Outcast

by Josephine Cox

  Ignoring all warnings, Emma made straight for this solitary figure. It was only as she drew closer that she recognized the handsome features, the shoulder-length black hair, and that fine strong physique, the back and shoulders of which were interlaced with a complex lattice of scars. Her heart gave a skip as she spoke his name, ‘Marlow!’ For a brief moment she hesitated as she stared at the young bargee who, because of her, had been cruelly whipped, and who, no doubt, would never want to set eyes on her again. She felt ashamed and deeply pained. How could she dare face him? In that moment she would have turned back, had it not been for the fact that people were hurt and every other pair of hands but her own was frantically working to beat the fire.

  In a moment, Emma was by Marlow Tanner’s side, down on her knees, scrabbling to reach the injured woman, who was by now almost free from the weight that pinned her down. When, totally astonished by her presence, Marlow called out Emma’s name, she turned her head to glance up at him. In that all-too-brief moment when their eyes met, Emma’s heart was aroused by such unfamiliar yet exhilarating emotions, that they left her visibly trembling. As his dark, passionate gaze absorbed her face with love and admiration, Emma’s sparkling grey eyes reflected her wonder at these turbulent and exquisite feelings which possessed her. There was a blossoming of some deep, inner awareness within her, unlike anything she had ever known before. But with it came a murmuring fear, and the echo of a promise she had made.

  Tearing away her gaze, she and Marlow set about the task in hand with renewed zest. When the two injured people were finally recovered, it was all too apparent that the man was beyond help.

  ‘It’s William!’ cried Marlow. ‘Poor bugger . . . there’s nothing we can do for him, I’m afeared.’ He straightened himself up, his bare flesh glistening with sweat in the fiery light, and his expression clearly reflecting his anger that a good man should die in such a way. ‘Christ!’ he moaned, wiping the back of his hand over his face, ‘What the hell happened here?’ Quickly he came to Emma’s side, where she was cradling the unconscious woman in her arms.

  ‘Is she . . . dead?’ Emma asked softly.

  Bending to collect the prostrate form into his arms, Marlow saw that it was his sister, Sal. His heart sinking deeply within him, he gave no answer to Emma’s question, other than to instruct her in a gruff voice, ‘Quickly! Away from here!’ As he spoke, two men rushed in to carry away the body of William.

  They made their way outside, where the scene was one of great confusion. Weary, red-faced men were frantically dashing about in their efforts to contain the still-raging fire, which, thanks to the quick thinking of Gregory Denton, had not spread to cause the major catastrophe that could have ensued.

  As they came to rest in a quieter place by the canal bank, Emma watched as, with great tenderness, Marlow Tanner laid his sister on the ground. At once, she began moaning. Quickly, Emma got to her knees and, taking the limp form into her arms, she told Marlow, ‘Get Thomas . . . hurry! We must get her to the infirmary.’ Whereupon, Sal Tanner stiffened and began struggling in Emma’s arms.

  ‘Jesus, Mary an’ Joseph!’ she called out, reaching up to grab Marlow as he stooped towards her. ‘The buggers are after killin’ me!’ When Marlow laughed out loud and hugged her, she threw him off, shouting, ‘I ain’t goin’ ter no bloody infirmary . . . so yer can piss off, the lot on yer!’ But when she made an effort to get to her feet, she promptly fell back with a cry of pain.

  ‘You’ll do as you’re told for once, Sal Tanner!’ Marlow told her, raising her skirt up to her knee and seeing her already swollen, twisted leg. ‘Looks to me like your leg’s busted.’

  Emma was surprised to find herself smiling at Sal Tanner’s outspoken manner. What was more, she’d taken an instant liking to her. ‘You ought to go to the infirmary,’ she said, ‘Thomas will get you there in no time at all.’

  ‘He bloody won’t , yer know!’ came the swift retort, after which she gave Marlow an accusing glare. ‘An’ as fer you, yer bugger! . . . Yer oughta be ashamed tryin’ ter put yer sister in such a place!’

  ‘Yes, she is my sister,’ Marlow explained to Emma, having seen the puzzled look on her face, ‘so, you can imagine what a cross I have to bear, can’t you, eh?’

  ‘William!’ Sal Tanner’s concern suddenly shifted from herself to that of the man she’d been with. ‘What about William?’ When Marlow told her, in the gentlest way he could, that William had been beyond saving, she fell back in Emma’s arms making a sign of the cross and saying in a quiet voice, ‘Get me ’ome, lad. I’ll mend all right, wi’out goin’ to no infirmary.’ When he hesitated, she turned to Emma, ‘I’d be done fer sure, if I was shut up in a place like that. You’ll ’elp me, won’t yer, lass, eh?’ When she began crying, Emma held her close, her only concern being for this poor, distressed woman.

  ‘Of course I’ll help you,’ she promised, ‘don’t fret yourself . . . we’ll get you to your own bed.’

  The Tanner barge was moored close by, so Marlow gently lifted his sister into his arms, while Emma caught hold of her hand and held it comfortingly, half walking, half running, as she tried to keep up with Marlow’s long strides. He was deeply aware of Emma as she brushed against him, and at that moment Marlow knew he would never love any other woman – not for as long as he lived. As for Emma, just being close to him gave her a wonderful feeling of belonging – one that she had not experienced since her papa had died.

  As the horses thundered by, drawing the fire engine behind them, Marlow and Emma were forced to one side. ‘They’ll have it safe now,’ he told Emma, and as their eyes met, they shared an intimate smile which made Emma’s heart somersault. But, his eyes grew serious as he told her, ‘I’ll have to set Sal’s leg . . . it won’t be a pleasant thing to see. Do you still want to help?’

  Emma was undeterred. ‘Of course I want to help,’ she said. Then she ventured, ‘Is there no one else but you and your sister?’ When Marlow replied that no, there was just the two of them, Emma boldly asked after their parents. However, she soon wished that she had not mentioned it when she saw Marlow’s face grow serious, and in a darker mood he told her, ‘No, we’ve no parents, me and Sal . . . we were robbed of ’em, some many years back!’

  In the ensuing silence, Emma felt awkward and angry with herself. Sal Tanner, meanwhile, was totally shocked when she heard Marlow’s reply to Emma’s questions, for there was so much bitterness in his voice, that it seemed as though he knew something of the terrible way in which both their parents had been taken. Their father murdered and their mother hanged.

  Indeed, Marlow was deeply troubled by certain things which he had recently discovered regarding what had taken place in the past. But his fine features betrayed little of his worries as he continued on his way – with his sister in his arms, Emma by his side, and an overwhelming love in his heart for both of them.

  Emma was also troubled, for she knew that in going to Marlow Tanner’s barge she was going against both her papa’s wish and Caleb Crowther’s instructions. She didn’t feel that she was breaking her promise by helping an injured person, but she knew she was in grave danger of doing so through the irrepressible feelings she had for the man beside her. She could never betray her beloved papa, so she determined that she would give her help, as one human being to another, but after that, she must never see either of the Tanners again.

  On seeing Emma disappear along the wharf in the company of the Tanners, and seeing how contented she appeared to be, Gregory Denton was overcome with jealousy. Without thinking too deeply of the possible consequences of his actions, he quickly searched for Thomas amongst the men who were busy helping to clear up the mess. On finding him, he instructed him to make haste and report to Caleb Crowther.

  ‘Tell him we’ve lost one man – the fellow as started it, I reckon! Make sure he knows how quickly we got the fire under control. But, tell him as there’s another matter he should know about. The matter of his ward, Miss Grady, being enticed away by river-folk . . .
not fit company at all for a young lady of Miss Grady’s standing, as I’m sure Mr Crowther will agree.’ In this unusually vindictive mood, Gregory Denton might well have given the name of these river-folk. But he was no fool! Marlow Tanner and his sister were that rare breed of worker who could always be relied on, and he didn’t want to be deprived of their services. Added to which, the men who worked here wouldn’t take too kindly to having one of their mates put out of work on account of what he said. No, thought Gregory Denton, it would be enough to have Marlow Tanner realize that Miss Grady was a young woman he must steer clear of. Yes, that would suffice.

  ‘Go on!’ he instructed Thomas. ‘Tell Mr Crowther exactly as I’ve told you.’ Then, with a feeling of satisfaction, he watched the dog-cart move out of sight at an urgent speed. And, even though he astonished himself with his own boldness, Gregory Denton was thinking that one day he might even ask for Miss Grady’s hand in marriage!

  Emma had watched with admiration as Marlow firstly straightened Sal Tanner’s leg, and then skilfully strapped it between two stout canes. During this painful operation, Emma had comforted the woman. She had talked to her, bathed her other wounds, mopped the sweat from her face and, at both Marlow’s and Sal’s insistence, had kept her topped up with a good measure of gin.

  ‘Yer a good lass, Emma Grady,’ Sal kept telling her. ‘Yer don’t belong ter them there Crowther toffs. Oh! . . . I’ve ’eard all about the buggers, full o’ their own importance an’ lording it o’er other creatures. An’ that bearded divil . .. well! That’s Justice Crowther, ain’t it? Now there’s a laugh, eh? What fair justice has that bugger ever given out? None at all, that’s what! Oh, aye . . . that slimy sod’s well known, by name an’ bloody nature!’ Peering at Emma, she added, ‘Ain’t that right, Emma Grady? . . . Ain’t every word I say the very truth?’ She waited for an answer, as though she was willing Emma to give the right one – or be damned along with the rest of the Crowther brood.

  Emma, however, would not be drawn into Sal Tanner’s little game, although, deep inside her, she knew every word Sal spoke to be the very same as those emblazoned on her own heart. ‘Why don’t you rest, Sal?’ she suggested tactfully, ‘You’ve been through a lot today.’ She leaned forward and drew up the blanket from the bottom of the bunk, where Sal had contemptuously flung it. ‘You need to keep warm,’ she chastised, ‘and you might get better that much quicker if you did as you were told.’

  ‘Be buggered!’ Sal Tanner retorted. ‘You’re nowt but a snotty-nosed kid an’ I ain’t being ordered about by no lass young enough to be me bloody daughter!’ She began snorting and cursing and searching for her flask of gin. ‘Sod off!’ she told Emma. ‘Go on, piss off back ter them fancy buggers yer live with.’ Taking the blanket in both hands, she flung it to the floor. ‘I ain’t no bloody babby!’ she grumbled, folding her arms and lapsing into a fit of sulks.

  ‘Is that right?’ demanded Emma, equally determined, ‘Then stop behaving like one!’ With that, she collected up the blanket and flung it over the stiff, angry figure, ‘And you’re not likely to get your own way by throwing insults at me, Sal Tanner . . . because I’ve been insulted by past masters at it! So you’ll have to think again, won’t you, eh?’ Emma’s eyes were twinkling as they met the other woman’s defiant yet curious expression.

  ‘Well, I’m buggered!’ Sal Tanner roared, throwing herself back into the pillow and cackling with glee. ‘Yer a little she-cat, ain’t yer? A little she-cat wi’ claws!’ Then, calling out to the galley, where Marlow was brewing up a jug of tea, ‘What the bloody ’ell ’ave yer fotched under our roof, Marlow, lad?’ she chuckled, ‘A right little madam, I’m thinking!’ At the same time she affectionately slapped the back of Emma’s hand, as the two of them laughed together.

  ‘A right little angel ,’ corrected Marlow, as he squeezed his broad shoulders in through the narrow doorway. ‘And one that’s got the better of your temper, I see,’ he laughed. Setting down three pots of tea on the little dresser, he cautioned both women, ‘Be careful, it’s piping hot.’

  Emma helped Sal Tanner to a more comfortable, semi-upright position, and after carefully placing a pot of tea in her hands, she picked up another one for herself and proceeded to sip it. All the while, Marlow’s eyes followed her every move, his love for her emanating from them for all the world to see.

  Being so close that she could feel the warmth of Marlow’s breath against her face, it took all of Emma’s will-power to stop herself from looking up at him. Knowing her eyes betrayed the love she felt for him, she merely nodded and gave the slightest murmur, ‘It is hot.’ In the short silence that followed – when all that could be heard was Sal Tanner noisily slurping her tea, the loud ticking of a large round clock which took up the whole of the polished wooden panel above the tiny dresser, and the gentle slapping of the water against the sides of the barge – Emma experienced a welcomed feeling of happiness and belonging here in this homely barge.

  It was the first time Emma had ever been inside a barge, and it had been a great surprise. Not for a moment had she expected to see such a cosy and exceptionally pretty home as this. All the walls and ceiling were made of highly-polished panels. In the living-quarters the walls were decorated with lovely brass artefacts – plates, old bellows and the like; from the ceiling hung three oil-lamps of brass and wood, each sparkling and meticulously kept; there were two tiny dressers, both made of walnut and displaying small china ornaments – which, according to Sal, were ‘put away when we’re on the move; as were the china plates which were propped up on shelves beneath each porthole; the horse-hair chairs were free-standing, but the dressers were securely fixed to the floorboards. There was also a small cast-iron fire, and the narrow galley which was well-stocked and spotless. In one of the two bedrooms there was a tiny dresser with a tall cupboard beside it, and a deep narrow bunk beneath a porthole. Emma had been astonished that everything a person might need could be provided in such a limited space.

  All the time Emma had been attending to Sal Tanner, she had encouraged her to talk at great length about the barge.

  ‘She’s been in the Tanner family fer a good few years now . . . ever since me mammy an’ dah were wed. It’s named Eve . . . after me mammy, d’yer see?’ Judging by Sal’s moist eyes when she spoke of the barge, and by the proud look on her face, Emma could see that the barge was greatly loved. Not only did she see this in Sal’s face, but she could feel it all around her. There was a special kind of goodness and love in this little home, which she would have given everything for!

  Emma’s mind was overrun by a multitude of thoughts – of her papa, of what they had both been denied at his last moments, and now, of this young man sitting so close to her that all she had to do was reach out her hand and he would surely take it. Suddenly she felt afraid, and as the tears sprang to her eyes, warm and stinging, she told Marlow, ‘I must go . . . Thomas will be concerned about my disappearance.’ But it wasn’t Thomas she was thinking of so much as the possibility that, in his anxiety, Gregory Denton might have alerted Caleb Crowther. A quick glance at the clock told her that over an hour had passed since she had made her way here with Marlow and Sal.

  Quickly, Emma got to her feet, before astonishing Sal Tanner by leaning down to kiss her warmly on the forehead. ‘Remember,’ she told her, ‘you do as you’re told.’ Then, deliberately averting her eyes from Marlow, she edged her way towards the door, through the living-area, and up the small flight of steps to the deck. Once there, she glanced along the wharf, feeling less anxious when she saw that it was unusually quiet, save for two little lads in floppy caps and knee-length breeches who were scrambling up a stack of coal and occasionally skimming the smaller pieces on the water. Up to mischief while everybody else is giving help and clearing away the mess at the warehouse, she thought with amusement.

  ‘Must you go, Emma?’ She turned, startled, as Marlow climbed out to stand beside her. As her gaze settled on his face, her heart felt suffocated. He looked so handsome and w
as staring at her now with such intensity and passion. Soon after they had come into the barge, Marlow had grabbed a grey chequered shirt, quickly shrugging himself into it and rolling the long sleeves up to the elbows. He had been too preoccupied with Sal to waste time doing up the many small buttons down its front. Now, as he stood tall and upright before her, Emma was conscious of the breeze which playfully tugged at his shirt, occasionally whipping it backwards to display his sunburned and muscular chest. Emma was immediately reminded of the vicious scars that Caleb Crowther had etched into Marlow’s back. She had made no mention of the incident, believing it to be one that was best forgotten. But, as it now reared its ugly head in her mind she suddenly became fearful. Thus, when Marlow suggested that if she really had to leave, he would walk her back to the Wharf Mill, Emma felt frantic.

  ‘No, I don’t want that!’ she told him. ‘Please . . . your sister needs you just now.’

  ‘More than you need me, Emma?’ he asked in a soft voice, which was little more than a whisper, and penetrating her trembling soul with his loving gaze.

  Deliberately now, and with every ounce of strength she could muster, Emma looked him in the eye, and in a quiet, controlled voice said, ‘I’m glad that your sister wasn’t hurt more badly, and I’m pleased to have been of help. But . . . believe me, Marlow, I must go!’ Lowering her eyes, she tried to turn from him, only to find her way barred as Marlow placed himself before her. In a minute he had one hand on her shoulder, and, with the other, he gently touched her chin, tilting her face to look up at him. For a long cherished moment, he held her like that, his dark eyes burning into her and his fingers tenderly caressing her face.