A Mother's Wish

by Dilly Court

  ‘What if they spot me?’

  ‘I hardly recognised you, Tom. You look like a street urchin.’

  ‘You look a bit of a mess yourself,’ Tom said, grinning. ‘Stay here and wait until I come back.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  EFFIE WATCHED HER brother saunter off with his hands in his pockets, and in spite of everything, his cocky attitude made her smile. He seemed none the worse for his adventures. He had survived the twin ordeals of being abandoned and combating the dreaded disease that claimed so many young lives, and now he was prepared to take on Salter. She felt a rush of pride and admiration for his indomitable spirit, but her nerves were raw as she waited for him to reappear. She was within yards of her child and her instinct was to rush on board and demand his return, but she knew this could be a fatal mistake if the Salters were on board and not, as she hoped, drinking themselves into insensibility in the pub.

  She paced up and down as she waited for Tom to return. Each time the pub door opened she paused, stepping into the shadow of the trees and hardly daring to breathe in case it was Salter or Sal who emerged on a waft of tobacco smoke and the smell of stale beer. After what seemed like an eternity, Tom burst through the door and sprinted over to her.

  ‘They’re in the snug bar, both of them, but there’s no sign of the old man. I went into all the public rooms and he wasn’t there.’

  ‘That means he’s on his own. If we take him by surprise we can rescue my baby.’

  Tom laid a hand on her arm as she was about to head for the barge. ‘Wait, Effie. Stop and think. We’d do better to take the Margaret even if we have to put up with the old man.’

  Effie stared at him blankly. All she could think of was being reunited with her beloved Georgie. ‘Why would we want to rescue Mr Grey? He made our lives a misery and he stole my son.’

  ‘Think about it, Effie. They want to be rid of the old devil and keep the boat. It’s worth a small fortune and it belongs to you and Georgie. It’s his birthright and they want to take it away from him. Are you going to let them do that?’

  ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘You’re right, Tom. The Margaret should belong to Georgie. That’s what Owen would have wanted.’

  ‘Wait here while I fetch Champion and the mare. You can’t do nothing with one arm in a sling, let alone fend off the old man if he decides to put up a fight. We’ll be off before the Salters can down another pint or swig another tot of gin.’ He ran towards the horses without waiting for a reply.

  Effie knew that what he suggested was only commonsense, but it was a shock to find her little brother grown suddenly into a man and taking command of the situation. She waited for Tom to return and they made their way stealthily on board the boat. The nauseating smell of rancid fat, unwashed bodies and stale alcohol hit her forcibly as Tom opened the door. There was mess everywhere. Unwashed pots and pans littered the range and the small table where they ate their meals. Dirty clothes were flung about with careless abandon and ashes spilled out of the range, littering the floor.

  Gazing anxiously around the small cabin, Effie’s heart gave a convulsive leap when she saw Georgie curled up like a small puppy on the end of the nearest bunk. His golden curls were matted and unwashed and his pale cheeks were streaked where his tears had dried and made runnels in the dirt, but he slept peacefully enough with his thumb tucked firmly in his mouth. She took an instinctive step toward him, but Tom caught her by the arm, pointing to where Jacob lay flat on his back, snoring loudly. Tom pulled her gently aside and closed the door.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Effie hissed. ‘I want my baby.’

  ‘Keep your voice down and listen to me. I’m going to lead Champion and I want you to take the tiller. The old man is dead drunk and we don’t want young Georgie waking up and raising the alarm with his bawling.’

  Effie’s mind had gone blank. Her arms ached to hold her baby and every instinct in her body told her to go to him. Tom nudged her in the ribs. ‘Are you all right, Effie? Can you do this? We’ve got to get away before the Salters realise what’s happening.’

  She nodded mutely and, forcing her feet to move, she went swiftly to the stern of the vessel. She glanced nervously at the pub as she waited for the barge to glide over the water. Each time the door opened she held her breath, praying that it was not the Salters and sighing with relief when it was someone else. She could hear music and laughter and the babble of raised voices. She peered through the gathering twilight, straining her eyes for a signal from Tom. He seemed to be having difficulty with the mare as she whinnied with fright and skittered about nervously as the barge began to move forward. Champion’s hooves clattered on the gravel path and the mare’s frantic noise was attracting attention from the men who strolled out of the open pub door. The boat was not moving fast enough for Effie, and then there was a loud crump as the bows tipped the stern of the narrowboat moored in front of them. The boat juddered as if with shock and the sound echoed through the empty hold.

  ‘Tom,’ she screamed as the cabin door opened and Jacob lurched out on deck. ‘Hurry.’

  The Margaret was gaining momentum and Effie had to use all her skill and experience in order to steer the boat away from the barges moored ahead of them. Jacob was staggering towards her waving his fist and shouting drunkenly. ‘What d’you think you’re doing, you maniac?’ he bawled at the top of his voice. ‘Is that you at the tiller, Sal?’

  ‘Father-in-law, it’s me, Effie.’

  Jacob stumbled to a halt. ‘Who’s that? Are you playing tricks on me again, Sal?’

  Effie breathed a sigh of relief as the boat skimmed past the last moored craft and she set a straight course. It was almost completely dark now and she could only just make out the horses plodding slowly on ahead. She could not see Tom, but she knew he was out there on the towpath and she rejoiced in the fact that they were once again a team. She could have navigated this stretch of Limehouse Cut blindfold and she lashed the tiller, leaving her free to approach Jacob who was leaning over the side and retching.

  ‘Are you ill?’ she asked, her anger turning to contempt for this wreck of a man who had once bullied her and made her life a misery.

  ‘Who are you?’ he murmured, peering up at her blankly. ‘You ain’t Sal. Where’s that bugger Salter? You can tell him I ain’t giving up and he hasn’t done for me yet.’

  ‘I’m Effie, your daughter-in-law. I’ve come to get my son.’

  ‘Effie’s gone,’ Jacob said dully. ‘I sent her packing but now I wish I’d kept her on. She weren’t a bad girl, and she looked after the boy better than that doxy Sal.’

  It was becoming clear to Effie that this was not simply the talk of a drunken man. Jacob’s mind was obviously wandering. She led him back along the narrow deck to the cabin and pressed him gently onto his bunk, her compassion unwillingly aroused by his helplessness. ‘Lie down and go back to sleep. The Salters won’t trouble you again.’

  He stared at her without any sign of recognition on his wizened features. He seemed to have aged greatly since Effie had last seen him and he was a mere shadow of his former self. She left him cowering beneath his blanket while she checked on Georgie, but he was still sleeping peacefully and she had not the heart to wake him even though her arms ached to hold him again. She longed to see him smile and to hear him call her Mama, but she knew that she must be patient just a little longer. He was safe and that was all that mattered. Dirt would wash away and he was too young to have much memory of what had occurred. He did not look as though he had been ill-treated and for that small mercy she was extremely grateful. She sat on the edge of the bunk, gently stroking his hair. ‘My baby,’ she crooned. ‘You’ll never know how much I’ve missed you.’

  ‘I need a drink,’ Jacob muttered. ‘Get me some brandy, woman.’

  Effie rose slowly to her feet. ‘I am Effie Grey, your daughter-in-law. I’m Georgie’s mother – you must remember me.’

  ‘Brandy and some of that smoke that makes everything go away. For God’s
sake have pity on me, Sal.’

  ‘I’m not Sal,’ Effie said firmly. ‘And I wouldn’t know where to get opium even if I had a mind to. You’ll not get any from me.’

  Jacob held out his hand. ‘I’m going off my head for want of it. Give me some, Sal. I’ll do anything he wants, but give me what I crave.’

  Effie was momentarily at a loss, and then she remembered the laudanum that the doctor had prescribed to relieve her pain. She put her hand in her pocket and took out the small brown glass bottle. A quick search of the cupboards produced a flask of brandy and she measured a tot into a tin cup, adding several drops of laudanum.

  ‘Give it to me,’ Jacob pleaded. ‘I’m in agony. Help me.’

  She held the cup to his lips and he gulped the liquid down in one swallow.

  ‘More,’ he murmured. ‘Please.’

  Effie could see his eyelids beginning to droop and she pressed him back against the pillow. ‘You’ll feel better in the morning, Pa. Sleep now.’ She had only a few minutes to wait as the combined effect of brandy and laudanum worked quickly. She could tell from Jacob’s emaciated frame that he had been starved of food. Perhaps he had given his share to Georgie? She would never know, but for all his faults she knew instinctively that Jacob would have tried to protect his grandson. She tiptoed out of the cabin, leaving the door ajar so that she could hear if Georgie awakened and cried. She hurried to the stern and took the tiller, using her uninjured hand. Leaning back against the bulkhead, she stared up at the night sky. The sliver of moon hung like a silver crescent amongst a diamond necklace of stars. The daytime stench from the manufactories on both sides of the cut was ever present but was diluted by a salt-laden breeze carried upriver on the incoming tide. She had no clear idea of where they were heading or what they were going to do, but escaping from the Salters was paramount. The Margaret slid through the water and there was silence, except for the distant clatter of the horses’ hooves punctuated by the occasional screech of a barn owl and the bark of a dog fox calling to its mate.

  Now that they were out of danger, even if temporarily, Effie began to relax and she had to fight to keep awake. They had passed beneath the bridge that carried the North London Railway over the cut, and the factories had made way for brickfields on the north side and the grounds of Manorfield House on the south bank. It was unlikely that the Salters would get this far in the dark, and it was important to rest now if they were to get an early start in the morning. Rising to her feet Effie put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Almost immediately the narrowboat slid to a halt and Tom came running along the towpath.

  ‘What’s up, Effie?’

  ‘We’ll stop here for the night. I’m worn out and you must be too.’

  ‘Where’s the old man? I heard him bellowing at you and I was all set to come and toss the old devil overboard, but then he went quiet.’

  ‘He was drunk and I gave him a dose of laudanum, but I’m certain that the Salters have made him smoke opium, and he’s very much the worse for it.’

  ‘He was always so strict and he didn’t hold with vices like drinking and smoking. I can’t see how they managed to get him in such a state and so quickly.’

  ‘I don’t know either, but he’s a sick man, Tom.’

  ‘That’s his stupid fault. Don’t ask me to feel sorry for him. I say we ought to cut and run as soon as it gets light.’

  ‘I’m so tired that I can’t think straight. We’ll talk about it in the morning.’

  ‘Go to bed, Effie. I’ll make fast and see to the horses.’

  ‘Ta, Tom. It’s wonderful to have you back safe and sound.’

  ‘I’ll look after you now,’ Tom said stoutly. ‘We’ll be all right, you and me and Georgie. You’ll see.’

  Effie made her way to the cabin and took off her boots but she was too tired to bother with undressing. Her clothes were already crumpled and in desperate need of a wash and some repair, but this was her least concern. All she wanted to do was to lie down and take her baby son in her one good arm. She would hold him close and never let him out of her sight again.

  Effie awakened to find Georgie stroking her face and planting sticky kisses on her cheeks as he tried to lift her sleepy eyelids with his chubby fingers. She hugged him to her and tears of joy trickled down her cheeks.

  ‘Mama cry,’ Georgie said, frowning.

  ‘I missed you so much, and I’ll never go away again,’ Effie promised. ‘Tom is here too.’ She pointed to the ragged figure curled up on the opposite bunk. ‘Go and wake him for me.’ She lowered Georgie onto the floor and watched him toddle over to tug at Tom’s coverlet.

  She would have loved to lie there and simply revel in the fact that she had her family back, but she knew that they must lose no time in setting off again. She did not think that the Salters would give up easily. They had obviously set their sights on getting the Margaret, whatever the cost, and she wanted to put as much distance between them as possible. She sat up and reached for her boots, pulling them on with difficulty, but it was impossible to tie the laces with one hand. Tom could fasten them for her when he was fully awake, but she could see the first hint of daylight through the cabin window and there was no time to worry about small details. She rose to her feet, shaking the creases from her skirt. Her hair hung about her shoulders in a tangled mass and she knew she must look a sight. She was in dire need of a wash, but her personal discomfort was less important than the need to get the fire going in the range. They would not get far on empty stomachs and making breakfast was her first priority. Georgie had managed to climb up onto Tom’s bunk and he was bouncing on him with gleeful shrieks and gurgles of laughter.

  Effie smiled as she riddled the ashes in the grate, and despite her worries she felt almost ridiculously happy as she performed the mundane task of lighting a fire and preparing a meal. Sal Salter might be a slut but there was a plentiful supply of coal and kindling and a well-stocked store cupboard. Once the fire was going, Effie filled the kettle from the rain barrel on deck, and having found a small sack of oats she made a pan of porridge for their breakfast. She had come to the conclusion that they should avoid the Three Mills back river, as this would be the first place that the Salters would look, and that their safest course would be to follow the River Lea up country. With the oatmeal bubbling on the hob and a pot of tea brewing, Effie turned to Tom, who was bouncing Georgie up and down until he was almost hysterical with laughter. ‘You’ll make him sick if you carry on like that.’

  ‘He’s all right, aren’t you, Georgie?’ Tom said, tossing him even higher. ‘I’ll swear he’s grown an inch or two since I last saw him, and he’s dirtier than a sweep’s boy.’

  Effie ladled porridge into three bowls. ‘It’s nothing that soap and water won’t cure. You’d best eat up, Tom. I know you didn’t get much sleep but I want to get going before the Salters come looking for us.’

  Tom took the bowl, adding a generous helping of sugar. ‘They lived well, I’ll give them that.’

  ‘Spent all my hard-earned money,’ Jacob muttered, raising his head and then falling back against the pillow with a groan. ‘My head aches something chronic.’ He focused his eyes with difficulty, staring at them with a puzzled frown. ‘Where are the others and how did you two come to be on board?’

  Effie thrust a mug of tea into his hands. ‘Drink this, Pa-in-law. I’m afraid the milk was sour but we’ll get some as soon as we come to a farm.’

  ‘Where’s Sal and that swine Salter? Why aren’t they here?’

  Tom picked up his mug of tea and headed for the door. ‘I’ll leave you to it, Effie. I’ll see to the horses and I’ll give you a shout when we’re ready to move on.’

  ‘I’ll be ready,’ Effie said, wiping a dribble of porridge from Georgie’s chin.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Jacob demanded feebly. ‘I feel bad. Give me the brandy bottle.’

  Effie shook her head. ‘I most certainly will not. You’ve been drinking too much, and it’s done you no good.’

>   Jacob attempted to stand but he fell back on the bunk with a groan. ‘Don’t torment me, woman. Give me a drop now. There are devils with pickaxes hammering away inside me head.’

  ‘Last night you were out of your mind, and it wasn’t just the brandy that was making you act like a madman.’

  ‘Remember who you’re talking to, girl. I’m still the gaffer round here and don’t you forget it.’

  ‘Don’t shout at me,’ Effie said angrily as she saw Georgie’s lips beginning to tremble. ‘I’m surprised at you, Pa-in-law. You would never even go into a pub and now you can’t live without a drink or a smoke of that evil thing that sends men insane.’

  ‘Don’t lecture me, girl. Where’s Sal? She gives me what I want.’ He peered at Effie, squinting as if the light from the open door hurt his eyes. ‘Why are you here anyway? I thought I sent you packing.’

  ‘I’m here for Georgie,’ Effie said, biting back a sharp retort. ‘You took him from me and that was unforgiveable.’

  ‘I never did that. It was Salter who snatched the boy.’

  ‘On your say-so,’ Effie countered. ‘I can’t forgive you for what you did.’

  ‘He’s my grandson and he should be here with me.’

  ‘No, Pa. Georgie is my son and Owen would turn in his grave if he knew what you’d done.’

  Jacob’s rheumy eyes filled with tears. ‘I wanted the boy to inherit the business. I wanted him to take over where Owen left off.’

  ‘But he’s just a baby. It will be years before Georgie is old enough to work, and then he might not want to live this sort of life. I want better for him.’

  ‘It was good enough for you when you caught my boy in your web. You didn’t mind this sort of life then.’

  ‘I would have done anything for Owen. I loved him and now I have to bring up his son as he would have wished. I don’t want him mixing with the likes of the Salters.’