by Annie Murray
‘It’s like Christmas,’ Maryann laughed. She felt like a queen coming home to her palace.
‘And we’ll have fish and chips,’ Joel said. ‘Don’t you go stroving tonight.’
They said their goodbyes to Darius and to Alice Simons.
‘You’ve been so good to us,’ Maryann said, kissing Alice’s soft cheek. She felt a great rush of fondness and gratitude towards her.
Alice kissed her back and took her hands. ‘You look after yourself now, dear.’ Very quietly she added, ‘You’ll be all right now, you’ll see.’ Their eyes met. Maryann knew what she meant. Even amid the shame, there was the relief of no more worry about having baby after baby.
Maryann also went and kissed Darius and thanked him. He blushed, coughed and looked at his boots. ‘G’bye now, girl,’ he said, pushing his hat down more firmly onto his head.
Joel put his arm round Maryann’s shoulders as his father and aunt walked away, Darius with his slow, loping gait, like an old crow in his black clothes, and Alice, limping slightly, but neat and spry in her hat and coat. They didn’t look back.
Alone in the cabin of the Theodore, Joel drew Maryann into his arms. She leaned against him, breathing in his familiar smells of old wool and engine oil and his own Joel smell. She began to feel the hard twist of dread which had burdened her for weeks, begin to unwind itself.
‘I’m sorry, love,’ she said into his chest. ‘So sorry for what I’ve done.’
When he spoke, she felt the vibration of it against her cheek.
‘If we had any more, I might not have a wife, might I? And she’s worth all the little ’uns in the world to me.’
His arms wrapped round, holding her close and she felt him draw in a great breath, his chest expanding. Releasing it, she heard him say, ‘Home, my lovely,’ on the long exhalation of breath which spoke to her, without further words, of all his longing, his relief.
For the next few weeks after Maryann was back, Mr Barlow kept them on short runs out of Hawkesbury Junction, up and down the Coventry cut to Griff and Baddesley collieries and back to the Electric Light, its maw ever open for coal, its chimneys like huge nostrils snorting out smoke.
The boat families who worked round Sutton Stop greeted Maryann warmly and seemed glad to see her back, asking if she was well recovered. Their kindness lifted her a little, making her feel accepted, as if they were all part of one big family. Joel had reassured her that no one except him knew exactly what had happened that night. He was the one who had found her when he and Bobby came back from the pub, and he had shouted to Bobby to go back and get them to call an ambulance. So far as everyone knew, Maryann had suffered a miscarriage followed by an operation.
They wouldn’t be so sympathetic if they knew, Maryann thought. But she tried to bury her feelings of loss and shame and revel in being back with the family, close to her children. The time away recuperating had given her an opportunity to appreciate how much happiness she had with them. The early summer was beautiful. The hedgerows were full of birds, the mayflower and elder blooming at their most exuberant, surrounded by the vibrant green of grass and trees. She steered the Theodore, drinking in the feel of sunlight on her skin, the breeze ruffling the leaves, animals in meadows along the cut, and the ducks clamouring for food alongside the boats. Ada and Esther were old enough to be getting into mischief now so she sat them on the roof, harnessed to the chimney, to play and watch the world go by. It was a treat to see the children tucked up cosily in bed or playing out on the bank with hoops and rods, with the prams and on makeshift swings. And, as the warm days passed, her energy returned and she felt better than she had in a good while.
But still somewhere deep inside her was a chilled, sad place that she did not like to visit. One afternoon at Sutton she was out on the bank with some of the other women. They had their wash tubs going, with dollies for pounding the clothes and a couple of mangles on the bank. It was a good chance for catching up on chat as well as getting the washing done. Two of the others were heavily pregnant and a lot of of the talk revolved round family and these new lives. Maryann did her best to smile and join in, but she felt sad and lonely. She missed Nancy so badly. Of course, Nance would have found it hard to understand what she’d done, but she would have listened and tried to comfort her. They’d seen Darius a couple of times while they were working round Sutton Stop. He was so silent, so obviously bereft and miserable without her. The pain of the fact that there would never be Nancy to confide in and share jokes with came back raw and fresh now she was back on the cut.
She kept her sadness to herself. She and Joel did not talk about what had happened. It was done. Over. What was there to say? But although the two of them would be able to love one another freely now and without worry once she was fully healed, something had changed. There was a difference in knowing that no child would ever result from their lovemaking. Not now or ever. And in a hidden place deep in her heart Maryann was weeping for all these things.
Fifteen
The summer passed quite peacefully. It was not until the autumn that Mr Barlow found them a longer trip, up to Birmingham. They drew into Tyseley well on into a smoky September afternoon. The wharf was very busy, and the Bartholomews were told they would have to join the queue for unloading and would probably have to wait until morning.
‘I’ll get down the shops before they close,’ Maryann said.
Sally and Rose insisted on coming too and bringing their dollies’ prams. As they didn’t have much chance to push them about when the boats were on the move, Maryann relented.
‘So long as you carry summat home in them,’ she told them.
Moving round the edge of the wharf and keeping well out of the way of the roaring trucks, swinging chains and busy wharfmen, she led the girls, both solemn with the importance of the occasion, out onto the Birmingham streets. The bomb-damaged buildings looked a little less raw now, the rubble softened by grass and weeds.
Maryann pressed on quickly from shop to shop. There was no bread – come back in the morning, they said. She bought onions and carrots, stashing them in the little prams, and a bag of potatoes. When they reached the butcher’s, the door opened with its usual ‘ting’ but the shop was quiet. Then Mr Osborne came through from out the back and Maryann saw his expression change to one of pleasure. He seemed quite delighted to see her.
‘Well hello, stranger!’ he said gushingly. What a long time since we’ve had the pleasure…’ He peered over at Sally and Rose with a mischievous grin. ‘And I’m sure I can find something nice for you two young princesses.’
‘I want some mince, please,’ Maryann said, taking her ration books out of the basket, ‘if I’m not too late.’
‘I’ve just the thing.’ He held up his index finger and disappeared out the back again for a moment. ‘I’ve been telling them that stocks are finished but, of course, I’ve got a little put away for special customers.’
Maryann frowned, truly baffled. ‘What’s so special about me?’ Surely he couldn’t be making advances to her. Look at the state of her – scruffy and covered in coal dust!
‘Oh, I like to keep our boatladies happy.’ He eyed the needle on the scale. ‘There we are. Just over.’ Wrapping the meat with a flourish, he kept his conversational patter going. A nip in the air now, wasn’t there? Autumn on its way. At Tyseley Wharf again, were they?
‘Yes,’ Maryann said absently, wondering whether there was anything alse she should be buying.
‘I can throw in a pair of pig’s trotters as well. That suit you?’
‘Oh – ta very much!’ The food was welcome, of course, but for some reason she couldn’t identify Maryann felt suddenly uneasy. He’s just being kind again, she told herself. Mr Osborne had never given her the heeby-jeebies before, as men did when they seemed to be after something, but today she sensed something forced in his kindness to her.
‘There we are.’ He handed her the package and dipped his hands into his overall pocket. ‘And – for you. Butterscotch!’
Sally and Rose took the sweets with eager hands.
‘Say thank you to Mr Osborne,’ Maryann told them.
Just as they arrived back at the boats, Charlie Dean from the toll office came over to her in the dusky light, smiling, his cap clinging to the back of his head. Maryann put the potatoes onto the counter of the Theodore and waved in greeting.
‘All right? Long time no see!’ He called a greeting to Joel, who was splicing ropes with the boys on the Esther Jane. Charlie stood leaning against the cabin, smoking as they chatted. Maryann was pleased to see him, but she also felt fraught and distracted. One of the twins was crying in the cabin and she hadn’t even begun on the tea yet.
‘Where’ve you been then?’
‘Essy kept us on short trips,’ she told him. He didn’t need to know more than that. She kept up a conversation while lifting the groceries down into the cabin, kettle on.
‘Shall I fetch your water for you?’ Charlie asked, seeing how busy she was. He ground his cigarette butt into the ground with the ball of his foot.
‘Would you?’ Maryann rewarded him with a brief smile. That’d be a godsend.’
He was just turning, the empty water cans in each hand when she heard him say, ‘Ey-up – old Weary Willie’s back again.’
Standing in the hatches, Maryann narrowed her eyes and saw, coming across the wharf, the slight, tense figure of Pastor Owen.
*
‘Good evening, Mrs Bartholomew!’
Pastor Owen approached them raising his hat.
‘I’m off – tara,’ Charlie muttered, slinking away. ‘Don’t want to get stuck with him.’
‘Evening,’ Maryann replied, struck afresh by the foeignness of the young churchman’s northern accent. But she was surprised and unexpectedly affected by the fact that he had remembered her name. And he spoke with disarming simplicity, looking hard at her. It made her feel she mattered.
‘And how are you today?’ he asked.
‘All right – not so bad.’ She wasn’t sure what else to say. She saw Joel look round from where he and the boys were perched on the cabin roof and counter of the Esther Jane.
‘Family all all right?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, thanks.’
‘I’m very glad to hear that.’ Pastor Owen pushed his hands down into the pockets of his threadbare black coat, and for a moment Maryann thought he was about to bring out his bible again, but instead he kept his hands in there and hunched his shoulders. She saw that he was cold.
‘There’s tea in the pot,’ she said, feeling sorry for him. He looked so thin and underfed. ‘Would you like a cup?’
‘Oh – ’ his lips turned up in a nervous smile – ‘that’d be right grand. I’ve been out and about. I can’t say it wouldn’t be welcome.’
Maryann poured a cup, sugared it and gave it to the young man, who curved his hands round it gratefully and drank it down at high speed. She found herself wondering in a maternal sort of way when he’d last eaten and why he was so quiet. He hadn’t mentioned Jesus once yet. Wasn’t he supposed to? Standing in the hatches of the Theodore as he drained his cup, she tried to decide whether he was ill.
‘Thanks very much.’ Wiping his mouth with one hand, he handed the cup back with the other and she saw how long and bony his fingers were. The sight of them made her shiver, but when he looked at her with those large grey eyes, again she saw in them a kind, straightforward sympathy.
‘Last time we met you seemed burdened, Mrs Bartholomew. I have a feel for a troubled soul. You know that you can find ease for your mind by laying your cares at the feet of our Saviour? He makes no exceptions in forgiveness.’
‘I – yes, I know.’ Maryann stumbled over her words. His eyes seemed to look right in her, to the cold, heavy shame which was curled deep inside her.
‘There will be a service tonight – of prayer for healing,’ Pastor Owen was saying, ‘where repentant sinners can lay their cares upon the Lord and listen to the blessed assurance of His Word proclaimed. It’s only a few minutes’ walk from here. Would you care to join us?’
‘I don’t—’ she began. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Joel step off the Esther Jane and walk towards them, as Pastor Owen was telling her the address.
‘Come and be with us.’ Again, his eyes seemed to penetrate right through her. ‘Please.’
‘How d’you do?’ Joel said. Maryann heard the curtness in his voice. He wasn’t keen on outsiders who came to give advice, whether they were welfare people coming poking their noses in and trying to make the children go to school, or holy Joes with their missions to the boatpeople. He came from a tradition of self-reliance and preferred to stick to his own people.
Pastor Owen returned the greeting and held out his hand, which Joel shook reluctantly.
‘I was speaking to your wife about the redeeming love of the Lord.’
‘Were you?’ Joel said, sounding neither approving or disapproving.
‘If you should decide to come it’ll be eight o’clock.’ The young man backed away, raising his hat. ‘God bless you.’
And he walked away along the wharf looking, Maryann thought, as if the cares of the world had been laid not at the feet of his Saviour but on his own thin shoulders.
‘I’ve got a pain in my belly.’
Joley sat beside Maryann on the side bench as she stirred the mince and gravy on the stove; every so often he screwed up his face in pain. ‘Don’t want any tea tonight.’
‘You must be sickening for summat.’ Maryann felt his forehead, but it wasn’t hot. ‘Best get you to bed soon.’
When the food was ready, Joel and Bobby brought the other children in, Joel lifting Ada and Esther over onto the boat. They could toddle about outside now, holding his hands or on reins. Bobby said he’d take his plateful back to the Esther Jane, while the family squeezed into the Theodore.
‘S’coming down thick now,’ Joel told her, rinsing his hands in the dipper of warm water Maryann had put out for them all on the counter. She peered out. Fog was curling round the wharf, rising over the dark water so that the outlines of everything were blurred and uncertain.
‘Should be ready to unload us first thing, any rate.’ He climbed down and sat on the back bed next to Joley, while the others squeezed round the table, telling her bits of news he’d picked up from the boats round about. A new baby in one of the families, a Mr Baines had had his leg crushed. Maryann responded with as much interest as she could, but her thoughts were preoccupied with Joley, who was now dozing uneasily on the back bed, and in another, distracting side alley of her mind with the idea of walking the streets until she reached the address Pastor Owen had given her. She tried to dismiss the thought. Of course she wasn’t going to go! Joley was poorly, there was a pea-souper gathering out there and the man was most likely barmy anyhow. But all the time the thought kept coming back, refusing to be chased away. A feeling of need kept rising up in her. It was connected somehow with the way the young man had looked at her, had seemed to see into her. The argument went on in her head as Joel lit the lamp and she spooned out mince and potatoes onto plates. She couldn’t go! What would Joel say? And what did she want to go for anyway? For relief… the answer floated up from inside. From how I feel.
‘Best have this one sleeping in with us tonight,’ Joel was saying, eyeing his son beside him on the bed.
She nodded, settling to her tea. ‘Joel?’
‘Ummm?’ He reached over and his hand pressed warm and heavy on her thigh.
‘I want to go. To that place Pastor Owen was talking about. Just for a bit.’
He looked across at her, baffled. ‘Do you? What for?’
‘I can’t explain, love.’ She looked at her plate. ‘It’s just – for Nance … And everything else that’s happened…’
‘Well – ’ he shrugged – if you want. But it’s come down bad out there. D’you want me or Bobby to come with you?’
‘No, ta.’ She managed a wan smile. ‘I’ll be all right. It’s n
ot far.’
She would be a bit late, she thought. She could just hear a clock from somewhere distant striking eight as she set off along Wharf Road. Almost immediately she stepped out through the hatches she had regretted saying she would go alone. The fog was very thick, making her cough, and was tinged with yellow where it met the light escaping from the cabin.
‘Tara-abit.’ She parted from Joel and hurriedly closed the hatch, tying her bright scarf with the red flowers on over her hair to keep her ears warm, pulling her coat close round her and hurrying as fast as the murk would allow. The road was dark and deserted, hemmed in by warehouses. Left, left and left again, he’d said. Can’t go wrong – it’s no distance. It felt a long way, though, groping her way through the noxious fog, thick with chemicals and smoke. The only sound she could hear was her own footsteps until she reached a pub and was grateful for the sound of voices and laughter and the whiff of ale on the air. She could still hardly explain to herself what it was that drove her on, shivering in the cold, the need that forced her along these dismal streets.
The chapel was in a side road. Between a toolmaker’s and the end of the houses, he’d said, and from what she could make out of the buildings on either side he seemed to have described it faithfully. From the front window, high up, a tiny thread of light was escaping round the blackout, and once more she was relieved to hear the sound of voices, only this time they were singing. The meeting had obviously begun and Maryann was glad. She could slip in during the hymn and she wouldn’t feel so self-conscious in her old coat and dirty boots if she sat at the back. If she didn’t like it, she’d slip out again and no one’d be the wiser.
To her relief the door opened silently, but when she pushed inside she was dismayed to see how small the chapel was. On each side was a row of pews, only eight or so deep, pressed up against the walls on each side with a narrow aisle in the middle. They looked outsize in the place, as if they had been passed on from a bigger church, and she saw that they were only occupied by a small scattering of people. The singing, of a tune with which she was not familiar, was thin and strained.
