A Mother's Wish

by Dilly Court

  Almost overwhelmed by this unexpected kindness, Effie thanked her profusely and insisted on paying for their food, but her kind host seemed unwilling to let them leave. Her thirst for information about the travelling way of life, and the world in general outside the narrow confines of her existence might have delayed their departure by hours, but politely and firmly Effie insisted that they must be on their way.

  It was late afternoon and Effie had ridden along the towpath and seen many familiar faces along the way. She had not had the opportunity to question any of the narrowboat people until she reached Lea Bridge lock, where the lock keeper gave her a cheery wave. ‘Well then, it’s good to see you again, young Effie. I heard that you’d left your pa-in-law, and I can’t say I was surprised. What brings you back?’

  ‘I’m looking for Tom,’ Effie said breathlessly. ‘Have you seen him recently?’

  He shook his head. ‘Can’t say I have, but the Margaret went past this morning. They must be close by Old Ford lock now. You might catch up with them there.’

  Effie could hardly believe her ears. She could not believe it was this easy. ‘I will, thank you,’ she murmured, flicking the reins to encourage her tired mount to walk a mile or two further.

  She found the narrowboat moored close to Old Ford lock, as predicted. It looked the same as when she had left, although perhaps the paintwork was a little shabbier and the gold lettering slightly more chipped. The deck was fully laden with bales of hay, and smoke wafted out of the chimney stack on the cabin. She dismounted, setting Georgie down on the ground and holding tightly on to his hand.

  ‘Well, well, so you’ve decided to return to us.’

  Effie spun round to find herself looking up into Salter’s weathered face. His lips were curved into a grin but his eyes were hard and calculating.

  ‘I haven’t come to stay,’ Effie said, clutching Georgie’s hand a little tighter. ‘I’m looking for my brother.’

  ‘Young Tom?’ Salter nodded his head. ‘You’ve come to the right place. He’s in with the old man.’

  Effie stared at him in disbelief. It couldn’t be this easy. ‘He’s really here?’

  ‘Why don’t you go and see for yourself?’

  She lifted Georgie in her arms and stepped on board with no thought in her head other than to be reunited with Tom. She made her way to the cabin and opened the door but there was no one there. ‘Where’s Tom?’ she demanded, turning to Salter. ‘You lied to me. He’s not here.’

  ‘My mistake,’ Salter said, giving her a shove that sent her stumbling into the cabin.

  The door slammed and she heard the key turn in the lock.

  Chapter Eleven

  EFFIE SET GEORGIE down and threw herself at the door, hammering on it with her fists. ‘Let me out. Do you hear me, Salter?’

  A deep chuckle was her only answer, and the sound of retreating footsteps. Georgie began to whimper and Effie picked him up again, giving him a reassuring cuddle. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart. Mama is just cross with that silly man.’

  Georgie hiccuped and plugged his thumb into his mouth, gazing up at her with trusting eyes. Effie stroked his cheek and forced a smile. She was furious with herself for allowing Salter to trick her, but she had wanted desperately to believe that she had found Tom. There was nothing she could do other than sit and wait. She gazed at the once so familiar surroundings and saw that little had changed. Everything was in its place, but a film of dust covered the shelves and the stove had not been black-leaded for some time. The pots and pans looked as though they could do with a good wash and the brasses were dull and in need of a polish. The stale odour of tobacco smoke and neat spirits filled the air and ash flowed from the range onto the unwashed floorboards. Everything was the same and yet it felt unbearably different. She had come here as a new bride filled with hopes and dreams for the future, but the Salters had defiled the tiny cabin with their filth and corruption. The memories were bittersweet as she held Georgie closer to her heart, rocking him and singing his favourite nursery rhymes.

  So much happiness and yet so much tragedy had occurred in this confined space, and now she was imprisoned by the man who had sought to ruin their lives. She wondered what had become of her father-in-law. Had the Salters carried out their threat to murder him? She doubted if they had the brains or the courage to do such a foul deed, and Jacob Grey was too well known on the waterways to be disposed of without causing suspicion, and the canal was too shallow to swallow up a dead body.

  Effie was startled out of her grim musings by the sudden opening of the door. She leapt to her feet as Sal staggered into the cabin, supporting Jacob who was obviously drunk.

  ‘So you’ve come crawling back.’ Sal dumped Jacob on the bunk as if he were a sack of coal. ‘See who’s come to visit you, Jacob me old cock. It’s that stuck-up daughter-in-law of yours and her brat, the one you wanted to keep close by you, for some reason best known to yourself.’ She eyed Georgie with a curl of her lip. ‘Nasty things, boys; they grow up to be rude and dirty. A good thrashing is what they need to teach ’em manners.’

  Effie moved towards the doorway. ‘Don’t you dare lay a finger on my son.’

  Sal threw back her head and laughed. ‘Or you’ll what? I could take you with one hand tied behind me back, missis. So don’t act hoity-toity with me.’

  ‘Stop shouting, woman,’ Jacob muttered, slurring his words. He stared at Effie, focusing his eyes with an obvious effort. ‘So she’s come back to haunt me. I don’t need another harpy to make me life a misery.’

  Sal plumped down on the bunk and hooked her arm around his shoulders. ‘I make you happy, Jacob, dear. You know I do, but she’s a stuck-up cow and only here because she’s brought the boy back to you.’

  Jacob shook his head. ‘Boy? What boy?’

  Effie inched closer to the door. ‘I’m going now, Father-in-law. I didn’t want to come here but I’m looking for Tom. That man told me he was in here and then he locked me in.’

  ‘She’s trying to take your grandson away again,’ Sal hissed, giving Jacob a sharp prod in the ribs. ‘Is that what you want, old man? You was mad as fire when she took the brat. Are you going to let him go now?’

  Jacob pushed her aside and staggered to his feet. ‘No, I’m not. Owen’s son belongs here on the Margaret.’ He advanced on Effie. ‘You can push off, but give me the boy.’

  ‘I’d die first,’ Effie cried passionately. ‘You shan’t have my son.’ She ran from the cabin but was stopped by Salter’s considerable bulk. He took her by the shoulders and propelled her back inside.

  Sal lunged forward, catching Effie off balance, and she snatched Georgie from his mother’s arms. ‘Get rid of her, Salter. Toss her overboard if you have to.’

  ‘No,’ Effie screamed as Salter picked her up bodily. ‘Give me back my baby.’

  Georgie’s distressed shrieks cut her like a knife as Salter carried her out on deck. She fought and struggled but he heaved her over the side into the River Lea. The shock of the cold water took her breath away and she found herself sinking into a tangle of weeds. Her voluminous skirts pulled her down and her boots filled with mud and water as she hit the bottom. She had never learned to swim but sheer instinct made her kick out and rise to the surface. The water was deeper here just outside the lock gates, especially at high tide, and she would have gone down again, but miraculously she was prevented from sinking. Some unseen force was dragging her towards the bank.

  Dazed and coughing up filthy, brackish water, Effie was heaved out of the river by a pair of strong hands. She collapsed on the towpath and the same hands were slapping her on the back, encouraging her to clear her lungs of water and to take a breath of air.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  The anxious voice floating somewhere above her made Effie look up. She recognised the weathered face of Hoskins, the new lock keeper who had taken the job just before the Salters arrived on the scene. He disentangled the boat hook from her torn skirt with a rueful smile. ‘Sorry, mis
sis, but it was the only way to get you out afore you drownded.’

  Effie struggled to her feet. ‘My son,’ she gasped, pointing at the Margaret on the far side of the canal. ‘He’s got Georgie.’

  ‘There, there, ducks,’ Hoskins said gently. ‘Your nipper will be all right with his grandpa.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Effie cried desperately. ‘Those people with him are bad. The man threw me overboard.’

  Hoskins shook his head. ‘It’s shock, missis. You must have tripped and fell in the water.’

  Momentarily prevented from speaking by a bout of coughing, Effie fought to catch her breath. ‘No, you don’t understand. They’re taking my baby.’

  Hoskins slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘I heard as how you’d gone a bit funny in the head when your husband passed away. Come into the cottage and Mrs Hoskins will dry you off before you go back on board. I daresay a nice hot cup of tea would be just the ticket.’

  Effie was too breathless to argue and her sodden clothes made it difficult to walk. She had no choice but to allow Hoskins to help her into the cottage. ‘Mother,’ he said, pushing Effie gently forward. ‘You heard me speak of young Widow Grey from the Margaret. The poor girl fell in the canal and her mind is wandering. Look after her, ducks, while I go and tell old Jacob what’s happened.’

  ‘He threw me overboard,’ Effie said in desperation. ‘Why won’t you believe me?’

  Mrs Hoskins bustled forward, snatching a dry towel off the clothes horse in front of the fire and wrapping it around Effie’s shoulders. ‘There now, let’s get you warm and dry and hear no more of that wild talk. I’ve got tea brewing in the pot and you can sit by the fire and drink it while my Jimmy sorts things out with Mr Grey.’

  Effie’s teeth were chattering so violently that she could not speak. She towelled her hair but her sodden clothes clung to her, making it impossible to dry herself. Mrs Hoskins poured tea into two china mugs, adding two generous spoonfuls of sugar and stirring the tea before handing it to Effie. ‘Drink this, Mrs Grey. Have you a change of clothes on board the Margaret?’

  The tea was hot and sweet and Effie could feel it warming her chilled bones. She shook her head. ‘M-my clothes – s-saddle b-bag – horse.’

  ‘Saddlebag? I see. Well Jimmy will find your horse and bring your things to you. Sit down, ducks. Warm yourself and drink your tea.’ Mrs Hoskins hurried out of the cottage, calling for her husband.

  Effie’s legs were trembling and her knees gave way beneath her. Shock, distress and the inability to convince these kind people that something terrible had occurred made her too weak to stand. She sank down on the chair and sipped the tea. Her worst nightmare had come true. Her child was in the hands of the unscrupulous Salters and her drunken father-in-law. She did not think that Jacob would harm his grandson, but she was painfully aware that they were both in danger. She could hazard a guess that the Salters’ plan was to encourage Jacob to drink himself into an early grave. Georgie would be safe until then, but if his grandfather was not there to protect him . . . She could not bear to think of the outcome.

  She drank the last of the tea and made a determined effort to rise to her feet. She would go back on board the Margaret. With Hoskins and his wife as witnesses the Salters would not dare to keep Georgie from her. She tried to walk but the wet material clung to her legs, making each step an effort. She had almost reached the door when Mrs Hoskins returned with a worried look on her pleasant face. ‘You shouldn’t try to walk yet, my dear. Hoskins has found your horse and he’s bringing her across. Let’s get you changed into some dry clothes before you catch your death of cold.’

  ‘I must go now,’ Effie protested. ‘My son is being held without my permission. He’s just a baby. He’ll be so frightened without me.’

  ‘And you’ll see him soon,’ Mrs Hoskins said gently. ‘Sit down, dear.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Effie cried, pushing past her. She staggered out of the dim interior of the cottage into brilliant sunlight. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she peered across to where the Margaret had been moored, but the berth was empty. She ran along the towpath, stumbling and tripping over her wet skirts as she saw the vessel gliding through the open tide gates. ‘No,’ she shouted. ‘Come back.’ She turned at the sound of a horse’s hooves and saw Hoskins leading the mare towards her. ‘They’ve gone, Mr Hoskins. They’ve taken my baby. Send someone for a constable.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s a mistake, ducks,’ Jim said, handing her the reins. ‘After all, the child is with his grandpa. He’ll look after the boy.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Effie sobbed. ‘They’ve taken my baby from me. I must get him back.’ Despite her wet clothes, she managed to clamber onto the mare’s back, and she dug her heels into the animal’s flanks. ‘Giddy-up.’

  The tired mare snorted in fright but lurched forward at a spanking trot, almost unseating Effie. She regained her seat with an effort and urged the mare to a canter. ‘Stop,’ she cried breathlessly as she drew nearer to Salter, who was leading Champion along the towpath on the opposite bank. ‘Stop, please. Give me back my baby.’

  ‘You’re wasting your time, girlie,’ Salter called over his shoulder. ‘You can follow us all the way to Limehouse Basin but it won’t do you no good.’

  Effie drew the mare to a sudden halt. She looked down into the muddy waters of the canal, wondering how deep it was at this point. The Margaret was pulling away from her and she was desperate. She leaned forward to pat the mare’s neck, whispering in her ear, ‘Come on, you can do it.’ She tugged at the reins in an attempt to make the horse enter the canal, but the animal reared on her hind legs, whinnying with fear. Effie struggled to regain control but the mare bucked and Effie went flying over her head.

  Effie lay in a crumpled heap dazed, winded and fighting for breath. She tried to sit up but a searing pain in her left arm brought tears to her eyes.

  ‘Are you all right, missis?’ Jim Hoskins threw himself down on his knees at her side. ‘You took a mighty tumble. Is anything broke?’

  Unable to speak, Effie pointed to her left arm.

  He examined it gently, shaking his head. ‘I can’t tell if it’s busted or not. We’d best get you back to the cottage and I’ll send for the sawbones.’

  ‘N-no,’ Effie gasped. ‘Must go after them.’

  ‘All in good time, ducks. But you ain’t going nowhere in this state.’ Jim rose to his feet. ‘D’you think you can stand?’

  She made an attempt to rise but each movement hurt, making her feel sick and dizzy. Jim raised her to her feet, hooking her uninjured arm around his shoulders. ‘We’ll take it slow. One step at a time.’

  ‘My horse,’ Effie murmured anxiously.

  ‘She’s not going to wander far. I’ll see to her later. We’ve got to sort you out first, young lady.’

  With one arm hanging limply at her side, Effie was in too much pain to argue as they made their way slowly back to the lock keeper’s cottage. Mrs Hoskins was waiting in the doorway and she ran towards them. ‘Oh, you poor thing. You could have broken your neck.’

  ‘I think her arm might be broken.’ Jim handed Effie over to his wife. ‘Take her indoors and look after her, Mother. I’ve got to get back to work but I’ll send the boy to fetch the doctor.’

  ‘Come inside, ducks, and we’ll soon have you put to rights.’ Mrs Hoskins hustled Effie into the cottage.

  The heat of the kitchen almost took her breath away as Effie allowed herself to be guided to a rocking chair close to the range, and as if seeing it for the first time she took in the cosy interior of the cottage. A kettle simmering on the range puffed out clouds of steam and a large pan of savoury smelling stew bubbled away on the hob. The aroma of freshly baked bread mingled with the scent of herbs drying in the chimney breast. ‘I can’t stay,’ Effie protested dazedly. ‘I have a change of clothes in my saddlebag, and if you could bind my arm I’m sure I could ride.’

  ‘You’re not going anywhere until the do
ctor has taken a look at that arm.’

  ‘But you don’t understand. They’ve kidnapped my baby. The Salters are bad people.’

  Mrs Hoskins’ eyes widened and she stared at Effie in disbelief. ‘You poor soul. The fall has addled your wits and you don’t know what you’re saying. My Jimmy says that Salter and his wife have done a good job in caring for old Jacob since he took to drink. You’ve got it all wrong, dear. Rest awhile and perhaps the doctor can give you something to make you feel a bit better.’

  ‘I need to leave now,’ Effie said firmly. ‘If you would be so kind as to fetch my saddlebag I could change my clothes and be on my way.’

  ‘You’re in no fit state to travel.’ Mrs Hoskins wrapped a warm towel around Effie’s shoulders. ‘A cup of strong sweet tea is what you need.’

  Frustrated and anxious, Effie realised that there was truth in her words however unwelcome. The pain in her arm had dulled to an ache as long as she kept it absolutely still. Her headache was improving slightly but the worst pain of all was in her heart. She had not been parted from Georgie for a single day since his birth and having him wrested from her was like losing a limb. She was consumed with terror at the thought of what might befall him on board the narrowboat. Sal Salter had all the maternal instincts of a cuckoo, and Salter would think nothing of beating a child, even one as young as Georgie. She did not think that her father-in-law would physically harm her son, but the Salters had Jacob in their power and from what she had seen, Effie could only guess that they kept him drunk and possibly drugged to suit their own ends. She was in a living, waking nightmare and she could do nothing about it.

  She watched Mrs Hoskins as she bustled about making a fresh pot of tea, and it seemed to Effie that this was her answer to everything: a cup of tea could solve all the problems in the world. If only it were that simple. She closed her eyes as a wave of exhaustion washed over her. The night ride and lack of sleep made it impossible for her to keep awake and she found herself drifting off into an uneasy sleep.