by Molly Green
The middle-aged lady behind the counter put her pencil down and looked up, her expression sour and her brow furrowing.
‘Yes?’
‘Good afternoon,’ Jessica said firmly. ‘We would like to buy some condensed milk – six tins, if possible.’
Ronnie felt uncomfortable as the woman looked them up and down. What was this about country people being so friendly?
‘You’ll be the new trainees with Dora, I suppose.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Jessica gave the woman a bright smile. ‘We’ve moored close by, and now we’re all dying for a cup of tea.’
The woman pointed to a high shelf. ‘I have to use my steps, but you’re tall – you can reach it. But no more’n two, mind.’
‘Oh,’ Ronnie couldn’t help exclaiming. ‘Dora – I mean Miss Dummitt – said we were allowed several at a time.’
‘Your coupons,’ the woman demanded.
Jessica stuck her hands in her mac pockets and brought out an envelope. She glanced at it and tutted. ‘Drat! I thought I’d got them. This is my shopping list.’ She turned to Ronnie. ‘Did you bring them, by any chance?’
‘No, I thought you had them.’
‘I suppose you both know there’s a war on?’ The woman pursed her thin lips.
‘Yes, that’s why we’re learning to do this job,’ Ronnie said, ignoring the woman’s sarcasm.
‘Hmm. Was there anything else?’
‘Some potatoes and a cabbage …’ Jessica began. ‘Two tins of Spam, two tins of corned beef and a packet of rice, please. Oh, and some cheese and a dozen eggs.’
‘And you expect me to provide all that with no coupons, no ration book?’
‘If you could please let us have these things we’ll be back in the morning with the coupons, we promise.’ Jessica leaned over the counter. ‘Please.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to do any such thing.’ The woman shook her grey head. ‘You can have the two tins of milk even though I shouldn’t be letting you – it’s just been rationed this week, but as it’s old stock I’ll turn a blind eye. And you can take a few potatoes and a cabbage. That should keep you from starving. Anything more, you’ll have to come back.’
‘What about dried egg?’ Ronnie said, knowing it was rationed and crossing her fingers.
‘You’ve not learnt much from your mother, have you?’ the woman snapped. ‘It’s rationed as well. One tin only every two months.’
Jessica stepped forward.
‘Allow me to deal with this, Ronnie.’ She stared the woman in the eyes. ‘We’re working hard to get coal to you and everyone else so you don’t freeze to death this winter. I think you can trust us to come back tomorrow with the blasted coupons.’
‘There’s no need to blaspheme,’ the woman said, her eyes beady with anger.
‘I’m not,’ Jessica shot back. ‘I’d just be grateful if you could use a bit of wartime spirit, that’s all. We’re all in this together, in case you haven’t heard.’
‘I’ve heard, all right.’ The woman’s mouth became a grim line. ‘Take some potatoes and a cabbage. You’ve got the milk. That comes to one and eleven pence ha’penny.’
Jessica slammed two coins on the counter. ‘Keep the change,’ she growled as she flung the items into her basket. ‘Thank you for your most kind help.’
‘What a sarcastic young woman,’ the woman said, looking at Ronnie. ‘I sometimes don’t know what people are coming to.’
‘What time are you open tomorrow?’ Ronnie asked, ignoring the shopkeeper’s remarks.
‘Eight o’clock.’
‘I’ll be there on the dot to collect the other items,’ Ronnie said over her shoulder as she followed Jessica out of the door. When they were out of earshot, Ronnie said, ‘Dora’s not leaving ’til half-past eight because we had all those locks, one after the other. Even she can see there’s a limit to how many hours we can keep going.’ She grinned at Jessica. ‘While you’re having a lie-in, I’ll be getting the rest of the stuff.’
‘It’s not absolutely necessary, Ronnie. There’s bound to be somewhere else on the way that’s open tomorrow.’
‘But Dora said specifically we only stop every three days for food shopping. She won’t want to waste time again. And we’d have to tell her we forgot the coupons … and her blasted “baccy”. No, let me do it my way. But for goodness’ sake find me the coupons now, so I don’t have to search for them in the dark in the morning.’
Jessica chuckled. ‘All right. I don’t suppose you can come to much harm at that time of day.’
Chapter Ten
Ronnie walked briskly towards the village, pulling the fresh air into her lungs, her thoughts whirling. She still couldn’t quite get over Dora not sending her home. Maybe Dora’s bark was worse than her bite. She couldn’t help smiling, although this train of thought led her to Rusty – and how he was getting on with Maman. Even though her mother had conceded to look after him, Rusty would still miss all the cuddles and conversations he was used to. Well, she’d be home for three days after the training period, although that was still more than five weeks away. Strange. She’d only left home three days ago, yet it seemed much longer.
She looked at her watch. Coming up to five to. It was going to be tight getting the rest of the order and back in time. She just hoped the miserable old bat would be punctual. It occurred to her it would probably have been sensible if she’d arranged to borrow Margaret’s bicycle with its roomy saddlebag, but the girl seemed loath to ride it herself let alone lend it to anyone. Maybe it was just as well. Ronnie half ran the last few hundred yards and it was exactly eight when she arrived, a little breathless, outside the village shop. The sign on the door said OPEN. Thank heavens. At least the old bag was punctual.
The bell tinkled as Ronnie pushed the shop door to. No one was in sight. She waited a few minutes, impatiently tapping her foot, then called: ‘Anyone there?’ She was just about to call again when the same dour woman came through a door at the back of the shop. Even though she must have recognised her she made no sign.
‘Yes?’
‘Do you remember I came in with my friend yesterday and we forgot the coupons so we couldn’t buy much?’
The woman nodded.
‘Well, I have them here, and the list.’ Ronnie slid the ration book and Jessica’s shopping list across the counter.
The woman was efficient, you could say that about her, Ronnie thought, watching as she swiftly put the items into the string bag. She used a short stubby pencil to tot up the bill.
‘That’ll be five and three,’ the woman said.
Ronnie handed her a ten-shilling note and waited for the change, checking her watch. Just gone quarter past and Dora liked to meet five minutes before letting go. She’d barely make it, even if she ran all the way. And the bag was heavy. It was then that she heard the sound of a motorbike roaring to a halt outside. Seconds later the shop bell sounded and the rider breezed in. Instinctively, she turned and looked up. A pair of sparkling brown eyes met hers. One of them gave her a saucy wink as he whipped off his tweed cap that he’d been wearing back to front. It made his black curly hair stand comically at all angles. He was maybe just a few years older than herself and wearing what looked like Raine’s flying jacket. He grinned at her.
Reluctantly she dragged her eyes away from his gaze and turned back to the woman who was silently watching.
‘What will it be, Will?’ The woman behind the counter looked even grimmer, if that were possible.
Will. So that was his name.
‘Come on, Flossie, give us a smile. It’ll take years off yer.’ He strode up to the counter.
Flossie’s mouth tightened into a thin line.
‘I’ll take no cheek from you, lad,’ she said. ‘What is it yer after?’
He turned to Ronnie, his grin widening.
‘It can wait,’ he said, not looking at the woman but keeping his eyes fixed on Ronnie. ‘But yer might have a bit of a problem if yer one of them
trainee wenches, ’specially if Dora’s yer boss. She likes ter leave on time.’
‘I know.’
But how did he know?
Ronnie picked up her string bag and without another word brushed past him and out of the door.
‘Hey, not so fast.’ He was right behind her. ‘Yer goin’ ter be late. I’d better give yer a lift on the bike.’ He nodded to the shining black motorbike propped on its stand.
‘No, I—’
‘Don’t be daft,’ he said. ‘She leaves on the dot and yer not goin’ ter make it. Yer don’t want to get Dora’s goat, now do yer? Come on, I’ll help you on.’
She hesitated.
‘I’d better introduce meself. William Drake, at yer service.’ He made a mocking bow. ‘But Will ter me mates.’ He paused, his brown eyes gleaming with mischief. ‘And yous?’ He waited.
‘Um, Ronnie Linfoot,’ she mumbled, her head bent. He was too much for her. Her chest tightened. She felt the telltale heat rush to her face as she tried to think of something to say.
‘Boy’s name.’ He nodded as though he approved. ‘What’s that watch of yours say?’
‘Nineteen minutes past,’ she said, her heart thumping uncomfortably in her ears, hoping against hope that Will Drake couldn’t read what was going on in her head. To sit on the back of his motorbike, her arms …
‘Wasser matter? Don’t yer trust me?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘I’m not takin’ “no” for no answer.’
Before she could protest he picked her up as though she weighed no more than the bulky string bag she carried and set her on the pillion, then swung himself up, took the handles and revved the machine.
He twisted round. ‘Hold on. We’ll be there in two shakes.’
Feeling acutely embarrassed, the bag gripped between her knees, she put her arms round the leather jacket. It felt strange. He felt strange. She imagined she could feel the muscles beneath her hands. He twisted his head round.
‘That a butterfly sittin’ behind me or a real live bird?’
She blushed though she had no idea what he was talking about.
‘Put your arms round me really tight. That’s better. Yer gotta hold on. And lean with me when we go round corners or we’ll both be for it. Just foller my movements and yous’ll be okay.’
She was glad he couldn’t see her face. For an instant she wondered what it would be like to be kissed by Will Drake. But he wouldn’t want to know her – a tongue-tied girl who looked a mess from head to toe – more like a boy than a girl. Her cheeks felt they were on fire and for a few seconds she laid one side of her face softly against the cool smooth leather. He would never know.
Even though she was grateful and relieved when he set her down two minutes before half-past eight on the towpath opposite Persephone and Penelope, she wished those precious six minutes hadn’t sped by as fast as Will Drake’s two wheels of his motorbike. She wouldn’t be late. And it was all due to Will Drake who’d come to the rescue.
He faced her, then deliberately pulled off one of his gauntlets and stuck his bare hand out.
‘Nice ter meet one of Dora’s wenches.’
Furious with herself for wearing gloves, and not daring to be so obvious as to remove one, she took his hand. But even through the woollen gloves she felt the warmth of him. The air was cold but her insides were melting.
He grinned, showing white even teeth.
‘We’re actually called boatwomen,’ she said boldly.
He gave a short laugh, reminding her of Dora’s usual mocking tone. ‘Nah. That takes years of experience afore yer one of them.’ He looked at her intently. ‘Yer don’t look strong enough ter prepare a lock let alone steer a boat – but maybe I’m wrong.’
‘Maybe you are,’ Ronnie said firmly.
‘How d’yer get along with our Dora?’
‘She has a lot to put up with, showing the ropes to six of us greenhorns,’ Ronnie said, choosing her words carefully.
‘That don’t say nothing about her as a person,’ Will Drake said, chuckling. ‘Yer can be honest with me.’ He pointed to himself. ‘If yer want my opinion, she’s a right ol’ biddy. But she knows the boats and the cuts better’n anyone else around here, I’ll say that for ’er.’
Ronnie couldn’t think of any suitable reply.
‘See yous around sometime,’ he said as he stepped on the accelerator. ‘Say hello ter Dora from me.’
Before she had time to reply he’d vanished.
It was only when she turned to step onto the roof of the butty that she saw Dora Dummitt silently watching from Persephone’s roof.
Ronnie’s head swam. Dora hadn’t been anywhere in sight when Will had pulled up or surely she would have noticed. But Dora would have seen him ride off, no doubt about that.
Ronnie licked her lips. Keep calm.
‘Where’ve yer bin, girl?’ Dora said, scowling, not bothering to help her onto the slippery surface.
‘I went to the village shop to pick up the rest of the food we needed.’ Ronnie held up the bulging string bag, her voice wavering, knowing her face would give her away no matter how hard she tried to explain.
‘Why didn’t yer get everything yesterday?’ Dora growled.
‘We forgot the coupons.’
Dora opened her mouth and huffed out a huge sigh.
‘And I was worried I was going to be late,’ Ronnie gabbled on. ‘But luckily Will Drake came into the shop – he said he knows you – and gave me a lift so I’d be back in time.’ She hauled herself up. ‘It was very kind of him,’ she added.
‘Hmm.’ Dora pulled her mouth tight. ‘Yer want ter watch Will Drake. He’s a one for the girls. Always got someone new on his arm. Then he loses interest and dumps them for the next poor bitch. I wouldn’t like to see you or any of the other trainees get entangled.’
Dora might as well have punched her in the stomach.
‘Oh, I-I …’ Ronnie swallowed hard. ‘I’m not interested in him like that.’
But she knew she was lying. For the first time in her life she knew what it felt like to be dumbstruck over some boy. She remembered his warm body through the leather jacket when she’d put her arms round him, holding him more tightly than she needed. The moment when she put her cheek against the back of his jacket, so lightly he would never have known. She took a jagged breath.
‘What would you like me to do, Miss Dummitt?’
‘You’d better go down and make yerself a cup of tea, girl,’ Dora said, ‘while the rest of us let go. And put him out of yer ’ead before it’s too late.’
Chapter Eleven
But Ronnie couldn’t get Will Drake out of her head. What was the matter with her? She’d never been remotely interested in boys before. But Will was more than just any boy. In truth he was a man. But he obviously liked playing around with girls and breaking their hearts, so it was just as well she’d never see him again.
She glanced through the porthole to where Jessica was feeding out the snubber from the stern of the motorboat.
‘Loop it over the T stud on the bow, May,’ Jessica called.
‘Right-o.’
‘Now tie it onto the motor.’
Sighing, Ronnie drained her cup, then feeling a little guilty she climbed up to join them.
‘Can I do anything?’ she asked.
‘Nothing at the moment,’ Jessica said, glancing up, ‘but Dora told me to tell you when you finally emerged – they were her words – that she wants you to come off the boat at Cowroast lock. Then you have to walk to Tring Summit which is a long muddy stretch … and if Dora says it’s long, you know it is, so be warned. She wants you to open the first downhill lock – on your own.’
Ronnie startled. ‘But I’ve never opened a lock completely on my own.’
‘Well, now’s the time to learn,’ Jessica chuckled. ‘It won’t be just yet because the pound is quite a long stretch before we get to Marsworth, Dora said.’ She turned to May. ‘Okay, May, let me feel it’s se
cure enough.’
Ronnie left them to finish the job.
Dora hadn’t asked any of the girls to open a lock on their own, Ronnie thought, as she mooched sullenly along the towpath, one hand stuck in her raincoat pocket, the other holding the two-foot iron windlass. Why had Dora picked her out? It was becoming a pattern and she didn’t know what to do about it. What would Raine have done? Maybe have it out with her, but Ronnie knew that wouldn’t go down with Dora, who would rightly say that she was the trainer and knew best how to do her job. Ronnie pulled a face. She had a strong feeling Dora’s suspicious eyes were on her even now.
A roll of thunder broke into Ronnie’s train of thought. She stopped and looked up at the overhead sky. The clouds were black and foreboding. She couldn’t hear any birds twittering as they normally did. Probably they were already bedded down from any oncoming storm. Unusually, there was no sign of wildlife on the canal, or even any boats coming towards her. She walked on, the wind lashing her face, making it burn.
Forcing herself to concentrate on all that Dora had taught them about opening locks, her heart sinking, she trudged along. How far was the damned thing? She must have been going at least a mile but there was no lock in sight. Maybe there would be a kind lock-keeper who would help her. She glanced behind her. Persephone and Penelope weren’t even in view. More worrying was a thick mist which blocked out the fields she knew were there. It was as though she were the only soul in the world. How much further to the bloody lock? Dora shouldn’t have told her to come off the boat so soon. She must have done that on purpose.
Ronnie was beginning to feel her temper rising. She squinted ahead. Oh, thank goodness – that dark shape must be it. It couldn’t be that far now.
Without warning the heavens opened, then a crack of lightning zigzagged in front of her, making her jump. It was followed by a roar of thunder. Rivulets of icy water ran down her neck, squelched in her boots, soaked her socks. Her hair hung in sodden corkscrews and the drops of rain ran into her eyes. The towpath became a mire and she felt herself sinking several inches in places. So much for the Wellington boots the woman in the shoe shop had insisted would take her through the worst weather.