A Sister's War

by Molly Green

  ‘What about her things?’ Ronnie asked. ‘Her clothes … oh, and her bicycle?’

  ‘Her ma and pa will take over from now,’ Dora said.

  Ronnie swallowed. Should she say something?

  ‘Miss Dummitt, I promised Margaret—’ she started.

  ‘No arguments, miss,’ Dora snapped. ‘They’re orders from head office. We have ter keep on the move.’ She lit her pipe. ‘There’s a war on, case yer hadn’t noticed, and we in’t anywhere near ready to take cargo.’ She gave the others a sly look. ‘Yous’ll all want ter let go when I tell yer at the next moorin’ you lot should be pickin’ up some post at The Swan.’

  There was a cheer from Sally. Ronnie didn’t say anything. Yes, it would be lovely if she had letters waiting from her sisters and Maman, but she was far more worried about Margaret. She bit her lip. There was nothing more she could do.

  ‘It’s most inconvenient,’ Angela said when she and Ronnie and the other trainees got together to discuss Margaret’s plight. ‘I wanted to continue the training today. We’ve still got loads to learn. Margaret was going home today anyway, so I don’t see why we have to hang around. We can’t do anything, can we?’ She looked round at the others as if she was hoping for the group’s approval. But no one spoke. Ronnie found she was the only one to look Angela directly in the eye.

  ‘That sounds a bit harsh,’ she said.

  ‘Well, as Miss Dummitt says, she’s got her parents to see to her. It’s not as though she’s being abandoned.’

  ‘Really?’ Jessica said with raised eyebrows. ‘It certainly sounds like it to me.’

  Dora returned from the pub the following morning, smiling for once.

  ‘I spoke ter one of the nurses,’ she said, pulling on her pipe, ‘and Margaret’s doin’ okay. They say she’s goin’ to be all right though she’ll be there a bit longer. Her folks know where we’re headin’ so we can now carry on without worryin’. When she’s out I’ll let them know where we are and they can catch us up.’

  Ronnie drew in a huge breath of relief, even though she was still reluctant to leave until she knew Margaret was fully recovered. But she supposed Dora was right to want to carry on today. As Angela had pointed out, Margaret had intended to leave the canal this morning anyway.

  They had several locks to negotiate but once through Ronnie became more confident with four more under her belt, until Angela began to criticise her for not getting to the next lock gate fast enough. There’d been a long pound between the last two locks and Ronnie had made as fast a progress as she could, hampered by her Wellington boots and the thick muddy towpath. She forced down her temper but Angela’s constant nagging – never in Dora’s hearing, of course – made Ronnie so nervous she dropped the windlass in the canal, much to Dora’s irritation. But when Angela dared to start on Jessica, Ronnie was relieved and cheered to see this time the trainee had overstepped the mark.

  ‘We only have one boss, Angela,’ Jessica snapped, her nostrils flaring. ‘And it’s not you.’

  ‘We’re makin’ a few changes here,’ Dora said, her dark eyes narrowing as her gaze swept the little group that afternoon straight after they’d picked up the post from the toll office. ‘May, you’ll be livin’ in the motor from now on, and Angela will go ter the butty.’

  Ronnie sucked in her breath. ‘But why?’ she blurted. ‘We make a good team in the butty.’

  ‘Because I said so.’ Dora’s tone was challenging. ‘Yer need to get used to workin’ with different folks.’

  ‘I don’t agree,’ Jessica said, an angry frown spoiling her lovely features. ‘We get along perfectly well as we are.’

  ‘It’s not fer you to question,’ Dora said, not bothering to remove her pipe. ‘Yer need to be flexible in this game – so no more from any of yous.’

  ‘May, you’re the only one who didn’t object,’ Jessica said as the three of them walked back to the butty.

  ‘Well, I like Sally, and I liked Margaret,’ May said. ‘I’m not keen on Angela so I’d rather be moved than have to live with her, though it’s damned annoying to have to pack everything up, even though I haven’t brought much.’

  ‘I know something,’ Jessica said. ‘I’m not going to put up with any of her nonsense. She can bloody well toe the line so far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘It’s no good getting cross,’ Ronnie said. ‘We all need a cup of tea and to read our letters.’

  She was longing to read her two letters, one in Raine’s looping writing and one from Downe, the writing of which she thought she recognised but couldn’t quite place. She was relieved to see that Jessica had a letter, and May had a couple like herself. It would have been embarrassing if one of them hadn’t received anything.

  But how she wished she had some privacy, she thought yet again as she filled the kettle from the decorated can of water. Too impatient to wait for it to boil, she opened the letter from Downe.

  Dear Ronnie,

  I hope this finds you well and the work is going along how you hoped and expected.

  Curiously, she turned over the sheet, her eyes flicking to the signature. Her old boss, Mr Lincoln. Oh, dear. Had something bad happened to Rusty? Her eyes flicked down the page. This side said nothing about him. She flipped it over to read from the beginning.

  The surgery has been very busy lately, but nothing too major except a Dalmatian this morning who practically filled the room! He was the size of a pony and did not want to be held down while I endeavoured to examine him. His owner, an old boy from the next village, wasn’t much help, so in the end I told him to go and sit in the waiting room – him, not the dog, haha! I managed to quieten the animal with a man-sized shot of phenobarbitone and it did the trick! I should have given the old boy a dose as well!

  A giggle escaped Ronnie’s lips as she imagined it.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Jessica demanded.

  Ronnie swung round. ‘I’ve had a letter from the vet I used to work for on Saturdays,’ she said. ‘He made me laugh about one of the animals – and its owner.’

  ‘You can share the joke,’ May said.

  ‘Let me finish the letter first,’ Ronnie answered as the kettle began to boil. ‘Can you make the tea, May?’

  Your mother brought Rusty in yesterday.

  Ronnie’s heart jumped. She knew something must have happened to Rusty for Mr Lincoln to be writing to her.

  Don’t worry – he’s perfectly all right. She said he kept her awake every night howling and whining. I told her he was pining for you and to give him a bit of attention. I suggested she put his basket in her bedroom, as he’s used to company at night. She was horrified and said it was out of the question. Rusty pricked his ears up at that exact moment and gave her such a pleading look that she said, ‘I’ll think about it.’ I looked him over and he seemed fine, but animals do miss people and you can’t explain they’ll come back. I asked if she was taking him for regular walks and she said she was. I think she’s secretly beginning to like his company, but she would never admit it, although the bedroom bit was probably a suggestion too far!

  My goodness, what a change. Ronnie smiled at the image of Maman’s horrified expression.

  Anyway, I thought you’d like to know as from what you’ve told me she might not mention it when she next writes.

  Take care of yourself, Ronnie. You can always drop me a note if you feel like talking to anyone outside the family. It can be helpful sometimes.

  Terence Lincoln

  Ronnie glanced at May who raised her head from her letter and winked. ‘Well, tell us the joke.’

  She read it out to May who giggled, but when she glanced over to Jessica, Ronnie saw the older girl was sitting with one hand to her forehead, staring into space. A small piece of card fell to the floor and Ronnie bent to retrieve it. She couldn’t help a quick glance as she put it back on Jessica’s lap where the girl had placed her opened letter and another similar card. They looked like tickets to something.

  ‘Are you all right, Je
ssica?’ Ronnie asked. She paused. ‘Jess?’

  ‘Oh, yes … um, sorry, what did you say?’

  ‘You’ve gone quiet. Not bad news, I hope?’ She suddenly remembered how Jess had sobbed on their first night in the cabin, then fobbed her off that she must have been dreaming.

  ‘You could call it that,’ Jessica replied dully, folding the letter. ‘But don’t question me – I don’t want to talk about it.’

  Why would a pair of tickets – if that’s what they were – upset her so much? Ronnie frowned. There was something going on in Jess’s home life – or love life – that was obviously making her friend unhappy.

  She was just about to risk saying something more when there was a sudden loud banging on the side of the boat, making them all jump. Then Angela’s strident voice shouted, ‘Open up, please.’

  The three of them looked at one another. No one stirred. Then the hatch in the roof slid open and Angela’s head appeared. She threw down a soft bulging bag.

  ‘Thanks for your help,’ she said sarcastically, as she climbed down the steps and retrieved her bag. She looked around. ‘I’ll take the double bed with Ronnie.’

  ‘You won’t,’ Jessica said quickly. ‘That’s where Ronnie and I sleep. You’ll take May’s bed.’

  ‘What, that little space?’

  Ronnie suppressed a giggle. It really was difficult to imagine Angela’s plump body squeezed onto what barely consisted of a narrow bench. May had never grumbled, but May was slim. Well, at least Jess had spoken up.

  ‘What’s that cat doing here?’ Angela suddenly shrieked. ‘I’m allergic to cats. And it’s unhygienic in such a small space so you can get it out of here at once or I’ll report you to Miss Dummitt.’

  Ronnie was about to argue when Jessica sent her a warning glance.

  ‘You will do no such thing,’ Jessica hissed, standing close to Angela and glowering from her lofty height.

  ‘You can’t stop me.’ Angela’s lips pursed.

  ‘Oh, yes, I can. I’m in charge of cooking so there’ll be no complaints about hygiene. The cat is the reason why Margaret is lying in hospital and we’re going to look after it for her. And you will keep your mouth shut. Meantime, do us all a favour and put your damned stuff away.’

  Angela gave one of her disapproving sniffs and opened the two drawers, banging them back when she saw they were full.

  ‘I’ll be off then,’ May said, rolling her eyes towards Angela. She pressed her jumpers down in the pillowcase she was using for a suitcase, then blew Ronnie and Jessica a kiss and disappeared through the hatch.

  Ronnie pulled down the bed and sat on the edge. With happy anticipation she opened the envelope covered by her sister’s large looping writing. She pulled out a sheet of notepaper, written on both sides.

  Dear Ronnie,

  I keep thinking about you and wondering how you’re getting on in the canal boat. I bet there’s a lot to take in. And I bet it’s jolly hard dirty work as well. But that probably suits you. I’d hate it!

  As usual we’re very busy here at the ferry pool but I hope to be taking a couple of days’ leave in the not too distant future. Be good if it ties in with you. I believe you said you get three days after your training, so let me know and I’ll do my best.

  I heard from Maman a few days ago. She wrote it on the day you left. It was full of woe about all her girls leaving her to cope on her own and all she had for company was a mangy dog! Maybe she and Rusty will become friends. But I reckon the sooner Pierre manages to see her again, the better. She was a changed woman, wasn’t she, in his company? I didn’t recognise her as my mother! Neither did Suzanne, haha.

  Well, there’s no real news from me. We just keep doing our job, hoping it makes a difference. I long for the war to end all this misery, and yet if it wasn’t for the war I’d never be doing the job I love more than anything in the world. Or met Alec. Isn’t that awful? But it’s the truth.

  I’d better go. They’re ringing the supper bell and I’m starving.

  Lots of love and take care of yourself, little sis,

  Raine XX

  Ronnie read her sister’s letter again, stopping at Raine’s observation of Maman. She grinned to herself. Her sister was right. Maman wasn’t just a changed woman that evening, she was transformed. But as soon as Pierre had had to leave the following day it hadn’t taken long before she’d slipped back into some of her old habits. Yet her love for him had never wavered.

  Did first love always last?

  The image of a dark curly-haired youth with a man’s physique popped into her head. What was Will up to when he’d zoomed past the police car yesterday, and cheekily waved? Surely he couldn’t have seen who it was in the passenger seat. He certainly didn’t seem to be perturbed by the police even though Michael Scott had made that comment about the petrol. It was against the law to have any petrol unless you were one of the emergency services, but she hadn’t dared say anything at the time. She wasn’t about to let Constable Scott know she held any special interest for Will Drake.

  Chapter Twenty

  Constable Michael Scott propped his bicycle against the wall of The White Hart pub, sure he would never warm up again. The air was so icy he hardly dared breathe in. When he did it was like sucking sharp nails into his nostrils. Brrrr! Underneath his cape he banged his hands on his upper arms. He’d never known it so cold. It was turning into a real blizzard. The waterproof cape kept the damp out but it was no match for this freezing weather. He should have worn his greatcoat. The realisation made him think of Ronnie Linfoot – how she’d given Margaret her raincoat on such a cold night. What a kind and generous girl – and with a wonderful sense of humour. He grinned and wished he hadn’t as his face felt so numb, but he couldn’t help remembering Ronnie’s choked laughter when he’d pulled out Dora’s undergarments. He’d enjoyed that shared moment. Even when she’d caught sight of the soot on his nose and had nearly collapsed with laughter. The way she’d gently wiped it away. Mmm. He could still smell the scent of her. She was pretty, too. And those eyes. They were the colour of purple pansies. He wondered what she’d look like underneath the layers of jumpers, then shook himself. He was on duty, and that meant not daydreaming about a pretty girl.

  Before entering the pub he took off his cape and shook out the worst of the wet snowflakes, then pushed open the heavy oak door to a world in complete contrast with the outside. The heat, for one thing. And the familiar smoke. He wished he could light up but it was frowned upon when they were on duty. A couple of lads were playing darts, and the smell of beer from men grouped at tables as close to the fire as they could get made him long to join them in a pint. He sighed inwardly. That little luxury would have to be shelved until the evening, though he doubted he’d venture out again in this snowstorm.

  He hung his cape on the coat stand and walked purposefully over to the bar. The barmaid was serving two middle-aged men, both wearing battered trilbies. He looked round. Most of the men here were more than likely boaters, probably not able to go far when this part of the canal was more fit for ice skates than boats. His casual glance fell on the profile of a youth with long dark curly hair at the end of the bar. He was tipping back a pint with two other men. Michael’s instinct told him that although the youth looked old enough to drink, from his build and his being half a head taller than his companions, he was probably underage. He looked up at that precise moment with a shifty expression, then quickly lowered his eyes.

  When it was Michael’s turn, he showed the barmaid his identity card and said in a low voice, ‘Excuse me, miss, but I wonder if you might happen to know the whereabouts of Miss Dora Dummitt. I understand she was here a few days ago—’

  Before he could stop her, the barmaid took up her hammer for calling ‘Last orders’, then belted out, ‘Anyone here know where Dora Dummitt’s boats’re moored?’

  Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw the same curly-haired youth tip his head back to finish his beer and saunter towards him.

&nb
sp; ‘Wot’s it worth, officer?’ He spoke in a loud voice, laying a cheeky emphasis on the word ‘officer’.

  Michael looked him up and down, taking in the expensive jacket and boots, the dark eyes, almost black, challenging him.

  ‘I’m not quite sure what you mean by that,’ he said.

  ‘Oo-er, we got a posh plod here.’ The youth looked round and laughed. Two or three men let out a chuckle. The youth looked back at Michael. ‘Wot I mean, officer, is wot’s it worth to yer if I tells yer where she is?’

  There was a palpable silence. The customers set their mugs down, waiting to see what would happen next.

  ‘And you know for sure, do you?’ Michael said crisply.

  ‘Course I do.’ A secretive smile hovered around the youth’s lips. ‘I make it my business ter know where our Dora is.’

  ‘Is that because you have your eye on the trainees?’ Michael said, guessing, but sure he was close to the truth.

  ‘Maybe … maybe not.’ The youth fixed his stare. ‘I’ll tell yer for a pint. That’s a bargain, that is.’

  ‘What’s your name, son?’

  ‘First off, you ain’t my dad. I got one of them already and I don’t need no other.’

  ‘Okay. We’ll start again. What’s your name?’

  ‘William Drake.’

  ‘How old are you, William?’

  ‘Goin’ on twenty-two.’

  ‘That’s a laugh,’ the barmaid said. She slammed a tankard down in front of one of the customers so hard that the froth spilled over the side. ‘Our Will’s barely out of nappies. I’m not allowed to sell him alcohol but his mates bought it for him. What could I say?’ She shrugged.

  ‘Hmm. Interesting,’ Michael said. ‘So how old are you?’ he repeated. ‘The truth.’

  Will lowered his eyelids. ‘I don’t have ter answer that,’ he muttered.

  ‘Right, let’s go off to the station and you can say that to the sarge,’ Michael said, taking his arm in a grip.