbed his arm.
He shook his head. ‘No, love, it’s not them.’
‘It’s Margaret, isn’t it?’ This time her voice was hardly more than a whisper.
‘Yes. She took a turn for the worse this morning.’
Ronnie flinched. ‘W-will she be all right?’ She pulled at his coat sleeve, willing him to say what she wanted to hear.
‘I’m afraid not.’ He looked down at her, his eyes warm with compassion. ‘I’m so sorry but there’s no easy way to tell you – Margaret died early this morning.’
Ronnie’s basket fell from her grasp but she was hardly aware. Her eyes went wide as she fixed them on him. It couldn’t be true.
‘B-but she was getting better … the hospital said so. Why would they say such a thing if it wasn’t true?’
‘I know that’s what we were told,’ he said, watching her. ‘But sometimes pneumonia plays tricks.’
‘I can’t believe it. She’s so young. She’s—’
Ronnie broke off sobbing. Strong arms encircled her, supporting her, then drew her closer.
‘I just can’t believe it.’ Ronnie’s voice was muffled against his coat. She felt Michael’s hand stroke her hair.
‘Shhhh.’ He tilted up her face until her eyes were almost level with his. ‘I feel badly, too. It’s because I knew her, even though it was just that brief time, but enough to see that she was a real person – a girl who risked her life rescuing a little cat – not just another unknown victim of the canal.’
‘If only I’d—’
‘No “if only”s,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t help. You did your absolute best. More than anyone you tried so hard to save her.’
‘What did Dora say when you told her?’
‘She said it was a pity but it was one of those things.’
Ronnie turned her head and began to cry again, still holding on to Michael.
‘Come on, Ronnie. Poor Margaret’s at peace now.’
She gulped, then sniffed, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her raincoat. Michael found her a handkerchief and held it to her nose.
‘Blow,’ he said, as though she were a child. ‘Good.’ He studied her. ‘Are you feeling better?’
She couldn’t speak.
He nodded. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘You’ll remember her for the kind girl she was, but she wouldn’t want you to be miserable on her behalf.’
Suddenly Ronnie looked at her arm and then with horror at the ground. The meat pie had been flung into the snow. He followed her gaze and picked up the basket, then crouched down and rescued the pie.
‘Here, it’s not broken up too much. You should be able to piece it together but it might need a little more time heating up, that’s all.’
She knew he was trying to lighten the moment and smiled weakly. ‘Thank you … Constable,’ she managed.
‘I’ve told you before – Michael will do when we’re off-duty.’
‘Michael,’ she repeated, and took the basket from him. ‘Thank you for taking the trouble to come and tell us.’ Without another word she climbed aboard Penelope, somehow comforted by his warmth and understanding.
To her relief Jessica was the only one in the butty. She was making tea and turned when she heard Ronnie’s step.
‘Did you just this minute bump into Constabl
e Scott?’
‘Yes.’ Ronnie flushed with embarrassment remembering how she’d blubbed on his coat. Whatever must he have thought? ‘He told me about Margaret.’ She sat down. ‘I can’t believe it. She was improving – the hospital said so.’
‘These things happen.’ Jessica poured her a mug of tea. ‘Drink this, Ronnie. I offered our lovely Constable Scott a cup but he wouldn’t stay. He was bent on finding you and telling you in person – I suppose he thought he should as you knew her better than the rest of us.’ She looked at Ronnie closely. ‘Unless, of course, he had another reason.’ She gave a knowing smile.
‘Stop it, Jess. I’m not in the mood for your nonsense.’
‘Look, Ronnie, you can’t keep this up. We’ve got a job to do.’
Jessica left without another word. Ronnie put her hands round the hot enamel mug, trying to draw some comfort from its warmth. How kind Michael had been when she’d made such a fool of herself. It was almost as if he’d gone out of his way – surely beyond what would have been considered his normal duties. If it were true, then why?
It wouldn’t sink in. No matter how Ronnie told herself it was true, she still couldn’t quite believe Margaret was dead. Nothing to do with the war but something that could so easily have been avoided. Going for a walk by the canal when it was pitch-dark was madness. Whatever had made her think of doing such a thing? How much easier it would have been to have learnt that a bomb had killed her. She bit her lip. That was a terrible thought as well. It didn’t matter now how she’d died. Nothing could alter the fact that Margaret, a young girl with all her life before her, was dead.
Ronnie swallowed her tears.
‘The officer told me Margaret’s ma and pa are comin’ to collect her things,’ Dora finished when she appeared in the butty a few minutes later, puffing more furiously on her pipe than usual. ‘They should be here termorrer mornin’ so we’ll be tyin’ up until they’ve done their business.’ She looked at Ronnie for the first time. ‘What’s the matter with you, miss? Yer eyes are all red and swollen.’
‘It’s such a shock about Margaret,’ Ronnie gulped.
‘Yes, most unfortunate.’
Is that all the woman can say?
As if Dora read her mind, her expression softened a fraction. ‘Like I keep tellin’ yer – the cut’s a dangerous place. Yer have ter learn to respect ’em. Let this be a warnin’. An’ it’s not worth rescuin’ some poor creature what’s fallen in.’
Bob, who’d turned out to be the landlord of The Crown, had kindly offered Dora and Ronnie shelter in the pub while they waited for Margaret’s parents to arrive.
‘Miss Dummitt, I think that’s them. They’re both carrying suitcases.’
‘Go and see,’ Dora said. ‘No good both of us freezin’ to death.’
Ronnie stood outside, banging her arms together to keep warm. She watched as the couple slowly walked from the bus stop towards the pub.
‘Mr and Mrs Webb?’ she asked. Mr Webb nodded. ‘I’m Ronnie.’
‘Pleased to meet you, my dear. This is my wife.’
Mrs Webb’s face was set as though she was determined to hold herself together, but Ronnie noticed Mr Webb had tears rolling down his cheeks which he wiped away, coughing loudly into his handkerchief as he did so. Ronnie remembered how fondly Margaret spoke of him.
‘It’s a sad day all right,’ Dora said, coming up to them. ‘Yous’d better come on board and one of the wenches will make a cuppa.’
‘No, thank you,’ Mr Webb said. ‘It’s very kind of you but we want to be on our way as quickly as possible with this snow.’
‘Ver-ron-eek, here, has packed Margaret’s things,’ Dora said, briefly touching Ronnie’s arm to show Margaret’s parents who she was. ‘She was the one what found yer daughter.’
‘Oh, my goodness,’ Mr Webb exclaimed. ‘The nurse told us a friend visited her in hospital a couple of hours before we got there. The weather held the bus up. Was it you, my dear?’ Ronnie nodded. ‘Margaret said you’d been a good friend and she was sorry to have put you to so much trouble and worry.’
‘It was nothing,’ Ronnie said. ‘I only wish I’d found her sooner – that I’d known she’d disappeared sooner, and maybe …’ She broke off, choking with tears.
‘You mustn’t upset yourself,’ Mr Webb said. ‘But she did want to make sure you were looking after the cat.’
Dora swung round to Ronnie. ‘Why weren’t I asked about yous lookin’ after it?’
Ronnie felt her cheeks flush. ‘We were worried you’d be annoyed and not allow it on the boat.’
‘I like cats,’ Dora said, surprisingly. ‘I like all animals, matter o’ fact. What d’ya think keeps me goin’ on the cut if it weren’t for the love of nature?’
‘So it’s all right, then, if I take care of Lucky?’
Dora gave a short bark of laughter. ‘So that’s its name. I suppose I can only agree to let it stay with a name like that.’ She glanced at the other girls who had silently gathered. ‘One of yer, go in and get Margaret’s bag.’ She turned to Mr and Mrs Webb. ‘Margaret’s bike is under the cratch’ – she nodded towards the motorboat – ‘but it’ll only take a moment to get it.’
‘The cratch?’ Mrs Webb sounded puzzled.
‘It’s at the foreend of the motor,’ Dora said impatiently. ‘Margaret kept it underneath as it’s nice and dry.’ She turned to Ronnie. ‘You’d better get it, miss.’
Mr Webb wiped his eyes again and trumpeted into his handkerchief. ‘Please don’t,’ he said. ‘My wife and I already discussed it.’ He looked at Ronnie. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name, my dear.’
‘Ronnie … Ronnie Linfoot.’
‘Then if you could use Margaret’s bicycle we’d like you to have it.’
Ronnie startled. ‘Really? Are you sure?’
‘We’re very sure,’ Mrs Webb joined in. ‘Margaret loved that bicycle. We gave it to her on her eighteenth birthday. She hasn’t used it that much as she takes … took such pride in it. We bought her the very best. She deserved it. She’s always been a good girl but we never thought she was strong enough to do this sort of work. We were so relieved when she telephoned to say she was leaving – coming home to us. And now she never will.’ Mrs Webb broke down in sobs.
‘Hush, now, love,’ Mr Webb said, seeming to gather himself and putting his arm around her broad shoulder. ‘We’ve used up enough of Miss Dummitt’s time already.’ He looked at Dora. ‘We’ll be on our way.’ He picked up the bag with Margaret’s belongings and nodded to the little group. ‘Thank you for everything.’ His eyes fell on Ronnie. ‘Especially we want to thank you, my dear, for your kindness to Margaret and we hope you make good use of her bicycle.’
‘I will,’ Ronnie said, her cheeks warming with embarrassment. ‘And I promise I’ll look after it. But anyone would have done the same for Margaret.’
‘But you were the one who did,’ Mr Webb said emphatically, ‘and we’ll never forget it.’
‘Well,’ Dora said crisply when they’d gone. ‘I’m sure yer didn’t expect that, miss. I think different to Margaret’s ma and pa. I think it should be the bike any one of yous can use when we need shoppin’ or walkin’ on a long pound to the next lock.’ She stared at Ronnie. ‘So what do you say to that?’
‘I say no,’ Ronnie said, surprising herself under Dora’s piercing eyes. ‘It will be up to me if I lend it to anyone. Margaret wouldn’t ever lend her bicycle because it was her pride and joy, and her parents gave it to me so I’d keep it in perfect condition the way Margaret did. I bought my bicycle at home for half a crown from a jumble sale and it’s a heavy uncomfortable old thing to ride.’ She stared challengingly at Dora. ‘I can’t wait to try Margaret’s.’
‘No good will come of bein’ so selfish,’ Dora said. ‘Mark my words.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Although Margaret’s untimely death hung like a cloud over Ronnie and the others, apart from Angela who never actually referred to her, except t
o say how silly she was to take such a risk in the dark, Bob’s meat and vegetable pie was a great success that evening. Ronnie had told Jessica on the quiet what had happened.
‘I’ll disguise it,’ Jessica chuckled. ‘I guarantee Angela won’t notice the difference.’
Although the potatoes had run out, there was plenty of cabbage, making a hearty meal. Ronnie was so hungry she forced herself to put all thoughts of poor Margaret to one side and enjoy it. She’d think about Margaret when she was quiet and on her own. She grimaced. Whenever that would be possible.
‘Such a treat having pastry,’ Jessica said, licking her lips after she laid down her knife and fork. ‘I’d make it in the boat if there was room.’
Ronnie couldn’t help a smile. If Angela knew the dinner had fallen into the snow she’d have thrown a fit. Dad used to say, when they were on that one and only camping holiday, what people didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He was referring to Maman though he was too loyal to say so. She looked at Angela, who was eating slowly and, judging by her satisfied expression, savouring every mouthful, even though she’d made no comment at all. Suddenly, Ronnie felt the devil in her.
‘Are you enjoying it, Angela?’
‘Best meal I’ve had since we’ve been on this trip,’ Angela said, concentrating on her fork where a small piece of meat and carrot clung to the prongs.
‘Good job Constable Scott saved it.’
Angela’s head shot up. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Oh, I dropped the basket and the pie fell out of the dish into the snow. But he came to the rescue and picked it all up again and shoved the broken pieces back together. It was so thoughtful of him.’ She gave a peal of laughter. ‘Jess had to make some extra gravy so you couldn’t tell when she dished up.’ She winked at Jessica who gave a surreptitious nod.
‘You mean this pie’s been rolling about in the snow?’ Angela said, her fork frozen in mid-air, her pale eyes staring at Ronnie.
‘There was no damage to the dish,’ Ronnie said. ‘Thank goodness. It would have been embarrassing having to explain to the landlord who cooked it, after his kindness.’
