Sarah snapped. ‘Eat your breakfast otherwise it will waste! I’m not standing here cooking for you to leave it!’
‘Sarah, leave the boy alone. Frank, if there’s something bothering you it might help to talk about it,’ Bill said.
Frank again glanced at his mother before saying, ‘There’s nothing, Dad.’
Bill nodded, then glancing at the tin clock said, ‘Oh blimey, I’m going to be late for work!’ Kissing his wife’s cheek, he rushed from the house.
John had watched as he ate his own breakfast. Catching his brother’s eye, he tilted his head to their mother standing at the sink then shook his head.
Frank nodded then they both grinned. As he began to eat, forcing down the cold breakfast, Sarah turned.
‘That’s a good boy,’ she said and turned back to washing the dishes.
John threw back his head and let out a silent laugh. Frank grinned at his antics.
Later, as they were weeding the vegetable garden John said, ‘You’re going, aren’t you?’
‘How is it you always know everything?’ Frank said as he nodded.
‘We’re twins, soft lad!’ John grinned.
‘John, I have to do this! I have to know what the big secret is and Mum won’t tell me anything!’
‘Well, we can’t both go, Mum would be distraught. It will be bad enough one of us going but… Look, when she goes to the market this afternoon, gather your clothes and get down to the basin. Get a ride on one of the boats – travel. Go and find out what you want to know, then come home safely.’
‘What will you tell Mother when she asks where I went?’ Frank asked, concerned his brother would be in all kinds of trouble.
‘I’ll tell her the truth, I don’t know where you went. You could go in any direction after all.’ John grinned mischievously. ‘Just promise you’ll come back before too long.’
The boys flung their arms around each other and hugged tightly.
As their mother set out for the market, John watched his brother pack a small bag. A sadness fused with excitement settled on both boys. Another hug and they shot out of the house. Taking to their heels they sped down to the basin.
Having no money, Frank called out to each boat as they walked the towpath. He offered to work in exchange for passage.
Eventually an older woman on a boat named ‘Annie’ called down to him. ‘I could do with a hand, lad. I’m off to Wednesbury – any good to you?’
‘Thank you!’ Frank called back. Giving his brother a last hug, Frank climbed aboard.
Shouting to John to unhitch the ropes hooked over the metal bollards on the towpath, the woman instructed Frank to pull them aboard and coil them.
The boys grinned and waved as the boat moved slowly out of the basin.
Frank’s excitement grew. His adventure had begun.
But John’s sadness deepened as he watched his brother disappear as the boat chugged away. He shuddered as he turned for home – now he had to face their mother’s wrath.
Six
It was just past dawn and Rosie yawned as she followed a woman to her boat. A steaming cup of tea awaited her and she gratefully sipped the hot liquid. Taking the impatient woman’s hand, Rosie concentrated. She felt the familiar shudder and drew in a quick breath. Pictures flashed through her mind and Rosie sought a way of explaining them to the woman.
‘What?’ the woman asked.
Rosie closed her eyes and said, ‘Do you wish to know, good or bad?’
‘I suppose so,’ the woman said tentatively.
‘Be sure, you have to be certain,’ Rosie said.
‘All right, tell me all,’ the woman answered.
Rosie kept her eyes closed, she didn’t want to see the sadness clouding the eyes of her client. ‘I see tears. There is distress.’
‘What distress?’ the woman asked quickly.
Rosie held up a hand. ‘Ask me nothing, tell me nothing.’
She heard the woman’s teeth click as she clamped her jaws together. ‘The tears are abating. There will be a birth, happiness will follow. Beware of a greedy man, he intends to dupe you out of your money.’
Rosie opened her eyes denoting the end of the session. Accepting the money offered she climbed down from the boat. Margy said she had a gift but it had a dark side to it. She saw all things; happiness and sadness, life and death. She had seen that woman’s husband drown in the lock as well as her daughter give birth to a son. She had learned, over the years of watching Maria, to choose her words carefully. She opted to close her own eyes to shield herself from the misery that might be seen in her client’s.
Rosie visited six boats and returned exhausted. Sitting at the small table she tucked into the breakfast placed before her.
‘You need to rest, girl, it must take it out of yer doing all that “seeing”,’ Margy said.
Rosie nodded then greeted Abner who rubbed his hands together relishing the thought of his breakfast. Rolling his eyes over the plate he sniffed the aroma. Bacon, eggs, mushrooms and fried bread awaited him and he also tucked in with gusto.
After eating, Abner readied to leave and Rosie washed the dishes.
‘Margy, I need to pay for my board and lodging,’ she said.
‘You don’t ’ave to Rosie,’ Margy answered.
‘I do. I’m using your spare bed and eating your food, and now I wish to contribute to the coffers.’
Agreeing a sum, the women went on deck to wave their goodbyes as the boat moved out on its journey.
The sun rose and promised another beautiful day. Rosie sat leaning her back against a crate enjoying the gentle sway as the boat chugged along. She thought how different her life had become in such a short time; of how lucky she was to have been taken in by such kind people. Before long, her eyes closed and she slept soundly as the sun shone on her face, darkening her already swarthy complexion. The slowing of the boat woke her and she realised, by the position of the sun, she had slept the morning away.
Stretching her limbs, she descended the steps to help Margy prepare lunch.
Abner pulled the boat in behind two others at a place often used as a rest area to have lunch before continuing onward. Almost before his boat had completely stopped Abner saw two young women jumping from boat to boat. It was the custom to leap the boats when there was no proper towpath to use.
Abner smiled at the greetings called out to him and said, ‘Margy is below, tell ’er I’ll have me dinner up ’ere. I ain’t sitting down there with you lot, listening to yer canting.’
‘It might surprise yer to know, Abner, us women talk a lot of sense,’ one of the women called back. Sharing a laugh, the women went below.
Having seen the boats already moored, Margy had a pot of tea waiting. She knew Rosie would soon be approached for a reading or two.
‘Hiya, girls, sit and ’ave some tea.’ Margy smiled at their nods of thanks. ‘This is Rosie who, I take it, yer’ve come to see?’
More nods. Rosie sat to drink her tea as Margy took Abner’s lunch up to him.
‘I’m not at liberty to do your readings here, ladies,’ Rosie said.
The women exchanged a glance.
‘This is Margy’s home and we agreed I would carry out my work elsewhere.’
‘It’ll be all right just this once,’ Margy said seeing the disappointment on the other women’s faces. Besides, here she could listen in and she was fascinated by the whole process.
‘If you’re sure?’ Rose asked.
At Margy’s nod, she lifted the first woman’s hand. ‘Are you happy for the others to be here?’
In unison both women said, ‘Yes.’
Rosie closed her eyes and felt the shudder. ‘You suffer with the sweats. Evening Primrose will help. If you can get Red Kohosh, even better. A letter will bring bad and good news – a passing and an inheritance. Be patient with your nephew, he is young. He will achieve his aims but it will take time. I see a grandchild – a boy – sickly when born but he will grow to good health.’
Opening her eyes, Rosie picked up the hand of the other woman.
‘There will be a wedding. Also – there will be a funeral – an elderly friend. A ring will come to you, treasure it. Tell your husband to get those spectacles, he knows he needs them. Your sister needs your help with a disabled child – you should visit her.’
Rosie accepted the money passed to her and the women gave their thanks.
Margy chuckled as the women left. ‘Yer’ve got a fair old business going there, luv, everyone wants a reading. ’ow do you do it, Rosie?’ Margy had been dying to ask.
‘I don’t know. I just clear my mind then I see pictures. I like to give good news but sometimes there is distress. I have to be careful how to tell people things,’ Rosie answered honestly.
‘Wouldn’t it be easier to lie to ’em in them cases?’ Margy asked as she poured more tea.
‘I couldn’t. The pictures stay with me until I tell them, then they disappear.’
‘It must be stressful for yer then.’ It was not a question.
‘It can be, but mostly it’s tiring.’ Rosie sighed adding weight to her statement.
‘You thought about setting up a shop, Rosie? Yer know, fortune telling like.’ Margy smiled as the girl burst out laughing.
‘“Rosie will reveal your future” type of thing? I’m not sure I’m suited to be in one place all the time.’ Rosie suddenly wondered if Margy was telling her it was time to leave the boat. ‘But if you feel I should be moving on, Margy, you must tell me.’
‘No!’ The woman was horrified the girl had reached that conclusion. ‘I don’t want you gone. I love ’aving you on the boat, so you stay as long as you want. Hey, you could call yerself “Roving Rosie”!’
Laughter rang out as the girl dismissed the idea. ‘I think not, Rosie will do just fine, although I think Maria would have loved that. She had a really good sense of humour.’
‘Well, yer’ve got the rest of yer life to decide what yer want to do.’ Margy had seen the sadness cloud the girl’s eyes at the brief reminiscence.
Abner’s voice sounded as he poked his head down the hatch. ‘You girls ready for the off?’
The women nodded and Abner’s head disappeared. A moment later their journey continued.
Rosie heard Abner call to her as she climbed up on deck. Picking her way over to him she was surprised when he said, ‘Have you thought about ’aving your own boat?’
‘I did think about it when I was talking to Margy earlier actually, but I can’t see how I could make it pay.’
‘Well first off yer need to know the workings of ’er, so get yerself over ’ere,’ Abner said.
When Margy joined them a while later she was surprised to see Rosie was steering the boat under Abner’s expert guidance.
Seven
Young Frank Mitchell had worked his passage to Wednesbury. He thanked the woman who had given him the opportunity to travel on her boat, shook hands with her husband, and jumped down onto the towpath. He had asked the woman about the couple who had visited his house, but with just a description and no name she said she couldn’t help.
Walking slowly along the towpath of the Gospel Oak branch of the Birmingham Canal, Frank crossed onto Coppice Bridge. Looking all around he could see only heathland dotted with disused coal shafts.
He recalled what the woman had told him before he had said goodbye. Walking straight ahead would bring him to the Walsall Canal. Turning right from the bridge would be The Coppice – mostly heath with very few buildings. If he turned left he would head towards Willingsworth Colliery, now disused and abandoned. It was considered dangerous ground with a dozen or more ‘gin pits’, deep excavation holes, still left open to the elements. Not that way then, he thought.
Frank wondered, as he stood on the bridge, how many basins Wednesbury held. The people he sought could be at any one of them, if they were even in that town at all!
Looking back the way he’d come he chided himself for being so rash in his decision making. He and John should have thought this through far better than they had. Thinking of his twin, Frank felt the first ever pangs of separation. His heart ached as he realised just how close they really were. People always said twins were ‘close’, but they had no idea – it was like missing a limb.
Pulling in a breath, Frank considered his options. He could either go back or go forwards. Going home meant facing his mother’s anger and he would have failed in his quest. Going forward meant he would have to ask his questions at each of the boats in every basin; a massive undertaking. Besides, whilst he was at one basin, the couple could be at another. They may never cross paths!
His head aching from these thoughts, Frank strode away back to the Gospel Oak basin. He’d made up his mind. He would find himself a job on one of the boats and do what he’d always dreamed of. He would become a ‘cut-rat’ first and foremost, and if he happened on the couple he sought, so much the better.
*
Tears and railing were the order of the day when Sarah Mitchell discovered her son had left home. John could get no sense out of his mother as she wept bitterly, other than she blamed him for Frank’s leaving.
John watched as she now sat staring out of the kitchen window as if looking for her lost boy.
‘Mother, should I fetch Dad back from work?’ he asked quietly.
Sarah shook her head.
‘Mum, I don’t know what I can do to put things right.’
Sarah turned a venomous glare at her son and rasped, ‘You can’t put things right! You let our Frank go, you didn’t try to stop him! You didn’t tell me or your father what he had planned. It’s all your fault John Mitchell! If anything happens to that boy…’ Sarah burst into tears once more.
John fled the kitchen to his bedroom, tears rolling down his cheeks. How could she blame him? It was Frank’s idea! Sitting on his bed he stared at the other bed in the room. Where was Frank now? The woman they spoke to was headed for Wednesbury he recalled. Jumping up, John shoved a few clothes into a carpet bag and marched from the room.
‘I’m going to find Frank!’ he said walking past his mother to the back door.
‘Do whatever you like – but don’t come back without him!’ Sarah spat nastily.
John slammed the door behind him and took to his heels racing towards the canal. He intended to follow Frank’s lead and work a passage to Wednesbury. As he ran, he prayed his brother would still be there when he arrived.
Sarah sat at the kitchen window all morning and when her husband arrived home for his lunch she was still there.
‘Sarah? Sarah, what’s wrong?’ Bill asked rushing to his wife.
Tears ran down her face unchecked as she said, ‘The boys have gone, they’ve left home!’
‘What! I don’t understand – why?’ Scooching down in front of his wife he awaited an answer.
Sarah looked into Bill’s blue eyes, their usual twinkle gone. ‘Frank ran away and John went to find him.’ She made no mention of the spiteful way she’d spoken to John.
‘Why? Why did Frank run away?’ Bill’s agitation began to mount.
Sarah shook her head.
‘Why didn’t John come and fetch me from work?’ Bill stood and paced the kitchen. He heard Sarah sigh then sniff. ‘We could have gone together to look for Frank! I think it’s time you told me everything,’ he said as he turned back to his wife.
Looking up at her husband Sarah sighed again.
‘I did it for us, Bill, you have to understand that.’
‘Did what? Sarah, what did you do?’ Bill was beside himself with worry.
‘It’s your parents, Bill…’ Sarah began.
‘What about them? Sarah, for God’s sake tell me!’ Bill’s fingers clutched clumps of his hair as he imagined the worst.
‘Frank must have seen…’ Sarah spoke as if in a trance. ‘They came to call and…’ Her voice was low and dreamy.
‘And? And what? What did Frank see?’ Bill was yelling now. It was like trying to ge
t blood from a stone.
‘I sent them away, as I always did. Every time they came, I sent them away.’
‘Why? I always thought they were too busy working to visit!’ Bill was aghast.
With another shake of her head Sarah said, ‘No, Bill. They hardly saw anything of the boys…’
The words snapped her back to reality and then her anger began to mount.
‘How often did they bother to come, Bill? Answer me that! Hardly ever! The boys didn’t know them! So one day, when they deemed to turn up on my doorstep, I sent them packing!’ Sarah’s temper flared as she stood with her hands on her hips.
‘But you knew they couldn’t visit often, so you stopped them coming at all? Where’s the logic in that, Sarah?’ Bill was hardly able to believe what he was hearing. ‘The boys have grown up not knowing their grandparents because of your stupidity!’
‘I did it for us! If they couldn’t come more often, they shouldn’t come at all! The boys haven’t suffered because of it!’ Sarah yelled.
‘Clearly they have!’ Bill yelled back. ‘Is that why Frank was upset with you? Did he see you turn them away?’
‘He must have, but then he wouldn’t have known who they were anyway.’ Sarah held her ground.
‘I’ll bet my mother was sobbing her heart out, wasn’t she?’ Bill asked gaining control of his temper. It flared again instantly when Sarah nodded. ‘Hell’s teeth!’ he exploded. ‘The boys are not stupid, Sarah, they would have worked it out!’
‘Frank asked me about it and I told him to mind his business!’ Sarah screeched across the kitchen.
‘You did what?!’ Bill bellowed back. ‘He should have told me – or did you forbid him?’
‘I did! I’m glad I did too! I don’t want them here, Bill, I don’t like them!’ Sarah’s voice rose an octave.
‘Which way did the boys go?’ her husband growled.
‘Bill, you can’t—’
‘WHICH WAY?’ Anger dripped from his words.
Sarah’s arm shot out towards the window.
Bill ran from the room without another word. He ran hell for leather towards the canal. He had to find his boys!
The Girl on the Doorstep: from the bestselling author of The Workhouse Children (A Black Country Novel) Page 5
