by Dilly Court
‘This is my son, Georgie.’
‘I heard that you’d married a boatman.’ Toby ruffled Georgie’s curls. ‘Your boy does you credit, Effie, but it’s hard to believe you are a wife and mother. Your presence behind the bar is sorely missed, my dear.’
‘You always were a smooth talker, Toby. I’m sure you say that to all the barmaids in every town you visit. Are you still trading horses?’
Toby took off his cap, brushing back a lock of dark, curly hair that gleamed like coal in the bright light. ‘I’m Romany. No one understands horseflesh better than we do.’
‘And do you still travel with the fair?’
He shook his head. ‘No, we parted company some time ago.’
She had always had a soft spot for Toby and seeing him again lifted her spirits, reminding her of happier days. Questions bubbled on Effie’s tongue like sweet sherbet, but Tom appeared in the pub doorway. ‘Grub up, Effie. Come and get it while it’s hot.’
Toby linked her hand through his arm. ‘Allow me, ma’am. I think I might join you at the breakfast table, if that’s all right with you and if your husband won’t object.’
The years had rolled away and she had been Effie Sadler, but she returned to earth with a bump and her smile faded. ‘I’m a widow, Toby. Owen died of consumption two years ago.’
‘I am sorry, truly I am. I had no idea, or I wouldn’t have made light of things.’
‘You weren’t to know.’
‘Effie Grey, where’s me food?’ Jacob’s voice boomed from within the cabin, reminding her painfully that life had changed, and not for the better.
‘It’s coming, Father-in-law.’ She shot an apologetic glance at Toby. ‘He’s not the easiest person to live with.’
Toby raised an eyebrow. ‘I can see that, ducks. Best get the old codger fed then.’ He led her into the pub, settling her on a seat by the fire where Tom had already begun shovelling his food down at an alarming rate. ‘Hold fast there, young fellow.’ Toby picked up a rapidly cooling plate of bacon, eggs and buttered toast, thrusting it into Tom’s hands. ‘Take this to the old man.’ He turned to the barman. ‘A pint of porter, if you please, Ben.’
‘The old fellah don’t approve of drink,’ Tom said nervously. ‘He says it’s the devil’s brew and he’ll only throw it at me.’
Toby strode to the bar and came back with a foaming tankard. He took a red-hot poker from the fire and plunged it into the pot. The beer hissed and fizzed, and he thrust the tankard into Tom’s hand. ‘Tell the old devil that this is purely medicinal; doctor’s orders.’
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Effie said anxiously as Tom left the taproom. ‘Mr Grey has a fierce temper. He might not be able to walk but he has a long reach with his cane and a strong arm.’
‘I’ll wager that Tom is quick on his feet, and maybe the mulled ale will sweeten the old man’s temper.’ Toby held his arms out to Georgie. ‘Come with me, young man. I know the cook here and if we ask her nicely, I’m sure she’ll give you a bowl of porridge with lots of sugar and cream. Shall we go and see?’
Effie half rose to her feet, but Toby pressed her gently down on the wooden settle. ‘Don’t worry, little mother, your boy is safe with me. I’m used to handling young colts, and, as you see, he is not afraid of his Uncle Toby.’
As if to confirm this statement, Georgie peered at the gold earring dangling from Toby’s earlobe and he poked at it with a chubby finger, seemingly content to be held in a stranger’s arms and quite happy to leave his mother and be carried off to the unknown. Effie did not know whether to be pleased by her son’s newfound independence or upset by it, and she had to resist the urge to follow them. Even as she ate the tasty food, she found herself straining her ears in case Georgie should suddenly miss her and begin to cry, but it was Tom who returned first, bursting through the pub door like a whirlwind. He flung himself down on the settle and began to eat again, grumbling through each mouthful. ‘Miserable old bugger. I’ll kill him if he keeps hitting me with that stick.’
‘Hush, Tom,’ Effie said, glancing round anxiously to see if anyone had heard him. ‘You don’t mean that.’
Tom swallowed hard. ‘Don’t I just? He’s an ungrateful old sod and I hate him.’
Effie pushed her plate away, unable to eat another mouthful. ‘I know he’s difficult, Tom, but we have to put up with him for now at least.’
‘I could get a job, Effie. There’s the chemical works across the cut, and the match factory back along the river. There’s the gasworks and the alum factory, the glue works . . .’
‘Stop it, Tom. I know you mean well but it’s not as simple as that,’ Effie said in a low voice, reaching out to cover his hand with hers. ‘We would have to find a place to live and rents are high, wages are low. We would end up back in the workhouse or worse.’
‘But he’s a pig and a bully. I can’t bear the way he treats you.’ Tom wiped his sleeve across his face.
Effie’s throat constricted at the sight of her brother’s eyes magnified by unshed tears and she squeezed his fingers. ‘I’ll think of something, Tom, but for the time being we’ve just got to put up with things as they are.’
‘Effie Sadler – or should I say Mrs Grey.’
A familiar voice from behind her made Effie turn her head and she rose to her feet, holding out her hand to the landlord. ‘Ben. It’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time.’
‘Too long, my girl. I’ve seen the Margaret pass us by on many an occasion and yet you never called in to see us.’ Ben Hawkins wiped his hands on his apron and took Effie’s outstretched hand in a large paw, pumping it up and down enthusiastically. ‘I’ve just seen Toby in the kitchen and he told me you were out here.’
‘We just stopped for a bite to eat,’ Effie explained hastily. ‘We don’t normally have the time and my father-in-law doesn’t drink, so that’s why . . .’
Ben threw back his shaggy head and roared with laughter. ‘You don’t have to explain, ducks. Old man Grey is well known in these parts for being a bit of a miser. The other boatmen don’t have much time for him by all accounts.’ His craggy features smoothed to a look of deep concern. ‘I heard about your husband, Effie. It were a bad business, girl, and we was all sorry to hear of your loss.’
Effie swallowed a lump in her throat and blinked as the ready tears stung her eyes. ‘Thank you, Ben. I appreciate that.’
He turned to Tom, slapping him on the shoulder. ‘And you’ve grown, young fellow. I hardly recognise you now.’ He squeezed Tom’s arm playfully. ‘Look at them muscles! It’s easy to see who does all the work.’
Tom flushed a rosy red beneath his freckles. ‘That’s right. I’m the one who leads the horse and works the locks where there’s no keeper to help. I dunno what Effie would do without me.’
‘You’re a good chap, Tom,’ Ben said, taking a silver threepenny bit from his pocket and pressing it into Tom’s hand.
‘What’s that for?’ Tom shot a sideways glance at his sister. ‘I suppose you’re going to say I shouldn’t take it when I done nothing to earn it.’
‘Then earn it you shall, my lad.’ Ben ruffled Tom’s curly hair. ‘There’s a delivery due any moment. You know the drill, Tom. Go and open the cellar door and make certain they drop off all the barrels as ordered.’
‘It’s like old times,’ Tom said, leaping to his feet. ‘They won’t pull a fast one on me, guv.’ He raced out of the door, shouting a greeting to the draymen.
‘He’s a good boy,’ Ben said, grinning. ‘And you know that you’ve always got a job back here, girl. I can find work for the pair of you, if you’ve a mind to take me up on my offer.’
Effie met his grey eyes with a steady gaze. ‘Thank you, Ben. I’ll remember that.’
‘Ben, come here. I want a word with you.’ The shrill voice that Effie remembered only too well as belonging to Ben’s wife, Maggie, made Ben turn with a guilty start. ‘Coming, my love.’ He patted Effie on the shoulder. ‘Enjoy your food, ducks, and do
n’t leave it so long before you call in again.’
Effie’s attempt at a smile was met with cold disdain from Maggie, who appeared in the doorway, beckoning furiously to her husband. Ben followed her into the depths of the pub like an obedient hound.
Poor Ben, Effie thought sadly. He was such a good-natured man and he didn’t deserve a vinegar-tongued wife who watched his every move and no doubt nagged him half to death. From the first moment she had met him, when as bedraggled runaways from the workhouse she and Tom had arrived at the pub looking for work, Effie had always liked Ben. He had taken them in when no one else was willing to help two half-starved youngsters and he had been a kind and generous employer, but Maggie was possessed of a jealous nature. She had been convinced that Effie was a threat and nothing would persuade her to think otherwise. She had spied on Effie and had accused her husband of flirting with their young barmaid. Ben had fended off her hysterical outbursts with casual good humour, refusing to admit that the situation was making life difficult for Effie. Then one day Owen had walked into the taproom. Effie found it hard to believe that the handsome young boatman had fallen in love with her at first sight. Things like that only happened in fairy stories and not to a poor girl from the workhouse. But Owen was not to be denied, and he had wooed and won her with his kindness and gentle adoration.
Effie had not been sorry to leave the Prince of Wales tavern when she married Owen. Even though he must have suffered strong opposition from Maggie, Ben had given them a good send-off. The bar had been garlanded with wild flowers and there had been food aplenty. Ale had flowed like the River Lea in full spate and Morris men had danced on the green. It had been midsummer and Effie had spent her wedding night lying with her husband on the deck of the Margaret Grey with a canopy of stars above their heads. She would never forget how gentle and tender Owen had been on that magical first night, or the joy she had experienced in their rapturous union. It had been a long, hot summer and they chose to sleep on deck rather than in the close confines of the cabin, making love in the moonlight with the musical sounds of the water and the nightingales singing their sweet songs above their heads. But as the days grew shorter so Owen’s life had begun to ebb away.
It had been a cold and frosty night, but Owen had insisted that he wanted to sleep beneath the stars once more. Effie had wrapped him in a patchwork quilt and lain beside him, holding him close. He had died in her arms, slipping away so peacefully and silently that he might have been asleep. It was then that she had felt the first flutter of their child in her womb, and even in the depths of her grief she had taken comfort from the knowledge that the love they had shared would produce a son or daughter who would carry something of Owen into the future.
‘Well now, what’s that sad face all about?’ Toby demanded, setting Georgie down on Effie’s lap. ‘You’ve not finished your breakfast, Effie. Are you all right?’
Jolted out of her reverie, Effie wrapped her arms around Georgie and received a sticky kiss on her cheek.
‘Honey,’ Toby said, chuckling. ‘The woman who does the cooking took a fancy to young Georgie and gave him some honeycomb to suck.’
Effie smiled. ‘That sounds like Betty. She was always good to me.’
‘She said she remembers you well, and you were a lovely bride. I only wish I’d been here to drink your health, or maybe I don’t. I always thought you were too good for this place and should have thrown you over my saddle when I had the chance. I should have spirited you away to live the travelling life with me.’
She shot him a sideways glance. She had always found it hard to tell whether Toby Tapper was serious or merely teasing her, and today was no exception. His flashing smile and good-looking face had no doubt charmed many a young maiden into his bed, but she had always thought of him as a friend and nothing more. She was about to make a suitable rejoinder, putting him gently but firmly in his place, when a commotion outside made everyone in the taproom stop talking.
A youth stuck his head round the door. ‘There’s a man drowning,’ he cried excitedly. ‘Fell off the barge he did. Come quick or you’ll miss the show.’
Effie was on her feet instantly. Clutching Georgie to her, she ran out of the pub.
Chapter Two
A SMALL CROWD had gathered on the canal bank and someone was thrashing about in the water. Effie could just make out Tom on the deck of the Margaret and to her horror he was leaning dangerously over the side with a boat hook in his hand. She broke into a run, pushing between the onlookers.
‘There’s a man overboard,’ one of the draymen said calmly, as if watching someone drowning was an everyday occurrence.
Georgie began to wail and Effie held him even closer, murmuring words of comfort even as she felt panic rising at the sight of Tom so perilously close to falling into the filthy water. Her heart seemed to miss a beat as she saw the top of a head break the surface, and it was even more of a shock to realise that it was Jacob who was in the water. The question as to how such an accident could happen froze on her lips as someone jumped into the cut and swam towards the drowning man. It was only when she turned her head to speak to Toby that she realised he was not there. A cheer went up from the onlookers, and it was Toby who towed Jacob towards the steps, holding his head above the water until two hefty draymen climbed down to lift the half-drowned man to safety.
Effie saw Tom collapse onto the deck, burying his face in his hands. She was torn between the desire to comfort her brother and her duty to her father-in-law.
‘Here, let me take the little ’un.’
Effie turned to see Betty, the cook from the pub, and as Georgie obviously recognised the kind person who had given him something nice to eat Effie had no compunction in handing him to her. ‘Be a good boy, Georgie. Mama won’t be long.’ Flashing a smile at Betty, Effie edged her way through the crowd to where Jacob lay on the towpath, gasping for air like a landed pike.
‘He’ll live,’ Toby said, wiping his dripping forehead on an equally wet sleeve. ‘He might spew up a bellyful of dirty water, but I don’t think he’s badly hurt.’
‘How did it happen, cully?’ A drayman kneeling beside Jacob helped him into a sitting position. ‘How did you come to fall overboard?’
Jacob coughed and brought up a copious amount of fluid. ‘He tried to kill me,’ he said, raising his hand and pointing to Tom. ‘That boy tried to murder me. Fetch a constable.’
Effie threw herself down on her knees beside him. ‘It must have been an accident, Father-in-law. Tom would never do such a thing.’
‘He pushed me, I tell you. You both want me dead, so don’t deny it.’ Jacob hunched his shoulders, glancing around at the curious faces with a calculating look in his eyes. ‘You all saw it. The boy tried to kill me. I’m a poor defenceless cripple.’
‘Hold on there, mate,’ Toby said sternly. ‘If you’re a cripple how did you move about on a deck packed with barrels? I don’t think the boy could carry a man of your size.’
A murmur ran through the crowd with much nodding of heads.
Effie took off her apron and began to dry Jacob’s face, but he snatched the cloth from her. ‘Leave me be, you wanton harlot. I’ll warrant you put the boy up to this. You want to get rid of me so that you can claim my boat and take up with your fancy man.’ He jerked his head in Toby’s direction. ‘A didicoi. That’s who she’s after.’
Toby seized him by the shoulders. ‘Why, you evil old man, I should toss you back in the cut for speaking to her like that.’
Effie rose to her feet. ‘How can you say terrible things, Father-in-law? Haven’t I looked after you well? I’ve cooked and cleaned and slaved away on your wretched boat, and never received a kind word or a penny piece for my labours.’
Jacob pointed a shaking finger at her. ‘You’re a Jezebel. I’m afraid to eat in case you put rat poison in me food.’
‘You take that back,’ Tom shouted, raising himself from the deck and leaping ashore. ‘I never tried to kill you, but I wish you’d drowned.’<
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‘Condemned out of his own mouth.’ Jacob’s face twisted with malice. ‘You’ll hang for this, Tom Sadler. They’ll string you up outside Newgate for all to see.’
The crowd was growing and Effie reached out to clutch Toby’s hand. ‘Do something for God’s sake, or he’ll have Tom arrested.’
Toby gave her fingers a comforting squeeze. He raised his other hand, commanding silence. ‘This man is out of his head with shock. I say we all need a drink, and I think it should be on Mr Grey in thanks for being saved from a watery grave. What do you say to that, my friends?’
Jacob’s demand that the police should be summoned had been disregarded in favour of free ale, and a cheer rang out as the crowd surged back into the pub.
Effie took Georgie from Betty with a grateful smile. ‘Thank you for looking after my boy. You were always very kind to me, even when I was in trouble with Maggie.’
‘Think nothing of it, ducks, but I’d best get back to work.’ Betty kissed Georgie on the cheek and backed away, waving to him and chuckling when he copied her.
Toby hooked his arms around both draymen’s shoulders. ‘Thanks for your help, mates. If you’d be good enough to carry the old man back on board his boat, I’ll stand you a round of drinks.’
‘You’re on, cully.’
Despite Jacob’s protests, the draymen picked him up and carried him on board the Margaret.
‘I wish the old bugger had drowned,’ Tom said bitterly. ‘He’s a fraud, Effie. The cook lady asked me to fetch his dirty plate but he was out on deck when I got there. He’d managed to get himself right up to the bows and he was leaning over the side, trying to cast off. Don’t ask me why, unless it was the pint of ale that he’d drunk making him crazy in the head. But when I tried to stop him he took a swing at me and lost his balance. I never pushed him. You got to believe me.’
