Love on the Waterways

by Milly Adams

  Verity smiled, as she too was hugged. The two girls watched as Mrs Holmes turned on her sensible court shoes and walked away, the feather in her summer hat bobbing. Polly ran after her mother, spinning round in front of her. ‘I’ll do my best, Mum, just like you’ve done for me, all my life. I do know that, and I want you to know that I know.’

  Her mum reached out her hand and touched her face. ‘You’re a good girl, Polly Holmes, a very good girl; you all are.’

  On the counter of the Marigold Verity was about to unhitch the mooring strap, but catching sight of the bundle of clothes collected by the women boaters, she called to Polly, who had reached the motor and was on her way to the engine cabin, ‘Be back in a minute.’ She dashed down into the cabin, took money from the darts kitty and then climbed onto the butty counter and called, ‘’Ow do, Ma Mercy.’

  Ma emerged from her motor cabin now, her arms covered in soapsuds. ‘’Ow do, lass.’

  ‘I’ve had a thought. Did Maudie knit, or do crochet?’

  Ma Mercy shook off the suds and wiped her arms on her apron. ‘Crochet, I reckon, or as I remembers, anyhow.’

  Verity reached out. ‘Have you a hook to spare, and wool?’ She had two shillings in her palm.

  Ma looked at the money. ‘Aye, I ’ave, but ’tis a gift, lass. Yer put that away.’ She disappeared into the cabin and emerged again with a hook and wool. She stood there, casting on. ‘There, might trigger ’ow to do it. Seems to me minds get tired when life becomes over-full with nastiness, if yer get me meaning.’

  Verity leapt onto Ma Mercy’s counter, as more doodlebugs scorched across the London sky and the ack-ack roared, and hugged the boater, who flapped at her as though she was an irritating bee. ‘Off yer go, get out o’ London, and be safe.’

  Sylvia popped her head out of Horizon’s cabin. ‘Are we off? I think Maudie’s getting restless.’

  Verity thrust the crochet at Sylvia. ‘Try her with this.’

  Sylvia grinned. ‘Clever idea.’ She picked up the bundle of clothing, and disappeared back into the cabin.

  They pat-pattered away from Bull’s Bridge, with the butty on a short tow rather than abreast, to give Maudie and Sylvia some quiet time away from the engine noise, and headed to Cowley lock, praying that no doodlebugs buzzed and roared near them. In no time at all Marigold was slowing for the lock and passing through the wide stretch. Beech trees lined the cut, as always, and the rich green leaves shimmered, as birdsong drifted on the wind.

  Would Maudie come onto the counter to see and hear? Verity waved to Sylvia, who was steering the butty beneath the branches. Sylvia waved back, alone on the counter. Was Maudie hiding in horror, or sitting at peace? Sylvia gave a thumbs up. Ah, good. Polly was lock-wheeling and would be brought up to date when they were in the lock. As they entered the open lock, she looked behind as the butty fragmented the beech reflections. Was this how Maudie’s brain felt?

  Marigold’s prow nudged the sill. Verity unhitched the short tow-rope as Horizon glided in alongside. As Horizon’s stern counter came parallel, she dared to snatch a look. Sylvia was on the tiller, but Maudie was standing on the top step, crocheting, her head back. She appeared to be almost smelling the slimy walls, as Polly closed the gates and opened the paddles.

  The pair rose and suddenly Dog jumped from Marigold’s counter onto Horizon’s. Verity bit back her shout, fearing it would alarm Maudie more than Dog herself. Dog lay down on the butty roof. Sylvia looked from Verity to Maudie, her hands open in a question. Verity mouthed, ‘I don’t know.’

  They waited as the boats rose. Polly was looking down, concerned, while her mother, who had arrived by taxi, stood with the lock-keeper. It seemed as though everyone was frozen, waiting. Slowly Maudie reached forward and touched Dog, who lay quite still. ‘Please don’t move, Dog,’ whispered Verity, feeling as though she was holding her breath. ‘Please, please stay calm, Dog.’

  She snatched a look at Polly, and then at Sylvia, who stood near Maudie, ready to contain her if she leapt back. But instead the touch turned into a stroke. Then she presented her hand to Dog, who licked her. They heard Maudie say, ‘Good girl. Good, good girl.’

  She resumed her crochet as the pair of boats continued rising until they were level with the upper cut. As Polly and the lock-keeper opened the top gates, Verity asked Sylvia, quietly, ‘Are you happy to keep going along with Maudie?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Polly was waiting to set off on her bike to the next lock, and Verity gave her the thumbs up. Mrs Holmes, on the kerb by the lock-keeper’s office, waved, turned away and headed for the taxi that would take her to Waterloo and home, while Marigold and Horizon travelled on.

  As the hours passed, slowly, very slowly Maudie’s shoulders lifted; her head, too, and the headscarf was removed and her hair blew in the breeze. They intended to eat in the Marigold’s cabin when they moored up near Leighton Buzzard, well out of range of the doodlebugs, but Maudie wouldn’t leave the butty. So instead Sylvia carried two plates of pheasant stew to Horizon’s cabin and ate with Maudie. Thomo would be pleased to learn of the clean plates that Sylvia returned, because he had taken the place of Saul as poacher of the cut.

  Sylvia sat for a moment with the girls on Marigold’s counter, though Dog wouldn’t leave the butty-cabin roof. Verity rolled a cigarette for Polly, while Sylvia made her report, as Polly called it. ‘Maudie’s still very quiet, but as you saw, she stands on the counter, she accepts Dog, she crochets. She barely speaks, but she lifts her head and only shrinks occasionally. She has the cross-bed, while I have taken the side-bed. Perhaps we should call in at Aylesbury Arm on our return, whether we are to discharge a load there or not? After all, Saul says it gives Maudie peace. Have you written to him, by the way?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll post it when I can, but I’m not sure about Aylesbury.’ Polly lit the cigarettes. They all fell silent, thinking. She went on, ‘Might it set her off, because that’s where she was found?’

  Verity said, ‘If we’re calling in at Buckby to take her to Granfer’s, why don’t we drop in on Fran? She’ll know, or if Bet catches up with us, we’ll ask her.’

  They finished their cigarettes, sitting on the roof, and then settled down for the night, without Dog, who insisted on lying on the butty-cabin roof. ‘Keeping guard on the weakest of the pack,’ Polly murmured.

  The two girls talked a little about Sylvia and her quiet compassion, and her strength, and realised that today neither of them had worried about their men. And finally they slept.

  The next day took them towards Fenny Stratford, heading through the locks and on to Wolverton, Cosgrove and Stoke Bruerne, where Polly posted her letter to Saul and another to her mum. All the way they checked the bridges for children who would gob or shout, or hurl manure, which could upset Maudie and take her backwards. But all was well. The next day Blisworth Tunnel loomed, with its mile of darkness. Verity chewed her finger and Polly fretted. The only one who didn’t was Sylvia, who called across, ‘We must trust.’

  ‘In what?’ Verity called.

  ‘In whom,’ Sylvia corrected her.

  Polly and Verity stood either side of the tiller as they entered the gloom, with the butty on tow. ‘Whom, eh?’ Verity said.

  Polly replied, ‘Ah, yes, but one swallow does not a summer make. Sylvia never said she’d stopped believing in God, just that she didn’t know how far to take it, or I think that’s what she meant.’

  They laid up after Blisworth, and again Dog slept on the roof; and again Sylvia took two plates of supper to her butty. In the morning the report was that Maudie had slept better and had prepared a cup of tea for them both, seeming to know where things should be kept. She had also taken it upon herself to light the oil lamp yesterday evening.

  They climbed through the locks leading to Norton Junction, and instead of heading through the Braunston Tunnel and ultimately to Tyseley Wharf, they moored at the Buckby frontage. By now it was evening, and the glorious day had turned into a gloriously long evening
. They explained to Maud that they had to give Dog a walk and would like her to come.

  They set off, all five of them heading past Spring Cottage, where Fran was working near the hives. They called to her that they were walking Dog and might knock on the door later. She had obviously heard the news and waved her trowel. ‘It’s a nice walk, if you keep straight on. There’s a lovely vegetable garden that edges the road. You might find some people working it.’

  They carried on, presuming this meant that Granfer and Auntie Lettie would be visible in their side-garden, and they blessed the speed of messages along the cut.

  They passed cottages with their windows wide open, and children playing in the lanes. Maudie stopped to watch them, a puzzled look on her face. One boy in short trousers playing cricket called to a woman digging up potatoes in her front garden, ‘Can I have another half hour, Ma? I’ll get up for school, I promise.’

  Maudie looked from the boy to his mother. Was she remembering Joe? The three girls stood with her. Maudie walked on with Dog at her side, her face blank. They saw Granfer in the distance, with Auntie Lettie. Dog rushed up, barking and wagging her tail. She rested her front paws on the rickety white picket fence, while Granfer and Lettie petted her.

  Granfer called to the girls as they headed towards them, ‘Nice to see yer. Out fer a stroll, are yer? Marigold running nice, is she?’ He continued to pat the dog. Maudie took no notice of him and did not change her pace.

  Sylvia answered as they drew closer, ‘Yes, she’s running well. We have Maudie to help. Did Seagull used to run well, Granfer, and Swansong, for you and Saul?’

  Maudie kept walking until she was past Granfer and Lettie. Sylvia stopped, stroking Dog, while they all watched Maudie, disappointment in the air. Sylvia called to her, ‘Come and say hello to Lettie, if you want to. Then it’s time we returned to the boat, Maudie.’

  Maudie turned and walked back, and everyone started talking about the garden. She stopped by Sylvia and looked at Granfer intently, and then at Lettie, then down at Dog and waited. Verity sighed and patted Granfer, as Maudie nodded and walked on, with Sylvia hurrying to catch her up, Dog at her heels.

  Granfer said, ‘She didn’t flinch, and she looked, and I is a man. At t’home when I went to identify ’er she’d not look, just shrank and scuttled away. There be a reason; it be that darned Leon, and he ain’t comin’ back, so in time, lasses, in time …’ He petered to a stop and Lettie slipped her arm through his.

  ‘There now, young Artie.’

  Verity and Polly looked at one another. It was so strange to hear that Granfer had a first name.

  He said, ‘She’ll get better, our Maudie will, and I tells yer why. Cos she’s already better than she were. She walks upright, not like that damn crab thing she did. She’s unfolding into the light. I thanks yer from the bottom of me ’eart, yer lasses.’

  Polly asked, ‘Should we take her down the Aylesbury Arm on our way back, because it was her favourite?’

  ‘Do what yer waters say, that’s the thing,’ Lettie said.

  As they followed Sylvia, Polly slipped her arm through Verity’s. ‘Let’s get Maudie straight back. Fran won’t mind, and we don’t want to overload Maud; and as for the Arm, we’ll do as Lettie says.’

  Verity smiled. ‘Ah, see what our water says, when we reach it on our return trip, eh?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  Chapter 26

  Monday 10 July – Maud revisits her past

  The first big change happened at Tyseley Wharf when Maudie helped untie the side-sheets and roll them. They then explained to her that one of the boaters would care for Dog while they had a bath, and then they would sleep at a house owned by a banker, and it would be good if she came.

  Maudie merely nodded and joined them as they walked to the tram, as though she had her orders. Polly carried the clothes that the boaters had given Maudie, and which she had so far refused to wear.

  As they waited for the tram, Maudie said, ‘I doesn’t know if I ever been on a tram, but I ’ave had a bath.’

  There it was. There: the past. There: words.

  They caught the tram, sitting as others stood swaying and hanging on the straps. They stopped and walked to the public baths. They entered. Maudie faltered, staring at the white tiles and the woman in the white coat. Verity froze and whispered, ‘The coats. She might run. The doctors wore them.’

  The reverse happened. It was as though it was a home from home. Mrs Green waited outside Maudie’s cubicle, because Verity and the girls explained what had happened. There was no sound beyond splashing. Polly had left Maudie’s boater clothes on the chair, just in case. When their time was up, they knocked on Maudie’s door. It opened. Maudie was wearing her boater clothes. She had left her others on the chair. ‘I needs ’em no longer,’ she said. ‘I belong in a different place ter that.’

  They didn’t all go into the pub, just Polly, who ordered portions of chips to be wrapped in newspaper. She carried them outside and handed the parcels round. ‘No ash, I hope.’

  They walked to Mrs Green’s and sat, squashed on a bench in her back yard, eating in the subdued heat of the late evening, and the chips were indeed ash-free. They disposed of the newspaper in the bin, and found their way to their bedrooms. Sylvia was to share with Maudie, because she felt too worried to leave her alone.

  The next big change happened when they were hauling the butty along the Brum Bum to load up with coal. While Polly motored Marigold ahead through the locks, Maudie stood on the butty counter steering, looking up at the factories, cringing at the darkness and the smell, the tyres in the water, the dead dog that caught around the tiller and which she shafted free.

  She called to Sylvia, who was hauling with Verity on the bank, ‘I been ’ere with an unkind man, but I with yer now, and yer are kind. All of yer are kind, but I ’as a missing feeling, I ’as a big ’ole.’

  Sylvia said, ‘Holes fill up, but sometimes it takes quite a while.’

  As they passed through the next lock, Maudie took over one of the haul ropes. ‘I belongs here,’ she said. ‘See.’ She showed Verity the callouses on her hands and shoulders.

  Verity said, ‘It’s a small part of where you belong. Each day you might find another part, or it might take longer. But just so long as you know you are safe.’

  As they approached the next lock Maudie called, ‘I is safe because that man is not ’ere.’

  ‘He won’t ever be again,’ Verity called. ‘But he is the only one who is unkind. All our other friends are kind – the men, too.’

  As they loaded with coal and returned through the Braunston Tunnel, Verity, Polly and Sylvia wondered whether to visit Granfer again, but thought it best to take it one step at a time. They travelled south, and after two days reached Marsworth Junction and decided, after listening to their waters, that they would go down the Aylesbury Arm. They turned off down the Arm and travelled on a short tow past wild flowers, and butterflies darting, with Sylvia and Maudie on the butty, and Dog on the cabin roof.

  They ‘winded’ at the basin, and pat-pattered back. There had been no horn sounded from the butty, which was to be the signal from Sylvia that all was not well. And so it continued, until they were at Bull’s Bridge at the end of the day, reversing into a space. Maudie was brewing tea in the butty cabin as they moored. She brought it to them, once the holds had been swept. ‘I will sweep next time, and I will boil my clothes to become clean again.’

  Sylvia asked, ‘You remember?’

  ‘I ’ave seen all the women at their boilers, and I knows ’ow to set up the fire, ’ow to boil, ’ow to throw away the water and ’ang the clothes. So if I knows, then I must ’ave done it. Perhaps that is remembering? I knew the cut we went along, the reeds, the butterflies, the bees, the quiet. I knows the ducks and geese that does fly over.’ She looked around. ‘I knows so much of this, but I can’t see myself ’ere.’

  Sylvia said, ‘You will, I promise.’

  Verity and Polly called into
the office and picked up their mail. One each from their parents. They read them immediately, smiling at the day-to-day news, savouring the loving sentiments as their mothers signed off. Halfway along the lay-by Dog met them, tail wagging, and they walked back as the women passed them on their way to the shops, or washed their clothes and hung them behind the cabins. ‘’Ow do,’ they called, but none asked how things were.

  Polly murmured. ‘They have eyes, that’ll be enough for them.’ She nodded towards Marigold and Horizon, where they could see Maudie hanging out clothes behind the cabin.

  Polly looked on past their pair, still half expecting to see Seagull and Swansong, and Saul. Where was he? Was he safe? What about Tom, how was he? What would he think of Maudie’s return? She must write again, telling of Maudie’s awakening, which is how the girls thought of it.

  The tannoy crackled. ‘Steerer Clement to the office.’

  ‘Already?’ Sylvia called from the butty.

  Within an hour they were off to Brentford, scanning the skies, seeing the scorching tails of the doodlebugs and hearing the screeching, the silence, the explosions; and Maudie was unmoved, it was as though noise didn’t affect her now, just like a boater.

  ‘Well, it’s what she is,’ Polly muttered to Verity as they left Brentford Wharf.

  Verity nodded and then said, ‘Wonder if the Rivers bloke survived?’

  ‘Would you mind if he was hurt?’

  ‘I never think of him. It’s best not, because I feel sorry for Jenny in a way, but not for her father. They’re nothing to do with me, not really.’

  ‘I can’t say I understand how you must feel, but I can imagine.’

  The ack-ack was firing, the sirens howling.

  Verity said, ‘It seems unreal anyway, and unimportant, with all that’s going on. Evacuation seems as urgent as during the Blitz, the Allies are approaching Caen. Is Tom with them, and Saul, or is he still on the Mulberry? Then there’s Maudie – improving, but will she ever really be better? And what about Sylvia’s decision? Polly, really, truly there are so many things of much greater importance than my past.’ She meant it. She knew who her family was now. It was these girls, and the Clements, and Holmeses.