The Girl on the Doorstep: from the bestselling author of The Workhouse Children (A Black Country Novel)

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  Margy jumped down and scurried along to tell Betty and Rosie where they were headed before returning to her family.

  With a quick toot of the steam whistle the boat moved slowly out of its mooring and chugged along the canal headed back to Bilston.

  *

  ‘With all this flitting about, the Mitchells ain’t earning,’ Betty said as she waved her farewell.

  ‘It is a worry,’ Rosie agreed.

  Just then a voice bounced off the water. ‘Yoohoo! You up for a “reading” Rosie?’

  The young woman nodded to the person who had called.

  Once settled below, Betty refusing to budge, the “reading” commenced.

  ‘You suffer with dyspepsia…’ Rosie said, her eyes firmly closed.

  ‘Like you wouldn’t believe!’ the woman answered.

  ‘You need to drink more milk, it will quell the burn. You are selling a horse…’

  ‘Ar, we’m having a fire box fitted,’ the woman said proudly.

  ‘Don’t go to the man you’re thinking of – go elsewhere. I see an abattoir.’ Rosie felt the woman nod and continued. ‘Someone has a big birthday coming up and also there will be a wedding… Oh, after a birth.’ Hearing the woman chuckle, Rosie concentrated harder, then frowned. ‘There are leg irons – they are being thrown away.’ Rosie’s eyes snapped open to see the woman had a grin on her face. After leaving her coins on the table, she rushed off to spread word of her visit with Rosie.

  ‘How very odd,’ Rosie said quietly.

  Betty answered with, ‘Her sister’s little girl is in leg irons after the polio struck. Doctor said the poor little thing would never walk again without them.’

  ‘Oh she will, in fact it will be very soon.’ Rosie smiled.

  All that day, women came and went seeking Rosie’s time. No one objected to Betty being there, after all they were not privy to the knowledge that the boat no longer belonged to Betty Johnson.

  By supper time Rosie was exhausted and said she would sit up top and enjoy the fresh air while Betty began to prepare their meal. As she worked she thought about the girl’s gift of ‘sight’. She wondered if it could be taught. She dismissed the idea as she clattered around in the tiny galley.

  Sitting on the boat deck, Rosie breathed in the fresh warm air. The sun had gone to bed and she felt she would soon follow its lead. She thought about the ‘readings’ she had given and how excited the women had been. She enjoyed her work but it sapped her energy leaving her feeling like a wet rag. Maybe she should sort out a schedule; only ‘read’ during the morning maybe, when she was fresh from a good night’s sleep.

  Glancing around at the people starting to settle for the night, her eyes caught a movement in the lengthening shadows. Staring hard she made out the figure of a man. Jake Harding! He was watching her from along the towpath.

  Rosie scrambled down the steps into the boat shutting and locked the hatch behind her.

  ‘Hey up, what’s occurring?’ Betty asked, surprised at the girl’s actions.

  ‘Jake Harding is on the towpath – he’s been watching the boat – and me!’ Rosie said, all of a fluster.

  ‘He’s a bloody menace that one! Don’t fret none though, there’s enough burly buggers around ’ere to sort him out.’ Betty laughed.

  Rosie nodded but the uneasy feeling stayed with her. Maybe they should get underway to another town. If she was to learn about dealing with businessmen, now would be an excellent time. She voiced her thoughts and Betty agreed.

  ‘You should be learning to drive yer own boat while yer at it,’ she said.

  Lying in her small bunk that night Rosie wondered if Jake was still watching or whether he’d given up and gone back to his vardo. One thing for sure was – she wasn’t going up top to check.

  *

  Jake Harding watched as the ‘Sunshine’ slipped her moorings soon after dawn. He was full of anger and his heart was heavy with sorrow as he saw the love of his life drift away from him yet again. Sighing loudly, he turned from the towpath where he’d stood all night.

  Ambling back to his caravan on the scrubland he wondered where Rosie Harris was headed and if he would ever see her again.

  She had rounded on him that night he’d snatched her from the towpath. Her words burned in his mind… Wait no longer for me Jake Harding, for you will never have me.

  How could he take another for a wife when Rosie held his heart? He knew it would be impossible to love someone else as much as he did that dark-haired beauty.

  Walking across the heath, hands in his trouser pockets, he kicked out at the loose stones. He was as miserable as it was possible to be, and no one spoke to him as he climbed the steps of his vardo.

  Sitting at the tiny table he brooded. The small circle of Romanies outside were waiting on his word to strike camp and move on. Somehow, despite his young years, he had become leader to them. It was he who made the decisions about which town to overnight in.

  A banging on his door told him his people were getting impatient at being stuck in one place. Sticking his head out of the top of the split door he yelled, ‘Strike camp, we’re moving on.’

  Jake snorted as he listened to the people packing up and readying for the road.

  ‘Farewell, my darling Rosie, I hope we will be meeting again,’ Jake muttered before stepping outside to harness his horse.

  *

  Rosie had seen Jake walk away from the towpath and guessed he’d been there all night as she had feared. At least he didn’t know where they were headed. Breathing a sigh of relief, she made tea for Betty and herself.

  ‘This is our first real adventure together, Betty,’ she said handing over the mug of hot tea.

  ‘Ar, it is that. Any reason why you chose Wolver’ampton?’ Betty asked her eyes glued to the waterway ahead.

  ‘Margy told me Waterloo Wharf was surrounded by basins and other wharves. I thought it might be a good place to pick up a load as well as do some “readings”,’ Rosie said as she too watched the canal snaking its way through the countryside.

  ‘Good thought, gel,’ Betty said clicking her teeth, wondering how long she would have to wait for her new ones.

  ‘Do you think we might visit Bilston also? I’d like to see the Mitchells again.’

  ‘We’ll see, depends if there’s a cargo to be sent there,’ Betty answered.

  Rosie nodded saying, ‘I’ll keep an eye on the fire box and prepare lunch so it will be ready for when we stop.’

  She smiled as she made her way forward; she could hear Betty humming a little tune.

  After lunch they set off once more for the large town of Wolverhampton. Although Rosie had never been there, Margy had told her all about it. An industrial town, it sprawled over a vast area with massive patches of waste land. Disused collieries peppered the landscape and the new railway cut through its heart. Parks and gardens provided much needed beauty amongst the built-up areas of factories and warehouses. The Birmingham Canal ran alongside the railway with basins and wharves in abundance.

  Finally arriving at Waterloo Wharf, Rosie was bouncing with excitement. Carts being loaded and unloaded were everywhere, people were milling about, shouts and laughter filled the air. She saw crates of fruit and vegetables. The aroma from boxes of wet fish and the scent of fresh flowers mingled together. Cooking smells reached her nose too. She watched the steam puff from the pipe chimneys as the narrowboats and barges carefully moved in and out on yet more journeys on the inland waterways.

  Rosie turned her head this way and that, her senses greedily sucking in all of the sights and sounds around her. She laughed as a man chased away a lone seagull intent on trying to steal a fish from his cart. The poor man was fighting a losing battle.

  Betty watched her young friend before saying, ‘I ’ave to go and pay our mooring fees then try and find a load. You coming with me?’

  Rosie shook her head. ‘I have something I need to do, Betty, if that’s all right with you.’

  ‘Ar, fair enough b
ut don’t get lost. I’ll see you back ’ere for supper.’ With that Betty jumped from the boat and strode away.

  Fetching her drawstring bag, Rosie hitched up her long cotton skirt and left the boat. Walking away from the wharf she headed for the town, she had something important to do.

  Fifteen

  The ‘Pride of Wednesbury’ moored up in the basin just off the Wolverhampton level of the Birmingham Canal. The feeling amongst the family who crewed her was one of quiet consternation. Leaving the boat securely tied, the Mitchells walked along the towpath and crossed the Pothouse Bridge which lay over the wide canal. Turning into Edward Street the family stopped to look at each other.

  Bill was the first to speak. ‘Are you sure you want to do this, Mum? It could get very ugly.’

  Margy Mitchell nodded then turned to face the twins. ‘Just so as I understand, you know your grandfather and I were not responsible for not seeing you over the past years?’

  The twins shared a look then nodded in unison.

  ‘Right, you also know the ’atred your mother has of us?’ Another nod. ‘As our Bill says, this is bound to be bad. When your mother sees us, she’s going to scream blue bloody murder! We all need to ’old on to the truth of all this for, if I’m not mistaken, Sarah will spin a web of lies to lay the blame at our feet. Now, there will be words spoken that can never be retrieved, understand?’ Margy saw nods from all.

  ‘Fair enough. I want you all now to take a deep breath and make your decisions about your future… for this is one time Sarah Mitchell won’t send me off in tears!’

  Frank began, ‘Grandma, I want—’

  Margy’s heart melted at how readily the boys had accepted them and holding up her hand she said, ‘We don’t need to know as yet, lad. Hold it quietly within until the time comes to let it out.’ Another nod said Frank understood. Margy pulled the twins close to her and kissed each on the side of their heads.

  ‘All right, let’s get this over with once and for all.’ Margy’s resolve stiffened. She had no intention of leaving until she’d finally had her say.

  The family walked slowly down the street each contemplating the scene about to unfold before them.

  The boys entered the house first by way of the back door.

  Sarah Mitchell looked up from her seat at the kitchen table before gasping and rushing to her sons. Wrapping an arm around each of them she wept.

  ‘Oh my boys! My babies! Thank God you’re all right!’

  She muttered her questions punctuated with kisses as she led them to the table. ‘Where have you been? I was worried sick! You can’t imagine what I’ve been through not knowing where you were or if you were dead or alive!’

  ‘Sarah,’ Bill said tentatively standing in the doorway.

  ‘So, you came back as well,’ she said sparing her husband a quick glance. ‘You realise you’ve lost your job on the railway, don’t you? So now we have no money coming in! How will we live on nothing? Answer me that, Bill Mitchell!’

  Plonking herself on a chair, Sarah returned her attention to the twins.

  Outside the back door Margy and Abner had listened quietly, the younger woman’s words fuelling Margy’s anger. Abner grabbed her arm preventing her from barging into the house. A shake of his head told her – not yet.

  ‘Sarah! There is much to discuss,’ Bill said sternly.

  ‘I have nothing to say to you, Bill,’ his wife replied keeping her eyes on her boys who were sitting quietly.

  ‘Then speak to me!’ Margy Mitchell said as she stormed into the kitchen with Abner close behind.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Sarah blasted at her mother-in-law.

  ‘I’m ’ere to right the wrong you’ve caused over the years, madam!’ Margy spat back.

  ‘Get out of my house! Get out!’ Sarah was on her feet now. ‘You are a nasty, spiteful woman, Margy Mitchell. Every word out of your mouth is a lie! You couldn’t be bothered to come and see your grandsons while they were growing up, you always had something better to do!’

  ‘Like earning a living!’ Margy growled. ‘It’s not that we couldn’t be bothered as well you know. We were prevented – by you!’

  ‘More lies!’ Sarah screamed.

  ‘We should ’ave stuck to our guns and kept coming, but you would ’ave made Bill’s life a living ’ell!’ Margy rounded on the younger woman.

  ‘No more than he deserves. Your son has no backbone, Margy.’ Sarah’s face burned red with anger.

  ‘Is that so? Well we’ll see.’ Margy’s voice was calm now.

  ‘Just get out and take your simpering husband with you!’ Sarah was irate.

  The twins watched the argument rage thinking they were to blame for all this and feeling wretched about it.

  ‘Oh we will go, all in good time. ’owever, first of all you need to ’ear some ’ome truths and not just from me. Yer husband and the twins ’ave things to say also.’ Margy’s temper settled a little.

  ‘You have something to tell me, boys?’ Sarah looked at the two young men sat at the table with their mouths hanging open.

  ‘Mum, we’re not boys anymore, we’re men now,’ Frank ventured.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Frank, you’re only sixteen! You’re still babies…’ Sarah felt uneasy.

  ‘We are not babies, Mother! We have been working and earning money!’ John jumped into the conversation. Reaching into his pocket he threw a handful of coins on the table. His brother followed suit.

  ‘Well that’s all well and good, but it’s not like having a proper job.’ Sarah rallied.

  ‘Proper job? Like Dad on the railway you mean?’ Frank watched his mother nod. ‘I see, so you would have us work at jobs we hate so you could keep us tied to you, is that what you’re saying?’

  John instantly backed his brother with, ‘Dad worked on the railway for years – a job he hated. He only ever wanted to work the canals but you stopped him. But you won’t stop us. Frank and I are going to be “cut-rats”, Mother, we’ve made up our minds!’

  ‘Nooo…’ Sarah wailed. Turning to Margy and Abner she jabbed a finger in their direction. ‘This is all your fault, if you’d stayed away like I told you…’ Realising her faux pas, Sarah halted mid-sentence.

  The silence in the kitchen was deafening.

  Margy spoke quietly. ‘From ’er own mouth boys, now yer know the truth of it.’

  ‘Sarah, the boys are leaving to embark on a bright new future – and I’m going with them,’ Bill said.

  ‘What? What about me? How will I manage alone?’ His wife’s tears began to fall.

  ‘You should have thought about that before, over all the years you drove a wedge into this family. I can’t stay here any longer, Sarah. The love I had for you has gone – you’ve killed it with your malicious spite!’ Bill was shaking with anger.

  ‘How will I live with no money coming in?’ Sarah sobbed.

  ‘Me, me, me! That’s all you ever think about – yourself! You’ll have to get a job – I know of one going on the railway,’ Bill said snidely.

  Margy had been watching her grandsons during the exchange and saw their resolve falter at their mother’s weeping.

  ‘Boys – young men – you are welcome to live with us on the boat, as is our Bill. Your mother ’as brought all this on ’erself. There is no earthly reason why ’er can’t work for a living like the rest of us. She won’t starve.’ Seeing their resolve stiffen once more, Margy continued, ‘I don’t think there’s anything more to be said. Abner and I will return to the boat now, so if yer coming – let’s be off.’

  Turning to Sarah she said, ‘We won’t be coming here again so you finally ’ave your wish.’

  Turning on her heel Margy walked out of the house closely followed by her husband, son and grandsons.

  Sarah stared at the kitchen door left open before her anger reached fever pitch.

  As the group walked away from the house they heard the smashing of crockery. Margy heaved a sigh as she watched her family winc
e, but they were clearly relieved that the debacle was over and done.

  *

  Once more in the cramped belly of the ‘Pride of Wednesbury’ Margy made tea saying, ‘I’m ’appy for us all to live on this boat but we’ll ’ave to sort something out regarding the sleeping arrangements. You lads can’t sleep up top when the winter comes.’

  ‘And, we need to find a load pretty quick,’ Abner added.

  ‘I’ll sort that out, Dad. Want to come along, boys?’ Bill asked.

  Nods confirmed they did indeed wish to join their father and learn the ways of the canal folk.

  It was at that moment that they heard a steam whistle blow. ‘If I ain’t mistaken that’ll be the “Sunshine” mooring up.’ Margy smiled.

  Clambering onto the towpath they were proved right. They saw Rosie Harris jump down to secure the rope to the iron bollard on land.

  ‘Hey up, Rosie,’ Margy called out.

  Seeing who had spoken, Rosie smiled broadly at sight of her friend.

  Betty Johnson made tea for all as gossip was exchanged. The family related the tale of Sarah Mitchell’s anger and how they had all finally stood up to her.

  ‘What will you do now?’ Rosie directed her question to Bill.

  ‘Stay together on Dad’s boat for the time being. After that – the boys and I will have to find work somewhere.’ Bill looked directly into the eyes of the girl who’d asked the question and Rosie felt a flush to her cheeks as their eyes met.

  ‘Well there ain’t nothing in Wolver’ampton lad, we just come from there,’ Betty chimed in.

  ‘I may have a possible solution,’ Rosie said quietly.

  All eyes turned to her as she explained.

  ‘When Maria died, she left me a necklace. I knew it was worth something but I was very surprised to learn its worth far exceeded my expectations. Whilst in Wolverhampton I had it appraised and was told it held diamonds and emeralds. I decided to sell the necklace and what I am about to say is not a boast, please understand that. I now have a good amount of money behind me.’

  Gasps sounded around the table and Rosie went on. ‘So, I wish to make a proposal. With the money from the sale of the necklace I wish to buy another boat. I would ask you, Bill, to accompany me to the boat yard and find a decent craft – which I can afford and which can be set on the canal immediately.’