The following day after the crates were unloaded from their boat, Rosie and Abner collected Samson and walked him into the town to find a blacksmith.
‘I ain’t in the ’abit of buying ’orses,’ the smithy said, ‘I usually just shoe ’em.’
‘In that case, can you tell me where I might go to acquire a sale?’ Rosie asked politely.
‘You could try the knacker’s yard,’ the smithy said with a laugh. Seeing Rosie did not think much of the humorous quip he quickly added, ‘Look, I’ll ’ave ’im off yer but I can’t pay much. My lad is looking for a mount and this would do nicely.’ Seeing the disbelieving look on Rosie’s face, the smithy called out over his shoulder.
A young man strode from the back of the workplace and the smithy said to him, ‘How’s about this one, lad? Will it do yer?’
Walking to the horse the younger man pulled an apple from his pocket, which was to be his lunch, and fed it to the horse. ‘He’ll do just grand, father,’ he said with a beaming smile.
‘Right, get ’im away to the stables while I conduct business with this young lady.’
Walking back to the boat a short time later with Abner, the money given over for the sale of the horse in her pocket, Rosie felt sadness surround her. The horse was a link to Maria and she felt that had now been severed. The only thing she had left from Maria was the necklace. Rosie silently thanked the Almighty for her new friends, Abner and Margy.
One chapter of her life had ended and a new one was about to begin. What would life on the canal hold in store for her? Did this mean she was no longer classed as a gypsy? Would she now be known as a ‘cut-rat’?
Four
Whilst Rosie was settling in on the narrow-boat, over in Bilston Frank Mitchell spoke to his mother Sarah.
‘Mother, who were the people who visited the other day?’
They sat alone in the kitchen, his twin John and their father were outside fixing the fence around the house.
‘It’s none of your business and I don’t wish to discuss it!’ Sarah snapped back.
‘I don’t understand why…’ Frank tried again.
‘Now you just listen to me!’ Sarah rasped. ‘I will not have this mentioned again and you are forbidden to speak of it to your father! Do you understand me?’
Frank nodded. At sixteen years old he saw himself and his twin brother as men, but still he felt he could not disobey his mother.
Sarah harrumphed and adjusted the sock she was darning on its wooden mushroom. She could feel her son’s eyes burning into her but she deliberately ignored him.
Eventually Frank stomped outside to lend a hand with the fence.
Sarah lowered her darning into her lap and gazed into the emptiness of the room. Knowing how her son felt, her mind filled with pictures of her own childhood.
Her mother was a snob of the first order and brought Sarah up to be the same. At a young age Sarah was not allowed out to play with the other children. She was told she was better than them and they didn’t warrant her attention. As her years increased Sarah came to believe her mother was right. Then she met Bill Mitchell. The blue-eyed blond-haired ‘cut-rat’ stole her heart, much to her mother’s disgust. The ultimatum was laid at her feet; Sarah could choose – her mother or the ‘cut-rat’.
Being so desperately in love she chose Bill and her mother ranted and raved until eventually she had thrown Sarah out of the house.
She recalled the parting shot from her mother, ‘You are disowned! Never darken my doors again!’
Sarah smiled to herself; her mother was always so melodramatic. Regardless, the words were meant.
She had been taken in by Bill’s family until they were married. She had travelled the waterways with them and hated every moment of it. She recalled how kind they had been to her but her snobbishness was ingrained. Once married, she lost no time in finding a cheap house to live in so she could get off the boat once and for all.
She sighed as she remembered the arguments regarding Bill leaving the work on the canal he loved so much and finding work on the land. A faint smile caught the corners of her mouth as she saw in her mind Bill’s acquiescence. Using her mother’s technique, she had given him an ultimatum. It was either the canal or her.
Sighing again she thought about how she had worked so hard to make her house the best in the street. Her neighbour had given birth to a daughter – Sarah had twin boys! Nature had given a helping hand to her one-upmanship.
Nodding gently, she thought she still liked to be the best at everything; which she couldn’t do with her in-laws being on the ‘cut’. How could her family ever rise to join the higher echelons if people knew they had canal folk visiting them?
Once when Margy and Abner had called in on a trip to Bilston, Sarah had seen one of her neighbours sniff her disgust as she passed by. That moment had sealed her in-law’s fate. Sarah had told them there and then they were not welcome at her house.
Sarah felt a twinge of guilt as her young boys had cried bitterly as their grandparents had left. They had called back on occasions to see the boys but Sarah had always seen them off her premises.
Scowling now she thought of her teenage boys and how they didn’t understand how she wanted so much more for them. They could rise to prominent positions and associate with doctors and lawyers. Maybe one of them could become the mayor in years to come.
Sarah’s mind snapped to attention as her men trundled into the kitchen laughing at a shared joke.
She saw Bill had noticed how quickly the smile evaporated from Frank’s face as he glanced at her. Something had happened between the two of them and she knew Bill would want to find out what that was.
Frank pushed his dinner away untouched, and again Sarah’s glance went to her husband.
‘Not hungry, son?’ Bill asked.
Frank shook his head. ‘May I be excused?’
Bill’s nod gave him permission to leave the table, and the boy retired to the room he shared with his brother.
It was a few hours later that John walked into the bedroom asking, ‘What’s up Frank?’
‘Nothing,’ Frank said petulantly.
‘Come on, brother, talk to me,’ John said sitting on the end of Frank’s bed.
‘Mother,’ the boy said simply.
‘What about Mother?’ John pushed.
Frank whispered the account of the two people he saw visit their home and his subsequent conversation with their mother.
‘Blimey! Does Dad know about this?’ John asked.
‘I’m forbidden to tell him.’ Frank shook his head.
‘Dad would not be happy if he knew, regardless of who the people were.’ John blew through his teeth.
‘John, I’m fed up with being treated like a kid!’ Frank’s frustration was building steadily.
‘I know, but what can we do?’ John asked perplexed.
‘Well I’m going to visit the basin and see if I can find out who they are!’ Frank said adamantly.
‘You can’t! Mother would have apoplexy!’ John said in disbelief at his brother’s idea.
‘John, you can either come with me or you can stay here but… you have to keep this secret! Promise me!’ Frank was becoming agitated.
‘All right, calm down! Now let’s look at this sensibly. What are you going to do when you get there? You don’t know who these people who visited are – you have no name by which to ask for them. They might not even be canal folk. They could be anybody from anywhere!’ John was trying to make his brother see sense.
Frank smiled. ‘I know all that, so I’m going to ask if someone will give me a job – on a boat. I want to be a ‘cut-rat’ like dad was. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time now and one day I want a boat of my own!’
John gasped his surprise. ‘Look, how do you even know these people came from the canal?’
‘You can tell a ‘cut-rat’ a mile off, you know that. John, you have to remember your promise!’ Frank whispered urgently.
John threw
his arms around his older brother, albeit by only two minutes, and whispered back, ‘Good luck, big brother.’
The boys spent an hour or so discussing how Frank could slip away from the house unnoticed to investigate the possibility of getting work on the canal. Hitting on what they thought to be a good plan, they settled down to sleep.
Whilst the boys had been conversing in their bedroom, Bill had broached the subject with his wife.
‘What’s going on between you and our Frank?’ he asked.
‘Nothing, why?’ Sarah answered his question with one of her own as she concentrated on her darning once more.
‘I saw the look he gave you when we came in and – he never leaves his dinner!’ Bill’s frown was not lost on his wife as she glanced up.
‘Maybe he’s just tired, he’ll be fine in the morning, you’ll see.’ Sarah brushed his concern aside. ‘I’m off to bed myself now too.’ She kissed the top of his head as she walked past him.
Bill was left still wondering what was going on. No matter, he thought, he could ask Frank about it tomorrow.
The twins rose early and quietly slipped from the house. Racing down to the canal they looked along the line of boats moored up in the basin.
‘Which one?’ John asked breathlessly.
‘I don’t know. That couple could be on any one of them. We’ll just have to wait and watch,’ his twin answered.
‘Our mother will tan our hides if she finds out what we’re up to,’ John said with a sigh.
‘For God’s sake, John! We’re sixteen years old! Mother just needs to realise we’re not children anymore.’
The conversation continued as they sauntered along the towpath. Coming to the end of the line of boats Frank muttered. ‘They’re not here!’
‘They could be anywhere by now. Let’s get home before we’re missed,’ the ever-cautious John replied.
Walking back the way they’d come John asked, ‘Why do you want to find these people? You don’t even know who they are.’
‘Why did they visit our house? They were an older couple and when they left the woman was crying. Mother didn’t invite them inside and although I couldn’t hear what was said, I knew mother was shouting at them. I’ve seen them before as well, it’s not the first time they’ve called and I wondered who they were,’ Frank said shaking his head.
‘So?’ John pursued his line of questioning.
‘So – I think they might be related to us. I’m wondering if they are our grandparents – dad’s side.’
‘What?!’ John stopped in his tracks swinging round to look his brother in the eye.
‘Father’s parents, our grandparents. Look, we know mother’s parents are both dead so it stands to reason,’ Frank mused.
‘Frank, they could be anybody! They could be tinkers and mother sent them off with a flea in their ear!’
‘They weren’t tinkers, John, and anyway, why was the woman crying?’
John shook his head as they walked on. Silently slipping back indoors they tiptoed back to their room to await the sound of their parents getting up for breakfast.
Five
Rosie Harris watched as the ‘Pride of Wednesbury’ was once more loaded with crates of vegetables. She glanced around her and saw the activity on the other boats. Shouts and laughter reached her ears. These are such a happy people, she thought. Watching the boats leave their moorings and chug away on the water, she returned the waves of the people aboard them. She wondered where they were headed and smiled, guessing she would meet them all again before too long.
The sun warm on her face was cooled by a passing breeze as she thought about how the network of inland waterways had spawned a happy thriving community of hard working people. Poor they may be, but their dignity was fierce. In the few days she had lived among them they had made Rosie feel very welcome.
She smiled again as she heard Margy shout, ‘Right Rosie, we’m off!’ She steadied her stance as the boat chugged forward and she waved to those left behind.
Rosie felt excitement build as she realised she was at the beginning of a new adventure. With a twinge of sadness, her eyes roamed the heath where she had burned Maria’s vardo, then she moved towards Abner.
‘Want to steer ’er?’ he asked.
‘Goodness no! If I did, she’d be in dry dock back on the heath!’ Rosie answered.
Abner Mitchell threw back his head and laughed heartily. ‘There’ll be time enough to learn,’ he said.
She watched intently as they moved slowly along, passing fields full of sheep and the odd farmhouse. She smelled the canal water and waved to others as they moved in the opposite direction. She thought she could settle to a gentle life on the water and the peaceful journeying from town to town.
Later that day they moored up in the basin at Gas Street in Birmingham. Rosie gasped at the sight. So many boats – everywhere! All shapes, sizes and colours bobbed on the water. The cacophony of shouting, singing and whistling filled her ears. The aroma of hot food drifted on the air and Rosie felt her senses fill to capacity.
Whilst Abner paid the mooring fees and saw to the unloading of the boat, Margy took her new charge and introduced her to friends nearby.
Shaking hands with a woman named Ethel, Rosie felt a shudder run down her spine. A picture formed in her mind for a split second before it vanished. Leaning close to the woman she whispered, ‘Good luck awaits you, Ethel.’
The woman’s eyes widened in surprise as Rosie stepped back with a smile.
‘You a gypsy then?’ Ethel asked.
‘I was, now I’m a “Romany cut-rat”.’ Rosie laughed.
‘Will you read my palm?’ The woman’s eyes held excitement and Rosie glanced at Margy who nodded.
‘I will.’
The three women climbed aboard Ethel’s boat and moved down into its belly. The hatch was open and sunshine poured in casting a golden glow around the cabin. Sitting at the tiny table Ethel thrust out her hand in eager anticipation.
Holding the woman’s hand in her own, Rosie traced a finger on its palm following the lines and again felt the shudder flow through her. She closed her eyes.
‘You have had a hard life, Ethel. However, you will move on from that. You will meet a man…
‘Oh Christ! I got one, I don’t need another!’ Ethel laughed.
Rosie smiled and went on, her eyes remained closed. ‘This man is family to you.’
‘I’ve got a brother somewhere…’ Ethel began.
‘Please, tell me nothing – I am here to tell you.’ Rosie said gently.
Ethel clamped her mouth shut and listened carefully.
Rosie continued. ‘This man will give you something of great value.’
Ethel’s eyebrows shot up but she retained her silence.
‘You will be in a quandary regarding this, but you will make the right decision. I can see nothing more.’
‘Well, I thank you for that,’ Ethel said as she placed some money in the girl’s hand.
Rosie smiled her thanks and pocketed the money. As she and Margy returned to the ‘Pride of Wednesbury’ Margy said, ‘You watch, Ethel will tell everyone about that and before yer know it there’ll be a queue of folk waiting their turn.’
‘Would you mind about that?’ Rosie asked.
‘No, we all ’ave to make a living somehow. You ’ave a gift Rosie and you should use it.’
The sun dipped behind the horizon and the aroma of more cooking wafted across to them as suppers were prepared.
Just as they finished their meal of hot broth a shout came from the towpath.
‘’ere we go!’ Margy laughed as she glanced at Rosie. ‘Looks like somebody may be wantin’ to see yer.’
Sticking her head through the hatch Margy dipped it back down again. ‘Rosie, yer need to see this!’
Rosie took the place her friend had vacated then both women ascended the steps to the deck of the boat. A line of women had formed on the towpath and were eyeing the girl who stood watching them.
Turning to Margy, Rosie gasped. ‘Oh my, word does travel fast!’ Looking around her she then brought her gaze back to her friend. ‘How am I to see all these women – where can I talk to them?’
‘In there.’ Margy tipped her head to the cabin.
‘No, that’s your home, I wouldn’t even presume to…’ Rosie said shaking her head.
‘Fair enough. Then all you can do is visit each boat individually. Bear in mind though yer could be at it a long time judging by that lot.’ Margy lifted her chin towards the line of waiting women.
Drawing in a deep breath Rosie called out. ‘Ladies, I will visit the first six boats this evening.’ A groan emanated from the women and Rosie held up her hand for quiet. ‘Some readings take longer than others, so you will have to bear with me. Tomorrow morning, I can visit some of you before you leave. I will rise early in an effort to see as many of you who remain.’
Margy nodded her approval as Rosie turned to leave the boat. She watched the women wander back to their own craft chatting quietly as they went. Margy smiled as she thought, that girl will be famous in no time if the ‘cut’ grapevine ’as anything to do with it!
Returning to her living quarters, Margy put the kettle to boil. She turned to her husband as she heard him chuckle behind his newspaper.
‘What’s so funny, Abner Mitchell?’ she asked.
Lowering the paper, he said, ‘I see Rosie is on the path to earning a good living.’
Margy rolled her eyes and with a laugh said, ‘Suddenly everyone ’as the “sight”!’
Abner’s laughter joined hers as he returned to his newspaper.
*
Over in Bilston, Frank Mitchell watched his mother cooking breakfast. In his mind, he saw again the couple leaving their house, the man’s arm around the sobbing woman. Who were they? Why had they come? Why would his mother not tell him anything about them?
Frank, lost in thought, pushed his bacon and egg around the plate with his fork.
‘You want to tell me what’s wrong?’ Bill asked his son.
Looking up at his father, an involuntary glance shot to his mother then back to his plate as he shook his head. ‘I’m not hungry.’
The Girl on the Doorstep: from the bestselling author of The Workhouse Children (A Black Country Novel) Page 4
