by Molly Green
Ronnie knew her face had turned bright red. But not with guilt. With anger that Jess should be talking like this to her. She was terribly sorry about Jess and her baby, but …
‘I don’t mean to sound harsh, Ronnie,’ Jessica went on. ‘You’ve had a ghastly day. But you turned your anger onto the wrong man. Poor Michael. And he did apologise to you afterwards. He’s as genuine as they come – and he likes you so much. Anyone with half an eye can see it. And if I’m not mistaken it goes deeper than that. I’d say he’s head-over-heels in love with you.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
Why did her heart just now do a funny little somersault?
‘I’m not,’ Jessica said. ‘I’m older than you, that’s all. But even if he wasn’t in love with you, you still never gave the poor bloke the chance to explain. To defend himself from your accusations. You acted like a kid instead of a grown-up woman. I’m disappointed in you.’ She got up and cleared the table. ‘I don’t want us to fall out over this so let’s forget it and I’ll go and finish supper.’
‘Can I do anything?’
‘No,’ Jessica answered shortly. ‘I’m better doing it on my own.’
Ronnie gave a heavy sigh as she slumped on the plank seat. If only she could put Rusty on a lead and take him for a walk on her own and think about all that Jess had said. Not allowing Michael to have his proper say. And her own muddled angry thoughts. Being away from people is how she’d always tried to work things out in the past. But she was here in a cramped boat, rarely having a moment to herself … through her own choice, she reminded herself crossly.
Was Jess right? Had she been unfair to Michael? She’d been so quick to blame him for the terror she’d felt being in that room, petrified she was going to be clapped in jail. The whole set-up had been concocted by the police and Michael had gone along with it. But that didn’t mean to say that he agreed, an inner voice said. Well, if he didn’t agree then he was weak not to speak up. But Jess didn’t seem to think so.
Ronnie recalled all the times he’d been there to help her, how kind he’d been when he’d had to tell her about Margaret, the way she fitted in his arms at the dance … She swallowed hard. He hadn’t asked for anything in return. Hadn’t tried to frighten her or take advantage of her like … well, like Will. And now she’d hurt Michael by not giving him a chance to defend himself. She hadn’t been brought up like that. The image of Dad slipped into her mind. He was frowning. She knew he would have given her a sharp telling-off.
Suddenly she wanted to see Michael. But it was too late. She had no means of contacting him. And besides … she’d told him as clearly as anyone possibly could that she never wanted to set eyes on him again. And he was a gentleman. He’d have taken her at her word. He must have had an inkling that Will had overstepped the line with her and he wouldn’t want to do anything more to upset her.
Tears welled. She’d spoilt the special friendship she was sure they’d once had. Jess had even said he was in love with her. If it was true … if he really was … well, it made everything even worse.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
June 1944
During the following months Ronnie was so busy she hardly had time to dwell on her inner turmoil about Michael. It had been sad saying goodbye to Dora. Ronnie felt the back of her eyes prick with tears as she recalled their parting. She was being stupid, she knew, but she’d become fond of the trainer. And she’d never forget Dora’s unhappy love affair.
‘It was nice knowin’ yer, Ver-ron-eek,’ Dora had said, with a teasing smile as she stuck out her hand. ‘I believe I’ve made a boatwoman out of yer.’
‘Oh, you have. I was worried at first. I kept thinking you were going to send me home.’
‘Not likely,’ Dora chuckled. ‘Not with them strong arms of yours. You was the perfect trainee. The company’s proud of you … and so’m I.’
Ronnie couldn’t restrain from giving Dora a hug.
‘All right, miss, that’s enough.’
But the way Dora had grinned, Ronnie knew she wasn’t displeased.
Lately the canal girls’ work had stepped up and they were working non-stop with no leave in between. But there was always something to hold Ronnie’s interest along the cut. It might be the heady almond scent of meadowsweet, the pretty little white flower growing along the bank. Or the rustle of the leaves in the trees. And the first time she saw little tots sitting on the roof of their parents’ boat made her suck in her breath, until she noticed they were chained to one of the chimneys. The youngsters pointed and shrieked at the cattle in the field who were curiously watching the boats pass by, making Ronnie laugh out loud.
Several times they’d had to travel through the night to manage the upsurge of deliveries. On these occasions the monotony would often be broken by boatmen singing as they passed by, their voices floating over the water with ‘Two Lovely Black Eyes’, or some comic music hall song. If Ronnie and the others attempted to join in there’d be shouts and hoots of derisive laughter.
Ronnie was exhausted but she found more peace when she was working hard. After a gruelling day she would go up on deck to steal some quiet moments, thrilling at the sight of bats emerging just as the sun was setting, flying so closely together it was a wonder they didn’t bump into one another. She loved hearing the sudden splash of an otter or a water vole, or seeing a red fox slide through the growth on the side of the cut, intent on its evening prowl.
Lucky had taken to sunning herself and dozing on the deck now it was milder. Only yesterday evening in the dusk the little cat had suddenly pricked up her ears when an insect, a water boatman, struck out from the water. Lucky had instantly sprung up and taken a snap at it. The water boatman had only just managed to escape and had flown off.
‘Sorry, Lucky, I’m afraid you were unlucky that time,’ Ronnie laughed as the cat pretended she wasn’t a scrap disappointed by licking herself at rapid speed.
There was one piece of good news and Ronnie and Jessica received it with undisguised delight – Angela decided she’d had enough of working with totally inept people and was leaving in the morning.
‘It was the last straw when head office told us our leave’s been cancelled again,’ Angela complained.
‘I think there’s a reason for that,’ Jessica said. ‘Do you realise all we seem to have been carrying lately are shell cases and steel? What does that tell you? An invasion on the coast of France, that’s what I think. And we’re helping prepare for it. I’m going to buy a paper today to see if it gives any clue.’
‘If it’s true, they’ll be keeping it secret,’ Angela said scathingly. ‘But whatever it is, I don’t intend to be part of it.’
‘I think it’s madly exciting,’ Ronnie said. ‘We’ll feel we’re doing something really important. Because when you think of it, we’re hardly aware of any war unless we walk round a town that’s taken a few hits.’ She turned to Angela. ‘Are you all packed?’
‘I know you can’t wait to be rid of me,’ Angela answered with a curl of her lip.
May and Sally had gone to another boat to make up a new team in February, but as soon as Sally found out Angela was leaving, she’d got in touch with the company to ask if she could make up the third girl on Penelope and Persephone. It had all been agreed and Sally was due to arrive in the afternoon. Ronnie felt a flutter of joy. Sally was lovely. She’d never forget how kind Sally had been when she’d hit her head on the paddle that time. She couldn’t wait to see her. It would be heaven to be part of a happy team again. They’d arranged that Jessica’s home would be in Persephone, the motor, and Ronnie and Sally would live in Penelope. That suited Ronnie down to the ground.
‘Sally!’ Ronnie said, as a dark-haired girl appeared in the butty an hour later, just as she was making tea.
‘It’s me all right. Sorry I’m a bit later than I’d said.’
Ronnie and Jessica gave her a hug, both wanting to know all the news about Dora and May.
‘One at a time,’ Sally la
ughed, a little breathless. She looked round the butty. ‘Where do I sleep?’
‘You can have the double bed to yourself as I’m the smallest,’ Ronnie said. ‘Jess’s got a whole boat to herself.’
‘I bagged it,’ Jessica laughed. ‘It now seems too good to be true. No moaning Angela and no Deadly Dora.’
‘I have to stick up for Dora,’ Ronnie said. ‘In spite of everything I can’t help liking and admiring her.’
‘She’s had a bit of a rough deal from what I gather,’ Jessica remarked. ‘But it’s good being on our own without constantly being criticised.’
‘Why did you leave the new team?’ Ronnie asked Sally curiously.
‘The Scot – Laura McKay – stayed a whole fortnight.’ Sally shook her head. ‘I always thought the Scots were a tough lot. Then the new girl turned up. Lily. And that accurately describes her – lily-livered. I hate to say it but she was useless. Terrified of creepy-crawlies, always losing her windlass, late every morning – you couldn’t depend on her. I can’t see her lasting.’
‘Well, the cut in’t everyone’s brew,’ Jessica said, mocking Dora. ‘Speaking of which …’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Let’s have a quick cuppa and then get going. We need to be tied up at Brentford by six o’clock latest. That only gives us a couple of hours. But I’m not cooking supper. I say we have fish and chips tonight to celebrate Sally coming back.’
Sally produced a newspaper from the basket she carried. ‘This is probably cause for an even greater celebration,’ she said. ‘Look at this.’
‘Good God,’ Jessica said, briefly scanning the leading article. She handed the paper to Ronnie. It was today’s Daily Mail, Tuesday, 6th June 1944, and the front-page headlines screamed out:
OUR ARMIES IN N. FRANCE
4,000 INVASION SHIPS HAVE CROSSED CHANNEL
BRITISH AND CANADIANS
SECURE 2 BEACHHEADS
Ronnie’s eyes travelled down the columns, trying to take in such a momentous development.
‘You know what this means,’ she said, beaming as she handed the paper to Sally. ‘We must have delivered some of the ammunition they needed. We said how we were suddenly much busier. I wish we’d known.’
‘Probably best we didn’t,’ Sally chuckled. ‘You’d have got so excited you might not have had your mind on the job.’
‘Well, I was right,’ Jessica said triumphantly. ‘I said right at the beginning when Dora wouldn’t let us go on leave that our boys could be planning an invasion – and northern France was the obvious choice.’
‘My mother’s going to be really happy,’ Ronnie said. ‘Maybe it won’t be too long before her beloved Paris is free.’
‘The war’s really turning in our favour now,’ Jessica said, checking her watch. ‘But I tell you one thing – if we don’t soon get going, we’re not going to make it by this evening.’
With exaggerated groans from Ronnie and Sally, the two of them quickly cleared the cups and threw on their jackets.
‘Who’s going to help me untie?’ Jessica asked.
‘I will,’ Ronnie volunteered. ‘Sally can be unpacking.’
‘That’ll take all of two minutes,’ Sally laughed.
By the time the three of them had moored at Brentford, Ronnie’s stomach was rumbling. Instead of tying up at six, as Jessica had planned, Ronnie’s watch showed it was coming up to nine, and getting dark. She’d seen Persephone and Penelope through a couple of locks by herself, but thankfully a surly lock-keeper for once made an appearance to open the particularly tricky Thames lock.
‘I don’t know about you, Sally,’ she said, flopping down in the butty when the two boats were safely moored. ‘But I’m too tired to walk to any fish and chip shop.’
‘Why don’t I make us all some scrambled eggs on toast?’ Sally suggested.
‘I’ll help, when I can just draw breath.’ Ronnie gave her a weak grin.
‘No, you did more than your fair share with those locks and Jess really had to concentrate getting through them, so let me.’
‘That Thames lock was a killer,’ Jessica said, coming through the hatch. ‘I’d forgotten it was tidal and had a bit of a prang. Good job Deadly Dora’s not around. She would have given me hell for it.’
‘I think we did an excellent job between us,’ Sally said. ‘By the way, Jess, Ronnie’s exhausted. We thought we’d stay in and have scrambled eggs. Is that okay with you?’
‘Suits me,’ Jess said. ‘We should have some fresh eggs in the cupboard.’ She glanced at Ronnie. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot. Look what I found in the motor this afternoon – addressed to you.’ She tossed an envelope over to Ronnie.
Ronnie stared at it curiously. She didn’t recognise the neat writing. It was marked ‘Strictly Confidential’. How strange. She glanced at the postmark and her eyes went wide.
‘But this was posted in February … and it’s now June.’
‘I know.’
‘Where was it?’
‘Wedged in the back of one of the drawers. I wondered why it wouldn’t open properly.’
Ronnie frowned. She fetched a knife and carefully slit the envelope. She read the first line and her heart jumped. It was from Michael!
12 Polstead Road,
Oxford
12th February 1944
My dear Ronnie,
When you told me you didn’t want to ever see me again and I saw how upset you were, I vowed not to be the cause of any more hurt. But after mulling it over I decided I must explain the difficult situation I found myself in, hoping you’ll understand. I’m one of the youngest of my colleagues and don’t have all their experience but I was completely against bringing you into the station and scaring you into thinking we were going to question you yet again. I’d already argued the day before with the same inspector you saw that you were too young and inexperienced to be put through something like that, and it wasn’t fair. He said, ‘Nor is black-marketing.’ I desperately wanted to tell him we were good friends and you would take a dim view of my role, and the police in general, but that would have made things worse as he would say I’m biased, and the police are supposed to be objective. He had it in his mind that his plan was going to work, and said, ‘I’m sure she’ll soon forget it.’ It’s not surprising that he doesn’t get on with his own daughter.
And when I saw your white face when you walked into the station, all I wanted to do was to take you in my arms and tell you everything would be all right.
Maybe it was unwise to mention his plan the other day but I couldn’t have been anything less than honest with you. I didn’t want you to find out some other way. I don’t blame you for being angry.
But how I miss you! I keep thinking of that dance we had. You said you’d never had a decent partner but you followed my steps so perfectly – even in bare feet! For me it was a magical evening and I hoped you felt it was a special birthday. And then you let me kiss you. I drove home with my head in the clouds! I couldn’t wait to see you again, little knowing what a dreadful meeting that was to be.
Dearest Ronnie, can you find it in your heart to forgive me? I know I mustn’t hope to see you again, but at least if I know you are no longer angry with me, it will be of some consolation.
Yours,
Michael
Ronnie gulped, trying to dislodge the lump that had formed in her throat, as she read his last sentence. She’d missed him too. Terribly. Spikes of guilt stabbed her. She hadn’t realised how much she’d hurt him. Completely unnecessarily. So he’d thought that evening at the Palais de Danse had been magical as well. A little quiver ran down her spine. She hadn’t known men could feel magical about a girl, but there it was in black and white.
‘Is it bad news, Ron?’ Jessica said.
Ronnie shook her head. ‘Not really … well, I suppose it is.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘It’s from Michael,’ she added flatly.
‘Michael! What does he say?’
‘He’s asked me to forgive him. But it wasn’t his fault. I never
gave him a chance to explain.’ She burst into pent-up sobs.
‘I don’t know about all this,’ Sally said. ‘What did he do that you have to forgive him?’
Jessica quickly put Sally in the picture and for once Sally just listened, only making sympathetic noises.
‘Pass the envelope,’ Jessica said. Ronnie handed it to her and she studied it. ‘I thought so.’ She gave it back to Ronnie. ‘Look at the flap. What does that tell you?’
Ronnie shook her head. ‘I don’t know. It’s just where the envelope is stuck down.’
‘Let me look,’ Sally said. She peered at the back of the envelope and looked straight at Jessica. ‘I see what you mean. It’s wrinkled, which tells me it’s been bloody steamed open, and I’ve had enough experience with my mother steaming all my post until I left home to do my nursing.’
Ronnie sat in shocked silence. Finally she stuttered, ‘B-but who—?’
Sally frowned. ‘You know something, Ron. I think Angela has something to do with this.’
Ronnie’s head jerked up. ‘Angela? What on earth do you mean?’
‘Well, I may be wrong but she said something that wasn’t very nice just before she left.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Ronnie raised her eyebrows.
Sally hesitated. ‘At the time I just put it down to her general bitchiness, but she said she couldn’t bear to share a boat a minute longer with a hoity-toity know-all and a stupid little schoolgirl who was after every man in sight. And as she was living in the butty at the time I could only assume she meant Jess and you.’
Stupid little schoolgirl after every man in sight. Was that how the others saw her? Ronnie’s eyes stung with indignation.
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,’ Sally said.
‘No, I’m glad you did. Because if that’s how she felt about me I won’t feel awful thinking she may have deliberately held my letter back.’