A Sister's War

by Molly Green

  ‘Hello, boy. Don’t be frightened. I’m going to find you and help you. Where are you?’

  And then she stood paralysed. A voice answered her – thin and despairing.

  ‘Help, someone! Oh, please help!’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ronnie stood rooted. And then she gathered her wits and half ran, half stumbled, towards that desperate-sounding voice, praying it was Margaret.

  ‘Margaret, it’s me, Ronnie. Where are you?’

  An owl hooted in the eerie silence. She tried again.

  ‘Margaret! Where are you?’

  ‘Someone, help! Please help me!’

  It sounded further away than before.

  ‘Shout again!’ Ronnie belted out, cupping her cold ears.

  But there was nothing.

  Almost crying with frustration, Ronnie climbed up a gentle slope away from the towpath towards where she judged was the village. If only she could hear the others. Tell them she’d heard someone. But it was as though she were alone in the world with only that frightened bodiless voice.

  ‘Margaret! I’m coming!’ she shouted again.

  ‘Ronnie?’ It sounded as far away as a whisper – but she heard.

  ‘Yes, it’s me,’ Ronnie called, relief flooding through her bones as she waved her torch this way and that. ‘Can you stand to let me know where you are?’

  ‘No.’

  Margaret’s voice was stronger now. She must be on the right track.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ Furious with the dim light of her torch, she tore off the regulatory tissue covering, and shone it in the direction the voice seemed to come from, trying desperately to pick out Margaret. And then she saw an arm reach up.

  ‘I see you,’ Ronnie called. ‘Hang on.’

  Two minutes later she was at Margaret’s side. The girl was sitting on the wet grass, her coat bundled around her, but with no hat or scarf. She was shivering violently. Ronnie put her hand out to help her to her feet, but Margaret screamed, ‘Don’t touch me!’

  ‘What is it?’ Ronnie said, shining her torch onto the girl. To her horror she saw that Margaret’s coat was dripping with water and her hair hung in wet strings. ‘Oh, Margaret, did you fall into the canal?’

  Margaret nodded.

  ‘Here, before you say anything …’ Ronnie bent to unbutton Margaret’s coat, but the girl pulled back.

  ‘I want you to have my raincoat,’ Ronnie said.

  ‘N-no.’ Margaret clutched her hand to her chest. ‘You need it.’

  ‘I don’t. I’ve got three jumpers on.’ The small lie wouldn’t hurt.

  ‘No, I’m all right, honestly.’

  ‘You’re not,’ Ronnie said. ‘I shall get angry if you don’t let me get that coat off you.’

  ‘This is why I fell in,’ Margaret said. She opened the top buttons of her coat and a small black head peered out, its fur in wet spikes. It opened its mouth but no sound came out.

  Ronnie peeled off her raincoat.

  ‘Give him to me,’ she said. ‘He’ll be fine underneath my jumper.’

  Margaret handed over the petrified creature and Ronnie gently tucked him under her top jumper.

  ‘He’s not much more than a kitten,’ Margaret said through chattering teeth, as Ronnie draped her raincoat over the girl’s shoulders with her other hand. ‘Thank you,’ she managed.

  ‘What were you doing?’

  ‘I was going for a last walk along the canal and this man came along. He didn’t see me. He was carrying some sort of bag which he threw into the canal, then took off like a bullet. I was suspicious. Why did he act like that? Then I realised why. That bastard. This little creature would’ve drowned if I hadn’t rescued him.’ Even in the dim light Ronnie could see her eyes sparking with anger. ‘It was desperately trying to swim. It was quite near the bank but when I reached to save it I slipped in the mud and fell in the water. But I managed to get it in the end.’

  ‘We have to get you back and dried off,’ Ronnie said urgently. ‘You’re going to catch your death of cold if you don’t. I bet your clothes are sodden underneath. Mine were when I fell in.’

  ‘I can’t move,’ Margaret winced. ‘I must’ve twisted my ankle. The pain is awful.’

  ‘You’ll have to lean on me,’ Ronnie insisted. ‘We have to get back. You can’t sit on wet grass all night. Here, pull up by my hand.’

  But when Margaret tried to take it, half standing, she fell back in a heap.

  ‘I can’t stand,’ she said. ‘Pain’s making me feel sick.’

  ‘You’ve got to try. We’ll both come down with a chill if you don’t. I’ll put my arm round you and you’ll have to hop.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t.’

  ‘Then I’ll have to scream.’ Still holding the kitten firmly under her jumper, Ronnie cupped the other hand round her mouth and yelled as loudly as she could. ‘HELP! PLEASE HELP!’

  But all she could hear was silence.

  She began to breathe too fast. Surely the others couldn’t be that far away. She called again and again, but panic gripped her throat and stifled her voice. No one would be able to hear her. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

  Someone please come … please come.

  Did she hear voices? She cocked her ear. A muffled shout.

  ‘Here. We’re here!’ Ronnie croaked, waving her arms frantically.

  ‘Police!’ A man’s voice called some way away behind her.

  She let her breath out in a gasp of relief as she whirled round to see a pinprick of light. And then it got brighter. A figure running over rough ground.

  ‘Constable Scott!’

  He glanced at her. ‘Thank God you’ve found her!’ Then he hunkered down to Margaret. ‘What happened to you, young lady?’

  ‘Ronnie will explain.’ Margaret’s voice was thin with exhaustion.

  ‘She fell in the canal and sprained her ankle, and she can’t move. She’s soaking wet and needs to get dry quickly. But I couldn’t support her. We did try,’ Ronnie added defensively.

  ‘You’ll be fine now, Margaret,’ Constable Scott told her in a gentle tone, patting her arm. ‘Don’t you worry. I’ll soon get help.’ He put a whistle to his lips. ‘They won’t be long.’

  ‘Thank you, Constable,’ Margaret managed, her teeth chattering. ‘I’m just so cold.’

  ‘We’ll have you safely back to the boat in no time.’ His gaze flickered to Ronnie. ‘Why aren’t you wearing—?’

  ‘Shhhh,’ Ronnie hissed, jerking her head to Margaret’s wet coat, now in a heap.

  Michael Scott nodded in understanding. ‘Then take mine,’ he said, undoing the belt.

  ‘No, I’ve—’ Ronnie began, pressing the kitten more firmly. It let out a howl of protest.

  ‘Ah, I see,’ he said. ‘But it’ll be easier keeping a cat inside a coat than up your jumper. And as you’re not in any shape to disregard my instructions, I’m ordering you to take my raincoat.’ He paused. ‘I’m better dressed than you. I’ve got a jacket on underneath.’

  He handed it to her and reluctantly she took it and draped it round her shoulders as Margaret had done with hers.

  ‘Ah, here they come,’ he said as two dark figures pounded towards them.

  ‘Is she all right?’ The plumper of the two policemen gasped out the question.

  ‘Yes, but she’s got a bad ankle,’ Constable Scott said. ‘She can’t walk.’

  ‘Right-o. We’ll carry her back.’

  ‘What will you do with the cat?’ Margaret’s voice held alarm.

  ‘Take it back to the butty, of course,’ Ronnie said. ‘It’ll be our mascot.’

  ‘Dora won’t allow it.’

  ‘Dora won’t see it – until it’s too late. Don’t worry – I won’t let it come to any harm. Just go with the policemen, Margaret. You’re shivering like mad. If you don’t catch cold, I’ll be amazed.’

  She watched as the two policemen locked each of their arms to the other, then Constable Scott lifted Margaret into the
“seat” they’d created.

  ‘Put your arms round their necks,’ he told her, ‘and they’ll get you in the warm before you know it.’

  ‘Ronnie …’ Margaret’s voice was a whisper ‘… thank you.’

  ‘Right.’ One of the policemen nodded to the other. ‘Let’s get cracking.’

  Ronnie watched numbly as the awkward little group moved off. She felt Michael Scott’s gaze on her and turned. He was staring at her but she couldn’t make out his expression in the dark. For a few seconds they didn’t speak.

  Michael Scott seemed to rally himself. ‘Right,’ he said in a businesslike tone, ‘are you ready? We don’t want to hang around here in the cold. Your friend looked to me in quite a state.’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine when she’s got a cup of cocoa inside her and tucked up in bed,’ she said, picking up Margaret’s coat, heavy with the dunking.

  ‘I sincerely hope so.’ His eyes alighted on the coat. ‘Here, give me that.’

  It was no use arguing with him. She handed it over.

  ‘I want to thank you,’ she stuttered, as she carefully picked her way towards the towpath, one hand holding her torch, the other trying to stop the kitten from clawing through her jumpers with the movement. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without your help.’

  ‘All in the line of duty.’

  She wished he hadn’t put it quite like that – but how else could he have replied? He was a policeman and simply doing his job.

  ‘You said you were sending someone else,’ she said quietly. ‘I didn’t expect it to be you.’

  To her surprise he said, ‘I thought you might prefer it to be me.’

  It was as though the two of them were walking through the night completely alone. Concentrating more on his words than looking where she was going, Ronnie stumbled over an exposed tree root and would have fallen if he hadn’t shot out his hand to stay her. The kitten let out a squeal. For long seconds Ronnie’s eyes locked with his. Then he put his free hand under her elbow and they walked on. Somehow the pressure of his hand was reassuring even though he didn’t say another word until they reached the boats.

  ‘Margaret lives in the motorboat,’ Ronnie told him, breaking the silence, ‘but I’ll need to put the cat in the butty before I go and see how she is.’

  ‘Why don’t I find out and let you know. I need to talk to my two colleagues anyway and it’ll be more than crowded in there.’

  ‘Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?’

  He smiled. ‘I’m sure.’

  Ronnie nodded and handed him back his coat. Pressing the little cat firmly to her chest she banged on the side of the butty. To her surprise Angela put her head through the hatch.

  ‘They’re all in Persephone,’ she said.

  ‘I’m coming in anyway,’ Ronnie said, her heart plummeting, hoping her hand over her chest would look casual, as though she was cold – which was true. It would be Angela. She was sure to tell Dora there was a cat on board.

  ‘Well, did you find her?’ Angela asked in her clipped tone.

  ‘Yes, we found her,’ Ronnie answered. ‘She’d fallen in the canal but managed to pull herself out.’

  ‘What a stupid girl! What on earth was she doing so near the edge at this time of night?’ Angela’s tone was tinged with disbelief.

  ‘Actually, Margaret’s not stupid,’ Ronnie said with a rise of irritation. ‘And I don’t know what she was doing.’

  Trying to have a bit of peace away from you, she badly wanted to say.

  ‘I expect she saw something and went too close to have a look,’ Ronnie went on, then shrugged. ‘Something like that, anyway.’

  There was a muffled mew. Ronnie coughed, trying to disguise it.

  ‘What was that noise?’ Angela screwed up her face.

  ‘What noise?’ Ronnie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I didn’t hear anything.’

  ‘Like a cat mewing.’

  ‘Oh, you’re imagining it.’

  ‘Where’s your coat?’ Angela said, narrowing her eyes.

  Before she could think of an answer, Ronnie heard footsteps on the roof.

  ‘Ronnie, it’s Michael. Can you open up?’

  ‘Oh, it’s “Ronnie” and “Michael” now, is it?’ Angela said, rolling her eyes as she went to open the hatch.

  Ronnie’s cheeks warmed but she was determined not to rise to Angela’s sarcastic comment. Michael Scott bounded down the steps with Ronnie’s raincoat.

  ‘Oh, it’s Constable Scott,’ Angela said, edging towards him. ‘How nice to see you again – and so soon.’

  ‘I believe you’re wanted on the motorboat, Miss …?’ He fixed his eyes on her. ‘Sorry, I don’t remember your name.’

  ‘Why should you?’ She sent him a smile. ‘It’s Angela … Angela Pearson.’ She took her empty cup and placed it in the hand bowl without rinsing it. ‘I suppose it’s Miss Dummitt asking for me. She seems to have made me her right-hand woman,’ she added perfectly seriously, ‘so I’ll go and see what I can do.’

  Constable Scott nodded, then glanced at Ronnie who rolled her eyes.

  ‘Dora’s never said or indicated anything of the kind,’ Ronnie said when Angela left. She took the little cat from underneath her jumper and set it on one of the seats. ‘I’d better get you something to eat, Puss,’ she said, stroking him. ‘You look a bit thin. Don’t you have a home to go to?’ The cat began to purr.

  Michael Scott grinned as he moved to stroke the cat who’d jumped onto her raincoat and was washing its face. ‘No, Dora never mentioned anything like that, but it was the only thing I could think of to get rid of her,’ he said, his fingers lightly brushing Ronnie’s as he fondled the cat’s ears. She moved her hand away.

  ‘Good thing you’re a lucky black cat,’ Michael addressed it. ‘That’s what you might have to be called – Lucky. You could easily have drowned if the other nice lady hadn’t rescued you …’ His smile faded as he looked at Ronnie. ‘I’m not sure Margaret is as lucky. My colleagues decided they would have to take her into hospital.’

  ‘Oh, no. Why?’

  ‘Sally – I believe she used to be a nurse – said she was hot and clammy but still shivering, so she’s obviously got a temperature. She told Miss Dummitt hospital was the best place for her.’

  ‘I’ll go and see Margaret before they leave,’ Ronnie said, quickly moving to the steps. ‘She’ll be worried about the cat.’

  ‘You’ll be too late,’ he said. ‘They were just leaving. The police car’s parked close by and I don’t think they wanted to waste any more time.’

  Ronnie’s eyes widened with alarm. ‘Constable Scott, she’s going to be all right, isn’t she?’

  ‘She’s young,’ he said. ‘I’m sure she will be.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  There’d been no point after all in going over to Persephone now that the policemen had taken Margaret to hospital. Ronnie’s head was still whirling after Constable Scott left. What a piece of luck that he’d heard her call out. She sighed heavily. It had been one thing after another and she felt drained. The cat began to meow and weave in and out of her legs. Thankfully, he didn’t seem a bit scared once he was on the boat. She pulled the folding table down to expose the small pantry cupboard to see if there was anything to give him. Yes, a bowl of leftovers from Jessica’s stew. She scooped a spoonful out onto a saucer and put it on the floor. The cat jumped to the floor and began to wolf down this unexpected treat. While he was occupied, Ronnie got undressed and pulled on her pyjamas. Snuggling up in bed, even though the hard mattress couldn’t compare with her one at home, couldn’t come soon enough.

  Poor Margaret. What bad luck to have fallen in. And all for one little animal. Ronnie had felt immediate sympathy with her, knowing she, too, loved animals, but Margaret had risked her life to save one little cat. And if she wasn’t much of a swimmer it was an incredibly brave thing to do. A chill snaked down Ronnie’s spine to think of the frail girl in that cold murky water where she’d
been herself only a week ago. Childishly, she crossed her fingers, telling herself Margaret would be back tomorrow, good as new.

  But then her stomach turned over. Constable Scott hadn’t sounded absolutely convinced. But it was no use worrying. The doctor at the hospital would know what to do. But she needed to find out where Margaret had been taken, and if they kept her in another day she’d ask Dora if she might be allowed to visit her.

  She was just pulling back the blanket when a thought struck her. She needed to make a dirt box for the cat. But the last thing she wanted was to go out again and start digging earth up. She was so bone-tired and she’d never get away with not being caught by Dora’s sharp eyes. She looked round the small space of the cabin. There must be something. Her eyes alighted on the stove. Maybe she could collect some ashes if she could find a box to put them in. She hunted around and discovered a small cardboard box that held tinned food. She removed the tins and set them inside the tiny pantry cupboard, then shovelled some ashes into the box, most of them floating in the air before settling. But it would have to do. After Lucky had polished off the scrap of stew and licked clean a small saucer of milk she picked him up and put him in the cardboard box she’d set by the range. He immediately jumped out and leapt onto the bed, just as though he knew that’s where she slept, and his place was going to be with her.

  ‘So you’ve bagged your sleeping spot, Lucky,’ she said, smiling at Michael Scott’s name for him, ‘but that could all change when Jessica comes to bed.’ She started to chuckle when Lucky began digging his claws into the eiderdown, a blissful expression on his face. He yawned and curled up into a ball, tucking his chin under his hind leg, perfectly content with his new situation.

  ‘Oh, God, what’s that!’

  A terrifying screech, then a hiss, woke Ronnie with a jerk. ‘Wasser matter?’ she said.

  ‘A cat’s got in … I nearly squashed it.’ Jessica’s voice rose.

  Ronnie chuckled. ‘It’s only Lucky.’