by Leo McNeir
“Mrs Giles said we should do our best to get in.” He smiled at Anne. “No probs.”
Anne screwed up her nose at him. “Cheeky monkey!” She tossed him an apple from the bowl. “That’s for Poppy.”
“Eight-thirty?” he asked, retreating towards the stern doors.
They heard the doors clang firmly shut and saw Ben trudging past the window.
“This must be the only school in Britain,” Ralph commented, “where a pupil takes an apple for a horse instead of for the teacher.”
*
After leaving Ben at the school gate, Marnie, Anne and Willow filled their baskets in the shop. Molly Appleton told them that Mrs Giles would not be coming to school that day. She lived in Northampton, and the road conditions were so treacherous she would be staying at home, as would some of the other teachers. Radio Northampton was already reporting an incident where a jack-knifed lorry was blocking a main road, causing huge tailbacks.
“What will happen at school, then?” Willow asked.
“One of the teachers is taking all the classes in the hall. Mrs Giles prepared a plan in case this happened.”
“Just like Victorian times,” said Marnie. “It won’t be the first time they’ve done that in the village school.”
Willow laughed. “Will the teacher be wearing a long frock for the occasion?”
“I hope not,” said Molly.
“Why not?” Willow grinned. “Very practical at keeping out draughts.”
“The teacher in question is Mr Meadows.”
Willow’s smile faltered and faded.
*
The Discovery kept its footing on the way down the field track and followed the line of sticks marking Anne’s flight-path without deviation. The sky was opaque, with heavy clouds threatening more snow at any minute. When they pulled into the garage barn, Marnie suggested coffee. Willow gladly accepted.
In the office Anne went straight to the kitchen area while Marnie and Willow hung up their coats.
“Willow,” Marnie began. “There was something I –”
“I know,” Willow interrupted. “I suppose it’s time I told you my story.”
“Only if you really –”
“It’s all right. There are one or two things you ought to know about me, about us.”
*
Mr Meadows clapped his hands, the hall fell silent and the children bent to their activities. Gradually a gentle hubbub grew and once or twice a raised voice was heard, but Mr Meadows, patrolling the hall with the only other teacher present, a probationer, kept the lid on the level of sound. The teachers were reinforced by an ancillary helper and a lady who regularly volunteered to help with reading. Valerie Paxton remained in her office.
Mrs Giles had asked all the teachers to prepare a lesson plan for this eventuality. Most of the children were reading, some were drawing. A smaller number were working on maths exercises, catching up on problems they had found difficult. After half an hour some of the pupils were visibly losing concentration, and the first requests to go to the toilet were made. This fashion soon caught on, and Mr Meadows made a ruling that no-one would be allowed to leave the hall until break-time.
One group of four girls had spent the first half of the morning in a corner, finishing a costume for a project on the Middle Ages. They completed it at break-time, and one of them asked if she could play with her Rubik’s cube. Miss Perkins, the probationary teacher, thought that was acceptable and left the girl deeply absorbed, twisting the surfaces.
When Mr Meadows reached that part of the hall, the girl looked up in frustration and held out the cube. Although he had seen them many times, Mr Meadows had never handled one before and he took it with a degree of curiosity. It felt warm in his hand from the girl’s efforts.
“Can you do it, sir.” It was a straight request, not a question. “Please.”
He looked at the multi-coloured surfaces, turning it over in his hands.
“Please,” the girl repeated. The ability of the teacher to solve the problem was not in doubt.
Mr Meadows assessed that he was holding something originally devised as a child’s puzzle.
“Well, I daresay it shouldn’t be beyond me.”
He flashed the little girl a condescending smile and gave the cube a tentative twist.
*
Willow looked down at the hands folded in her lap and collected her thoughts before speaking. Marnie waited patiently. Eventually Willow began, at first in a voice so quiet that Marnie and Anne had to struggle to hear.
“We haven’t always lived on a boat. I grew up in a proper house in Chester, went to a proper school and everything. I did my A levels and was going to go to university. I always wanted to be a librarian. Then I met David and my whole world changed. I thought he was wonderful, a free spirit, like no-one I’d ever met before. He had a refreshing approach to life. There was nothing we couldn’t do if we set our heart on it. When I told him I wanted to be a librarian, he said he could just imagine me doing that. He called me his Madonna of the Bookshelves, said I was beautiful, slender as a willow.”
“Ah,” said Marnie.
Willow smiled at the memory. “It was all very romantic. I thought everyone would be happy for us. When I told my parents about David, they said I was too young to make commitments like that and I should wait until I’d finished university and got a proper qualification before thinking of taking on a man, as they put it. David wasn’t surprised at this. He said he’d expected it. Parents were like that, especially middle-class ones who lived in a suburb.” Willow paused. “They were very good, my parents, wanted the best for me, but …”
Willow shifted in her seat and took a sip of coffee.
“Anyway, one day David said he had a surprise for me. You may think it strange, but I didn’t really know much about him, except that he was a few years older than me, was very good-looking and seemed to have private means. He didn’t have a job but was never short of cash and his clothes were casual but good quality. Er, where was I?”
“He had a surprise for you,” Marnie prompted.
“He did. We went for a walk on Chester’s old city walls where they overlook the canal. They’re built on solid rock like small cliffs, and we went down the steps to stroll along by the water. It was a lovely summer’s morning, a day full of optimism and promise for the future. A boat was moored there and suddenly David stepped on board. I started to ask what he thought he was doing, when he produced some keys and opened the door at the back. He said it was his boat. I told him I’d never been on a barge before and he corrected me at once. Narrowboat, he said, not barge. It was the first thing I learned about canals and boats.”
Willow looked down at her hands again and drank some more coffee.
“You ran away?” Marnie said.
Willow nodded. “I told mum and dad I was going for a short holiday with David. Dad was annoyed. Mum was worried. My sister was dumbstruck. But I was eighteen and knew everything would be all right, knew everything. Like I said, it was all terribly romantic. We set off early one morning with the sun in our faces and the world at our feet, or at least the Cheshire Plain. It was fun learning to run the boat. I found I had a kind of affinity with the waterway life. Steering came naturally to me and, although David usually worked the locks, I did them sometimes and never had a problem.”
She drifted off again in her memories. Anne got up and poured her some more coffee from the pot. Willow didn’t seem to notice.
“I sent regular postcards home and then one day I wrote to say we were married. David had told me to bring along my birth certificate in case we ever needed to prove my age for any reason. He said I looked younger than my years, which was true. We tied up for a stay in Middlewich and while we were there David arranged for us to tie up for life. That’s what he called it.”
“Had you been expecting that?” Marnie asked.
“No, but it was perfect. For our holiday I’d brought all my favourite books: Jane Austen, Flora Thompson,
Mrs Gaskell, and it felt like I’d slipped into one of their stories. We’d eloped!” A smile crossed her face. “We’d eloped,” she repeated quietly.
“Then Ben came along?” Marnie said.
“Oh no. That was much later, a couple of years. We travelled about in all seasons. David paid for everything in cash, stopping off at banks on the way. We never lacked for anything. I asked him about that and he just said he’d been born lucky, silver spoon and all that. We were very, very happy. I couldn’t imagine a lovelier life. The waterways had become more than my home. They were my natural habitat. At twenty you’d have taken me for a born boatwoman.”
She noticed the refilled cup of coffee and drank some more.
“Then, as you said Marnie, Ben came along. We’d kept on taking precautions even after we were married, but I think I got careless and anyway I didn’t think it really mattered. I always thought we’d have children some day, like most married couples. I told David the news and he went quiet. He said he was happy but it had just come as a surprise. I could tell he wasn’t pleased. He never touched me again after that. Then one day I asked him what he thought we should do when the baby arrived. He went quiet again. He was often silent around that time. He said we’d have to see. The next day he said he wanted to talk to me.”
Willow drew in a few deep breaths and blinked. Her eyes became moist.
“Willow, you don’t have to –”
“It’s all right, Marnie. Just give me a moment.”
Another sip of coffee. Willow licked her lips.
“We sat in the saloon. It was May and I’d put a small vase of wild flowers on the table. I always kept the boat beautiful inside. David said he thought it would be best if we had a termination. I was stunned. Why? Why could we not have our baby? Plenty of people on boats had children. David said the time wasn’t right. We were too young. We had more living to do. I couldn’t talk about it, couldn’t speak at all. On the following day I said I couldn’t bear to go through with an abortion. David didn’t react. He just carried on working the locks. We were nearing Northwich at the time and David said he had to go into town. I was worried that he might be making enquiries at the hospital, but when he came back he just smiled and said everything was fine.”
Willow stretched out her legs and arched her back.
“We set off the following morning and I was happy again. It was a beautiful sunny day. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. David said he’d walk to the first lock for some fresh air and exercise. He often did that. It was about two miles on. I watched him striding along the towpath, feeling much better about things, convinced we’d be able to cope. I knew that once we had the baby all would be well. I rounded a bend to find the lock set ready. I drove in and waited for David to close the gate behind us, but …”
“He wasn’t there?”
“He wasn’t there. He’d gone. I haven’t seen David Dekker from that day to this.”
*
Mr Meadows was becoming increasingly frustrated. Telling the group of girls to carry on with their classwork, he resumed his patrol of the hall, playing for time to tackle the Rubik’s cube. On the grounds that he had to keep an eye on the other children, he wandered up and down the rows, muttering here a word of encouragement, there an admonition.
Arriving among his own class at the front of the hall, he was alarmed to find the girl who owned the cube at his elbow.
“Have you done it, sir? Can I take it back now?”
The boys and girls around him looked up, focusing on the cube in his hand.
“Not quite, Jacqueline. I’ve been too busy. I’ll look at it later.”
He handed it back, but she was reluctant to take it while it was still jumbled.
“Can’t you just put it right, sir? Please.”
Her insistent pleading got under his skin, but he knew he couldn’t show his irritation. He turned and placed the cube on the table that the caretaker had brought into the hall to serve as the teacher’s desk.
“Later, Jacqueline. Later. Go back to your project, now.”
Relief arrived in the form of Valerie Paxton with a fax message from the education authority. Mr Meadows read it. The children were to be allowed to go home after lunch, provided there was someone in the house to look after them. If not, the children in question were to remain at school under supervision.
While Mr Meadows was reading, he did not notice that Ben had stood up and walked over to the desk. He picked up the cube and examined it, turning it over in his hands, carefully studying each surface. One or two other boys joined him, fascinated by the design of the puzzle. Ben gave it an exploratory twist, then another, then another. He looked at it again, twisted the cube some more and set it back on the table. The other boys were grinning as they took their seats.
Mr Meadows asked for everyone’s attention and read out the note from the office. One child asked a question, which he answered before turning to thank Mrs Paxton as he placed the note on the table. Looking down, he froze in mid-sentence. He turned to face the school.
“Is this a joke?” He didn’t look amused. “Who did this?”
Many of the children had returned to their reading, but some were now paying attention.
“I said …” Mr Meadows paused for effect. “Who is responsible for this?”
He held up the cube. Everyone watching could see that it was no longer a jumble. Each surface was of one colour only: blue, red, yellow, green, white, orange.
“Well?” said Mr Meadows. “I’m waiting. Was it you, Jacqueline?”
The girl had rejoined her classmates in the corner of the hall and stared back in bewilderment. She shook her head. Was the teacher trying to make her look foolish in front of the whole school? She was on the brink of tears when voices spoke up.
“Ben,” one boy said.
“Ben,” others repeated.
Mr Meadows glared at Ben who was immersed in a book.
“Ben Haycroft,” he said sternly. “Did you do this?”
Ben raised his eyes. “Mm?”
“I think you heard me. Did you do this?”
Ben peered at the cube. “Oh, yes. It was interesting. I’ve never seen one before.”
The assembled children were hushed. It was as if they were hardly breathing.
“Are you trying to be funny, boy?”
Ben frowned. “What d’you mean?”
“Stand up when you speak to me.”
Ben got to his feet.
“I don’t remember telling you to touch this cube.”
Ben stepped forward, quickly took it from his hand and twisted it until all the surfaces were different. Mr Meadows watched, appalled. Ben handed it back.
“Sorry, sir, Here it is. You can do it now.”
*
Marnie was astonished. “You mean he just abandoned you on the boat in a lock, pregnant? What did you do?”
“I waited for an hour. At first I thought he might have gone for a leak behind a bush. He did that sometimes when we were travelling. Then I tied up and went looking for him, thought he might have had a fall or something. I went inside to think and make a cup of tea, looking out of the window in case he came back. I was just wondering if he’d gone on to the next lock when I saw the envelope on the table.”
“To say good-bye?”
“More than that. There was a note to say sorry. He said he really loved me, but he needed to be free. Inside the envelope was some money, two thousand pounds. That was the price he paid for Ben.”
“Worth so much more,” said Marnie.
“Of course. And I got much more.”
Marnie nodded. “A lovely boy.”
“Yes, but I meant I got much more money, too.”
“What happened?” Marnie asked.
“Let me go back to my story. I waited near the lock for two more days before winding and returning to Nantwich. I knew I had to go home, so I phoned my parents, which I did from time to time. I hadn’t seen them in the two years, but we’d spoke
n quite often. On that day, my sister answered the phone. She was down in the dumps because she’d made a mess of her A levels and knew she wouldn’t get the grades she needed for university.”
“She was eighteen by that time?”
“Two years younger than me, wanted to be a teacher. When I told her what had happened, she asked if she could come and stay with me on the boat while she waited for her results and worked out what to do. Mum and dad said they had no objection and she came to meet me in Nantwich. She decided to take a gap year and then go to a college for an extra year to resit her exams after that. Eventually Ben was born on the boat just before Christmas. A very straightforward delivery helped by a midwife.”
“How did you live during this time? It must have been tough.”
“It was weird. After a few weeks I went to the bank in Market Drayton to see how much money I had in my account. I’d had a couple of hundred pounds in it when I left home and had never needed to touch it. I was amazed. They told me a thousand pounds had been deposited by standing order every month for some time. Next time I phoned home, mum said the boat licence had arrived in the post and she forwarded it to me care of the bank. The boat had been re-registered in my name and the licence fee had been paid.”
“David,” said Marnie.
“David,” said Willow.
*
All eyes were on Mr Meadows as he stood holding the Rubik’s cube. He knew the children could sense his inner turmoil, and Valerie Paxton had lingered on instead of returning to her office. The whole school had him fixed in its stare. To his astonishment, relief and downright annoyance, salvation came from an unexpected quarter.
Ben stood up and held out his hand. “Please, sir, can I try again?”
A faint cough from behind made Mr Meadows look round. Valerie looked up at the clock. The dinner bell would sound at any moment. Mr Meadows checked his watch. With an unpleasant smile he passed the cube to Ben.
“I estimate you’ve got about thirty seconds before the bell sounds. If you think you’re clever enough to do it in that time …”
Ben took the cube from his hand, gazed at it for a few seconds and began twisting it this way and that. Mr Meadows looked on with a smirk. Ben’s fingers darted about in a series of jerking movements. When he stopped, he handed the cube back to Mr Meadows, whose jaw dropped open. The puzzle was completed. The bell sounded.