by McNeir, Leo
“I thought all the children from those villages came here,” said Marnie.
“They do,” said Margaret. “They always have. The idea was fiercely opposed and never implemented. The people of Yore said they would never send their children to Hanford. It was unthinkable.” There was a knock on the door and Valerie Paxton walked in.
“The chairman of governors has arrived, Mrs Giles, and Mr Hutton and Mrs Kemp.”
“Thank you, Valerie.”
Marnie heard the door click shut behind her. “I’m sorry I’m taking your time.”
“Not at all. It was good of you to come.” She stood up and came round the desk. They crossed to the door.
“Just briefly,” said Marnie. “Why did the plan propose sending the children to Hanford?”
“Simple, because there were more children in that village. There still are, always have been.”
“So why did the parents object?”
“You might not believe this, Marnie. It was because of something that happened in the Civil War, right at the end, at the time of Naseby.”
“I could believe anything,” said Marnie. “In fact, I think I know the incident you mean. But I must leave you to your meeting. Perhaps we can talk about it again?”
“Of course. But if you were one of my pupils, I’d encourage you to research the subject properly.”
“In the library?” said Marnie.
“Better still, in the County Archives, source materials.”
“When I can find the time,” said Marnie. “Thanks for the idea.”
“See you Friday. Prepare Sally Ann to receive boarders!”
*
When Marnie walked into the office barn, Anne was just putting the phone down. She paused for a few moments before speaking. “Hi Marnie! Would you like some coffee?” The tone of her voice had none of Anne’s usual spark.
“No thanks. I had some with Margaret.” Anne sat reading a file. Her stillness reminded Marnie of a boat in dry dock, unhappy at being out of its element. “Everything all right?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Who was that on the phone?” Anne looked up almost guiltily. “Anne, before you answer, let me say that I am quite happy for you to use the phone any time, no problem. In which case it may have been personal and none of my business.”
“What made you ask about the phone?” said Anne.
“Just a little detail. Normally after a phone call one of those yellow sticky notes hits my desk within three seconds accompanied by a list of jobs for me to do. I notice these things.” A faint smile crossed Anne’s face. “Was it Willards telling us they’ve given the contract to somebody else?”
Anne’s expression changed to horror. “They couldn’t do that, could they?”
“They could, but I don’t think they would.”
Anne sighed with relief. “Marnie?”
“Ye-e-s?”
“That was my mum on the phone.”
“Right.” Marnie thought a question like ‘All well at home?’ would be out of order. She waited. It was odds-on that her father had lost his job again, or her mother, perhaps, or both.
“They’ve arranged the holiday at the end of the month.” Anne sounded like a doctor telling a patient they had athlete’s foot. “To Scotland.” In both feet. “They definitely want me to go with them.” A terminal case.
“Anne, on a scale of disaster marked one to ten, that ranks about minus something. What’s the problem?”
“There’s so much to do here.”
“Oh great! So it’s my fault. The wicked employer who won’t let you go. I knew I should have chained you to the desk.”
Anne laughed silently. “I know it seems silly.”
“Correct. Got it in one. We’ve been over this before.”
“But I’m really enjoying it here and we’re just getting things right.”
“I know. How long are you going for?”
“Two weeks! Mum said we could talk about it when I go home this weekend.”
“Fine. Put it in the diary. Two weeks holiday with pay, or in your case, with pittance, and I’ll give you a holiday bonus. How’s that?”
“Oh Marnie, I couldn’t let you do that.”
“No problem. Now, tell me something. What do you know about the battle of Naseby?”
The sudden change of tack threw Anne off balance. “Mm … 1645 … other end of the county … Prince Rupert and his dog ‘Boy’ … King captured … last big battle of the war.”
“That’s more than I knew.”
“Thinking of going on Mastermind?”
*
“Good god, is it Thursday already?” Marnie looked at the timetable for the schoolchildren’s visit that Anne put on her desk. “Hey, this is really good.” Anne had used the graphics program on the computer to decorate the paper with scrolls and roses. It was the nearest she could find to traditional canal boat style.
“What about these, Marnie?” She pointed to a pile of folders. “There are two dozen of them. I got them from the stationery cupboard. We never use these. I hope it’s all right.”
“Sure. They can put their papers in them. I suppose they’ll have notebooks, won’t they?”
Anne smiled at her. It was a smile bordering on the smug. She opened one of the folders. Inside was a question-and-answer worksheet, a notebook bearing the logo of the National Canal museum, a pencil with the inscription of the Inland Waterways Association and a round coloured badge carrying the title: ‘CREW’. “If the programme’s okay, I’ll print them off and put one in each folder.”
“Anne, they’re brilliant! The kids’ll love them. How did you manage to do all this?”
“Easy. I went to the chandler’s shop by the canal in Leighton Buzzard when I was home for the weekend.”
“You must let me pay for them,” said Marnie. Another smile from Anne, this time conspiratorial.
“I told the man in the shop about the school visit. I knew him from when I was doing my GCSE project on the canals. And he let me have them at cost. He gave me all the pencils for nothing. And I wrote the worksheets last week.” Marnie hugged her.
“Thank goodness you’re here. We’ve been so busy, I haven’t had time to think about it properly this week. I’d better do some baking this evening. I’ve promised them a picnic tea tomorrow.”
“Would you welcome any suggestions about that?” said Anne.
*
“What do you think of them?” Marnie pulled a tray out of the oven. “You know, for such a small oven this doesn’t do a bad job. There.” She put the tray of gingerbread men on a cooling rack on the workbench.
“They’re wonderful,” said Anne. “Mine usually fall apart or end up like concrete. One for every child?”
“Yes. Twenty-three are coming, so there’s one for you, too.” Anne was not quite sure how to take this, but Marnie’s wink was re-assuring.
“Can I do mine now?”
Marnie put both trays out in the cratch and left Anne to her special ‘creation’ while she went back to the office barn. She cleared space for the children and set up her slide projector and video player. Anne had put vases of field flowers around the office to make it welcoming. The phone rang. It was Ralph. They chatted about the school visit, their work and the hazards they both understood about running a narrowboat single-handed.
“Marnie, there was something I wanted to tell you. I’ve been reading some notes from Guy Fellheimer. You remember, he’s the colleague at All Saints working on the Civil Wars.”
“Yes, of course. And there’s something odd I’ve found out, too. You go first.”
“I’d rather not talk about it on the phone. I was wondering if I could come up and see you.”
“That sounds serious, I mean the part about not talking on the phone. You can come up and see me any time. When do you have in mind?”
“I can probably get a coach from Berkhamsted. Could I come this weekend?”
“Sure, assuming Anne and I survive the vis
it here tomorrow. We’re turning the place into Glebe Farm University and Sally Ann College.” The joke was feeble, she realised that, but Marnie was surprised that Ralph did not react to it at all. Perhaps he was too much of a heavyweight for her after all. Or perhaps what was on his mind was more serious than she imagined.
*
“Do you know, I had no idea the canals were so interesting,” said Margaret. The children were taking off their life jackets and dumping them in a pile beside the docking area. Anne had a natural talent for holding the attention of the children and was organising them into position for a picnic tea. “I think the teaching profession has missed two people of outstanding potential, Marnie.”
“I hope the interior design profession has gained two such people,” said Marnie. The children were forming themselves into small groups around tablecloths laid out on the grass beside Sally Ann. “They seem to be enjoying themselves, anyway.” The two women sat on safari chairs up by Sally’s bows, under the large cream parasol.
“And I’m sure they’ve learnt so much from your excellent programme.”
Marnie had to admit to herself that it had gone well. At first, the group had been quietly curious and respectful during the conducted tour of the boat. They had all giggled at the heads and laughed when told it was called a Porta Potti. They took notes about the parts of a boat … cratch … gunwale … anodes … and answered the questions on their worksheets. It had taken all Anne’s charisma to drag them away from Sally Ann to go into the barn for the slide and video show and Marnie’s talk. They gasped at the images of aqueducts, tunnels and bridges, especially the slide of the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct, and made suitable noises at the sight of old film footage on video of horses drawing boats along the Shropshire Union.
The main surprise for Marnie was the children’s behaviour during their trip on Sally Ann. She had told Anne beforehand that this was the part that worried her. But they did exactly as they were told, even when their natural exuberance caused them to cheer loudly when rising and descending in the lock chamber on each leg of their short voyage. The trip lasted about an hour and they conscientiously looked out for the plants, animals and trees on their worksheets, spotted the old canal buildings that had once been stables and a pumping station and wrote down the distance to Braunston from the mile-post that they passed.
Anne had by now organised a team of helpers to serve gingerbread men and orange juice to the chattering groups. Marnie felt superfluous and was happy to leave Anne in charge.
“They are so mature,” she said to Margaret Giles.
“Oh yes, at this age they’re wonderful to work with, sensible and responsible, with a child’s enthusiasm for practically everything.” At that moment, a girl and a boy came over to them with cups of coffee. “Your Anne with an ‘e’, is an absolute godsend.”
“Yes, she is. I’d be lost without her.” They sipped the coffee while the children concentrated on their biscuits. Anne was sitting on the grass, showing a cluster of them how to draw trees. “Margaret, there was something you were going to tell me about the Civil War, an incident I think you called it, towards the end of the war.” The Head sipped her coffee and Marnie continued. “It was something that happened round here, I think you said. We were interrupted by some visitors to the school the other day. Governors.”
“I’ll try and remember what it was,” said Margaret. “It’s slipped my mind for the moment.” A sudden cheer caused them to look across to the picnic group. The children were on their feet clapping as Anne stepped carefully from Sally Ann’s aft deck, carrying a large steel platter. Margaret and Marnie went over to look. On a folding table, Anne set down the platter and the children crowded round to see. She had made a cake in the shape of a working narrowboat, with smarties for portholes and coloured icing for livery.
“What sort of boat is it?” Anne asked the group. With one voice they cried out: “A Josher!” It looked too good to eat, but no-one protested when Anne began cutting it into slices. Everyone’s attention was on the sponge filled with jam and cream under the icing. Nearly everyone’s attention. Marnie found herself wondering what it was that Margaret Giles had been going to tell her, and that she was now trying to conceal.
*
They set off like a column of infantry across the yard, Anne leading the way surrounded by a clutch of admirers, chatting happily. Anne had organised them to pile up their life jackets in the office barn, while a platoon dumped the two black plastic rubbish bags in the builder’s skip. Further back at the end of the line, Margaret and Marnie walked along together. There were no stragglers. Before moving out onto the field track, Marnie had made a final tour of inspection. So efficient had been their cleaning up operation that not a trace of their visit remained behind. Not a trace remained of the cake or the gingerbread men, either.
“The van from the education office will come down some time on Monday morning to pick up the lifejackets. I hope they’ll not be in your way till then.”
“They’ll be fine, but are you sure you wouldn’t prefer me to bring them up in the car? This track is so rutted the van may find it difficult. I think it’s got worse since the builders started working here.”
“You’re lucky the weather’s dry,” said Margaret. “I’ve known this field look like the battle of the Somme after a spell of rain.”
“Even so, I remember the removals van swaying all over the place the day we moved in.”
“You used Days, didn’t you?” said Margaret. “Some people in the village were surprised you used a firm from Yore. Did you have a particular reason for choosing them?”
“Not really. I just bumped into Frank Day by chance. He ran a local firm, seemed pleasant. They did a good job. Is there a problem? Surely we don’t live in a no-go area?”
“Marnie, strictly between you and me, Frank Day is not well liked in the village. His wife comes from Yore and she wouldn’t move here. Frank is viewed with suspicion for doing that. He’d rather live in Knightly, of course, but he can’t. You know the background. It must seem very silly to someone from outside, especially coming from London, but it can be like that sometimes.”
“Bigotry, hatred, suspicion,” said Marnie.
“Hard to believe, but it can happen,” said Margaret.
“I know,” said Marnie. “Ever heard of Northern Ireland?”.
*
Saturday 15 July
“Shall we have a cup of coffee while it’s like this?” Marnie and Ralph peered out at the driving rain from the booking hall of Milton Keynes central bus station. It was mid-morning on Saturday, the day after the school visit.
“It might be preferable to get wet on the inside,” said Ralph. “I’m sorry to drag you out here in this.”
“That’s okay, I had to come anyway. I’ve just put Anne on the bus. She’s gone home for the weekend.”
They headed for the café. The place smelled of damp clothes, but the atmosphere was stoically cheerful and the coffee drinkable. Ralph stuffed his elegant weekend bag in dark blue trimmed with tan leather under the table that they shared with an elderly couple. Marnie was amused to see Ralph with his well-cut jacket and slacks trying to look as if he sat in bus station cafés as a regular occurrence. It was not the place for a private conversation.
“It’s odd,” said Marnie. “The forecast was for rain overnight giving way to bright spells. This looks as if it could be in for the day.”
“When did Anne decide to go home for the weekend?”
“Monday, I think.” She smiled. “It was nothing personal, I’m sure.”
“She didn’t get flooded out by the rain in the night?”
“No. The roof is sound. Not a drip in sight.”
The old lady sitting beside Ralph began taking a transparent plastic mack out of its pouch. She shook it open and smiled at Ralph.
“I was hoping I wouldn’t be needing this, me dook,” she said. Her accent was homely Northamptonshire with a country flavour. “Still, you never know when it migh
t come in handy.”
“Quite right,” said Ralph. “I never go anywhere without mine.” His timing was unfortunate. Marnie was just raising the cup to her lips. She jerked convulsively, splashing coffee over the table, catching the saucer with her elbow. People stared. In a deft movement, Ralph reached forward and laid a paper napkin over the puddle.
“Your wife all right?” said the old man.
“Hiccups,” said Ralph. “She’s always been prone to them.” Marnie fought to control her features, giving all her attention to mopping the table and muttering apologies.
“Oh look,” she said. “It’s stopped raining. We’d better escape – I mean leave – while we can.”
“So it has,” said Ralph. He turned to the elderly couple. “Goodbye. Have a good journey. It looks as if I shan’t need my pacamac after all.”
The rain held off long enough for them to reach the car. By the time they were pulling onto the northbound A5 it was scudding down again.
“Have you recovered?” said Ralph.
“From my … hiccups? Huh! Perfectly, thank you. Pacamac!” She flicked the wiper switch to the fast position and craned her head forward.
“I ought to apologise,” said Ralph. “I had no idea my harmless remark would have such consequences.”
“Talking of which,” said Marnie. “I was intrigued – perhaps that’s not the right word – concerned about what you wanted to tell me that you couldn’t say on the phone. I wouldn’t normally describe you as melodramatic.”
“No. It was a question of choosing the best time to talk.”
“Driving through heavy rain is probably not quite right, either, is it?” They slowed for a roundabout.
“I’ve brought the papers with me,” said Ralph. “We could look at them together this morning. Then I’ll take you to lunch.”