Rosie continued, ‘He is well again now but needs to guard his chest in winter. Your husband enjoys women’s company…’
‘’e bloody does!’ Jenny spat.
‘Be assured, he is true and faithful and will remain so all of his long life.’
Rosie finished the reading and, accepting the coins offered, left a bemused Jenny and continued her stroll along the path.
As she walked she felt the darkness close in around her and heard the sound of a footfall which caused her to begin to turn.
‘You don’t belong here, you belong with us,’ a voice whispered in her ear as a strong hand clamped over her mouth and an arm encircled her waist. Rosie’s frightened eyes widened as she was dragged away. She began to struggle in an effort to free herself but she was held fast. The anger building in her started to push the fear aside then the whisper came again.
‘Stop wriggling, I’m not going to hurt you.’
Recognising the voice now, Rosie nodded and as the grasp on her loosened she spun away from her assailant.
‘You! How dare you manhandle me in that manner?!’
Rosie stared angrily into eyes she recognised lit by a flash of moonlight.
Twelve
Bill Mitchell and his parents talked long into the night. He explained what he’d learned from his wife; of how she’d spurned them on their visits. He promised he’d known nothing of this until the previous week and that Frank had seen them leave with Margy in tears. He said Frank had run away and John had followed. Bill’s tears flowed freely and his father held his son close as he sobbed.
‘I thought you didn’t care anymore – and that’s why you stopped visiting,’ Bill said bringing his emotions under control at last.
‘Oh Bill! We will always care, you’m our son and we love you. It fair broke my ’eart to miss seeing the boys growing up. Those years am lost to us, we can’t ever get ’em back,’ Margy said amid her own sobs.
‘I’m so sorry, Mum, I should have got a message to you,’ Bill said holding Margy’s hand.
‘It don’t matter now, lad, what’s important is to find the boys,’ Margy said with a weak smile. ‘One thing, I know they’m safe if they’m on the cut.’
Bill nodded and Abner put in, ‘I wonder if Rosie can shed some light on that?’
Margy’s eyes shot to the old clock on the wall of the cabin. It was past midnight. ‘Where the ’ell is she?’
Climbing up on deck Margy cast her eyes in all directions. The canal was quiet; all were sleeping peacefully in their boats. Not a soul stirred and of Rosie there was no sign.
‘Her’s nowhere to be seen!’ Margy said as she lowered herself into the small living quarters.
Abner and Bill shot up onto the deck and scanned the area. Neither could see the girl their eyes searched for. Where was she? She would not be doing another reading on a boat – all were in darkness. Would she have gone into town at this late hour? Surely not.
Going below once more Bill confirmed Margy’s words. ‘We can’t see her. We can’t search tonight it’s much too dark, but I’ll make enquiries first thing in the morning. Someone must have seen where she went.’
Margy nodded. ‘Thanks, son. Now, you going back to the “Sunshine” to sleep?’
‘Yes, Betty will be expecting me, but I’ll bring her along to see you both in the morning.’ After more tearful hugs, Bill jumped from the boat with a wave.
‘I ’ope that girl is all right, Abner, I’m worried out of my mind!’ Margy said as she sat again at the table.
‘Ar, me an’ all. I can’t think what got into her wandering away like that,’ Abner responded.
‘Where the hell ’as she got to?’ Margy asked as she pulled the curtain aside and peered into the gloom of darkness.
‘Wherever it is I’m sure her’ll be back afore long.’ Abner was trying to comfort his frantic wife but inside he was feeling the same sense of fear. ‘Come on, let’s get to our bed. We can’t do anything more tonight.’
Helping Margy to her feet they made their way to their cabin.
‘By wench, it was good to see our lad again though,’ Abner said as he undressed.
In their small bed they cuddled close, something they had done every night of their long, married life.
*
Rosie sat by the burning fire set within the circle of stones, surrounded by the gypsy vardos. Not far from the canal basin the ’vans had been parked on the heathland known as The Coppice. There were a few old abandoned buildings and disused coal shafts, but it was mostly scrubland. Here they were safe from the prying eyes of the townspeople; they would not be disturbed or moved on.
Looking into the dark eyes of the man who had abducted her Rosie asked, ‘Why did you bring me here?’
The man’s smile showed white, even teeth in the dancing firelight.
‘Rosie, you are a Romany, you belong with your own kind.’
‘I belong wherever I want to be at any one time, and besides – I’m not a Romany by birth,’ Rosie returned.
The man could not hide his surprise. ‘What do you mean? You are Maria’s daughter!’
‘I wasn’t her real daughter. She found me when I was a five-year-old orphan in Wednesbury and she took me in. She raised me as her own,’ Rosie said sadly as she felt the sting of her loss yet again.
The man looked at the others sat around the camp fire before returning his eyes to the girl sitting next to him. ‘We thought—’
‘So, you abducted me! It’s no wonder the townsfolk think so little of Romanies.’ Rosie shook her head.
‘But we thought—’ the man tried again.
‘No, you obviously didn’t think, otherwise you would have realised something must have happened to see me living on the canal.’ Rosie glared at the man.
She had seen him before at the ‘Gatherings’. He was young and handsome and she could see how his dark hair and swarthy complexion added to his attractiveness. However, he had an arrogance which Rosie didn’t care for. She also knew he was biding his time at these ‘Gatherings’; he was waiting for her to join the circle of dancers. Rosie knew the moment she did he would pounce on her, something she had no intention of allowing. She would not be tied to this man for the rest of her life.
The circle of gypsies waited for her to continue as she cast her eyes around.
‘Maria passed away, her heart gave out. I ensured she had a proper Romany funeral,’ Rosie said with a sadness in her voice.
Nods confirmed approval of her actions. Then Jake Harding, the man who had dragged her to their camp site asked, ‘What of her belongings?’
A gasp reverberated around the small kumpania and Rosie stared in disbelief that he could ask such a question.
‘Well, it seems to me to be a waste to fire everything. We could have made use of Maria’s things – it’s time we changed our traditions!’ Jake spat nastily.
Mutterings began as Rosie stood to face the man, her anger evident. ‘You are an utter disgrace to the Romany people! For hundreds of years the Romany have kept to this tradition. Who are you to think you are important enough to change that?’
Jake looked around at the people now staring at him.
‘You changed the tradition by not joining in the dancing circle at the ‘Gathering’!’ he said venomously.
‘I did not! It has always been that girls join in the circle if and when they choose. I chose not to this time – I may choose never to join in! That is my prerogative as you well know, so wait no longer for me Jake Harding, for you will never have me!’
All eyes turned to the fire as Rosie shook with indignation, her hands clenched by her sides.
Jake jumped to his feet and grasped Rosie’s upper arms. ‘You will be monashay to me – I have waited long enough!’
Rosie shook her arms free and stepped back. ‘I will not!’
Seeing his mistake, Jake began to plead. ‘Rosie, please…’
‘No! I will not be wife to you, Jake, now or ever! Find another and g
o on with your life. My life has changed now…’ Rosie looked at the people staring at her, ‘but I will always be a Romany here.’ She placed her hand over her heart. ‘I will for the foreseeable future travel the waterways until I decide what to do with my life. As for you, Jake, I suggest you grow up! I intend to return to my friends on the canal now so mark my words…’ Rosie pointed at Jake, ‘and leave me alone.’
‘Rosie, please…’ Jake uttered.
Shaking her head Rosie turned and began to walk away.
As dawn broke, the blue and gold of morning light gathered over the heathland lighting her way back to the canal.
‘Oh Rosie! Where ‘ave you been? We were so worried!’ Margy clucked like a mother hen. ‘We couldn’t see you on the path and I was afraid you might have missed yer footing and fell in the canal and drowned!’ Margy wrapped her arms around the girl she thought lost to her. Over the girl’s shoulder she saw her husband heave a sigh of relief.
Over tea Rosie explained the events which had befallen her during the night.
‘Good God! You could ’ave been carted off or… murdered even!’ Margy said her hand on her chest.
‘Margy, you forget, I have the “sight”.’ Rosie giggled.
‘Even so – it’s good to ’ave you back safe and sound.’ Abner smiled.
A voice up top alerted them all to the arrival of their son Bill and Betty, the woman who had been so helpful in seeing the family back together.
Sitting on the deck in the sunshine now, Betty received the grateful thanks from Bill’s parents for the part she’d played in reuniting them.
‘Now all I have to do is find my boys,’ Bill said his voiced cracking with emotion.
Without a word Rosie held out her hand.
Bill glanced at his mother and seeing her nod, he placed his hand on Rosie’s.
Her eyes tightly closed, the shudder ran down her spine and she began. ‘I see two hearts as one.’
‘The boys,’ Margy whispered.
Rosie nodded. ‘The invisible thread that binds them is very strong. There is laughter but there are tears also. A very difficult decision is to be made. There is a woman – distress and hate. Boats, many boats all in the same place. I see the letters F and J.’
‘Frank and John – my boys!’ Bill gasped, ‘But where are they?’
Rosie shook her head as she concentrated on the images of the twins. ‘I’m not sure, I can’t see…’
Abner stood with his arm around Margy who was twisting her apron tightly.
‘Please, Rosie, I need to find them!’ Bill begged.
‘I see the letter ‘B’,’ she said at last.
‘Bilston, Birmingham, Bolton, Burnley – it could be anywhere!’ Bill snapped.
Rosie squeezed her eyes tight willing the answer to come. ‘There are boats, many of them all in one place.’
‘It could still be any one of a hundred towns!’ Bill’s exasperation burst forth.
Abner laid a hand on his son’s shoulder to quieten his mounting distress.
‘Where is there a massive crane?’ Rosie asked suddenly. ‘A basin on both sides – lots of buildings…’
‘Birmingham! It has to be Old Wharf! It’s the only place with a huge crane that I know of,’ Bill said with a grin.
Opening her eyes, Rosie looked into the smiling blue ones of Bill Mitchell and her heart skipped.
‘Thank you, Rosie, I know where my boys are now.’
Margy noticed that Bill had not removed his hand from Rosie’s. She smiled to herself then said, ‘P’raps it’s time we shoved off then.’
‘Betty, thank you for everything you’ve done for us,’ Bill said with a smile.
The older woman waved away his thanks as Rosie said, ‘I should be leaving too. You’ll be wanting your cabin back, Bill.’
‘Just where were you thinking of going then?’ Margy asked.
‘I don’t know, but with Bill and the boys on your boat there will be no room for me too. I do thank you Margy – and Abner – for all you’ve done for me, but you have your family to see to now.’ Rosie tried to smile but the sadness she felt showed in her eyes.
‘If Bill is going with his parents, that means there’s room on my old tug,’ Betty said after a moment’s thought.
‘Betty that’s kind but I’m a stranger to you. Surely you don’t want someone you don’t know living on your boat.’ Rosie’s surprise was evident.
‘’Ere we go again. “Black Country” folk ain’t spiteful enough to see somebody without. You’m in need and I can ’elp, besides it’ll be company for me,’ Betty said. ‘I ain’t going anywhere so we can wait for everybody to come back this way before deciding what to do,’ she added.
‘Thank you, Betty, that really is kind of you.’ Rosie smiled her appreciation.
Gathering her few belongings Rosie set off with Betty along the towpath.
‘The Pride of Wednesbury’ chugged out on the water, Abner at the helm with Bill filling up the firebox. Margy waved as they disappeared along the waterway.
*
Sitting in the comfortable living area on the ‘Sunshine’ Rosie thanked Betty for the tea and cake.
‘Your boat is beautiful,’ Rosie said looking around her.
‘I like to keep it nice, but I fear I’ll have to sell ’er on. I can’t manage by meself anymore.’ Betty sighed.
‘That’s a crying shame.’
‘Well, Bill suggested I took on his boys so I could keep her, but I ain’t in a position to pay them. Bill’s idea was the lads could work for their board and lodging, but that ain’t right. Boys need to earn a working wage and I can’t afford that.’ Betty shook her head.
‘How much would you be willing to let her go for, Betty?’ Rosie asked.
‘I don’t rightly know. I don’t have the knowings of these things.’ Betty clamped her false teeth together in an effort to keep them in her mouth.
‘May I suggest, perhaps a boat dealer could give you an estimate of her worth,’ Rosie ventured.
‘Now there’s a thought. Here girl, would you do me a “reading”?’
Rosie held out her hand with a smile, it’s the least she could do for the hospitality shown to her.
‘I’m sorry you lost your husband last year. You will not be giving up your beloved boat, Betty, I see it plain as day.’ Rosie heard the woman guffaw then click her teeth back into place. Rosie went on, ‘I don’t see it but – you need new teeth.’ Betty’s laugh sounded loud in the tiny cabin. ‘There have been no children born to you, but you will have one who is as a daughter to you.’
Rosie opened her eyes and Betty grinned. ‘How’s about you and me go into town and see about my new teeth?’
Both women laughed heartily before they set off in search of a dentist.
*
The basins at the Old Wharf in Birmingham were filled with boats with cargo to be unloaded and piled onto carts. The goods would then be drawn by horses to their various destinations allowing space for other carts to take their places. These other carts were loaded with goods to be transported to other towns by way of the canal system.
Coke barges were awaiting the men who would spend hours shovelling the black nuggets onto wagons.
A tug carefully towed a ‘butty’, an unpowered boat, into a mooring space its cargo of steel lying heavy in the bottom. Once in its berth the ‘elum’, the wooden tiller, would be removed and reversed into its stand for storage.
Men sang or whistled as they worked and women covered in long pinafores exchanged gossip. Dogs barked as young children ran around squealing with delight at having been let loose on land at last. Everywhere there was activity while the sun shone down on sweating men stripped to the waist.
Frank and John Mitchell had been kept busy all morning helping with cargo transference, and their pockets were heavy with well-earned coin.
A visit to the pie shop saw the twins tucking into a couple of pies each. Sitting on the towpath as they ate Frank said, ‘We should see a
bout finding a room, we can’t sleep here every night.’
‘We could always go home,’ John suggested again.
‘We haven’t accomplished what we set out to do yet. We haven’t found that couple,’ Frank said.
‘We could go home and ask father about them,’ John answered.
‘We could, but I’m not going to. I’m staying here.’ Frank was adamant.
‘In that case – so am I,’ John said with a grin.
The afternoon proved so busy the boys ran out of time to go into town to find lodgings and by the time dusk descended they were too tired to look.
Sitting in their spot on the towpath they heard the steam horn blow announcing the arrival of yet another boat.
‘Blimey, this place never stops!’ John said.
‘It is busy I’ll grant you. Maybe the boat just in will give us some work tomorrow,’ Frank said.
‘Well, we’ll ask then, I’m too tired to go and enquire now.’ John lay back to rest.
Just then a loud whistle sounded and both boys shot up from their prone positions. Looking at each other they grinned. As one they shoved their fingers in their mouths and returned the sound loud and shrill.
Still grinning at the amused looks from people working their boats, the boys waited. Moments later they heard boots pounding the ground, then they saw their father hurtling towards them.
Jumping to their feet, tiredness forgotten, they ran into Bill’s outstretched arms.
‘Oh thank God! Hellfire boys, you frightened the life out of me. What were you thinking to run away like that?’ Bill hugged his sons so tight their answer was a squeak.
‘Dad, you’re squeezing us to death,’ they croaked in unison.
Releasing his grip Bill looked them over. He noted the bulging muscles and the air of confidence as they stood smiling. In a matter of a few days his boys had grown into men. No longer attached to their mother’s apron strings they had become adults.
‘Dad, we’re sorry,’ Frank said, his head held high.
‘I know, lad, but come on I’ve someone I want you to meet.’ Bill threw an arm around the shoulder of each boy and began to lead them away.
‘Wait… our bags,’ John said grabbing the two carpet bags, one in each hand.
The Girl on the Doorstep Page 9