The Girl on the Doorstep

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  ‘I know that, Margy, that’s why I would ask that Frank and John run it for me. Bill could be manager and induct the young men and give the proper tuition as well as finding loads. We can work out financial details later,’ Rosie said excitedly. ‘Please understand, this money is my only security so I have to make sure it works for me and I can make a profit from the boats.’

  ‘Rosie, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but you hardly know me. How then do you feel you can trust me?’ Bill asked.

  ‘Your parents didn’t know me but they still took me in. Now it’s my turn to return that kindness. I’m doing this for us all, Bill, and I’m of the belief you and the boys will prove me right in my decision.’

  A collective sigh sounded as Rosie finished speaking.

  ‘So, I would manage the boat?’ Bill asked.

  ‘Yes, the “Sunshine” and the new boat will belong to me although Frank and John will run the new one. This will ensure we all stay on the canals.’ Rosie beamed her delight at finding the solution to all their problems.

  The twins began to chatter in their own inimitable way of starting and finishing each other’s sentences.

  ‘We could come with you, Dad…’ Frank said.

  ‘…and help get the work in,’ John finished.

  Questions and answers, suggestions and dismissals were thrown across the table long into the night until at last it was agreed. A visit to the boat yard was planned for the following day, and everyone insisted on going.

  Sixteen

  Jake Harding couldn’t believe his luck. The gypsy caravans had parked on the heath by the disused Bradley Lodge Colliery in Bilston. Once settled he had wandered along the towpath where he had seen Rosie Harris greet her friends.

  Sat now in his barrel shaped vardo, he pondered the question of whether to visit and speak to Rosie. He could beg her to become monashay to him. As quickly as the thought came, he dismissed it. She would never agree to be his wife; besides he would never beg, especially to a woman!

  He could abduct her again and this time take her far away from her new-found friends. No, Rosie would hate him for the rest of her life. Besides, she would run from him at the first opportunity.

  Raking his hands through his hair, Jake was at a loss as to what to do about the young woman he loved with all his heart.

  Leaving his vardo, he grabbed his tools and set off for the town. Maybe he could take out his anger and frustration sharpening knives and scissors for the folk of Bilston.

  Crossing the bridge that spanned the Great Western Railway, Jake walked up Chapel Street. Knocking on the front door of the first house he came to Jake looked around him. As the door opened he said, ‘Sharpen your knives, missis?’

  ‘No.’ The woman slammed the door shut.

  At the next house he received the same welcome. Each door was closed to him as he made his way into Temple Street. Here again he was shunned.

  ‘Sling yer ’ook!’ He was told. ‘We don’t want no tinkers round ’ere!’

  Coming eventually to the Ship & Rainbow public house in Oxford Street, Jake ducked inside. Sitting in the corner of the bar with his pint of beer, he brooded on the predicament of what to do about Rosie Harris.

  Being realistic he knew Rosie’s life was her own and she could do as she pleased. For all he now knew she was not a true Romany, he could not rid his mind that she belonged with them – with him.

  Again, those words rang in his mind, …you will never have me, and the sting of rejection was like a barb to his heart.

  Finishing his drink, he nodded his thanks to the barman and walked out into the street. Leaving Oxford Street where it met Holyhead Road, he stepped onto the heath. He could see the ’vans clearly as he walked towards them. He had made up his mind… it was time to move on. If he was to endeavour to forget Rosie Harris, then this would be the best way to do it. He would keep moving.

  *

  The men at the boat yard were hard at work when everyone arrived and Rosie asked if Bill would mind finding a decent boat and conduct the negotiations on her behalf.

  Bill nodded. ‘Certainly, I’d be delighted.’

  ‘Thank you, your expertise and experience will be invaluable and I’m sure the boat yard owner would prefer to make a deal with you rather than me.’

  The owner came to greet them and all watched as Bill came into his own. They followed where the owner led with Bill shaking his head as the quiet discussions took place.

  Coming upon a seventy-foot narrowboat sat on a solid wooden frame they watched as Bill and Abner climbed aboard. Bill helped Rosie up; she needed to see it before she paid her money.

  ‘This looks promising,’ Margy remarked.

  The twins were eager to join their father and grandfather.

  ‘Grandma, can we go aboard too?’ Frank asked.

  Margy beamed her pleasure at how easily the boys had slipped into the use of calling her ‘grandma’; it was music to her ears. ‘Wait on boys, see what yer dad has to say first.’

  A little disappointed the twins nodded in unison, but as time passed their impatience became evident as they shuffled their feet in the dirt of the yard.

  Then Bill’s head popped up through the hatch and he beckoned his sons aboard. They clambered up instantly and began to roam around checking everything.

  Eventually, Bill, Abner, Rosie and the twins leapt down from the boat.

  Rosie, Bill and Abner followed the owner to his office whilst the boys excitedly described the boat to their grandmother and Betty Johnson.

  ‘She’s a beauty and…’ Frank began.

  ‘She’d be just right for us,’ John finished.

  ‘Do you two always share a sentence?’ Betty asked bemused.

  ‘Yes!’ the boys chorused.

  Laughter sounded, and then they saw Bill come out of the office and shake hands with the boat yard owner.

  ‘Well?’ the twins asked together; looking from Bill to Rosie then back again.

  ‘Rosie has just bought her… “The Bilston Belle” now belongs to Rosie Harris!’ Bill corrected himself.

  Applause sounded and then the twins took Margy and Betty aboard to see the boat for themselves.

  Once back on the ‘Pride of Wednesbury’ all enjoyed a cup of tea on deck.

  ‘You gonna change the name of yer new boat Rosie?’ Betty asked.

  ‘Can you do that?’ Rosie answered with her own question.

  ‘Oh ar, you just have to register it with the Waterways Commission.’

  Discussions and laughter prevailed as ideas were voiced until at last Rosie said, ‘I think I may have a good name.’

  ‘What?’ the boys asked together as usual.

  ‘“Two Hearts, One Mind”,’ she said going to stand next to the twins.

  ‘That’s a bloody daft name for a boat!’ Betty said as forthright as ever.

  Rosie laughed as she laid an arm around the boys’ shoulders. ‘Two hearts…’ then pushing their heads together she finished, ‘One mind.’

  Margy bawled into the corner of her shawl. ‘That’s bloody lovely that is.’

  ‘Wow! Thanks Rosie!’ The boys were ecstatic.

  Looking at their father Rosie saw him quickly brush a tear from his cheek. She smiled – he was pleased too.

  Within the week the boat was registered and sported her new name proudly on her sides.

  Three generations of Mitchells, Rosie Harris and Betty Johnson stood watching as sturdy planks were placed at an angle to rest in the water. Then the boat was lowered gently by crane and the boat slid gracefully sideways onto the canal. She bobbed a moment at the displacement of the water before settling in place.

  The boat was not a new one by any means and had been in dry dock for repairs. The owner had then fallen on hard times and being unable to pay the bill, had reluctantly relinquished ownership to the boat yard.

  Bill and his sons then settled themselves aboard. It was time for everyone to get back to work.

  Betty Johnson had secured
a cargo of fresh flowers for the market in Wednesbury and set off heading for the Monway branch of the Birmingham Canal. Rosie kept the fire box topped up with coal as Betty steered. Making tea, Rosie took it up on deck.

  ‘You’m a good girl, Rosie ’arris,’ Betty said watching the blush rise in the girl’s cheeks. ‘Cocker, you know you can’t ’ave him.’

  Rosie smiled at the ‘Black Country’ endearment saying, ‘I didn’t know you had the “sight” too!’

  ‘I don’t need no “sight” to know ’ow you feel about Bill Mitchell, but he’s still married as well you know.’

  ‘Is it that obvious?’ Rosie asked.

  Betty nodded feeling sorry for the girl who was a good friend to her now.

  Rosie sighed loudly before saying, ‘I can’t help how I feel, Betty. I know about his wife and I know he’s a lot older than me but—’

  Betty cut in, ‘Age is just a number, but as long as he’s married, it can’t be between you two.’

  ‘I know; besides I don’t think he sees me that way,’ Rosie said sadly.

  ‘Someone will come along who is just right for yer, you mark my words,’ Betty tried to comfort her young friend.

  ‘I’ll go and prepare lunch.’ Rosie nodded towards the hatchway.

  Poor kid, Betty thought as she watched Rosie descend into the belly of the boat.

  Rosie’s frustration rose as she clattered around in the small galley. Why was it, Jake Harding loved her but she didn’t love him? Why did she have feelings for Bill Mitchell when clearly they weren’t reciprocated? Why was life so complicated? She wished that Maria was with her again; she would know what to do.

  Why did her gift only let her see snippets of other peoples’ lives? She knew for certain she would not marry Jake, the gypsy. Why could she not see who she would marry? Would she wed at all, or would she remain a spinster all her life? But then hadn’t Maria once told her she would marry one day?

  Resuming her task of making lunch she thought whatever life held for her, she was determined to meet it head on.

  *

  Frank stoked the fire box and John took the steering. Bill unhitched the ropes from the bollards then throwing them onto the deck he quickly followed. The ‘Two Hearts’ as it had affectionately become known, moved forward on her first journey with her new crew.

  Bill watched his boys laughing and joking; he felt he’d not been this happy for a very long time, and it was all down to Rosie Harris. His mind lingered on the young girl. She was eighteen years old – a couple of years older than the twins. He wondered if a match would be made there one day. Without realising he shook his head. He didn’t think so somehow. She was a pretty young thing but neither of his boys seemed enamoured of her; they were too interested in life on the ‘cut’.

  Frank’s raucous laugh caught his attention for a moment before his thoughts drifted back to Rosie. She was such a kind girl, always putting others before herself. After all, she had found a way to keep him and his sons on the canal they all loved so much. He was grateful for that, but… was that all there was to it? Was it gratitude that brought his mind back to her time after time? Did he feel affection for her? Berating himself, Bill realised he was old enough to be her father!

  The devil on his shoulder pushed another thought forward. That’s as maybe but I can’t shake her off my mind.

  ‘Dad! How’s about a cuppa?’ John shouted.

  ‘Cheeky young bugger! I’ll chuck you in the “cut”.’ All three howled as Bill went off to make the tea regardless.

  Their cargo of nuts and bolts were unloaded at Wolverhampton, after which Bill and the twins went in search of a back load. The boys marvelled at how their father was greeted like a long-lost son as they walked the town. They chatted excitedly as they trawled the network of streets; it was the first time they had visited.

  ‘It stinks a bit here, Dad, not like at home,’ John muttered as he wrinkled his nose.

  ‘You missing being home, lad?’ Bill asked.

  ‘No! I was just saying,’ John shot back.

  ‘Let’s try our luck at the brick works,’ Bill nodded.

  It was fortunate that a cargo of new bricks was ready to be transported to Wednesbury for a new building project taking place, and Bill secured the contract without mishap. That afternoon, wagon after wagon arrived at the wharf, where the bricks were loaded onto the ‘Two Hearts’. Luckily the bricks did not break the weight restrictions of the narrowboat as she slowly dipped in the water.

  Having watched the negotiations for the contract quietly, the boys had begun their education of how to secure work, thereby enabling them to remain on the waterways.

  After a meal of belly pork, potatoes and fresh vegetables, the three sat on the deck amid the bricks and watched the sun lower. The sky took on a cloak of pinks and lilacs and promised another fine day to come. The sounds of quiet chatter and laughing drifted across the water, and everyone felt at peace with the world.

  It was John who broke the silence. ‘Why do you think she did it?’

  ‘Who are you talking about?’ Bill asked.

  ‘Rosie,’ Frank answered.

  ‘Does it ever get confusing, you two being in each other’s head?’ Bill shook his head with a smile on his face.

  ‘No,’ the twins replied with a laugh.

  Pulling his mouth to the side in thought Bill said. ‘I don’t know why Rosie did this, but I’m glad she did. At least she’s made her money work for her by having two boats on the canal.’

  ‘I like her, she’s a nice lady,’ Frank said.

  Immediately his brother began to tease him. ‘Oh-oh, our Frank’s in love.’

  ‘I am not! I just think she’s kind. She’s not my type anyway!’

  The boys laughed and joked for a while then Bill stood saying, ‘Time for bed, lads, we have an early start tomorrow. Oh, and John – you’re on breakfast duty!’

  John groaned and Frank howled before Bill spoke to him. ‘Frank – you’re on lunch duty.’ It was Frank’s turn to groan.

  All three made their way to their bunks as the other boats began to settle in for the night too.

  Bill lay in his small bed and pondered the question asked by John earlier. Why had Rosie Harris bought another boat? Why had she put him in charge of it along with his sons to work it? Was it to recoup the money she’d paid for it? Was it to allow them to stay on the canal system? Questions with no answers swirled in his mind as sleep evaded him.

  The picture of Rosie’s smiling face formed behind his closed eyelids. Her dark eyes twinkled and her raven hair shone in the sunlight. Bill knew he would get very little sleep that night, so he lay and allowed his mind to roam where it may.

  Seventeen

  Rising early, Rosie set the kettle to boil. Dropping bacon into the frying pan she then set the tiny table. Humming to herself she made tea and plated up the breakfast. Then realising Betty was not up and about, she thought it strange. Usually Betty was up first.

  Making her way to wake her friend, Rosie had an uneasy feeling. Looking at the woman lying in her bunk, her hand shot to her mouth. ‘Oh no! Betty!’ Instinctively she knew her friend had passed during the night and stepping forward she checked the older woman’s wrist for a pulse. Finding none she whispered tearfully, ‘Rest in peace, Betty Johnson.’

  Up on the deck Rosie cast a glance around. The boat moored forward of the ‘Sunshine’ had a couple of young boys running around their exasperated mother as she endeavoured to stack boxes.

  Rosie pushed a couple of fingers into her mouth and whistled. Mother and sons turned in her direction.

  ‘Please… can you help me?’ she called.

  The woman, first speaking sternly to her sons, walked the length of her boat then picking up her long skirt, deftly hopped onto Rosie’s boat.

  ‘What’s up?’ she asked.

  ‘My friend…’ Rosie’s voice cracked as her tears came.

  ‘Show me,’ the woman said immediately guessing what she would find.
>
  Following Rosie, she saw Betty lying dead in her bunk, her face as white as the pillow.

  Back up on deck the woman took charge. ‘Right, you sit and ’ave some tea. I’ll send my lads for the doctor and undertaker.’

  ‘Thank you, I didn’t know what to do,’ Rosie sobbed.

  Hopping back to her own boat, the woman despatched her boys on their errands, then returned to wait with Rosie.

  ‘Betty Johnson was a good woman. She could be a bit brash but ’er was well known on the ‘cut’ for being fair. ’er will be missed,’ the woman said sadly.

  ‘I need to let her friends know… they will want to attend the funeral,’ Rosie sobbed.

  ‘Don’t you worry about that, the ‘cut-rats’ will see to it for yer.’ The woman patted Rosie’s hand.

  A shiver ran up her spine and she said quietly, ‘You lost your husband recently, I’m sorry.’

  ‘How would yer know that?’ the woman gasped.

  ‘I have the “sight”, but I didn’t see…’ Rosie muttered miserably as she nodded her head towards the sleeping quarters.

  ‘Maybe you weren’t supposed to. I’m Jenny by the way.’

  ‘Rosie Harris. Thank you for your help, Jenny, your boys too.’

  ‘I know this ain’t a good time but would you…?’ Jenny asked sheepishly.

  Rosie held out her hand and closed her eyes. Feeling the familiar shudder as Jenny’s hand touched her own Rosie began.

  ‘You fear losing your boat – you won’t. You will see your boys grown and have boys of their own. I see a lawyer, he will bring good news. The letter ‘E’ will feature prominently in your life – it will bring an offer.’

  Her eyes snapped open and she saw Jenny smiling.

  ‘Thanks. I’m real sorry about Betty Johnson, and I appreciate you taking time to…’ Jenny flapped her hand in mid-air.

  Rosie nodded then heard the noise of someone coming aboard. It was the doctor. She showed him to where Betty lay then left him to do his business.

  A few moments later he joined her in the tiny galley. ‘Natural causes, she was getting on a bit. My condolences.’ The doctor handed Rosie the death certificate. Receiving his fee, the doctor left the boat just as the undertaker arrived.