The Girl on the Doorstep

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  ‘He’s gone,’ Lucy answered feeling wretched.

  Rosie and the others sat quietly during the exchange not feeling they should interfere.

  ‘Typical! Your child’s father takes off as soon as he knows so you set your sights on my boy to save your disgrace!’ Sarah’s lip curled the disgust showing plainly on her face.

  ‘Jake don’t know, he’s moved on…’ Lucy began.

  ‘Jake – please tell me it isn’t that gypsy who taunted my Bill into a brawl!’ Sarah’s mouth hung open as she glanced at the faces surrounding her.

  Rosie caught the emphasis on the word ensuring that all were aware that despite the divorce, she still considered Bill to be her husband.

  ‘Oh my goodness! If that doesn’t take the biscuit! Pregnant by a gypsy who has run off and left you!’

  ‘Look ’ere, whatever you might think, it was John who made the proposal – I ’ad nothing to do with it.’ Lucy was fending off tears of pure misery.

  ‘You look, Lucy Richards, you are not being wed to my boy so you had best get used to the idea!’ Sarah’s cup began to rattle on its saucer she was so angry.

  Seeing Lucy about to crumble, it was Fanny who intervened. ‘I don’t rightly see as ’ow you can stop ’er, if that’s what ’er wants to do.’

  ‘I’ll thank you to mind your own business! It isn’t as though you are her mother now is it?’ Sarah’s face flushed red with fury.

  ‘No I ain’t ’er mother by birth, but you just be careful what you say, her’s upset enough as it is.’ Fanny’s temper began to develop now too.

  Lucy burst into tears and sobbed like her heart was cracking down its centre.

  Sarah rolled her eyes and shook her head feeling no sorrow for the crying girl. To Sarah it was her own fault, she should have been more restrained and told that gypsy just where he could go!

  ‘Those tears won’t make a blind bit of difference – I am not backing down on this and that’s that!’ Sarah sat back in the chair and harrumphed feeling satisfied she had made her point.

  Rosie was holding Lucy as she wept and only heard the exchange on the periphery of her hearing. Her concentration was firmly on the pictures forming in her mind. A wedding was taking place – a baby born – then… The mental picture book slammed shut in Rosie’s mind as she was pulled back into the argument raging in her living room.

  ‘Stop it! This is going nowhere!’ she yelled. Everyone turned to look at her and she went on. ‘Lucy and John must make this decision – no one else is at liberty to do so. We all know how John feels about her – he loves her. Lucy is pregnant about which nothing can be done now. Jake has moved on; we can’t do anything about that either. Now Lucy has to decide whether to accept John’s proposal and none of us can influence her one way or the other.’

  ‘Maybe not, but I can – and will – influence my son! If he marries that trollop it will be over my dead body!’ Sarah snapped as she got to her feet.

  ‘That can be arranged,’ Fanny put in menacingly.

  ‘There will be no wedding!’ Sarah ignored the threat as she marched out of the house leaving the front door open behind her in a last act of defiance.

  ‘I’ll just put the wood in the ’ole,’ Molly said as she stood to close the front door. A moment later she was back. ‘That one’s a nasty piece of work!’

  The four sat around the table as Lucy’s tears subsided.

  ‘I ain’t ’alf sorry it’s come to this, but thank you all for yer support,’ she said with the occasional sniff.

  ‘Damn woman! I weren’t goin’ to stand by and ’ave her talk to you like that!’ Fanny said patting Lucy’s arm.

  ‘Lucy you have to make up your mind – and soon. It wouldn’t be fair to keep John waiting too long. Just remember that Sarah would become your mother-in-law if you do marry him,’ Rosie whispered.

  ‘I know and I will. The next time the Mitchells call I will tell John my decision.’

  Over on the ‘Two Hearts’ as it chugged its way along the canal to Worcester, John considered his position.

  He had been overjoyed at seeing Lucy again, but that happiness had turned to shock by her revelation. He had taken no time to think; he had just made his proposal. Now he was wondering if that decision was the right one. He did love Lucy and was sure he could make her happy if only she would give him the chance. He knew his family disagreed with what he’d done, but he still felt it was right – all things considered.

  He sighed as he steered the boat. His problem now was where they would live and how he would provide for Lucy and her child. He thought about the baby; would he be able to be a father to him or her? Could he love another man’s offspring like it was his own? Only time could answer the questions buzzing in his head.

  His thoughts moved to his family again, and how they would react if Lucy said yes. Would they disown him? Would his father make him leave the boat?

  John sighed again as he pulled the boat into line with others to wait his turn at going through the lock.

  ‘All right, brother?’ Frank asked as he brought a mug of tea to John.

  ‘Yes, we’ll be through next,’ he said nodding towards the lock.

  ‘I meant – how are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m worried, Frank. I don’t want Dad to chuck me off the boat, and I can’t see me working the land to support Lucy.’ John sipped the hot tea and winced as it burnt his mouth.

  ‘We’ll work something out. Dad wouldn’t throw you off here, surely you know that,’ Frank said trying to reassure his twin.

  John nodded but the worry remained. Putting his mug down he began to manoeuvre the boat into position behind the lock gate.

  They watched as the water poured in slowly bringing them up to the same level as that at the other side of the gate. As the gate was opened John moved the boat forward and with a wave to the lock keeper they continued on their way.

  Stopping off for lunch, John took his courage in both hands and voiced his concerns to his father.

  ‘Stop fretting, lad, you are part of this team and we can’t do without you. As for Lucy, you’ll just have to wait and see what she decides,’ Bill said.

  ‘Thanks, Dad. Can I make a request?’ John beamed with relief. With a nod from his father he went on, ‘Can we have fish and chips for tea?’

  Bill and his sons howled with laughter as Bill threw the tea towel over John’s head.

  *

  The weather worsened as January rolled by and Margy’s arthritis made her hands ache. The snow had begun to fall during the night and the drab light of day made travelling miserable. Keeping the small stove in the cabin burning, she was cheered by the warmth it threw out. Stirring the broth in the pan on its hot plate, Margy knew Abner would be freezing up on deck. Ladling the hot soup into a huge mug she carried it carefully up the steps to her man.

  Passing the mug to Abner she took over the tiller.

  ‘Thanks, luv,’ he said watching the steam rise from the mug.

  ‘I’m gettin’ too old for this,’ Margy said rubbing her hands together as she steered the boat with her elbow.

  ‘Me an’ all.’ Abner grinned knowing full well neither would give up their boat. He knew when the time came, both would meet their maker still working on the canals.

  Abner took his broth below deck so the heat of the cabin could thaw out his cold body. As he sipped the hot soup he thought again about his wife. They had been married so long he knew when something was bothering her. Yes, she was upset about John proposing to Lucy, but there was more to it than that. Margy Mitchell was hiding something and Abner wanted to know what it was.

  He could ask her outright, but if she didn’t want him to know she’d tell him to mind his business. Then she’d suspect he was on to her. Blowing on the broth to cool it enough to slurp, he guessed he would just have to wait. Whatever was worrying his wife would be told in her own good time.

  Up on deck, Margy shivered. Dressed in layers of clothes she still felt the cold. Two pairs of A
bner’s woollen socks over her stockings, her feet were encased in a pair of his old boots. A thick cotton petticoat lay beneath a long thick skirt. A vest, blouse and jumper were topped by an old jacket which was wrapped around with a thick woollen shawl. Another shawl draped her head and tied at the back of her neck. Thick woollen gloves however could not keep the cold at bay and her fingers tingled. It was when they stopped tingling that she should worry – that would forecast frostbite.

  Blowing on her hands she then tucked them inside her shawl, her elbow still steering the boat expertly.

  It had been a couple of days since she had surreptitiously visited Sarah with the news of John and Lucy. Margy wondered what, if anything, Sarah would have done about it. If Margy knew that woman, she was certain Sarah would not have taken it lying down. She would be full of thunder and gunning for somebody. Margy felt bad for Lucy who would be receiving the sharp edge of Sarah’s tongue.

  It had not been Margy’s intention to cause the girl more grief, but she felt John’s mother had a right to know what he was getting himself into.

  Shuddering Margy guessed what Abner would have to say – he would tell her she was interfering again. She knew she would have to discuss the whole thing with her husband at some point, but for now Margy would stay closed mouthed on the subject.

  Forty-one

  Throughout the cold days of January, arguments and discussions had taken place with regard to Lucy marrying John Mitchell. Everyone had given their reasons for and against the impending wedding when Lucy had accepted the proposal.

  John suffered the ear-lashing of a lifetime from his mother who disavowed him out of sheer desperation when unable to dissuade him. She had railed and cried, begged and pleaded but John remained steadfast in his decision.

  Bill and Frank had sat long hours encouraging John to think through how his life would change in the years to come. John still maintained his love for Lucy would conquer anything they would be faced with.

  Lucy also was running the gauntlet of questions as to why she should tie herself to a man she didn’t truly love. The answers she gave were that John was a good man, he would take care of her and the baby. She knew Jake Harding would never come back for her for he loved another. John however would love her all her days and because of this she would do her best to be a good wife to him.

  Therefore by the end of February, all the shouting and bawling, arguing and upset had come to naught, and John and Lucy had married at St. John’s church in Wednesbury.

  It had been decided life would go on much as before with Lucy remaining at Upper Marshall Street and John living on the ‘Two Hearts’ with his father and brother. There appeared to be no way for the pair to be able to live together as a married couple, much to John’s chagrin.

  All had voiced their views on the marriage except Rosie. She had known what was to come and she was seldom wrong.

  Everyone had attended the rushed wedding other than Sarah Mitchell.

  She had left a message with the canal folk that she wished her son John to call on her.

  Having received the message, John had visited his mother and she had ranted and raved at him about the stupidity of his decision. Their meeting had ended badly. Sarah’s last words being, ‘If you marry that girl John Mitchell, don’t expect me to attend!’

  Despite the misgivings of the people around him, John had held true to his word. The wedding had been a sombre affair with few smiles to brighten the day.

  Rosie had watched Lucy valiantly marry a man she would never love but who would give her child a name. She felt sad the couple would not enjoy a married life together; the pair being joined in name only. Rosie saw John’s disappointment at knowing his wife would probably never share his bed, cook his meals or give him children of his own. Being poor had seen to it that the young newlyweds would have to live apart.

  Sipping her tea by the fire, Rosie’s peripheral vision saw Lucy twisting the new gold band on her finger. Was Lucy now regretting becoming Mrs John Mitchell?

  Rosie sighed inwardly. It was done now and the girl had to make the best of her lot.

  Her thoughts then turned to John’s brother. Frank had discovered something about himself he would never have thought possible. It was a secret he would have to hold inside for the rest of his life, for if it was ever revealed he would be put away – probably in the mental asylum.

  It was considered disgusting and unnatural by the general populace that some men fell in love with others of the same gender. Doctors were adamant it was a mental disorder; something having gone wrong in the brain.

  All Rosie knew was Frank would be unhappy for the remainder of his years unless he could find a way around having a partner in the utmost secrecy. Would that even be possible? Could he meet someone to love and cherish in the first place? If he did, how could they have a relationship without anyone finding out?

  Rosie conjured the pictures again of the young man with the green eyes, the boy she’d seen when she touched Frank’s arm. It appeared John had found someone to love and it seemed it was reciprocated. These two lads cared for each other and nothing anyone could say or do would change that. She wished there was something she could do to help them be together. Her mind wove her thoughts into intricate patterns trying to push them into a favourable outcome.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about names for the baby,’ Lucy said breaking Rosie’s train of thought.

  ‘Have you decided on anything yet?’

  ‘If it’s a girl I’m gonna name ‘er Roma,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Roma, the “one with the shiny hair”,’ Rosie explained the meaning of the name in the Romany language.

  ‘It’s nice, don’t you think?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Yes. What if it’s a boy?’

  ‘I thought Merivel,’ Lucy answered.

  ‘Both gypsy names. How will John feel about that?’ Rosie asked tentatively.

  ‘It don’t matter what ’e thinks, this is my babby so it’s my decision!’

  Rosie was shocked at her friend’s sharp words.

  ‘I know what you’m thinking Rosie. John was good enough to take us on…’ Lucy patted her belly before continuing, ‘so ’e should ’ave a say in the naming, but that ain’t ’ow I see it. It’s Jake Harding’s babby and he’s a gypsy so it should ’ave a Romany name.’

  ‘I’m sure Jake would like that,’ Rosie said.

  ‘I don’t care whether Jake would like it or not. He’s out of my life now and I know ’e won’t ever come back to me – child or no child,’ Lucy said on a faint sob.

  ‘Oh Lucy, I’m sorry he treated you so badly. I wish there was something I could do.’ Rosie frowned.

  ‘There ain’t nothin’ can be done. I just ’ave to get on and ’ave this kiddie then spend the rest of my life lookin’ after it.’ Lucy’s words were tinged with regret as if she felt her life was being stolen away from her.

  ‘You haven’t done any drawings lately I noticed,’ Rosie said by way of changing the subject.

  ‘I ain’t got no interest in it anymore.’

  ‘That’s a real shame because you are a wonderful artist.’ Then a thought barrelled into Rosie’s mind. It would seem harsh but it might just get Lucy back to her sketching. ‘Besides, we still have to pay rent. John couldn’t afford to pay your half, it’s all he can do to survive himself.’ Rosie kept her eyes on the fire as she spoke. She heard Lucy sigh and knew she had hit the mark. In order to assuage her conscience, Rosie rose from her chair.

  Time to make more tea, the perfect panacea.

  *

  Rosie continued with her ‘readings’ to the delight of the canal people and sure enough Lucy began sketching again.

  As time wore on and the weather eased its way into a blustery spring, John visited his wife as often as he could.

  Their relationship was strained however; gone was the light-hearted banter replaced by uncomfortable looks punctuated by clipped conversation.

  John’s calls were accompanied by his brother a
nd father, and Rosie only had eyes for Bill. He had never left her thoughts regardless of whatever else was going on around her. She prayed every day he might come to see her as more than his employer and friend, but he gave no outwards signs of this happening.

  Rosie spent her days wondering where he was, and her nights crying out for his love. Little did she know Bill was feeling exactly the same way.

  The cold March wind blew as she trudged down to the wharf intent on ‘reading’ for any who called to her. Her nose was cold and red and her breath puffed out in tiny steam clouds.

  Changing direction, Rosie walked along Corporation Wharf thinking it would make a nice change from Worcester Wharf. Coming to a small patch of waste ground tucked away behind a massive warehouse, Rosie’s eyes widened in surprise. Surely that couldn’t be – but a shout and a wave told her it was – Jake Harding’s kumpania was back!

  Her mind whirled as she walked across to greet them. What would happen if Lucy found out they had returned? Would she seek Jake out and tell him he was to be a father? Or, would she stay home and ignore him? Should she, Rosie, tell her friend the gypsies were back? Would it be kinder to say nothing?

  Rosie was chatting with members of the clan when she heard Jake’s voice.

  ‘Hello, Rosie.’

  Turning, she answered his greeting with one of her own.

  ‘You’re looking well,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you, I’m feeling well,’ Rosie said feeling distinctly uncomfortable under the gaze of Queenie who sat on the periphery of the campsite. She wondered if Jake would ask after Lucy.

  As if reading her thoughts, he asked, ‘How’s your friend?’

  Your friend! He couldn’t even bring himself to use her name! No wonder after the way he’d treated her.

  ‘How do you think Lucy would be after you left her high and dry?’ Rosie snapped harshly.

  Jake hung his head.

  Good, you should feel ashamed! Rosie thought.